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y2kstarr · 3 months ago

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Mutual Hatred - m. sturniolo

brother's bsf!matt x nate's little sister!reader

Warnings : 18+ ⋆ smut w/ plot ⋆ age gap (18 - 22) ⋆ cursing (a whole lotta fucks) ⋆ dom!matt ⋆ mean!matt ⋆ brat!reader ⋆ sub!reader ⋆ masturbation ⋆ phone sex? ⋆ underage drinking (big no no!!) ⋆ p in v no protection (wrap it before you tap it!!) ⋆ virginity loss ⋆ mirror sex ⋆ hate sex? ⋆ spanking ⋆ slight choking ⋆ degrading and slight praising ⋆ usage of "slut", "whore", "bitch", "brat", "baby" + more

Word count : 7.2k

requested? yes

Synopsis : You love your brother, Nate, but for the life of you, you just can't stand one of his best friends, Matt. But when Matt (accidentally?) sends you something he shouldn't, things get pretty tense and questions start to bubble. Just keep it to yourself, no biggie– At least that is until you tag along to a party, and a simple little party game pulls you both into a situation neither of you had expected.

If the two of you were twins, you would’ve been absolutely unstoppable. But alas, a three-year difference was what you had to settle for. Regardless, that never put a strain on you and Nate’s friendship, a bond between a brother and a sister, greater than anyone could ever know.

He’d looked after you when you were little, took care of anyone who even thought to bully you, and even in high school, he never dropped you for his friends, never left you in the dust. He practically went out of his way to include you in anything.

Of course, this did lead to you hanging out with his group of friends more than your own, his being practically family whilst yours was loosely knitted together only during school hours. But that was ok, his friends were nice to you.

Yes, of course there were times you were picked on, times you were mockingly babied, but that was expected with you being younger than them all. You’d gotten used to it, nothing new, nothing different.

But there was one of his friends that really got under your skin, really grinded your gears, just– ultimately pissed you off; Matt. How could he be a triplet yet be so utterly different from his brothers? Especially in how each of them treated you.

Nick was the perfect guy to gossip with, “can I be mean for a second?” becoming one of your guys’ common phrases at this point anytime you two got the chance to hang out.

Chris was energetic as hell and just a pure goofball, making it feel like the two of you were the youngest of the group, even though he was just as old as the rest of them.

But Matt? You two just seemed to have a deep seated, mutual hatred for one another, this distaste for each other. Every time he bit, you bit back, snarky remarks, backhanded comments, sometimes just downright insults, but that was only reserved for when Nate wasn't around, or else Matt would be a dead man.

You'd been laying in bed after a long day of tagging along with Nate and his friends around town, getting to be in one of their videos since it was a pretty packed day and served for some worthy content. Of course, the day didn't go without your regular banter with Matt, definitely causing some footage to be ruined with how mean you two were being.

Your thumb scrolled through your feed, passing by pictures and reels, random posts and content, when suddenly you'd gotten a notification... from Matt, of all people. You furrowed your eyebrows, letting the dropdown message linger for just a moment before it shot back up as if it was never there.

You should've just left it, it was Matt, what the hell would it matter what he sent you. It was probably something stupid just to get on your nerves, or some idiotic message that was certain to just piss you off. But the fact that it was an attachment rather than a text had your mind filling with curiosity that you couldn't help but follow.

Pulling your notifications back down, you let out a soft breath before clicking on his message, preparing yourself for something stupid... but nothing could've prepared you for what came up on your screen. Your eyes widened at the sight that came up, a chill of surprise rushing up your spine, and you nearly shot up from your bed at what you were seeing right now.

A heated blush crept up your neck, dusting your cheeks and the tips of your ears, as you stared at your phone like a deer caught in headlights. Matt's dick was on your screen. A full blown, set up and everything, dick pic right in your messages— no, actually, not just a dick pic, that was a whole ass video.

What was he doing? Did he mean to send it to you? Was that actually his? Was he playing some fucked up prank on you? Why the hell did you even have his number saved?

Your mind filled with question after question, thoughts racing through your head, but, for some god damn reason, you couldn't pull your eyes away from it. You studied the way his hand wrapped around the base, the way it curved just slightly upward, the was it faded into a deep pink that ended in a leaking tip, pre-cum glistening just in the picture of the video alone.

Your thumb hovered over the play button, slightly shaking a bit as you hesitated. No, you shouldn't watch this. It clearly wasn't meant for you, it's an invasion of his privacy if you do, even if you hated his guts... but no one would know. You're all alone in your bedroom, no one else to see nor hear anything.

Just you and your phone that held a life altering video simply at the press of a button.

One, two, three more seconds passed by before the pad of your thumb made contact with your screen, audio starting to play through your phone speaker as the video stayed on the back camera.

From the flash on his phone, you could see the lower half of his body, his shirt slightly ridden up on his midriff and his sweats tugged down over his hips, as he lay in his bed, bathed in a blue hue from his LED lights.

"Fuck, baby.. got me all hard n' shit.." Matt's hushed voice rang through the speaker, washing over you in a way it never had before, despite your many years of equating his voice to the noise of nails against a chalkboard.

Free hand wrapped around his thick cock, you watched as he gave it a few slow tugs, his groans floating through the speaker and making your body shiver with desire, thighs pressing together under the comfort of your blanket.

"Wish you were here, sucking this dick.." He spoke once more, his hand slowly stroking up to the head of his cock before he let out a low hiss, his thumb teasing his leaking tip, drawing slow circles, before stroking back down to the base. "Just imagining your pretty lips wrapped around me's got me all messy.."

Even though you knew, deep down, this wasn't meant for you, a total mistake on his part for sending it.. you let yourself believe he was talking about you, to you.

As he pumped his cock with a steady pace, you let yourself believe he was imagining you, your pretty eyes looking up at him so innocently as you'd take his thick shaft in your mouth, letting your pink, glossy lips wrap around it and swallow as much as you could—

Fuck— no way you were thinking like this, imagine this shit with Matt, out of all people— but as you felt that aching burn between your thighs, that feeling that started sparks anytime you pressed your thighs together, all dignity was thrown out the god damn window.

You held your phone right at your chest level in your left hand, eyes trained on the video as your free hand slowly, almost tentatively, traveled down, gripping and tossing your blanket off to reveal your lower half, clad in only your panties to pair with your baggy nighttime shirt. You mentally cursed at yourself as you let your hand slide underneath your panties, but as your fingers glided through your slick folds, you couldn't give a fuck less what you were doing.

"Shit, baby– just thinkin' about that sweet pussy's gonna make me cum," Matt groaned through the speaker, making you bite your lip as you sunk two fingers into your soaked cunt, slowly pumping them in time with Matt's strokes in the video. This was so fucking stupid... but it felt so good.

A soft moan slipped from your lips in time with a muffled noise on his end, fingers starting to pick up pace a bit as his strokes quickened a little. "Bet you're touching yourself right now, huh baby?" Matt teased from the video, making your cheeks heat up once more in embarrassment. Even though this was a video, it still felt as if he was really talking to you, as if he knew you yourself had your fingers moving inside you, imagining it was him instead.

Fuck, that tore a needy moan from your lips, thinking about him above you, pinning you to your bed and letting his fingers control your pleasure, or better yet, feeling him stuff that thick cock in your pussy. Fucking hell– your past self from just a mere couple of hours ago would be utterly disgusted with you, but you couldn't care less right now.

"That fuckin' pussy would be grippin' me so tight right now, shit–" He groaned as you watched him squeeze his cock on each upstroke, making your cunt clench around your fingers in shared time.

Though, for some reason, a petty, jealous voice rang in the back of your head, reminding you that this was meant for someone else, a different girl who got to see Matt like this, in all his non-shitty glory. It twisted your stomach, yet added to the pleasure as you pumped your fingers faster.

He could do so much better with you, no matter who the girl was. You knew how to push his buttons, how to piss him off and make him fight the urge constantly to fucking strangle you for it. Fuck– his hands around your throat, pressing just right–

"Mm– fuck baby, y' gonna make me cum," His breathy voice came through once more, mixing in with your thoughts and doubling the stimulations that had your body nearly trembling with pleasure.

"Fuck–" You muttered out, biting your lip as you felt that burning heat low in your tummy, your hips involuntarily rocking up against your palm to stimulate your clit, a whine falling from your parted lips as your eye fluttered whilst watching him fuck up into his fist.

"Fuckin' cum with me baby, c'mon.." He demanded with a breathy voice, his voice clearly coming through his clenched teeth now as you both were climbing to that glorious high.

"Matt– s-shit—" You panted, too lost in the pleasure to even realize his name had left your mouth. You tried so hard to keep your eyes on your phone, wanting to watch him come undone in time with you, your thighs starting to tremble as that pleasure built and built–

"Shiiit–" A pleasured moan poured from the speaker as you watched thick, white spurts of cum shoot from Matt's tip and drip down over his fingers, your eyes flying shut just second after, as you felt your own orgasm crash over you.

A gasp fell from your bitten lips, your body practically seizing as the pleasure washed over you in tidal waves, gushing around your fingers as you rutted against your palm, chasing that high. Your vision became white, your ear muffling noises, and your body trembling before you finally came back down, breathy pants leaving you as your chest heaved.

You hardly even registered what Matt said at the end before the video ended, your phone dimming as it slipped from your hand and onto your chest. Your eyes fluttered as you looked up at your starry ceiling, a soft purple glow covering your room from your lights.

You groaned softly as you finally, yet slowly, slid your fingers out of your cunt, the pleasure and desire that once resided in your stomach now turned and twisted into guilt, near regret, and mostly disbelief.

Holy shit. You just did that.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A yawn rang from Nate's open mouth as he stretched, making his way into the kitchen where you were already, sitting at the counter with a bowl of cereal in front of you, slow bites taken as you swiped through your feed, just like you did every morning.

But a nagging voice filled your thoughts, making your body tense as you glanced up at your brother, watching him turn to open one of the cabinets in search of his own breakfast. What if he found out? Would he cut ties with Matt? Would he be mad at you?

He'd do practically anything to protect you, but you also knew his friendship with the triplets was like a brotherhood at this point. Either way, a bond would be demolished, and you didn't want either to happen.

"You good?" Nate's voice pulled you from your thoughts, making your eyes glance up to his finally after having zeroed in on a spot near the edge of the counter, your posture straightening up a bit

"Uh– Yeah, yeah just.. tired, I guess," You weren't exactly lying to him, you were still tired, but maybe the whole fact that you had stayed up, having a near existential crisis for 30 minutes over getting off to your brother's best friend, was the reasoning in that.

Thankfully, Nate didn't dig any further, either believing you and moving on, or too tired to try and pry, just giving a nod and a hum. Either way, you mentally thanked him tremendously. You brought your spoon back to your mouth, eating another bite of cereal before Nate spoke up once more.

"Hey, so," Your body tensed up, watching as his palms pressed against the counter, his body leaning against it as he looked at you. Could he tell? Did he know already? Fuck fuck fuck– "There's gonna be this huge party tonight, the guys invited me and everything, and I just wanted to see if you wanted to tag along?"

Part of you sighed deeply inside, nearly wanting to kick yourself from how your nerves were getting to you, it was fine, you were fine. The other part of you perked up, physically, your eyebrows raising at your older brother's offer. A party? Like, a genuine, drinks and music and all that shit, party?

Nate had only ever limited you with parties, which was fair, you were too young for them, and most of the time could've ended up with you getting lost in seconds. But you were 18 now, old enough to start having fun and being trusted not to end up leaving with some rando.

"Really?" You asked, mouth still full of cereal, making Nate chuckle before nodding, lifting himself up a bit.

"Yeah, really," He assured you, removing his hands from the counter and crossing his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow at you in curiosity of what your answer would be. "So? Wanna go or what?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Saturday night, 10:00 pm, and Nate pulled up to the lively house with you in passenger, his hand shifting the car into park before taking out the keys.

Your eyes surveyed what you could see only from here, party lights making the house practically glow, nearly taking away from the fact this house was in a rich rich neighborhood, the view of a pool in the background peaking out from behind the house.

You nearly jumped as Nate touched your shoulder, his eyes a little concerned as you turned to look at him, a nervous smile on his lips. "You sure you're ok, jumpy?" He teased a little, making you smile back and loosen your tensed body just a bit.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good, just– adrenaline and nerves starting to pump in is all, first time jitters I guess," You admitted to your brother, watching as his concern and worry quickly shifted into pride and excitement for you, his hand rubbing your shoulder like he always did to help calm your nerves.

"You'll have fun, don't worry, shit's always scary the first time around," He comforted you, making your nerves wash away with ease before you nodded, smiling at him.

"Ok, I'm ready." He smiled bright and patted the steering wheel with enthusiasm at your confidence.

"Hell yeah, let's do this!" He cheered, making you giggle as the two of you stepped out of his car, the cool night breeze hitting your bare legs and arms in your black skirt and golden white, silk top, the fabric perfectly loose and ruffled across your chest.

Music poured from the open front door as you and Nate made your way up the path, Nate stepping into the party first with you right behind him. Your senses filled with the loud music and conversations all around you, the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, perfumes and colognes, all meshing together in an oddly satisfying way.

You hardly even realized Nate had instantly found his friends until he'd given you a quick heads-up of where he was going before he made his way away from you. The nerves sank back in as you looked around the bustling party, biting your glossy bottom lip, your fingers fidgeting with the bracelet you sported with your outfit.

Your feet finally let you move from your spot, snaking your way through people as you spotted what looked to be the kitchen, drinks and snacks displayed for the partygoers. You could really use some water right now.

You let out a sigh as you stepped into the kitchen, spotting the water and grabbing one, but as you went to open the bottle, your peace was shattered by a familiar voice.

"The fuck?" You turned your head to see him, in all his shitty fucking, annoying glory; Matt. You felt your stomach free fall as memories of last night flashed through your mind. Be cool, don't let him know.

Your brows began to furrow as he looked you up and down with a judging eyes, a few of his friends around him still conversing, before nodding towards you. "Who the hell let you come over?" He harshly asked, to which you rolled your eyes at.

"Nate. Who else, dipshit?" You retaliated, noticing the way his grip on his red solo cup tightened ever so slightly before he pushed himself off of the counter he previously leaned on.

You watched him walk up to you, your breath hitching just a bit as he got up in your face with dark, glaring eyes, causing you to step back just a bit before your back touched the edge of the counter. His frame practically towered over you, making you feel even smaller with how he cornered you.

"You can be a bitch all you want, doesn't make you any cooler." He hissed out, your close proximity to him making your heart traitorously beat faster, the way his black ransom tee hung off his frame just right and matched with his sweats, his chain dangling around his neck. Why'd he have to be so fucking close?

You watched as his eyes looked down at the water bottle in your hand, a scoff leaving his lips as he brought his eyes back to you. "Fuckin' pussy, can't even handle some alcohol," He mocked you, before straightening himself back up and bringing his solo cup to his lips. Fuck– did he get hotter?

"Go fuckin' play with your barbies or some shit, this is a big kids party, not a damn baby shower," He chuckled meanly before chugging down the rest of his drink and leaving you to go get a refill.

Your eyes, glaring as they followed him, fell down to your water bottle in hand, this gut feeling burning within you, causing a nagging voice to start up in your head. You were grown. You weren't just some fucking kid anymore, and you needed to show him that.

You tossed the water bottle back and nearly stomped your way through the party, on a mission to go find the one person you needed to talk to right now; Nate.

Snaking through dancing and conversing people, you finally found your brother within a group off to the side, his laugh distinctly giving off his location. You look in a deep breath before you tapped on his shoulder, watching as he turned around to face you, his eyebrow raising with a smile on his face, as if to ask "what's up?"

"Hey– uh, Nate?" You felt like such a little kid having to ask your older brother for something you weren't old enough to have yet, but you weren't backing down from this.

You glanced down at the red solo cup he had in his hand, one that he'd been nursing on for a while now since he wasn't too crazy for the alcohol here, before sighing to prep yourself. "Can I have, just like— one drink?"

You watched as his eyes widened ever so slightly and how he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his eyes glancing away as his free hand went to the back of his neck to rub it. "Shit– Sis, I don't know.." He muttered, but of course, instead of earning an understanding from you, he looked back only to see you trying to use your begging eyes on him.

101 of having an older brother who'd do anything for you: Make sure to perfect the puppy eyes.

"Please, Nate? I promise, just one drink is all, I just wanna try it." You asked him, watching his resolve falter before it finally crumbled, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Ok ok, fine. One drink," You nearly yelped with joy, wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug as you thanked him profusely, promising to keep your word before you dashed back to where the drinks were, hoping that Matt was still there so you could shove it in his face.

You fixed yourself and practically strutted to where the red solo cups and alcohol were. Noticing as Matt seemed to feel your presence once more, you felt his eyes glancing at you in a glare from the other side of the kitchen where he was previously, but you paid him no mind.

Grabbing a cup from the stacks and popping open a beer can, you poured the forbidden drink into the cup, watching it foam a bit before settling. You tossed the can in the nearby trash before looking over at Matt, catching his attention as you flipped him off whilst taking a drink from your cup.

The alcohol burned deliciously going down your throat, making you skin tingle with goosebumps at the taste and feeling of it, a shiver racking up your spine, but you hid it all as best you could before bringing the cup back down to look at Matt.

Watching as he glared at you before rolling his eyes and looking away, you smirked, feeling victorious for once tonight. Who was the baby now?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Newsflash, the alcohol didn't help shit now.

You'd been dragged into a small group who was doing some party games, not even realizing one of them had snagged Matt too, leaving you all in a big circle now as people chatted and laughed, music still playing around the house.

The palms of your hands felt sweaty against your knees, your eyes glancing up to look at Matt who sat across from you in the circle, already noticing his eyes on you before he fixed you with a glare, one you retaliated back with flipping him off. The air lifted just a bit, good.

"Alright!" One of the girls chirped up, her tits nearly spilling from her tube top as she leaned over to place an empty beer bottle in the middle, making you glance down at your own chest in a glaring moment of jealously, before you shook that from your thoughts.

"We're going about this like spin the bottle. Whichever two people it lands on gotta leave and get into the bathroom for 7 minutes, since Robbie's too baby to let us use one of the closets," She teased the party host, his eyes rolling as he hugged one knee to his chest.

"Hey, I just don't want y'all's cum stains on my clothes," He explained, earning laughs from around the circle as he took a swig from his bottle. Fuck, ok, this was really happening. Stay cool, you're cool, it's all cool.

You watched as the girl's fingers grasped the bottle before giving it a spin, everybody around you beginning to lean forward in anticipation. Your heart sped up as it began to slow down, the neck of the bottle finally stoping to point directly at Matt.

Whilst everyone cheered and whooped for him, laughing and teasing him for who he might get, you couldn't help the feeling of your gut twisting, thoughts of another girl's hands on him making your nails start to dig into your knees, partially out of jealousy, and partially out of anger at yourself for feeling this way.

You hated his guts and he hated yours, so why did it matter so much about who he might fuck tonight?

Thoughts dissipated with a simple shake of your head, an all-for-show smile coming to your glossy lips as your eyes trained on the way his ring clad fingers wrapped around the bottle, just like they had his cock last night, before he gave it a clean spin, the anticipation even higher now as everyone waited to see who was gonna get lucky.

The bottle started to slow down, and as the neck of the bottle finally chose another helpless soul, your smile fell as you realized... it was pointing at you.

Your head quickly shot up to look at Matt, who looked at the bottle in shock before meeting your eyes, the tension in the air thickening as you felt your heart fly out of your fucking chest. The sounds of everyone collect "oo"-ing around you two were practically muffled in your ears before you watched Matt quickly reach for the bottle again.

"Yeah, no fucking way. I'm spinnin' again," He huffed out, but just as he was about to grasp the bottle, the tube top girl snatched it before he could get it, tsking at him as she wiggled the bottle from its neck.

"Nuh uh, rules are rules, Matt. No take backs, no redos, it's one shot only." You felt as her hand gently pressed against the small of your back, making you sit up straighter and look at her, a playful smile on her pretty lips as she urged you to get up. "Go have fun, baby."

Blush tinted your cheeks from her words as you got onto your feet, looking over at Matt as he glared up at you, then at the girl, before groaning and following suit, his hands digging into his pockets. "Fine. Let's get this shit over with." He muttered with nearly clenched teeth, your feet quickly bringing you to walk behind him, hearing as everyone cheered you two on.

Breathe, you've got this.

As the two of you walked into the bathroom, he closed the door, locking it — per the games rules — before leaning against it, his head turned away as he stared at the wall instead of you. Your nerves quickly turned into annoyance as you were brought back to your dynamic with him.

"Are you choosing to not have any fun or are you always this boring at parties?" You asked him in a slightly snarky tone, noticing the way his jaw twitched before his tongue pressed against his cheek.

"I'm not fuckin' you if that's what you're getting at," He firmly said, not even tearing his eyes away from the beige, bathroom wall. "Not even gonna touch you, so you can drop it."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, your signature attitude that always came out with him finally coming back. "Not what I was getting at, dumbass." You huffed, before an idea popped into your head, a smirk slightly coming to your lips. "I know you'd fucking suck."

That definitely got his attention, his head turning to look at you as his brows furrowed. "The fuck you say?" He asked you, venom dripping from his tongue at the face of a challenge, to which you once smirked at, your eyes looking him up and down slowly before you squinted them just right.

"You fuckin' heard me."

In a moment, Matt pushed himself off of the door, music muffled on the other side of it as the two of you were stuck in his little world together. He nearly towered over you, fixing you with a dark, dangerous glare, before leaning into your face once more, but this time, you held your ground.

"I can make you such a fucking ruined mess, you'll be needing me to carry your sorry ass out of here, brat." He spat, low and threatening, but fuck, was it hot. Hearing him talk like this to you in a tone you were so used to, it made that ache come to life between your thighs.

"I bet you couldn't even make me cum, don't even know where everything is, huh?" You challenged back, the smirk on your glossy lips making his eyes glance down before looking back at you, his jaw clenching once more.

"You really wanna fuck around and find out, princess?" He asked degradingly, but the way the pet name fell from his lips had you practically soaking through your panties, memories of last night's video rolling through your head once more. And fuck, you weren't turning this opportunity down.

"Maybe I do, Matthew," A harsh huff left from his lips before, suddenly, you felt your eyes widen as his hands reach to grap your face, pulling you forward and capturing you in a sudden, harsh kiss. Here we fucking go.

The crash of your lips felt like the beginning of a war, of two tidal waves battling each other, each of you trying to fight from melting into it. Your hands grasp his shirt almost frantically, your lips moving against his in an angry, hurried manner, pent up feelings and long-lasting hatred dueling within you two and pouring into the kiss.

Huffs of breaths leave each of your lips between kisses, before you both dive right back in, trying to steal the dominance, but you both knew deep down who held it.

His hands cupped your face, keeping it tilted up and as he kissed you, your hair pressed against your cheeks by the force of his palms, before they slid down your collarbone and chest.

His hands gripped your waist and tugged you harshly against his body, before making you stumble back and hit against the edge of the sink counter, making you gasp into his mouth before tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.

Your hands found their way to the brunet curls at the back of his head, tangling your fingers within his hair as your nails scraped against his scalp, earning a groan from him into the kiss.

He tasted like everything you shouldn't have, everything you couldn't have, all dark and forbidding, addictive and dangerous, the taste mixing with the last shreds of your innocence deliciously.

"You're such a fuckin' brat," He practically growled against your lips, his knee lifting up to press between your thighs, a gasp falling from your lips at the pressure and friction as your hips involuntarily bucked against his thigh, making him chuckle darkly. "Damn slut."

"I fucking hate you." You breathed out against his lips before you felt them leave yours, your head instead falling back as he trailed his lips down your jawline and your neck, biting at your soft skin and earning small noises from you, which you failed to hide miserably.

As one hand stay gripping tight on your hip, his other slid down underneath your skirt, swiping just the fabric of your soaked panties and groaning at how wet you were. "Didn't know you'd be such a needy slut," He cooed against your throat, his degrading words sending pure shivers down your spine.

You ground yourself against his hand, as if begging for him to slide them under your panties and slip them into your needy cunt. But suddenly, his hand left the area between your thighs, and before you could protest and whine, his hand gripped your waist and spun you around, a gasp leaving your lips at the sight of you two in the bathroom mirror.

Teeth bit at your bottom lip once more as you felt Matt grind against your ass, letting you feel the bulge in his pants, a groan falling from his lips as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

"Fuck, baby.." He muttered under his breath before his hand came up, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, giving himself access to the back of your neck.

You let your eyes flutter shut as he kissed your skin, nipping and sucking to leave his marks, a soft moan leaving your lips at the warm moment, soaking it in as he ground against your ass once more before growling against your neck.

Suddenly, a yelp left your lips as your upper half got pushed down against the counter, his thumbs pressing into the small of your back as he gave a few more grinds against you.

"Need to fuck this needy little pussy, bet she's just dying to be filled." He chuckled low, his hands lifting up your skirt to reveal your panty clad ass, before his fingers hooked into the sides of your panties and pulled them down your creamy thighs.

The sight of your drooling, puffy little pussy had Matt's mind nearly spinning as he groaned, his index and middle fingers dragging through your folds with ease, pulling a needy whine from your lips.

"So fuckin' wet for me, such a slut." He cooed from behind you, groaning low as he licked his fingers clean of your juices before he brought his hands to the waistband of his sweats, tugging it down along with his boxers to free his thick, hard, leaking cock.

"You're just thinking 'bout this dick, aren't you?" He tapped his cock against your ass a few times before teasing your folds with his tip, your juices and his pre-cum mixing together deliciously.

He pressed his tip to your entrance, but then he paused, making you whine for more before feeling his hand slap your ass, a yelp leaving your lips.

"Beg for it, bitch." He snarled, squeezing your plush ass as it filled his hands perfectly. Fucking hell, your dignity is on the other side of the fucking world now.

"Please, Matt.." You begged him, before another yelp was ripped from your lips as he smacked your ass once more, the sound echoing against the walls.

"You can do better than that, baby.." He cooed low as he soothed over where he smacked your ass, your soft skin turning a pretty shade of pink already. "Beg for it like the little slut you are."

"Please, Matt– I want your cock, want you to fuck me—" You begged once more, whining as you looked at him through the mirror, realizing that he was finally seeing you in a light he never did before, your brattiness reduced to begging for his dick. "Please."

He held eye contact with you for a moment through the mirror before finally smirking, chuckling low and sliding his hands up to grasp your waist. "That's more like it. Now, you're gonna take this dick like the fucking bratty little whore you are, got it?"

You nodded your head obediently, loving the way he seemed to feed off of it, even if it inflated his ego. You watched as he looked down at your pussy, the tip of his cock slowly pushing into your needy cunt, before he suddenly thrusted forward hard, your eyes doing wide as you felt his dick deep inside you.

"Fuck- wait! Matt!" You yelped out a gasp, his thick cock stretching out your virgin walls far too quickly for you to be ready for it.

"What?" He spat out from behind you, before he noticed the way your thighs already trembled, your breathing becoming harsh, and your face burying into the fold of your arm whilst your free hand gripped the edge of the counter so hard, your knuckles turned the same shade of white as the marble.

A smirk came to his lips as everything clicked into place, a dark chuckle leaving his lips as he leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"This your first time gettin' dick, ain't it, baby?" You couldn't help but whimper as you nodded pathetically, hearing a groan fall from his lips at that information before he stood back up.

You braced for him to thrust back into you like that again, but all you felt was his hips giving slow thrusts, his cock pumping in and out of your cunt nice and steady.

"Oh– fuuck—" You moaned, your gummy walls feeling each ridge and pulse of his dick deep within you, pretty little noises falling from you parted lips as he fucked you nice and slow.

"Knew you'd want this after that video, such a dirty little whore." He teased you, making you gasp in shock as he finally brought it up, your head turning to look back at him with your glossy, kiss-swollen lips parted.

"Bu–but I thought you sent it by– fuck– by accident?" You asked him in between moans and trying to hold yourself together as his cock pumped in and out of your sopping cunt deliciously.

A laugh came from him before he spoke. "You think I'm that fucking stupid? Of course not," He gave a harsh thrust into you, as if to test the waters, before smirking as he earned a whiny moan from you.

"Thought it'd be funny seeing you all strung up and nervous around me, knowing that you got off to the one guy you fucking despise," He chuckled, his hips moving in a steady pace.

Of course he fucking knew what he'd done to you, the asshole, and yet, you couldn't find the strength to snap at him for it. All you could do right now was take the dick you'd been begging for just last night.

You felt as he pulled his cock out till it was nearly at the tip, a whine leaving your lips as he teased you, before slamming back in, a choked gasp leaving you as pleasure burned deep throughout your entire body.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the bathroom, mixing with your gorgeous, fucked out moans, his hips picking up speed as he fucked you good, so fucking good.

Your head felt light, your mind felt fuzzy, drool was practically begging to spill from the corner of your lips. Your toes curled, your fingers dug into anything you could grab onto, your entire world felt new and yet a mess at the same time, your words turning to nothing but babbles.

"Tell me who's fuckin' you this good." He growled into your ear, his hips snapping against your ass relentlessly, fingers digging into your hips. Holy. Fuck. Nothing in this world could've been better than this, absolutely fucking nothing. The way he fucked into you, his thick cock stretching you in a way you'd never felt before, the way he made you a fucking mess, just like he promised.

"Y..You– mm—" You whined in a slurred voice, so drunk on his cock that you could hardly form a sentence. You'd let him fuck you dumb over and over again if this is what it felt like every time.

"Can't fuckin' hear you, slut," He spat, and suddenly, you felt his hand wrap around your neck from behind, a gasp leaving you lips as he lifted your head up, meeting you with the glorious view of you completely fucked out.

His face came up right next yours in the mirror, his eyes dark and full of pure lust. "Tell me. Who's fuckin' you. This. Good." He punctuated his words with a hard, deep thrust, watching as your eyes rolled back into your head from the pleasure.

"Y–you, Matt— You!" You choked out, that feeling deep in your tummy starting to flicker to life and burn as Matt pressed a kiss against your cheek before he spoke against your skin.

"What do you think Nate would think? Knowing you're acting like such a cock-drunk whore for me right now?"

You whined, thinking about how bad things could get if Nate ever found out about you two, even if this was just a one time thing. But as Matt hit that perfect spot within your velvety walls, you couldn't give two shits on the matter right now.

"Fuck–! R–right there—" You gasped out, needing to feel him at least hit that spot one more time, the pleasure making your toes practically curl from how good it felt.

"What? Here?" He teased, hitting the spot perfectly on his next thrust, earning a loud, whiny moan from you.

"Yes! Yes yes–" You babbled, gasping as he kept his thrusts right there, practically pounding into that same spot over and over and over again, your eyes rolling back as you felt his fingers squeeze around your throat.

"D–don't— mm— I–I'm gonna— oh fuuuck—" Tears came to your eyes from the otherworldly pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you looked at Matt through the mirror, his figure nearly towering over you from behind as he fucked you so good.

"Gonna cum, baby?" He started to pant, his hand on your hip gripping tight as he kept his thrusts consistent. "Fucking cum on this cock, c'mon, be a good little slut and cum all over this dick." He groaned out.

Your fingers gripped the edges of the counter hard, your legs nearly gave out, and that feeling built up within you, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until—

You gasped out a loud moan, nails clawing at the marble counter as you finally felt that knot snap within you, your orgasm washing over you in a powerful storm, bigger than you've ever felt before, better than you've ever experienced. It was like your world went white, completely washed from what once was, and replace only with this euphoric, heavenly feeling.

You finally came to your senses as you felt Matt's hips stutter as he too hit his peak, feeling warm, thick spurts of cum fill your cunt, painting your gummy walls white as he fucked his seed into you, thrusting a few more times before he finally stopped, his head falling to you shoulder.

"Holy... fuck..." You panted breathlessly as Matt nodded against your shoulder in silent agreement, a soft, weak chuckle leaving your lips.

Heavy breathing filled the bathroom for a few moments, Matt's hand leaving your neck and joining his other at your hips as they began slowly rubbing up and down your sides in a soothing manner. You never wanted to leave this moment.

But soon enough, Matt had to pull out of you, a soft mewl leaving your lips as his cock left you feeling empty, though being replaced by the feeling of his cum started to slowly drip from your cunt, a groan leaving his lips at the sight.

"Fuck, that's hot," He smirked, a playful feeling coming over you as you wiggled your hips a bit for him as his cum dripped down your inner thighs.

Suddenly, though, you felt his fingers scoop up as much as he could before pushing it back into your cunt, a gasped whimper leaving your lips as you turned your head to fix him with a glare, only to be met with a chuckle at how non-threatening you looked after being throughly fucked.

"Gotta keep you filled. Can't let you go without remembering how wrong you were, now can I?" He teased you, loving the way you rolled your eyes at him, smiling whilst trying to keep up a glare.

"Asshole." You muttered, but something pulled at your heart with the way he looked at you, still dark but.. warmer now.

"Brat." He murmured back almost affectionately, before pressing his lips to yours in a low, deep, passionate kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours in a hypnotic manner.

God, you could get used to this.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

a / n : worked CRAZY hard on this for a good while and i'm genuinely in LOVE with how it turned out- I really really hope you guys like it since it's my first go at a one shot

tysm @abijojo10 for requesting this, i had sm fun getting to write this and i hope it came out the way you wanted it to 😋

Inbox, dms, and requests are all open, hit me up wheneva babies <33

tags : @sillysillymatt, @jcsturniolo11, @strnilolover, @whore4mattsturniolo, @courta13, @sophand4n4, @blueboeh444, @mattspinkiefinger, @theyluvivi, @thecrawlys, @k4urltzx, @chrislova, @fadedstvrn, @emely9274, @raesturns, @hereforshits-snd-gigglesd, @sophsturns, @brookheartsmatt

(wanna be added to the list for future works? just click this link bby <33)

dividers → @cafekitsune and me

#y2kstarr★#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #dom matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo oneshot #nate doe #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic

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bueckets · 7 months ago

Text

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Masterlist (TBA) | Part 2

Genre: romance (eventually), slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, smut (eventually), cat n mouse

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

WC: 11.2k

Authors Notes: i had first written this for jkxreader on my other blog (whoretan) however plot deviates heavily after the first encounter, um, kinda fuck girly paige, but kind of just a love drunk idiot too

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

Your eyes burned as you stared at the CAD model rotating on your screen, the internal combustion engine you'd been working on for the past—what was it now, eight hours?—still refusing to cooperate.

The familiar workspace of SOLIDWORKS had become both your best friend and worst enemy over the past three years at UConn, but tonight it felt particularly vindictive. You'd been trying to get the timing belt assembly to properly mate with the crankshaft for what felt like an eternity, and your deadline was creeping closer by the minute.

"Did you hear?" Riven's voice cut through your concentration as she burst through the door, her designer backpack hitting her bed with enough force to make your desk lamp wobble.

"Hear what?" You didn't bother turning around, instead zooming in on the problematic area of your model. The project was due in six hours, and you were nowhere near having it stress-tested. Sleep was starting to feel like a distant memory from another life.

Riven paused in her tracks—you could practically hear her jaw dropping in that dramatic way she'd perfected since freshman year. "Paige Bueckers was talking about how Q’s jump shot is worse than a middle schooler's."

The absurdity of the statement finally forced you to tear your eyes away from the screen. Your neck cracked in protest as you turned to face your roommate, who stood there with her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, waiting for your reaction. Three years of living together had taught you that Riven wouldn't let you focus until you properly acknowledged whatever piece of gossip she'd brought home.

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

Riven tilted her head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in that characteristic way of hers. Six seconds of contemplation later (you’d learned to count), she shrugged and pulled out her iPhone, probably to text the women's basketball group chat about the latest drama.

Your roommate, much like all the other Huskies superfans, didn't care whose reputation a particular player tarnished. She'd much rather get on their good side, damaged reputations or not. It was a dance you'd watched play out countless times since freshman year, when you'd first been assigned as roommates.

Back then, you'd thought the random housing assignment would be a disaster—the sports-obsessed sorority girl and the robotics team president seemed like a recipe for mutual hatred. But somehow, your differences had created a strange balance. She dragged you out of your engineering cave occasionally, and you reminded her that there was more to college than chasing after basketball stars.

"Caitlin bought Kate those new custom Nikes." Riven thrust her phone in your face, revealing a photo of Clark's teammate happily posing with pristine white sneakers. The caption read, 'Thanks for the gift bb, @CaitlinClark22'.

You squinted at the screen, trying not to think about how those shoes probably cost more than your entire semester's textbooks. The basketball elite weren't just known for their court skills—their NIL deals were equally legendary. Every starter came from successful programs, the kind that built training facilities and had courts named after their alumni.

"What a lucky bitch," Riven sighed, flopping onto her bed.

Apparently, your roommate wasn't the only one who didn't care for her reputation. Last week, she'd blown up your phone with about thirty—maybe sixty—texts about how her sorority sister had seen Caitlin making out with someone else at The Tavern. Looks like those custom Nikes must've been an apology.

You looked up at your starstruck roommate with pursed lips. Riven caught your expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she's being messy. So what? Those shoes are like two thousand dollars with the custom work, that's my fucking meal plan right there."

"Remind me again how you're a neurology student?"

Riven clutched her chest with an open hand, gasping dramatically. "Wow. I see how it is." She threw herself backward onto her bed with the theatrical flair of a soap opera star.

You couldn't help but grin, even as your eyes darted back to your computer screen. The smile quickly died on your lips.

Oh fuck.

The CAD model still sat there, mocking you with its incomplete state. You'd managed to complete maybe forty percent of the assembly, and the entire thing needed to be fully rigged and stress-analyzed by nine AM.

This was the cost of your procrastination, another dinner sacrificed to the gods of engineering deadlines. At least you had a good excuse this time: you'd spent the weekend helping the robotics team prepare for their upcoming competition. Being vice president meant putting in the extra hours, even if it meant cramming your actual coursework into impossible timeframes.

"I have to finish this tonight. Do not bother me with any more basketball drama." You spun your chair back to face your screen, not bothering to check if Riven was sticking her tongue out at you. You could picture it anyway, she had the maturity of a twelve-year-old sometimes.

Five and a half hours later, you finally pressed the glorious 'Submit' button on Blackboard. You turned off your PC with such violence that the desktop nearly toppled over.

"Never doing that again," you groaned, slumping into your chair and letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your neck felt like it had been replaced with concrete somewhere around hour six.

"You literally say that every time," Riven quipped from her side of the room.

If you had any energy left, you would've gotten up and punched her in the ass. Luckily for her, your eyes had started doing that thing where they drooped shut every few seconds without your permission. You'd decided about thirty minutes ago that your chair was an acceptable substitute for a bed. The walk to your actual mattress seemed about as feasible as climbing Mount Everest right now.

"How do I look? Good enough for the party?"

Fucking hell.

You summoned what little remained of your core strength and groaned as you forced your chair to swivel around. The sight that greeted you was, admittedly, impressive, even through your exhaustion-blurred vision.

Riven wore a black dress that hit just above her knees, with strategic cutouts along her ribs. The laced-up black heels she'd spent twenty minutes struggling with (while whining very fucking loudly) completed the look perfectly. She'd devoted the last hour of your project completion marathon to preparing for KK’s birthday celebration.

“Which party?” you croaked. “The one where everyone’s fighting or the one where they’re pretending nothing happened?”

Her nose wrinkled in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. "You're so annoying."

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

You watched as Riven stumbled toward her drawer, rummaging through three compartments before pulling out a neon orange tiny bag. And when you say tiny, you mean tiny, it couldn't have been more than two inches across.

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

A wicked smile spread across her face as she opened the toy purse, pulling out her student ID and a tube of lipstick. Of-fucking-course. “Minimalist chic, baby. Besides, I don’t need much. Just the essentials. I'm serious. Tonight's gonna be fucking legendary."

“Legendary,” you deadpanned, swiveling your chair back to your desk. “Try not to end up on Barstool again.”

You swore she lunged forward, ready to attack you with her miniature weapon. But her phone rang, which happened to be a far more pressing matter. The assault could wait. Riven pressed the phone to her ear with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

"Are you here? Yeah, I'm ready. You have the Pink Whitney? Okay. Bye."

She turned back to you with that same manic grin. "I'll get you back for that later. Bye!"

And just like that, Riven leaped out of the room, her neon orange bag and its singular tube of lipstick disappearing with her into whatever chaos awaited at the UConn house.

The sudden silence in her wake felt almost oppressive. You sat there for a moment, contemplating your life choices. The clean lines and precise measurements of your engineering models never gave you this much drama. Maybe that's why you preferred spending your nights with SOLIDWORKS instead of at parties—machines were predictable, logical, and they never started drama about anyone's jump shot.

After nearly crawling your way across the room for what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably closer to five), you finally made it to your bed. Or rather, to the base of your bed. The problem now was getting on top of it. UConn, in its infinite wisdom, had given everyone the tallest fucking beds in existence.

Tall enough that all of your belongings fit underneath it so they could make the rooms ten times smaller by doing so. You sat on your ass, glaring at what felt like a sixteen-foot space between you and the mattress. You could, theoretically, just fucking get up and with one last surge of energy jump onto it. But the soft cotton of your fuzzy rug was suddenly hugging your back, tucking you in, cradling you like a loving parent.

Fuck it, the floor isn't even that bad. You've slept on much worse—like that one time freshman year when you passed out in the robotics lab after a forty-eight-hour building session. At least your rug didn't smell like motor oil and desperation.

Your head lay flat on the floor, the hardwood never felt softer. Riven had left hours ago, and you'd managed to successfully knock out on your chair for a bit. That was until you jolted awake, sweating out of every crevice of your body, and made eye contact with your actual bed. You'd said goodbye to the chair and began the voyage to your proper sleeping place. Clearly, that wasn't going as planned.

It was too late now to dwell on what could've been. Tomorrow, you'd start anew. Just like every time she partied, Riven wouldn't be back for two or three days. You'd have a full day to sleep on your actual bed without the mention of UConn and internal combustion engines.

You turned to your side, the fuzz tickling your chin as you nuzzled into it. Sleep was just starting to creep in when—

"Taylor! Tay baby, please open the door!"

The hairs on your arms rose and a fart you hadn't realized you'd been holding in released into the air. Some drunk player had the wrong door.

“Wrong room,” you called, hoping they’d get the hint. With a shaky breath, you nuzzled deeper into the carpet.

Not a second later, a bang erupted through your room. "Tay, please. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Could you not have one night of peace? One night of tranquility to enjoy your own company? One night to enjoy sleeping on the hard floor?

"Taylor, for fuckssake." The asshole nearly knocked the fucking door off the hinges.

First, you're going to knock her the hell out. Then, you'll find out where Taylor lives and knock her out, too. Maybe you could work it into your next robotics project—a robot specifically designed to punch drunk athletes who can't read room numbers.

"Tay, please—"

You jolted upward and ran to the door so fast you probably broke several laws of physics. Swinging the wooden panel open like a madwoman, you yelled, "Listen asshole, I don't know who Taylor is and I don't give a damn. It's late as hell and some of us actually enjoy sleeping!"

Said asshole leaned against the door frame of your room, a Nike-covered foot tapping against the floor as she pressed a finger to your lips. "Shhhhh, baby, I said I'm sorry."

Your throat locked and you nearly laughed at the audacity. Did this fucker really not notice you weren't Taylor? Through your sleep-deprived haze, you managed to register a few details about the intruder: tall, athletic build that made your mouth go dry, honey-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and wearing what looked like exclusive UConn team gear. Great. A drunk basketball star.

Said basketball star happened to also push herself off the door frame and trudge past you, right into your room as if she'd been there a million times.

Much like you wanted to before your carpet trapped you, the stranger leaped onto your bed, stomach flopping onto the cushion of your mattress. She muttered something you couldn't hear as she grabbed your favorite pillow and brought it close to her chest. She was snuggling your Mr. Gummy.

You were going to go to jail for assaulting a Division I athlete. Yeah. This was the end of your girl boss engineering career. Goodbye feminist STEM icon. Hello convict. All those years of suffering to get into UConn just for you to catch a case over the Greek Goddess, Nike, herself. At least you'd submitted your project first, might as well get credit for that before you went to prison.

"Babe, I don't remember your bed smelling this good." She'd gone into a fetal position, kicking off her—yep, definitely team-exclusive Nikes. Maybe, just maybe, you'd knock her out and then sell her shoes on StockX. The proceeds could cover your legal defense.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your palm, wiping away the stress sweat that had accumulated. You swung your head out of your door, looking left and right, then repeat. Empty. Fuck. Fuck, and fuck.

You paced back and forth a few times, biting on the edge of your hand. You can't pick this goddess off your bed. One, she's drunk as hell. Two, she's... You gazed back at the stranger, somewhere on her journey to your bed she'd tossed her UConn warmup jacket to your floor. Leaving her in a fitted tank top that left nothing to the imagination.

Who needs that many shoulder muscles? The definition in the arm that hugged Mr. Gummy was sculpted by years of perfect jump shots. Each shift of her body revealed new curves, like a living Nike ad designed specifically to torment sleep-deprived engineering students.

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

Okay, so you can't drag the basketball star off your bed.

Plan B it is.

You trudged into your room, taking one last look at the hallway. Should you close the door?

If someone did hypothetically walk past would they think you drugged her? She was slurring her words and hugging your favorite bear while you paced back and forth like you happened to "accidentally" slip something into her Gatorade.

You closed the door.

You needed to call Riven. You could care less that she was at the beginning of her three-day rager, you weren't going to wait till the next morning when Nike would wake up and start accusing you of kidnapping UConn's star point guard.

You slowly walked toward your desk, making sure to avoid the panels on the floor that creaked every time someone stepped on them. Empty. You pushed your chair back to see if it happened to fall earlier. Empty.

The air stilled, and you shook your head. No. No. She was laying on it.

You'd chucked your phone onto your bed after deciding to finally start your project. You had to call Riven. There was no other choice but to tell someone. And given the fact that your contact list included your parents and Riven, she was looking like the most optimal candidate.

As silently as you could, you tip-toed toward your bed and did a quick examination. Near her head? Nope. Mr. Gummy? Nope. Legs? Nope. Hip?

Yeah.

Maybe you would go to jail after all, for assault.

You better get an A on that fucking project.

You took a step forward, awkwardly climbing the edge of your bed to get closer to your phone. Which was nicely tucked right under the curve of her ass, your camera barely peeking out as if it was taunting you.

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

Your face contorted as you inched closer to the basketball player, thumb and middle finger clutching the edges of your phone and lightly tugging backward. She huffed out a soft groan. Dear god.

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

Your eyes left the phone and gazed to the floor where your Mr. Gummy lay sacrificed to the floor demons. Uh oh.

You turned back to retrieve your bear when your eyes locked with hers. Her very open eyes.

She was smiling.

"Baby I didn't know you were so handsy."

You stared. That's all you could manage to do—stare at the face of the beautiful drunk idiot in front of you. And holy shit was she beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you question if UConn's recruitment standards included a mandatory photogenic quota for certain players.

The idiot had a playful smile playing across her stupidly perfect face. Taylor must be a lucky girl. Not lucky enough, though, considering her girlfriend was currently in a stranger's bed. How drunk did someone have to be to not recognize they had the wrong person?

"C'mere," she grabbed your arm, pulling you to your side as if you weighed nothing. A strong arm locked around your waist and began rubbing circles on your stomach. The motion sent shivers down your spine that you desperately tried to ignore.

"Missed you, n' I'm sorry baby," she slurred into your ear. Her voice was much softer now, a warm whisper that made your whole body tingle.

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

The words shot straight between your legs. You hadn't been touched in almost two years. Sue me. A gorgeous basketball star was rubbing your lower stomach while she told you—her girlfriend—she missed her. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You spend three years avoiding athlete drama, and now the universe deposits one directly into your bed?

You needed your phone. Pronto.

"Listen— I—" You raised a clammy hand to lift her, attempting to wrap your fingers around her wrist to lift it. Your engineering brain was trying to calculate the exact force required to remove her arm without waking her up further, but all mathematical ability seemed to have short-circuited.

"You're so squirmy tonight," she intertwined your fingers.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You inched your body further away in an attempt to shrug her off. A move that, in retrospect, was about as well-thought-out as trying to integrate calculus while drunk.

Nike thought otherwise. She pulled you closer until her front was pressed firmly against your back, her breath warm against your neck. You could feel the defined muscles of her stomach through her tank top, her body radiating heat that made your head spin.

FUCK.

You'll wake up with a gay panic and a warrant.

"I'm really tired," you squirmed against the death grip around your waist. For someone supposedly blackout drunk, she had the grip strength of someone who'd spent their life fighting through double teams.

Just pretend it's not there. You do not feel anything. Just toned arms and her—

"G'to bed baby. I'll make it up— make it up to you n' the morning." Nike lifted herself to place one last sleepy kiss against your cheek.

Two minutes later, Nike’s light snores vibrated against the back of your neck, warm breath caressing your skin. You wouldn't be able to move her off you. You had no clue where your phone was. Her hip could very well have fully consumed it at this point, creating some kind of phone-eating black hole that physics hadn't yet discovered.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, pretended there wasn't a Division I basketball star sleeping in your bed, and prayed that you wouldn't end up in some viral TikTok before noon. At least if you did become internet famous, you'd already submitted that goddamn CAD project.

Your last thought before drifting off was that Mr. Gummy better not tell anyone about this.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

Are you being robbed? Is someone being murdered? You jolted upwards to see Riven staring at you with an open mouth, her perfectly applied makeup from last night now resembling a raccoon's Halloween costume.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. What's her problem?

She pointed to your bed and you turned your body to the side. Oh.

Oh.

Nike was rapidly blinking, those unfairly long eyelashes fluttering as she was most likely realizing you were not Taylor. The morning light streaming through your window illuminated her features in a way that should be illegal before coffee.

You laughed nervously, hands flailing in front of you like a malfunctioning windmill. "It's not what it looks like."

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

Paige Bueckers? The same UConn Basketball Star Paige Bueckers? No fucking way.

This Paige had cuddled Mr. Gummy half of the night before opting to trap you in the bed with her. There was no chance that this was the same Paige Bueckers that had NIL deals with Nike and Gatorade and had laid waste to half the NCAA.

Paige—definitely Paige—groaned beside you, hands rubbing her face. "Taylor's going to kill me," she mumbled underneath her breath.

"No, we— we didn't. We." You pointed between yourself and Paige, your brain short-circuiting like a poorly wired circuit board.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sure it was the time of your life, but this was a one-time thing." Her voice had that practiced smoothness of someone who'd given this speech before, probably more times than the number of equations in your thermodynamics textbook.

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Was she serious? Did she think you two—? And she was okay with it? Now, this fits the description perfectly of the cocky superstar Paige Bueckers was known to be.

Your face burned hotter than an overclocked processor. "We did not have sex. You came in here drunk off your ass screaming about your girlfriend."

By the time the word girlfriend left your mouth, Paige Bueckers had already jumped off your bed with the agility of someone who definitely wasn't as hungover as she should be. She snatched up her UConn warmup jacket from your floor and was halfway down the hallway before you could blink.

What an arrogant little asshole. Your muscles quivered with the urge to strangle her. That is if you ever saw her again. Which, given your luck and UConn’s campus, was probably inevitable.

"How long have you and Paige been seeing each other?" The empty spot beside you filled with Riven's weight. "Is that why you never wanted to come to the games with me?"

"Riven, you have five seconds to get off of my bed before I strangle you."

"You can't avoid this conversation forever!" she called out as you stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to process the reality that you'd just spent the night cuddled up with Paige fucking Bueckers. The same player whose name had been carved into the unofficial NCAA hierarchy since before orientation.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the memory of how her arms had felt around you, how her breath had tickled your neck, how her—

No. Absolutely not. You were not going to join the ranks of college students who'd lost their minds over a basketball star. You had bigger things to worry about. Like whether your CAD project had uploaded properly. Or if you could ever look at Mr. Gummy the same way again.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, labs, and actively avoiding any location where you might run into Paige. You'd even skipped Tuesday's Engineering Club meeting, sending your vice president a detailed email about needing to catch up on work. It wasn't entirely a lie—you did have work to catch up on, considering you'd spent half your study time calculating alternate routes to class that avoided the usual athlete hangouts.

But by Thursday afternoon, your luck ran out. The library was supposed to be safe—the one place on campus where the basketball players rarely ventured. They had their own private study rooms in the athletic center, after all. Which is why you'd let your guard down, settling into your favorite spot near the engineering section to catch up on your reading.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by two girls settling at the table across from you, their whispered conversation carrying clearly in the quiet space.

"So yeah, I like totally made out with Paige in the team room. We almost knocked over Coach's whiteboard, isn't that hilarious?" The prettier of the two said as she placed her MacBook on the wooden table, her voice carrying that forced casualness of someone trying very hard to seem unbothered.

Her friend laughed and took a sip of her Starbucks, a lemonade, probably sugar-free, because of course it was. "So how was it?"

Paige's latest conquest giggled and opened her laptop, trying to seem as uninterested in the conversation as possible. You'd seen this play before, the carefully crafted nonchalance that masked the inevitable disappointment when Paige moved on to her next target. You'd bet your entire scholarship that she'd gone home crying after being ghosted, only to watch Paige pretend she didn't exist the next day.

By this point, you'd given up all pretense of studying chemical processes and electron movement. You'd reread the same paragraph in your textbook sixteen times, your brain more interested in this glimpse into the life of your unexpected bedmate. So what if you're being nosy? Everyone is nosy, and besides, you'd mentally checked out the moment these two sat down.

"She's such a good kisser.” Her friend's mouth dropped open as she placed her half-empty cup onto the table, grabbing her friend's shoulder with one hand. The former nodded, still giggling, "Sarah, I know. She like totally picked me up against the whiteboard."

Are they not aware that people can hear them? That they're in a public space? You glanced around the library, which was half-empty as usual. So maybe you were the only one eavesdropping. Still, you wouldn't go around a library of all places announcing your hookups to the world.

"Hey buttercup," an eerily familiar voice purred in your ear.

You jolted, arms flailing like a malfunctioning robot, inevitably colliding with your pencil case and sending its contents scattering across the floor. Various writing implements rolled under nearby tables like they were making a break for freedom.

You turned to lock eyes with a very, very familiar pair of hazel eyes. Shit.

"Do I know you?" You asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how good she looked in her fitted Nike training gear. The amount of exclusive team merchandise on her body probably equaled your entire semester's expenses.

Why would Paige, of all people, be looking for you? If you remembered correctly, she was the one to so diligently inform you that whatever happened was a one-time thing—even though nothing had actually happened.

Paige's eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips tugged upward into that infamous smirk. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the edge of the table, the other on the back of your chair, effectively caging you in. "Don't play dumb."

She was in your bubble. Way too close for comfort, especially since you'd been planning on never having to interact with her again. You groaned and leaned backward, roughly pushing your chair back to give yourself space to lean over and pick up your scattered pens. The move was partly practical and partly designed to annoy her.

"Listen, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here either." Paige grabbed the chair to your left and pushed it closer to you, dropping into it with that natural athlete's grace. "I've been to your room every day since Sunday and you haven't been there once."

Welp. Why the hell would she be looking for you?

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to be waiting in my room for you." You shoved the pens back into your pencil case, gripping the zipper and tugging it closed with perhaps more force than necessary. Looks like the library was no longer a safe haven.

"I lost my phone and you're the only person I remember being with that night," Paige groaned, turning her head.

Does she truly remember that night? Remember that you two didn't actually hook up but instead cuddled? You wanted to convulse at the memory of how safe and warm you'd felt in her arms. How right it had—no. Absolutely not.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled, her expression shifting from annoyed to something closer to panic.

Your eyes followed her gaze to see what had caused this reaction.

Ha. Ha. Ha. In your face, superstar. You couldn't help but grin as you realized the two girls were still very much present. Not only present but staring at you and Paige with expressions that suggested their jaws might actually detach and hit the table.

Paige leaned back in her chair, sending them a small wave and a—was that a wink? Your eyes nearly rolled directly out of their sockets. How much more predictable could she get?

You didn't bother to look back at the two girls to see their reaction. You could guess it anyway—probably swooning in their chairs, maybe even planning their own strategic "accidental" encounters with her. You wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning to show up at her next practice session.

"Anyways," Paige turned back to you, her voice dropping to that low register that definitely didn't do things to your insides, "Have you seen it?"

You shook your head, closing your textbook. Time to get the hell out of here. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"Are you mad about what I said? Is that why you're holding my precious phone hostage?" Paige's hand shot out to land on top of your textbook, preventing you from shoving it in your bag—or directly at her stupid, perfect face.

"Mad about what exactly?" You grabbed her hand and tried to shove it off the textbook. She didn't budge. Of course she didn't, you'd seen her arms during all those ESPN highlights Riven forced you to watch. "I do not have your phone."

Within seconds, Paige's hand slid off the textbook only to trap your hand against it instead. She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward until her lips were at the shell of your ear. Her warm breath hit your skin and you had to resist the urge to squirm. "About what I said in front of your roommate, sweetie."

Your blood ran cold. Does she think you give two shits about what she said in front of Riven? That she made your roommate think you two were secretly hooking up and that she would undoubtedly eventually let it slip to her sorority sisters? Who will tell the rest of campus? No. Not. At. All.

Asshole. She's a no-good little asshole with too many NIL deals and too little accountability.

You turned your head to face her, ignoring the fact that you were now inches apart. If you weren't so pissed you might've paused to appreciate how her eyes looked up close, how they seemed to hold more mischief than all the troublemakers in Cambridge combined. But now wasn't the time for character studies.

You held her gaze, noting the slight knit in her brow that suggested she wasn't as confident as she was pretending to be. "Listen here Bueckers, whether or not you want to keep pretending like we hooked up or not is none of my business. I do not have your fucking phone, and if I did I would've thrown that shit into the Charles River by now."

You yanked your hand away from her grasp and turned back to your desk. You managed to successfully toss your textbook into your bag and rise from your chair without another word from her.

Before making your very dramatic exit, you turned to face her one last time. Might as well make it grand.

Paige hadn't moved an inch since you'd stood up. She stared at you with a raised brow and that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. She found this amusing? Found humiliating you in the library a good pastime?

You bent over your chair, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning in until you were at the shell of her ear. She stiffened under your touch, and you felt a small thrill of satisfaction. What the fuck are you doing?

You leaned in further, so close that your chest pressed flat against your arm and her body. So close that your lips actually grazed her ear as you whispered, with all the venom you could muster, “This might work on your little groupies, but, I’m not interested.”

The last thing you saw as you straightened up and walked away was the shocked expression on her face, like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Good. Let her be confused for once.

You managed to make it all the way to the library exit before your hands started shaking. What the hell had gotten into you? You'd just essentially declared war on one of the most prominent athletes at UConn. The star player who could probably get you banned from every sports event without blinking.

But as you pushed through the heavy doors into the crisp fall air, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Maybe it was time someone stood up to the mighty Paige Bueckers. Someone who didn't want anything from her except for her to leave them alone.

Your muscles were still tense from your library encounter as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm room. The familiar hallway felt longer than usual, probably because every step reminded you of how spectacularly you'd just antagonized UConn's star player. At least you'd managed to get through your thermodynamics lab without dwelling too much on the way Paige's face had dropped when you'd—

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

You fumbled with your key card, missing the reader twice before finally getting the door open. The first thing you noticed was an envelope on the floor, likely slipped under your door while you were in class. You bent down to pick it up, ready to toss it in the recycling with all the other campus spam, when Riven's voice cut through the room.

"What's that?"

You jumped, nearly dropping the envelope. Your roommate was sprawled across her bed, still in her scrubs from her hospital rotation. She must have gotten back early.

"Nothing," you muttered, but it was too late. Riven had already launched herself off her bed with surprising agility for someone who'd just finished a twelve-hour shift.

"Oh my god," she squealed, snatching the envelope from your hands before you could protest. "These are courtside tickets to Saturday's game!"

Your stomach dropped. Sure enough, two tickets peeked out of the torn envelope in Riven's hands. But what caught your eye was the note attached.

Found my phone in the team room. Who would’ve thought, right? Peace? - PB

"We're going," Riven declared, already pulling out her phone. "I'm texting the group chat right now. Do you know how impossible these tickets are to get?"

You reached for the tickets, but Riven danced away, holding them above her head like a prized trophy. "We are not going."

"Oh yes we are," she grinned, typing furiously with one hand while keeping the tickets out of your reach with the other. "Everyone's going to be so jealous. How did you even get these?"

"I didn't—" you started, then stopped. How exactly do you explain to your basketball-obsessed roommate that these tickets were some kind of weird peace offering from Paige Bueckers? A peace offering that felt more like a challenge, especially given that note.

"Earth to engineering nerd," Riven waved her hand in front of your face. "You're coming to this game. No excuses. I've already told everyone you're finally embracing the Husky spirit."

You groaned, falling face-first onto your bed. Mr. Gummy stared at you judgmentally from his spot against your pillow. Even he seemed to be saying you should have thrown those tickets away the moment you saw them.

"I have to study," you mumbled into your comforter.

"You always have to study," Riven countered. "But how often do you get courtside tickets from Paige Bueckers?"

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

"PB?" Riven held up the note, smirking. "Please. I may be pre-med, but I'm not stupid. Also, her signature is literally on every piece of UConn merch in the campus store."

Great. Just great. Now you had no choice but to go to the game. If you didn't, Riven would never let you hear the end of it. She'd probably drag you there anyway, study plans be damned.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape route from this situation. Instead, all you could think about was how you'd have to sit courtside—courtside—and watch Paige play. Watch her make those impossible passes, sink those perfect three-pointers, command the court like she was born to do it.

And she'd know you were there. That was the worst part. This wasn't just a peace offering—it was a power play. She was making sure you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting the word as it left your mouth. "But I'm bringing my thermodynamics textbook."

Riven's squeal of delight was probably heard all the way in the engineering building.

You grabbed Mr. Gummy and hugged him to your chest, wondering how exactly you'd gone from successfully telling Paige Bueckers to fuck off to having courtside seats to watch her play. The bear offered no answers, but you could have sworn he looked a little smug about the whole situation.

The next two days were a special kind of torture. Riven had taken it upon herself to become your personal "game day preparation coordinator," which apparently meant forcing you to sit through endless highlight reels of UConn's recent victories. By Friday afternoon, you could probably recite Paige's stat line from memory—not that you'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You can't wear that," Riven declared as you pulled out your standard comfort outfit: UConn Engineering hoodie and black leggings.

You glanced down at your clothes, then back at your roommate. "Why not?"

"Because we're sitting courtside," she emphasized the word like you were a particularly slow child. "People are going to see us. The cameras might even pan to us during timeouts!"

The mere thought made your stomach churn. "That's exactly why I should wear this. I don't want to draw any attention."

Riven was already shaking her head, diving into her closet with the determination of someone on a mission. "No way. If Paige Bueckers gives you courtside tickets, you dress for the occasion."

"She didn't give them to me," you protested, even though technically she had. "They were just left under our door."

"Right," Riven emerged with an armful of clothes. "Just like she just happened to end up in your bed that night?"

You threw Mr. Gummy at her head. She dodged, laughing as the bear bounced harmlessly off your desk lamp. "We are not talking about that again."

An hour and approximately seventeen outfit changes later, you finally escaped. Your excuse about needing to pick up materials from the engineering lab wasn't entirely a lie—you did have a project due next week. The fact that the engineering building was on the opposite side of campus from the athletic facilities was just a bonus.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the person exiting the coffee shop until it was too late. Hot liquid splashed across your chest as you collided with what felt like a brick wall of muscle.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" A voice that definitely wasn't Paige's (thank god) exclaimed.

You looked up—and up—into the concerned face of one of UConn's basketball players. The Croatian accent and defensive intensity were legendary enough that even you, perpetually sports-oblivious, recognized her from Riven's endless team discussions.

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it? ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats.

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

Continue Reading Part 2

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littlelovelunette · 2 months ago

Note

Hellooo, could I request a reader getting over a heart break and deciding to wear her sluttiest outfit to go out drinking and Sevika who can’t keep her eyes off her cause she’s wearing a short skirt that barely covers her ass?

Eye-Fucking Ya’

Sevika x Recently Broken-Up!Reader

Sex with plot, fingering in a bathroom stall, fondling and kissing, teasing, Reader is a mood, mentions of being caught, biting and hickeys.

Even though, you missed your ex dearly you forced yourself out of it. Your friends had been blasting your cell for the past hour, trying to get you out of your little depressed shell.

"Let's go get drinks," one of them had suggested but you were skeptical. Should you?

As you showered, the cold water cascaded down your frame. You sighed a little, picking up the shower gel resting on the rack, you squirted some on your hand. "Maybe I should go." You mumbled to yourself.

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all, you did need the time outside. You'd been drowning yourself in work to distract yourself from the pain of your breakup. With a groan, you wiped your hand off on the towel and grabbed your phone using your other hand to part the shower curtains.

As you picked your phone up, you saw there were around 26 missed calls from your friends. "Hey," you gingerly put the phone to your ear.

"Hi, girl! We've been calling for hours! Why are you ghosting us?" Kayla asked, you could hear the other girls giggling in the background. Of course, they were probably getting their nails done for their outing today.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see the messages, I've been off my phone since the morning." You replied, looking at your sleep deprived reflection on the mirror. Your eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying.

"Off your phone? Are you okay, girlie?" Kayla asked, her voice lowering in worry.

"Yeah... Just a hard time coping after the breakup, I guess." You answered, using your other hand to prode at your own face as if testing the skin.

"That's why we keep tellin' you! Come to Last Drop and have a drink with us. Maybe dress up a little and you might even get laid." Kayla said, her tone taking a suggestive turn.

"Get laid? I don't want sex right now. I'm barely even outta the woods." You laughed bitterly.

"Oh, c'mon, maybe just dress up for us girls then, okay?"

"Yeah, okay fine."

You both paused and you could hear Kayla asking the other girls if they could delay their outing so you get off your work shift and join them. The others sounded so excited you'd be there— so much so that you almost felt guilty for cancelling on them so many times earlier because you were busy grieving your breakup.

"Does 8 pm work for you?" Kayla asked.

"It's a bit late but uh, yeah. It's not like I'll be having company rather than y'all anyway," you laughed slightly.

"Maybe soon," Kayla said, letting her words linger before she cut the call with a last, "See ya' there!"

You pulled the shower curtain back and put your phone on the counter again, resuming your shower silently as you thought what you'd wear. You couldn't think of any bar-worthy outfit in your closet. You'd thrown most of them out anyway because they no longer fitted you.

As you stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, you rummaged through your closet only to find a very short black dress. You sighed softly and tried it on, it barely covered the swell of your ass. You tried to pull the hem down more but it didnt budge. You groaned, turning to see your butt in the mirror. Well, it did look good.

You shrugged, zipping the dress off and putting it on a hanger so you could dress for your job first. You left the room, phone in hand and key jingling from the little ring on your belt. Work was the usual, serving tables and sucking down the inappropriate even hurtful remarks of paying customers. And Karens. You were grateful when your shift was over and you quickly walked to your house to get ready. It was 6 pm by the time you reached. You didn't take long to get ready, putting out hair up so you could flash those shoulders.

You put the black dress on, it was a sleek, satin dress with spaghetti straps and a cowl neckline. The daring side cutouts were pretty much flashing most of your skin anyway, the chains that adorned them barely covered and only added to decor. You put on some long silver earrings and sighed, "Bold or natural?" You asked yourself as you opened your eyeshadow palette. After a while of contemplating you decided one night of a bold smokey eyeshadow couldn't go wrong.

You left your house in a leather jacket that covered your body just right, heels clicking as you walked down the pavement of Zaun. The cold night air licked your skin and gave you goosebumps, but you tried to ignore it. When was the last time you actually felt independent since that toxic relationship of yours that fell apart? You don't remember.

When you opened the door to Last Drop, you immediately noticed the table your friends were seated at. They were chattering loudly as they ordered drinks. Kayla spotted you and waved at you obnoxiously as if they were hard to miss.

Sevika wasn't one to ogle, she never did. In fact, it was almost always the other way around so she didn't bother trying hard when it came to women. But seeing the way your butt squished against your seat seemed to shake her the wrong way.

"Fuck, who's she?" Sevika questioned one of the henchmen. He took a long stare at your figure before looking back at Sevika with a shrug.

Sevika groaned and finished her game of poker before she got up, walking upto the bar to get a drink refill. The bartender refilled her glass without her needing to ask him to. She turned, elbow leaning against the bar as she looked at your frame. "She's smokin' hot," Sevika thought.

"You see that?" Kayla smirked, "Silco's right hand woman is checking you out, girl!"

"No way," you glanced at Sevika who was staring at you blatantly. You couldn't decipher whether she was planning out how to murder you and bury your body or if she was just staring at you, appreciating the view.

"Go, talk to her!" Kayla said with a full blown grin.

"But Kayla, she has a history of— um— y'know paying for sex at a brothel. I'm not sure if she'd even take me seriously or just want a taste of my—"

"Hey, pretty," Sevika's voice cut you out, sounding out right behind you as she pulled up a chair, sinking down onto it causing it to let out a creak.

Her mechanical arm was well tucked away under her poncho, a soft smile playing on her lips as if she knew her charms were enough to sway you. With a nervous clearing of your throat, you answered, "Hey...." Your tone was so awkward.

"What brings you here in such an interesting outfit tonight?" Sevika asked, leaning back in her chair, legs manspread and her juicy thighs seemed like they were just asking to be sat on, claimed.

You blushed without even realising it, hiding the side of your face using your hair. As you fiddled with the hem of your dress you answered, "Just... Recently had a bad falling out with my girlfriend so, just getting my head back in the game, I guess."

"Doll, you date for fun?" Sevika crossed her legs, raising a brow. There was no judgement in her tone. Only amusement. As if any answer that you'd give her, regardless of the level of devotion, she'd still hit it with you.

"Oh, no, no," you giggled, "You got me all wrong. I date to marry."

Sevika smirked lazily, "Is that right?"

Small talk turned into deep meaningful conversations about how the both of you would spent your lives after getting married and settling down. You wanted to settle down for the purpose of starting a family. Sevika? Not so. Sevika expressed how she was sure anyone who she dated was likely to be far younger than her and so, she expected to get cheated on. It was heart shattering to hear her speak so lowly of herself, she claimed she wasn't worth the effort of love.

Suddenly, before even realising it you both were kissing in the bathroom if Last Drop, Sevika's hand was in your panties from under your dress as her fingers worked to rub your pussy in slow, determined strokes.

"Tell me, what do you need?"

"Besides a healthy relationship?" You giggled shakily, arms coming to wrap around her as you kissed her. The kiss was heated, Sevika wasn't a gentle soul normally but for you she toned down her game, taking her time to actually explore your mouth and focus on your pleasure.

You both parted for air. Well, you parted for air, Sevika could keep going. She continued nipping down your neck, "I need your fingers." You whispered.

Sevika's thick fingers parted your pussy lips and her thumb pressed your clit while her middle and index fingers found your slit, dipping only the tips of her fingers inside. "Sevika, don't be a bitch." You said in a warning tone.

Sevika glanced up, chuckling, "Don't play around, do ya'?" She pulled you close earning a gasp from you due to the suddenness but she didn't let go, her fingers starting to pump inside your hole. "Now just imagine if someone walks in and finds us."

"Shut up," you hissed, grabbing her shoulders tightly, your nails digging into her skin as your eyes closed, "Oh, fuuuuuuck."

Your pussy clenched around Sevika's fingers, clit twitching under the calloused pad of her thumb. You were close and you knew it but you didn't wanna finish so fast and make a fool of yourself. You told yourself to hold on just a bit more.

"You're close, aren't ya'?" Sevika asked in a breathy tone, her teeth sinking down at the curve of your neck illiciting a gasp from you. She didn't stop, her teeth digging deeper and leaving an imprint of them, sucking the area to form a dark hickey.

"I am," you admitted, burying your face in Sevika's neck to muffle your moan, "Oh, right there—" Sevika curled her finger and that's all it took, you whined loudly as you came undone all over her fingers, soaking them.

"There we go, what a good girl," Sevika pulled them out with a wet schlik and took a good lick of them, maintaining eye contact with you. You flushed. "You're so sweet, pretty girl." Sevika commented as she continued licking her digits clean.

"Wanna clean up or continue?" Sevika asked, her grey eyes glinting with mischief.

"Does that offer have a bedroom version? I'm tired of standing upright, y'know."

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keirareidss · 2 months ago

Text

taste - s.r

♡ summary: spencer can't get enough of the way you taste pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, munch spencer, no plot just smut wc: 1.1k request here

"Long day, baby?" Spencer hums into your neck where he's sprawled across you on the couch. You'd been laying down watching tv when he came home, trudging over to the living room and flopping on top of you. It was his favorite way to end his days, curled up in your arms, breathing in your scent, feeling you press soft kisses to his head every so often. "Was work okay?" "Mhm." He hums again, squeezing tighter around your middle.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" You ask, chuckling a little at his nonverbal state. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary, usually after a long day he'd be quieter than normal, preferring to let your soothing voice ease him rather than waste more of his energy rambling. But he'd still engage in conversation if it came up. This was different. He hummed again, declining your offer. "Honey..." You drawl in a teasing tone. "Something going on?" You ask. You were only half genuine. If something really was going on, you wanted to know, but if not, you couldn't resist poking at your adorable boyfriend just a little bit.

"No." Wow, his first real answer of the night.

"No?" You parrot, wanting to pull more out of him. He shakes his head against you, shifting on top of you and you feel something. Something poking your thigh. "Spence... are you hard?" You asked bluntly. When it came to Spencer, you had to be blunt. You could feel him bury further into you, his face warm against your neck, making you chuckle. "Come on, baby, you know you can tell me when you want me." You teased.

"I like it when you call me that." He mumbled.

"What, baby?"

"Yeah." You reach up to brush a hand through his hair. You feel him press a soft kiss to your neck, then another, and another, until his is sucking the small pact of skin between his teeth and biting. You gasp at the sensation and he soothes your neck with a few kitten licks of his tongue. His kisses move lower and he's tugging at your shirt. You oblige with a grin, pulling the shirt slightly over your head and tossing it across the room. He kisses over the skin of your breasts, sucking hickeys into places he seems fit for them before moving to nip at the lace of your bra. "Take it off." He murmurs.

"What's the magic word?" He groans, hiding his face in your chest.

"Please." He says but it's muffled by your skin.

"What was that?" He lifts his head just enough for you to be able to hear him.

"Please." You grinned, raising your torso up enough so you can reach back, undoing your bra. You let Spencer peel it off you and he drops it on the ground, immediately latching his lips onto your nipples. You moan softly as he licks and suckles and you feel his hips start to gently grind against your thigh. You moaned his name, your back arching, pushing your chest closer to his face. His other hand moves up to grope and squeeze your other breast. He feels the ache in his core grow as his cock becomes harder. He pulls his mouth off of your breast, looking up at you with glassy eyes. "I wanna taste you." He whimpers. You nod and he starts moving down your body, kissing every bit of skin he can reach, his lips skimming along your skin as he pulls your pajama pants off. He kisses the skin right above the waistband of your panties before looking up at you again. "Can I?"

"Y-yeah." You find yourself suddenly breathless. He strips your underwear down your legs before tossing it behind him. You feel the urge to laugh when you see it land on the lamp. The urge leaves you as soon as Spencer's lips are on you again, diving into your cunt like a starved man. Granted, he had taken a moment to admire your slick but you hadn't noticed. He lapped at your juices, licking up every drop of you, but the sensation only made you produce more. An unending cycle. You moaned and squirmed underneath him, back arching. You almost didn't notice what Spencer was doing, grinding his hips again, against the couch cushion this time, his body instinctively trying to get himself off while his mind was focused on your pleasure.

"'tastes so good." He hummed against your clit, the vibrations of his voice sending chills up your body. His tongue slipped inside you, making you gasp out a loud moan, reaching down to grab his hair tightly in your fist. Spencer whined at that, continuing with more fervor.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, Spence." He didn't say anything, just continued his movements against your cunt, dripping with his saliva and your juices. When you came, Spencer lapped it all up with the same small kitten licks he was placing on your neck earlier. You squirmed at the overstimulation, expecting him to pull away, give you space to breathe but he didn't. He kept going, kept devouring you as you gripped his hair tighter. "Ngh, god- fuck I can't- I can't take it, baby, please." You whined.

"One more." Spencer's arm wrapped around your thigh, pulling it open more to get deeper into you. His hips hadn't stopped moving but you were sure they weren't moving fast enough to get him off. You let your head fall back, chest heaving as Spencer brought you to the edge once again. You warned him through a whimper before coming all over his face for the second time. He backed off this time, after thoroughly cleaning your core until it was only slick with his spit.

"Holy shit." You gasped out, catching your breath. Spencer climbed back up your body again, pressing a kiss to your parted lips.

"Okay?" Spencer checks on you in a quiet murmur.

"Mhm. More than okay, baby." You hummed, reaching up to brush his hair behind his ear.

"Your turn." You grinned up at him, your hand sliding down his body to cup his bulge. You two had a long night ahead of you.

#criminal minds #♡ keira's fics #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff

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hannieoftheyear · 3 days ago

Text

LUCKY STRIKE [C.VN]

Vernon would never let anything happen to you. But when the time comes, and he's standing at your doorstep, flowers in one hand, and bloody cuts in the other, it's your turn to take care of him for once.

pairing: mafia!vernon x fem!reader

word count: 4,5k of lazy and messy sex for you

genre/au: mafia au, established relationship, smut with the barest plot, a bit of fluff.

content warnings: vernon is terribly down bad, light mafia themes, implied violent encounters, blood, bruises, cuts, minor injuries, reader takes care of his injuries and he gets horny, this is corny, you were warned!! | explicit smut: couch sex, switch!vernon, switch!reader, sucking fingers, they both have a thing for hands and fingers, biting, spit kink, spit as lube, handjob, unprotected sex (don't be stupid pls), cumming inside, nicknames: baby (both).

♥︎ thank you to everyone that tolerated me sending clips of vernon on the thunder stages for days ♡ this is for you

🎧: shining star (vernon solo) — seventeen

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY. I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED

check out my main masterlist ♡

note: i'm a sucker for lazy couch sex with vernon and i won't apologize for it!! i hope you enjoy this silly thing ♥︎

this was, of course, heavily inspired by all the 'happy burstday' concept photos and stages

mafia prompt taken from here ♥︎ dividers here

"Being adopted into the local mafia has its pros and cons."

Pros: You can safely do your 2 am. grocery shopping at the one superstore that's open all night without fearing for your life. Those scary looking men, the ones you'd normally cross the street to avoid, treat you like their little sister. All except for the cutest one of them all.

The gloomy night accompanies the swift movements of the crochet needle between your fingers, tangling the strings of light blue and red knitting wool you bought days ago in a whim. In the search for a new hobby, your algorithm acted out again, and you ended up on the granny activities side, peaking your interest enough to sit on your uncomfortable couch for hours trying to make a usable piece of clothing.

Normally, on a weekend night, the cold wind would be welcomed by your barely covered skin, walking hand in hand with the only guy your self proclaimed body guards allowed you to be in close proximity to. But something, or rather, someone, told you to stay home for the night.

Another pro of being close with the bad guys: they help you avoid confrontations with threatening rival gangs. You're left blissfully out of the mess, but, as you're still able to hear the rounds of loud noises on the streets around the neighborhood, you're also not unaware of the bruises you see covering the guys' arms and faces the next day.

Your forehead hurts from all the frowning you've been doing for the past hour, trying to figure out the pattern you should be following and restarting every few rows.

A soft, unsure knock takes your concentration away, but it quickly puts a smile on your face as you realize who's the only person that'd show up at this hour at your door. The amateur crochet project is left forgotten on the coffee table, the metal needle crinkling against the glass as you get up from the couch.

But, whatever excitement you had, it drops completely as soon as the doorknob turns under your hold, and the door opens to reveal who you were expecting.

Vernon stands at the entrance, with his side smile painting his face as if everything was okay. You instantly know it's not. His lower lip is swollen red, probably from a punch, the neck line of his t-shirt is stretched far more than normal, with a tear visible on the side.

Cons of being adopted by the local mafia: your big bad mafia boyfriend constantly gets hurt on the job.

With one hand busy holding a bouquet of your favorite yellow flowers, he wraps the other one around your waist when you don't move, frozen analyzing his state. "Not happy to see me?"

Vernon's teasing smile so close to you, mixed with his breath fanning your face as he leans in to give you a peck, is intoxicating. His bruised lips are soft against yours, taking seconds longer to feel you on him than normal. One would never guess he's hurt from the way he's pushing himself against you.

"Baby, what happened?" Your hand reaches for his behind your back, the cuts on his knuckles harsh under the pads of your fingers.

He sighs against your parted lips, chuckling lightly before taking a step back and letting himself in into your apartment. "You should see the other guys."

"Multiple?" Your wide eyes follow him as he searches for a vase to put the flowers he brought.

It's natural for him to have his way around your home. After all, he's the only one that you, or your neighborly mafia, ever allowed in. It's your sacred place, safe from the dangerous outside world, the only place where you can be truly calm, be with him with no fears.

While he occupies himself with his gift, you take the chance to escape to your bathroom, wash the dried blood from your hands, and find your first aid kit. The one you've never had to use before.

You were always the one who he took care of, who he protected, made sure you were intact. After so many times he was there for you, it's your turn to take care of him and heal his wounds the best you can.

"Remember I told you to stay in today?" His gaze is trained on you as you sink down next to him. The click of the aid kit opening breaks the silence as he waits for your answer.

You only nod, half hearing him, half focusing on grabbing what you need to disinfect the cuts in his hand. His hand that places itself on your thigh to draw your attention.

"We're okay—I'm okay," his voice is soft, knowing you worry every time he goes out to parts of the town they don't have under their control, "it was just a small payback."

"Baby, you're bleeding," Vernon hisses as you clean the wounds around his knuckles with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, "who did you go with?"

"Mingyu and Wonwoo," your insides burn, feeling his stare, boring holes on the side of your face, "they took on the bigger guys." Vernon jokes.

You shouldn't sigh in relief hearing that, but you do so anyway.

It's a regular occurrence for the guys to tease him for his objectively smaller build, but he counters it with a perfectly learned strategy. He knows how to fight, knows the places that hurt the most being punched, where to kick, poke, slap to make his opponent lose their balance, and ultimately, the fight.

"Let's hope these people don't come back after you."

"Believe me, they won't." He smirks, charging his words with smugness.

You wrap the little bandage you had saved around his hand with care. Not too loose, not to tight. You feel his eyes on you as you leave the aid kit on the table, right besides the mess of knitting wool you alredy forgot was there.

"I have the best nurse ever." Vernon wastes no time, lifting your hips with his, now working, hands, and sits you on his lap, both your legs fitting naturally at his sides as he realizes you're only wearing panties under your t-shirt. "I should come here hurt more often."

"Then you'll have to replace the stuff I use on you!" Looking slightly down to connect your eyes with his, your teasing tone vanishes at the soft glimmer in his eyes. "Please, just… be careful next time."

The side of his face feels warm against the palm of your hand, and he leans into your touch, feeling your care even through the smallest, most mundane touches.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown up like this." His doe eyes turn glassy, searching for any anger indicators on your expression, but only finding worry. "I just wanted to see you."

You could never get mad at him. Not when you met him knowing full well what his life was like. Not when he pursued you by showing you he can still be a gentleman despite his shady life. Not when he never gave you any reason not to trust him.

"I wanted to see you too," you reveal as if you didn't constantly wait for him. Sitting on this very couch every night, longing for that knock on the door you always know it's him. "I don't mind taking care of you."

"I should be the one doing that." Vernon's hands fix their grip on your hips, reminding you that they're still there, holding you close to him.

"Well, I'm not the one getting into fights with 6 feet tall buff guys on the daily."

He chuckles, full of endearment, and your stomach tightens. If you could rank every sound you ever heard, Vernon's kinds of laughs and giggles would all be at the top, not a very close race with anything else. It's a distinguishable sound you never want to forget.

Your hand goes down the side of Vernon's neck, his pulse accelerating under your touch as you check to see if he's real, if he's really sitting on your couch with you straddling him.

His focus get lost on your touch now going down the side of his arm, and soon finds your hand with his. He interlocks his fingers with yours as soon as he gets a hold of it, directing your hand to his mouth and leaving a gentle but teasing kiss on the back of it.

"Vernon," you reprimand, but don't stop him as he places peck after peck everywhere on your hand, each triggering a wave of different feelings down your nervous system. He's uncontrollable and always finds the way to get you in the mood with him.

"You look so pretty over me, all worried." His hot breath tickles your fingers that were just taking care of him.

Your thumb swipes gently over his busted lip, raw from his habit of gnawing at them with his teeth and from the fight you're nursing him from. He purses his lips, teasing your awaiting skin, goosebumps waking up all over your body at the anticipation.

"You can't seriously be turned on by this," you snicker to try and hide the very real reactions he's eliciting from you.

His eyes snap back to you at your words, as if a challenge was set.

So quick you barely have time to register it, the hand at your hip travels to your lower back and Vernon's sliding you across his lap, showing off his strength to get you closer to his torso until you're completely against him.

Every part of you is against him. His right hand on your back, holding you electrically close to his growing hard, pulsing against your core. Your hand's held hostage by his left hand just above where your chest flushes against his.

"You have no idea how crazy I am for you." Every word he says reverberates through his chest and into yours.

Gasping is your only answer. You don't trust your ability to apeak properly in your current state of increasing bodily heat.

"When I wake up and you're not next to me," he continues, "my first thought is always to come looking for you." His fingers wander inside the big t-shirt you're wearing, one you stole from him after your first night together.

"Nothing stops you from staying the night here." Your voice draws the smirk back on his face.

"I'd stay here every night if it didn't mean putting you in danger." Longing bleeds through his words, true and hurt.

"But you'd be here to protect me." You're not naive. You know what he means. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to be close to him every second of every day.

Vernon nods in acknowledgment, a silent agreement between the two of you. It's dangerous. Everything about your relationship is risky. But even if he's willing to put himself at risk for the chance of seeing you, he'd never put you in danger. He'd never take that chance.

His lips kissing your hand again catch your attention, every fiber of your body now focused on his next move. Your fingers, cold against the warmness spreading across his face, seem to be the only thing on Vernon's mind.

When he wraps his mouth around your index finger, gently sucking on it with a new admiration, fire expands from your insides and out, taking everything with it, filling you with a new, unexpected want.

"Vern—" Your breath halts at the mention of his name, fueling his need as he dives in further, playing with his tongue around your finger like it was his new favorite toy.

You've never felt anything like this. A hot, sizzling arousal rushing through your veins at the sight of your boyfriend worshiping the fingers that were just nursing him.

A choked up moan escapes you as he sucks another finger in his mouth. Your index and middle finger are now coated in his spit, making a messy, wet toy out of your hand.

The couch moves just slightly as you push yourself against him at every swirl of his tongue, feeling his length hardening with every uncontrolled grind of your hips against his.

Vernon's other hand travels all over your torso, finding you're wearing no bra under the shirt that was once his. He loves making a moaning mess of you, mixing the arousal from sucking on your fingers with the touch you've been craving on your chest.

Everywhere. He's everywhere. His thighs under yours, his hard pressing against your barely covered core, his hand feeling your chest up as your fingers scrape the sides of his mouth.

Every second it passes, you search for more of him, pressing against his chest until he has trouble fondling your breasts.

He pulls your fingers out of his mouth slowly, a string of saliva connecting them with his lower lips stretching until it breaks, undoing the trance you were in while watching Vernon have his way.

"I should be taking care of you," your voice breaks into a whisper, your boyfriend’s dark stare punching away any thought you had.

"Having you on top of me is all I need," your wet fingers trace his jaw as he speaks, and he smirks at the sounds you make when he flicks one of your nipples with his thumb, "making you moan my name when I've barely touched you."

His eyes train on your parted lips, exhaling heavily as he plays with your nipples exactly how he knows you like it. You can only fist the stretched neckline of his t-shirt, making it worse but making it yours.

Your other hand finds the back of his head, his growing buzz-cut threading between your fingers.

"Have I told you I love your hair?" How you find it in you to speak is beyond your knowledge, but he chuckles at your nonsense, and the fire burning at the pit of your stomach spreads down your thighs and soaks your underwear further. "I love it so much."

Vernon's hard groin twitches under the needy grinding of your hips, his throat swallowing with trouble as you break down his facade little by little.

"Let me," you know he won't take his hands off of you willingly. You don't really want him to stop either, but you're focusing on him tonight.

He groans as you push yourself off him, quickly finding the zipper of his jeans. "Baby…" his words trail off seeing you kneeling on the floor against him.

Trying to slip his jeans and boxers down, he gives in and lifts his body to help you. He'd never deny you of anything you want.

You don't restrain yourself, your hands finding the flesh of his thighs and traveling up and up until you're barely touching where he most wants to.

But a hand sneaks under your jaw, tilting it up until you're connecting eyes with Vernon again. "Don't," you barely whisper, a plea for him to let you make him feel good.

"Want you on top," he doesn't ask, doesn't order you, only outers his wish, with his eyebrows quirking in the way that always has you melting for him, "I'd feel much, much better."

You snort with an endearing smile, "I thought you were fine." Even after your teasing remainder, you oblige what he wants.

"Every time you get off of me, I start feeling sick," he coughs a few times to get his point across, "my body needs you to feel well.

Vernon's always been able to make you laugh, even when you're on the brink of tearing all his clothes off. "Then we better listen!"

His bare legs find themselves under your weight again, the skin to skin contact igniting every connecting point of your bodies. You tug at the ends of his damaged t-shirt until he gets the hint you want it off.

Vernon groans as the dampness of your panties rubs against his length, gripping your hips to flush you against him harder, not wanting to wait any longer to feel you all over him. You waste no time, holding his face between your hands and closing the electrifying distance between you.

A moan fights out of him a soon as your lips take his, molding together perfectly, as if they were meant to be connected forever. You can feel where his lower lip is hurt, swiping your tongue over the bruise as he moans on your mouth again.

Your hand caresses the side of his face, not letting his lips go as the other travels down his heaving chest. His muscles tense under the teasing touch of your fingers, nails raking down his skin.

Another moan coming from him is exactly what you need as you sneak your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock that craves your touch.

He chases your lips as you lean back, revealing the state he's in, all because of you. His lips glisten with the mix of yours and his spit, parted and calling for you again as he catches his breath.

The changing shine in your eyes alerts him that you're planning something, an idea planted by the sight before you.

You swirl your tongue in your mouth, gathering as much spit as you can before locking eyes with him and letting it drop out of your lips, falling in a glob until it sits at the tip of his hardness.

Vernon's eyes darken at every one of your moves, his gaze entranced on your lips. Lips that were spilling all kinds of worried words minutes ago, and now are coating his cock with saliva so your hand can glide up and down at your desired pace.

"God, baby," your hand squeezes around him, spreading the mix of spit and precum so slowly on his girth that he's having trouble breathing, "you're so good to me."

The back of the couch holds his head as he leans back with another groan. His neck stretched out, glistening with sweat, calls to you. And who are you not to answer?

Your core traps his erection against your hand as you lean in, leaving wet kisses on your boyfriend's throat, feeling his every sound vibrating against your lips. He mumbles praises into the air, letting his hands wander across your back and squeezing your ass to press your further to him.

The wet fabric of your panties sticks to your folds in the shape of his length, everything pushing your cores together harder and harder. You let the swift rhythm of your hand on his cock and you grinding your covered clit against him take you to another world.

"Feel better?" Your lips graze the sensitive skin on his neck as you half ask half gasp.

Vernon's automatic response is to tighten his hold on your ass, grinding your hips against his with more force, the friction between your cores breathtaking. "I could," he teases.

"Greedy," your hot breath hits under his earlobe, and even you can feel the shiver going down Vernon's body.

His cock twitches as you slow down the pace of you hand. The combining feel of your folds and your hand stroking him almost make Vernon go crazy.

"You feel so good, baby," his eyes close in concentration, every touch of yours too much for him, "can't wait to be inside you."

In the midst of his senseless words and your desperate touches, Vernon finds the way to sneak a hand under you. Between his legs, his digits find the dampness growing at your core. "So wet already, for me."

Another hand grabs a fistful of your hair, detaching your mouth from licking your way up his jaw. He forces you to look at him, eyes full of desire, waiting for your answer.

"Yes—all for you-u," your words break in a moan as two fingers sneak under your panties, collecting your arousal and triggering another wave.

"Good." It is all for him. All because of him. The only one who can have you like this.

Smirking, his eyes lock in with yours, full of fire as his hand appears in your field of view. You don't stop looking into his eyes, the mischievous glint on them keeping you there, all while he sucks your juices off his fingers.

It takes all your strength to get up from the couch again, with only one objective in mind.

Your boyfriend gawks as if you were putting on a show only for him, slipping down his favorite panties, now stained with an unholy amount of juices. He stares with his mouth agape, but he's not patient. As soon as the fabric's off, he's grabbing your big t-shirt and pulling you towards him again.

Lips crash with lust and desperation, messily craving more and more. His teeth nibble at your lower lip, a matching bruise waiting to appear, but you don't care. You moan in his mouth, tangling your fingers with the short hair growing at the back of his head.

His thigh becomes a mess of your arousal, careless about your position as you let Vernon have his way into your mouth. Your tongues dance around the other, slowly melting into each other.

"Spit," you chase his lips as he separates to demand. Seeing his non-injured hand under your jaw, you quickly realize what he's doing.

Your living room's filled with gasping sounds and hot breaths, time stopping as your eyes lock. Vernon's eyes are on you as you let your spit drop into his hand.

You hover over his groin, dripping into his hand as he lowers it down between your cores. The tip of his cock grazes your entrance as he pumps his hard with his spit covered hand, the wet sounds reaching your ears.

Sinking down on your boyfriend's lap, the head of his cock enters you just right, your walls welcoming to mold into his shape.

Your lips stop working as you're filled to the brim, sitting on Vernon's thighs and gasping into his mouth trying to get used to the unprepared stretch.

As you're draped over his torso, he easily finds his way down your neck.

"Relax, baby," he says against the skin of your neck.

Every spot he knows you like, he kisses, whispering encouraging praise that gives you chills. Under your ear, along your jaw, over your pulse point, his lips press and suck at your skin, feeling how you warm up around him.

When he shifts his position slightly, his length pushes inside you just a bit more, your walls clamp against him, sucking him further inside in a whine, "That's it."

His husky voice goes through your ear and down to your core, and you swivel your hips up just to elicit another sound from him.

Vernon's hands find themselves gripping your hips again, helping you as you start a lazy pace on his lap. Your teeth sink down on the flesh between his shoulder and his neck, and he moans in your ear at the sensation.

"You'll have to take care of that one too," his breath tickles down your ear, and the vibrations of your chuckle almost make you lose your focus on him.

You kiss on the dent shaped like your teeth, "like you don't love it."

He hums a broken moan, the combination of everything you're giving him finally working like you intended.

Your walls tighten around him just as your fingers find his scalp, short nails raking between his growing buzz-cut trying to have him losing his mind under you.

It's not long before his hips join the fun, thrusting up to meet your pace and making you lose your breath. You feel him up to your throat, every place inside you marked with his name.

Vernon's hands roam all over your torso, indecisive, keeping you close but in the search for his favorite places to grope and touch. Your body's on the verge of giving out, and he knows it.

When he wraps his arms around your back and leans back against the couch, flushing your chest completely against his, you both lose it.

You're not in control anymore, if you ever were. Your knees barely stay at his sides as he thrusts up incessantly, the sounds of your ass slapping against the flesh of his thighs echoing around your living room.

But his groaning in your ear, his rambling words about how good you are for him, are only for you to hear.

Intercalating between lazy and desperate, no matter the time or the place, Vernon always finds that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

So quickly, it'd be embarrassing if it was anyone else, your body starts quivering, every one of your senses losing focus as your insides get closer and closer to snapping.

"I'm c-close," you manage to form a coherent string of words in between a few merciless thrusts.

"I can feel it—" a breathless whine mixes up between his words, "cum around me, baby." He's as desperate as you.

With everything combined, Vernon's noises on your ear, his arms tight around you, and every spot inside you being abused at once, the world becomes a blur of fire and white light as your orgasm rips through you.

Your body shakes on top of him as Vernon chases his own orgasm, stretching yours for as long as his cock grinds inside you with a purpose. But he's a weak man when it comes to you, and with the way your walls clamp hard around him, making him work for every thrust, it's not long before he's lost too.

You feel the ropes of cum coating your walls, his length twitching as you take it all. All of him inside you as if you were one.

Silence, deep breaths and the smell of sex fill the room as your bodies take in everything you just did.

Only when Vernon's lips kiss along your shoulder, you realize he's still inside you, and you shouldn't rest.

"I have the best nurse ever," Vernon chuckles along his words as you get up from his lap to find your discarded panties.

Everything is still the same. His clothes disregarded on the floor, the flowers sitting on a vase you haven't seen since you moved in.

You turn around to find him putting on his boxers, his eyes a promise that he's not done with you yet, "I don't think a good nurse would recommend this type of cardio after a fight."

"Then I don't trust them."

Chuckling again, and knowing he'll join you later in the shower, you fall between his arms again, laying together on the couch like you've done so many times before.

Now is your turn to look up at him, the fire in his eyes not gone, but now overpowered by endearment.

You don't want to. You really don't want to. But your eyes close with tiredness, and the rhythm of Vernon's breathing is so serene that you fall asleep in his arms.

There, in your couch, everything around you forgotten and replaced by him.

note: thank you so much for reading! pls share your thoughts I'd love to read them ♥︎

#vernon smut #kvanity #keopihausnet #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #vernon fanfic #seventeen fanfic #vernon imagines #seventeen imagine #vernon au #seventeen au #hansol smut #hansol x reader #ema.library #seventeen imagines

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adieutristana · 2 months ago

Text

painkiller; jinx x fem!reader

kinda nervous to post this one idk if it’s too nasty oops

characters included; jinx

summary; it’s that time of the month, and cramps have you down for the count. jinx is all too eager to help.

tags/warnings; dom!jinx, sub!reader, period sex, tribbing, dirty talk, NASTY, porn with plot (kinda)

men and minors dni.

fizz... BOOM!

another experiment blowing up in jinx's face, figuratively and literally. the girl huffs in light frustration as she lifts her goggles to rest atop her head, using her elbow to wipe gunpowder off her face. another failed experiment.

she's used to it by now, though- these things never go smoothly. it's a process of trial and error rather than one smooth testing sequence, one she's come to embrace. all the girl can do new is pick up the pieces of the last experiment, identify and fix her errors, and try again.

but the sound of you groaning behind her is making it increasingly hard to focus.

you're curled up on your side on jinx's cot, your knees tugged tight to your chest. you've been like this for the past hour or so, softly rocking yourself while you make little grunts in pain. you're on your period- and while your periods usually give you discomfort, this is the worst it's been in a while. bad enough that you didn't go to any of your classes today, and that's something you never do.

you'd already taken pain medicine, already tried a warm compress... nothing is helping. just you and your cramps, and you have to tough it out.

your girlfriend then turns around in her chair with a short huff. her brows are furrowed, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"alright, what's all this fussing about?" she asks, clearly a bit impatient.

"i just.. ah," you grumble, trying to uncurl yourself just a bit. but as soon as you do another cramp hits, and you're forced to retreat back into your own embrace. "it's that time of the month. second day."

jinx's expression drops, and her eyes widen just a bit. second day- that's rough.

"oh," she purses her lips. "why didn't ya tell me? i could've been helping you out."

"you're busy. i didn't wanna distract you..."

jinx quickly scrambles to her feet, crouching beside her workbench to begin shuffling through drawers. it's a bit comical how she doesn't keep track of where things are in her own space, but she digs through regardless. first drawer is just a bunch of stray blueprints and paint cans, second is... toys, third is assorted magazines and books, and fourth is where she keeps first-aid supplies. supplies you'd given her after seeing her patch up her leg with a stapler.

"a-ha! got it!"

she scampers over to you, crouching beside you as she unwraps a heat pad and begins pushing up your shirt. you just sigh at the sight, though, and shake your head.

"i already tried a hot water bottle, babe."

"yeah, well that's a water bottle. this is a heating pad. maybe it'll be different."

she sticks the pad to your lower stomach, applying a bit of pressure (earning a few giggles from you) before she tugs your shirt back down. the girl steps back, placing her hands on her hips in that confident way she always does.

"ta-da! it should start working in..." she glances at the back of the box again. "fifteen minutes! then you'll feel all better. no more pesky cramps."

she gives your arm one last firm pat before standing up and making her way back to the workbench. it's seconds before you can hear a blowtorch and metal clinking, sounds you've become all too familiar with. laid on your back now, you can only close your eyes while you wait for the heat pad to start working- that is, if it does work. you've tried everything you can at this point, but it still feels like you're being ripped from the inside out. your stomach hurts, your lower back hurts, you've been feeling nauseous on and off the entire day. thankfully, it's off right now.

waiting is the hard part, but as you feel the heat spread over your lower stomach, it does work. not to the extent you'd like, but you'll take anything at this point. the pain eases over the next few minutes while the sounds of jinx working fade into the background. you're a bit more mobile now, able to sit up (although with a slouch still)- but you can watch jinx, you could put something on the tv if you wanted to.

for now, though, you'll just stay laid on your side with the heat pad working its magic. the girl in front of you wheels herself around swiftly, tweaking blueprints and humming to herself while she works on.. something. she'd told you she was trying to concentrate the hex crystal's energy into other mediums, but nothing was successful yet. though knowing jinx and how smart she is, how resourceful, it's a matter of time before she figures something out.

she then swivels her chair around, facing you with wide eyes before she wheels herself over to you. the girl stops right in front of her cot, placing a hand over the pad on your stomach.

"feeling better?" she hums.

"for the most part," you murmur, giving her a weak smile. "it still hurts a little, but i expected that."

but jinx's face just twists a bit, and she wrinkles her nose in discontentment. "mm... that's no good. the pain should be gone, like- totally gone."

"babe, really, i don't expect this thing to work miracles."

"but toooots, i don't like seeing you hurting!" she nearly whines, and leans forward over her knees in thought. her face twists again, a look you've come to recognize. she's trying to figure something out, ever the problem-solver.

one thing you've come to recognize, and love about jinx is that she's fiercely protective. she can't stand the thought of anyone or anything hurting you, even if it's your own uterus once a month. she cares, she only wants the best for you, she only wants to see you happy. you rocking yourself in her cot to ease the cramps that are wracking your body? no good.

then you hear her gasp, and snap her fingers.

"i got it!"

she then climbs on the cot with you, swinging a leg over to straddle your lower half. jinx is wearing a wide, toothy grin, as if she's just cracked the code.

"i know what'll help your little... dilemma," she chuckles, her fingernails trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your shorts. her tone is smooth, calculated- the kind that comes right before trouble. the coldness of the metal finger sends a shiver down your spine, but she stops just short of the elastic to look back up at you. "if you'll let me."

but it sends your mind reeling. she can't seriously be suggesting that, can she?

"baby, i'm on my period," you stress.

"yeah, i know that. and?"

"and, it's my second day, and there's a lot of blood, and i," you huff, crossing your arms over your chest with a light frown. you'd be lying if you said that this wasn't enticing. you can feel your heartbeat quickening and the hairs on your arms stand on end, but you can't. it's too messy, probably too risky. "i feel gross..."

but jinx just scoffs, rolling her rosy eyes as if it's nothing to her.

"okay, so we'll put down some towels. no big deal." she pokes your side playfully. "you're anything but gross, toots. come onnn, it'll make you feel good! they say orgasms make cramps better. like... an organic painkiller."

you're still not fully sold, though, and jinx just sighs in mild exasperation. you want this, you do. but it'll be messy, things could go wrong, you feel the furthest thing from sexy right now. she leans down, pressing a gentle kiss against the pulse point of your neck, eliciting a gasp from you.

"baby, i wanna do this," she murmurs, plump lips brushing the skin of your neck. "i'll make you feel real good, promise."

and damn it, she's convincing. she's offering.

"...okay," you whisper, swallowing as you glance down at jinx. "but we put those towels down."

her lips curve into a wide grin, and she just nods, giving a mock-salute while she crawls off you. "you got it!"

she's back in a matter of seconds with a few already paint-stained towels, gesturing for you to lift your hips- which you do, so she can place them down. she's then crawling over you again, one arm on either side of your head while she gazes down. like a predator about to pounce on their prey, she's smiling at you like she's about to devour you. saying she wants to is an understatement.

you don't have more than a split second to think before she surges down, and her lips crash into yours- already heated and quick, her lips moving against yours with fervor. you gasp, trying to match her eager pace, but your efforts seem futile. even with the lingering aches, you're learning rather quickly that jinx doesn't plan on being gentle tonight.

dark lips trail over your jawline, peppering down the expanse of your neck while she feels you already beginning to squirm. as if jinx's ego needs to get any bigger, her gapped teeth nip at your skin a few times, her hands beginning to run up and down your sides. gripping you, digging into the fat on your hips for just a moment before she takes the edge of the heat pad.

"you won't need this," she murmurs against your neck, before slowly pulling it off. the removal stings, adhesive gripping your skin, but it's over in a matter of seconds.

not wasting any time, she resumes kissing down your soft skin. trailing to your collarbones, then right over your heart- fingers toying with the hemline of your top while she continues exploring you with her lips alone. it's intense, it's fast, but throughout all of the rough passion you can tell how much jinx cares. she slowly slips the fabric over your head with you eagerly lifting your arms to assist her.

her bangs brushing over your ribs tickle a bit, but you can only softly gasp while she continues her descent. down your sternum, reaching one of her hands towards your bare breast to pinch your nipple- your back arching the slightest bit into her touch.

"yeah? feel good?" she chuckles, rolling the bud between her thumb and forefinger.

"mhm," you nod, a low whine rumbling in the back of your throat.

"mm... good. you know i love these pretty tits."

she lets out a satisfied hum, giving your nipple one last hard pinch before she drags her tongue down the valley between your breasts.

it's electric, the feeling of her warm tongue on your skin. her skin is cold, but her presence is so warm, so inviting. you wish you could stay wrapped in her embrace forever. that you'd never have to give up jinx's touch, no matter how calloused her fingers may be or how gruff her words.

she leaves one final kiss on your lower stomach, right over your uterus- as if to kiss the soreness away, before hooking her cold fingers into the waistband of your shorts to hastily pull them down. they're discarded quickly, as are your panties. you're already leaking a bit over the towels, but that's what they're there for, aren't they?

"so pretty... you're shakin' already. i haven't even touched ya, trinket!"

"i- i can't help it," you breathe out, but jinx just chuckles.

the anticipation builds, and builds, but to your surprise, jinx leans back to sit on her knees and begin undressing herself. her cropped top is the first to go, revealing those perky tits you love so much. your throat goes dry at the sight, but she quickly unbuckles her belt and slips off her pants, leaving her in just a pair of black panties as she crawls back over you.

she then giggles to herself, before slowly removing the final garment, leaving her bare. she's enjoying this, observing your confused expression. and then- she slots herself between your legs, and your eyes widen.

"jinx, you're-"

but she cuts you off with a soft 'shh' as she scoots another inkling close to you, cores not quite touching yet.

"just let me do my thing, baby," she drawls, a lazy smile on her face.

"but you'll get all messy," you argue. it's a weak protest and you know it, but you don't want to cause more trouble than necessary.

"you're adorable," she huffs, rolling her eyes. "all worried about making a mess. that's half the fun, toots!"

and then her heat presses to yours, and you gasp. she starts moving-slowly, tentatively, as if to test the waters. your hands hastily find the dip of her waist, gripping on for stability while she grinds against yours. you feel a brush of your clits, then another- and with your heightened hormones, it sends you spiraling.

"baby, i- haah.."

"yeeeeeah," she drawls out, looking down between both of your legs. it's downright vulgar, how your needy pussies are pressed right against each other, grinding and sliding together with wet squelches as blood distributes between the two of you. "you hear that? how wet you are? she's tellin' me how bad she wants this- mmph.."

your hips move in tandem with hers. the more you go on, the less you're able to hold back, it's everything you didn't know you needed.

the pace becomes more and more frenzied with each passing moment, jinx grabbing at your tits, fingernails digging into your asscheeks, licking stripes up your neck while your hands move to her peach of an ass to push her further against you. your head falls back if only for a second, lewd moans and whines escaping you. you can feel it- there's a filthy mess between the two of you, spread across both of your inner thighs and a bit of jinx's lower stomach. but neither of you can be bothered to care.

she's panting, lips parted while your eyes nearly glaze over with the feeling. the sweat alone is causing your mascara to run, but it only serves to make the girl more desperate. seeing you so utterly wrecked, it does something to her.

"gonna fuck you real good- ngh, make ya forget allll about those cramps," she breathes out, nails leaving little 'c' shapes in the flesh of your hips. "don't stop, don't you fucking dare stop!"

"gods, please," you whimper, your head falling forward onto her shoulder.

your soaking cunt ruts against hers with the urgency of a needy mutt, chasing ecstasy like your life depends on it. your comfort does, at least. a broken medley of 'pleasepleaseplease's leave you, although you're too far gone at this point to tell exactly what you're begging for. for her to keep going? for your release? and you just hear high-pitched whines right in your ear, breathy and shrill. the rasp of your girlfriend's voice never fails to make you squirm.

"please, it's so good, so good-"

"i know, baby, fuck-" she grunts, another sharp brush of your clits making her hips stutter. her gapped teeth sink into her lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. "uuhh, you feel so fucking good! shit, baby! you've- ah, got no idea how good this pussy is!"

you're near the edge, the contracting in your lower stomach replaced by a familiar coiling. the towels below you are a painting of crimson, your bodies both covered in a thin sheen of sweat while your needy pussies meet again and again. the knot gets tighter and tighter with each movement, threatening to break at any second-

"uungh, jinx, i'm gonna- gonna!"

she then lunges forward to crash her lips against yours, immediately shoving her hot tongue past your lips like she wants to consume you. it's a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, clashing together like a thunderstorm while your tongue swirls with hers, explores her mouth, lips moving with a speed you can't track down- drool dripping down your chin. and still, the movements don't stop.

you can tell she's close too, by the way her toned abs clench with each grind. but she's trying to get you there first, ever dedicated to helping you.

you pull back with a high cry of her name, feeling the thread finally snap- and your vision goes white for a second. it's as if the rest of the world is completely gone, reduced only to you and the girl pressed against your body.

"jinx- aaah! shit, shit! cumming, cumming-"

and you feel her follow right after, her breath trembling and hips stuttering as she feels her orgasm wash over her.

"gah, fuuuuck! that's it- that's, ohh!"

your synchronized moans sound like something out of a dirty movie, low and needy and pathetic, but so fucking delicious. her bangs stuck to her forehead, spittle dripping down your chin, blood and cum mixed between your cunts and inner thighs- and it's perfect.

a moment of silence follows, both of you panting out. neither of you move, just letting the moment linger. the mess between you ever-present. your mind is too hazy to make out exactly what just happened, flushed and sweaty- but the cramps are gone. completely gone.

"...feel better?" jinx breathes out, voice gravelly.

"yeah," you nod, slowly. "a lot better."

#jinx x reader #jinx smut #arcane x reader #arcane x you #jinx x female reader #reader insert #sapphic #lesbian

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sunsburns · 9 months ago

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okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.

#i think i'm hilarious #logan’s honda odyssey #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan smut #logan x reader #logan x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #reader insert #deadpool and wolverine #faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ

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cribabey · 2 months ago

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perv!m.g x bsf!r

a/n - my own dirty filthy thoughts about pervert mark grayson who's just recently gotten his powers, and his sense of smell is insane....

MDNI- thigh fucking, pervy mark, he can smell you (?) porn w/o plot somnophilia

mark's powers came in gradually. first was his increased sense of smell, then his hearing, and then the rest of his powers.

his sense of smell, well....it came in at a rather bad time. he'd just come over for another movie night between the two of you, and he could suddenly smell everything clearer.

the smell of the flowers on your dining table was crisp in his nose, despite being in your room, a floor above the dining room. the smell of your perfume on your skin, and the smell of you.

mark has always had some kind of feelings for you, that he had realised suddenly. he started getting hot every time you brushed up against him, and his eyes began always dropping lower than they should be, at a respectable level. his pants were too tight around you, and seemingly innocent things would get him all bothered.

but it wasn't like he just wanted to fuck you, he actually had feelings for you. he wanted to take you on dates, wanted to be able to love you in the open, not just internally while hiding it from everyone else.

the problem? he was your best friend, and it wasn't like he could just come out with his emotions, in the fear of losing you.

so mark was content to wait, until he gets the go-ahead from you, he'll just wait, however desperate for you he was.

but the other problem? you did like him. but he didn't know that.

suddenly, mark had become this insanely attractive guy to you overnight. initially you just started noticing the small things, like the flex of his forearms when he was doing something as small as writing, and the strain of the muscle in his back and arms when he threw you around in circles. i mean, you'd always known mark was attractive, but it all just suddenly hit you. he was sweet, smart and considerate, always being so tuned into you. he'd know when you were cold, and would drop his sweater around your shoulders without you even having to ask.

so in all, you were down bad, both romantically and physically.

which brings us to the present.

mark had come over for your typical movie marathon friday night.

you'd both sat on your bed together, your leg thrown over his as you'd watched your tv on your bed. an idea that always had him popping a chub, as dirty thoughts raced through his head. you, taking his cock so pliantly as he drilled you into your frilly blue bedsheets, him, in between your legs, discovering what heaven might actually taste like. you, choking on his cock as you looked up at him with those eyes of yours.

safe to say, he was definitely sprouting a boner.

it was a miracle you never noticed, with how often it happened. once, you had gotten dangerously close, your cheek smushed right above his groin when you were lying on top of him. he had to think of his poor dead grandmother's dentures in a cup of water to get it to go down. per usual, you'd been lying together on your bed, and when you both fell asleep, he woke up first.

at some point during your sleep, you'd both moved, so that you were pressed to his front with your back to him. your ass pressed against his dick, which was getting harder with every second.

he needed to move away, to scoot away or else he'd lose all semblance of control, so he tried to scoot away just a little. it gave him a temporary measure to get a break, but the next thing he knew, you were following, ass pressing to his groin again. he groaned out loud, quietly, and he just stopped moving, afraid to wake you to the feel of his hard on your ass. you started moving just a little bit in your sleep, and the friction that mark felt was insane.

his voice caught in his throat, and he tried his best not to moan immediately. this was bad, this was really bad. you were basically grinding on him in his sleep!

while this may have been one of his fantasies literally come to life, he could only think about how you might wake up to it and never want to speak to him again.

but he couldn't move, not at all.

but something switched in mark when he smelt it. saccharine sweet and light at the same time, and so unbelievably you.

it took mark a little to realise what it was.

you were wet.

from him.

because of him.

and you wanted this just as badly as he did, because even in your sleep you were grinding on him.

mark let out a guttural growl, needing more of that smell. he can't hold back anymore.

the next thing he knows, he's pulled his sweatpants down. the waistband is around his thighs, and he's pushed his boxers down with them.

he pulls his dick out, pumping it a couple times next to your sleeping form, pressing his nose to your pulse point as he inhales.

oh god, you smell so good. he thinks to himself. he feels the precum beading at his tip, and uses it as a lube for his dick as he fists his cock, pretending it's your hand as you smile up at him.

if it was you, he thinks of how your hand would struggle to wrap around his girth, and you'd drool at the thought of him slamming into you, making you cum over and over again.

using his thumb, he plays with his slit. he screws his eyes shut, his breathing heavy as he imagines your tongue playing with his slit, gobbling up his precum as if it was something valuable.

he'd get you so cock-drunk, you'd never be able to look at any other guys ever again, and you'd only ever want his dick inside you, always. he'd bend you over every surface in your house and his, and fuck you till you're screaming his name and unable to walk.

mark starts rutting against your body, before he gently manhandles you as to not wake you up, lifting one of your legs so he can slot his dick in between your soft thighs.

you're warm, and it makes him groan. this is literally so hot to him, your body compliant and responsive to his, and he can feel the tightening of his stomach muscles, knowing he's close to his climax.

he briefly acknowledges the obscene, wet sounds that come hims precum dribbling from his leaky tip, the slap, slap noise of his hip bones hitting the back of your thighs as he chases his high.

his climax hits him hard, and he groans into your ear, licking a stripe up the column of your neck as he chases the end of his high. his cum splurts all over your thighs and your frilly bedsheets, and he can only think of how good you smell, with the saccharine sweet of your arousal mixing up with his cum.

once he's finished from his ejaculation, he tucks himself back into his boxers and sweatpants, leaving the mess for you to find later. he knows this won't be the last time he uses you when you're sleeping.

you wake up to a sticky substance coating your thighs, and your own panties dripping wet. you don't know what's happened as you've always been a deep sleeper, but you have a feeling that mark's got something to do with it.

you can still feel boner pressing against your ass still, so you have a guess as to what it is.

doesn't matter though, because you're happy to help this one go down as well.

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a/n omg this is my first smutt.....mark has had an absolute chokehold on me lately....... anyway! let me know what you think!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

#mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible show #invincible x reader #invincible smut #mark grayson x reader smut #invincible x you #invincible x you smut

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imaginespazzi · 4 months ago

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Part 15: Love You Always

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

I never made promises lightly (and there have been some that I've broken) but I swear in the days still left we'll walk in fields of gold

(In which a go with the flow writer may have changed a lot of things, but this was always meant to be the ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Mainly just fluff with a little bit of angst and hurt/comfort

Words: 22.7K (lowkey upset I was 1.3K words off of making a 24K gold joke but ah well)

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce, Concussions/Fainting,

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Welcome to the end! This fic is my baby and I cannot believe that we've made it to the last chapter. There's a fair amount of creative license taken in this chapter in regards to W logistics so just bear with me for the plot/drama. The editing in this is shoddy as hell so please be my editors and point out typos/grammar mistakes. I wanted to thank all of you so much for all the love you've given GH. You guys have made this fic worth writing and whether you left a live-react, a general ask, a comment, reblogged it, hearted it or just read this fic, know that all of you mean so much to me. I would love your final opinions on this final chapter if you choose to share them. And of course we still have Stephie's version. So as per always my loves, let me know what your liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next!

July 2007

It’s golden hour. The park is illuminated by a resplendent yellow shine; sparkling drops of gold shimmering against the clear water of the pond that Paige is currently dipping her toes into. The echoes of the music from the gazebo contrasting against the lull of guest chattering fill her ears, as she reaches down to lazily run her fingers through the water. Paige pulls her dress up slightly, careful not to get it wet as she sits down on the bank. It isn’t her preferred attire by any means, but at least she’d gotten out of wearing the frock with pompous frills and ruffles that her mother had first picked out for her flower girl outfit.

The warmth of the sun dances against her cheeks as Paige involuntarily lets her eyes close, breathing in the much-needed moments of peace. It’s not that she’s unhappy with this wedding -her mother deserves to be happy and her new husband seems like a perfectly decent man. But there’s this hollow feeling of things will never be the same again that’s made itself home against Paige’s ribcage. And it’s not an unfamiliar feeling per say, not when it’s been festering within her since her parents got divorce. But today makes it feel finite. Once upon a time, there used to be Bob and Amy and Paige and a little house in the suburbs that, before it was filled with screaming, had been filled with laughter. Now there’s Amy and her new husband and maybe soon there will be Bob and his new wife. And then there’s Paige, who’s stuck moving between two houses, neither of which seem to fill the void of the old one.

Paige is only six years old and perhaps she doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies of adult relationships, but she thinks she understands this one concept. And It’s a rather startling realization for such a young child to have, but she’s almost certain it’s true.

Things that are lost, stay lost; they don’t come back to you.

“I like your dress,” Paige’s eyes fly open at the sound of a small voice, shyly complimenting her dress.

Confused, she follows the sound of it till her gaze lands on a little girl, probably close to her own age, giving her a dimpled grin. Paige looks the dark-curled stranger up and down for a moment, taking in her casual shorts and pink butterfly t-shirt and she suddenly feels a little self-conscious in her own far-too-formal-for-a-park appearance, despite the compliment.

“Thanks,” she says meekly, playing with the blue ribbon tied around the middle, “it’s my flower girl outfit.”

The other girl’s eyes gleam with excitement, “you were in a wedding?”

Paige nods, the beginnings of a smile starting to peek through her own lips, “yeah,” she points towards the gazebo in the distance, “the rec-petion is happening over there.”

“That’s so cool,” the brunette remarks as she plops down next to Paige, daintily sliding off her sandals so she can slip her feet into the pond, “why are you here then?”

Paige hesitates, “it’s very loud.”

The other girl nods in understanding, “my Mommy and Daddy’s wedding was really loud too.”

Paige turns sharply towards her at that, “you went to your Mommy’s wedding too?”

Explaining the divorce to her classmates had been complicated enough -she barely understood the concept herself- but then, when she’d broken the news that she’d be attending her Mommy’s wedding this weekend, she’d gotten a whole other round of confused glances.

Children don’t go to their Mommies weddings, one of the girls had said matter-of-factly, looking at Paige like she’d made some incredulous exclamation. Mrs. Carter, her favorite teacher, had overheard and intervened, sympathetically explaining the entire situation -and the supposed normalcy of it- on her behalf. That had been the extent of it and it had been enough to disband the small crowd of kids that had gathered around her. But there was something about the slight glint of pity in Mrs Carter’s eye and the almost judgemental tone of that one girl, that had left Paige feeling queasy about the whole ordeal. And so she’s surprised by how casually the darker-skinned girl in front of her mentions her own mother’s wedding, like it really was as normal as Mrs. Carter had explained it to be.

“Yeah I did, when I was littler, ” the girl admits happily, “they got married on a bask-ball court and it was lots and lots and lots of fun and I ate so much cake that I had a tummy ache after,” she giggles conspiratorially at her own words and there’s something so contagious about the sound of it, that Paige can’t help but laugh along.

“Did you wear a pretty dress too,” she asks curiously, secretly pleased when her question makes the other girl’s face light up.

“I did. It was like yours but it was pink,” the little girl sighs contentedly, “when I have my own wedding, I’m gonna wear pink again.”

Paige scrunches her nose, “you can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Silly girl,” the blonde shakes her head, “my Mommy says you have to wear white when you get married. It’s tradition.”

The other girl frowns, “but I love pink.”

“Maybe you can have something else in pink like-,” Paige pauses, thinking really hard, “like pink flowers in your book-et.”

The brunette seems to contemplate it for a while before another bright grin breaks out on her face, “I like that. You’re so smart.”

“Thank you,” Paige beams, her face glowing almost as bright as the world around them and then a sudden thought strikes her, “oh my name is-”

“Shush,” the other girl cuts her off, hurriedly placing her tiny hand against Paige’s mouth and the blonde’s eyes widen.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice muffled.

“You can’t tell me your name silly,” the brunette says firmly, “Mommy says we don’t tell strangers p-ivate info-mation ‘cause what if they-” she drops her voice to a whisper, “what if they wanna kid-nap us.”

Paige wrangles herself free, giving the girl an odd look, “I’m not going to kid-nap you. I’m just a little girl. Little girls can’t kid-nap people,” she says, affronted, “are you gonna kid-nap me?”

“Of course not! I’m too nice-”

“Are you saying I’m not nice?”

“No- that’s not,” the other girl blushes, looking rather flustered, “it’s just what my Mommy says and Daddy says Mommy’s always right and I have to listen to her.”

“Fine,” Paige concedes, a little amused by how pitiful the girl in front of her looks, “I’ll tell you my middle-name instead and then when we meet again and you’re not a st-anger anymore, I’ll tell you my real name.”

“Who says we’ll meet again?” the brunette asks softly.

“I do. I say so. I just know we’re gonna meet again,” Paige smirks, an air of arrogance around it but she really does believe it and she doesn’t know how she knows -is perhaps too young to understand the concept of a gut-feeling- but she just does. There’s something about this girl, about her big brown doe eyes and her carefree smile and the way talking to her just feels so comfortable, that has Paige convinced they’re destined to meet again, destined to be in each other’s lives.

The girl seems to mull over Paige’s words for a moment before she finally stretches her hand out, “okay. I’m Jazlyn.”

“Jazlyn,” the blonde tests it out slowly, as she shakes Jazlyn’s hand, “that’s a pretty name. I’m Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you Madison,” Jazlyn says, her voice filled with sincerity as they release each other’s hand, fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“You too,” Paige replies politely as the two of them kick their feet back and forth in the cool water, ‘you said your Mommy and Daddy got married on a bask-ball court? Do you play?”

Jazlyn nods enthusiastically and that warm feeling that comes with finding common ground with a new friend, flickers through Paige’s heart, “I love bask-ball.”

“Me too,” Paige grins, “it’s my favorit-est thing in the whole wide world.

And then there’s no stopping the conversation between them, the two of them speaking a mile per minute as they cover as many topics as their little minds can think of. Paige learns that Jazlyn’s mother used to play basketball and had passed her passion onto her daughter. The other girl might not have lived much life yet, but whatever she has lived, has been immersed in the sport. It’s so different to Paige’s own story with basketball that had started only a year or so ago when her parents had started her in little league to get her mind off of the divorce. But it’s clear that despite their different starts, their love for the sport is the same. And Paige has basketball friends but no one quite seems to understand the thrill of making an orange ball go through a hoop as much as Jazlyn.

The world slowly morphs from a golden hue into something darker, the water beneath their feet turning cold as the rays of sun hitting it begin to disappear. Golden hour is over. But the two of them barely notice, too enthralled in a silly argument about who the best Spongebob character is. Paige says Patrick. Jazlyn says Gary. Paige thinks Jazlyn’s lost her mind because Jazzie come on he’s a snail to which Jazlyn immediately raises her eye-brow because and Patrick is starfish Maddie, what’s your point?

“Oh no,” it’s Jazlyn who seems to notice the time first, her eyes widening as she haphazardly stands up, accidentally flicking Paige with water when she slides her feet out of the pond, “I should get back to my Mommy and Daddy.”

“Right,” Paige swallows, a hollow feeling in her chest as she realizes her new friend is about to leave, “you can’t stay a little bit longer?”

Jazlyn shakes her head apologetically, “sorry Maddie. ‘Member I told you, we’re going back to Virg-inia tomorrow so I have to help Mommy pack all our things.”

Virginia.

That’s the other thing Paige had discovered about the girl; that she wasn’t from around here. Jazlyn had come to visit her grandparents, just as she tended to every summer. She’d spent the last part of her holidays in their lodge, which coincidentally bordered the park -with the fancy gazebo- that Paige’s mom had booked for the reception. Paige had learned that this was a part of Jazlyn’s routine apparently, to stroll to the pond right before sunset and it was close enough to where she was staying that her parents let her go by herself. She’d told the blonde that for the most part the walks had been rather boring, peaceful but uneventful. Until today, when she’d stumbled upon Paige, sitting at the exact place Jazlyn would normally sit.

And, tomorrow, the other girl will be gone.

Paige isn’t quite sure where exactly Virginia is -geography isn’t her strong suite- but she knows that it’s far away from Minnesota, far away from Paige. They’ve just met; it feels almost wrong for them to already be torn apart.

“Are you gonna visit again?” Paige asks slowly, her voice tinged with hope.

“Prob-ly. Like I said, we visit every summer,” Jazlyn says, as she slips her sandals back on, “are you gonna be here next time?”

“I think so,” Paige grins as she stands up herself, noticing she’s just an inch or so taller than the other girl, “Mommy’s new house is pretty close to here.”

Jazlyn’s smile stretches her entire face as she juts out her pinky, “so we’ll see each other again?”

“Def-nitely,” Paige promises as she interlocks her own pink with her friend’s, “I’m gonna miss you Jazzie. Even if I just met you.”

Jazlyn’s eyes soften before she pulls the other kid into a hug, her head fitting just a little too perfectly into the crook of Paige’s neck, “I’m gonna miss you too Maddie.”

They part reluctantly, too young to understand the confusing magnetic pull between them, but still perceptive enough to understand that, despite having only just met, there’s something between them.

“Bye Maddie,” Jazlyn says quietly, her lips trembling for a slight second as she waves at the blond, slowly backing away.

“Bye Jazzie,” Paige calls out, watching as the other girl smiles at her one last time, before turning on her heel and starting to run back home. She watches her go until her silhouette disappears and a slight shiver -that isn’t just from the summer wind- runs up Paige’s skin.

“I hope I see you soon,” she whispers into the wind, almost like she’s making a wish, before hugging her arms around herself and heading back towards the gazebo.

But soon isn’t quite soon. Because not even six months later, Paige’s mom and her new husband move to Montana, the house by the park sold to the highest bidder. When August rolls around, with the promise to Jazlyn weighing heavily on her mind, she begs her father to take her up there but instead, bound by a custody agreement, he puts her on a flight to go visit her mother instead. It’s not his choice to make and really, Paige is too young to fight it, so instead that becomes a part of her summer routine. Every August, Paige goes to Montana and slowly but surely -as is natural with little kids- the memory of meeting the girl with the dark curls and big doe eyes and a bright smile, slowly fades away.

That is, until she’s 15 and participating in a camp for USA basketball and she meets Azzi Jazlyn Fudd.

And the memories don’t quite come rushing back -it’s been nine years and her recollection of things that happened when she was six isn’t particularly good- but there's a flicker of recognition that ignites in her stomach. That same feeling she’d felt all those years ago, comes rushing back into her veins as their eyes meet across the court and by the way Azzi’s face softens just a little bit, Paige can tell, she feels it too.

The feeling that the two of them are destined to be in each other’s life, that they’re destined to always find each other over and over again.

***

July 2033

Wings 76 Valkyries 94

American Airlines center is filled with the sound of crowds of fans grumbling as they leave the arena, their home team having suffered an expected loss to the Valkyries. Paige has no ill-will to the Dallas fans -they’d treated her with nothing but love her time here- but she can’t help but smirk a little, the competitor in her, just always a little too cocky about winning and shutting the opposing team's supporters up.

But there are still fans of her tenure at Dallas here and Paige can’t escape the horde of signs being shoved in her face, waiting for her autograph. The fans have been crazy since she was in college and as grateful as she is for the fame, sometimes, just the sheer amount of people that seem to avalanche her out of nowhere, overwhelms her just a little bit. Still, Paige poses for the pictures and signs the most ridiculous poster with a warm smile on her face but her mind is wandering far off, thinking about walking through the tunnel and finding her person standing there, waiting so they can go do media together.

It’s that thought that has her rushing a little bit, her signature becoming messier and messier as she slowly reaches the last of the fans. Paige shoots the crowd one more charming grin, before she slips away -the for the people smile on her face morphing into something more intimate as she rushes towards the tunnel. It’s been almost three weeks since Paige had gotten her head out of her ass and finally gotten the girl, and every single second since has felt like magic.

“Hey superstar,” Azzi calls out to her as she makes it about halfway into the tunnel and Paige feels her heart skip a beat as she finally catches sight of the brunette, leaning against the wall, watching her with a smirk of her own. She’s slipped on a Valkyrie’s shirt over her jersey, her hair slightly mussed from the pace of the game and Paige thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Hey baby,” she whispers, as she saunters over to Azzi, tugging the younger woman into her arms as she brushes their lips together, “I missed you.”

The brunette rolls her eyes fondly, her hands locking behind Paige’s neck as her fingers play with wisps of baby hair, “we were just on the court together. It’s been maybe seven minutes since you last saw me.”

“Seven minutes too long,” Paige says airly as she steals another kiss from Azzi’s lips, “I miss you every second we’re apart.”

“You’re such a sap,” Azzi shakes her head as removes herself from Paige’s grasp, giggling when it elicits a small whine of protest from the blonde, before she intertwines their hands together as they start walking towards the media waiting room.

They barely make it into the area before there’s a blur of limbs whizzing into their legs, causing both of them to laugh as they try to keep themselves from falling over at Stephie’s attack. The little girl grins up at them, a lavender #5 jersey -that makes Paige practically glow with pride- framing her little body. Stephie had taken to alternating between her customized #5 and #35 jerseys between games and even though technically today should’ve been Azzi’s turn, the little girl had insisted that she needed to wear #5 today.

To show Dall-s that she’s only ours now, Stephie had said with a possessive scrunch in her face when Azzi had dramatically complained of the betrayal. The logic had been enough for the brunette who’d agreed in a heartbeat that of course, you’re right, everyone should know she’s ours as she’d winked at Paige. The blonde had only chuckled, but really it had sent a ember of warmth through her veins, filling her heart with the comfort that came from knowing the people she considered hers, considered her to be theirs.

“Mama, Miss Buecks, you played so well today,” Stephie gushes, arms still fervently wrapped around both of their knees as she grins up at them, “and-and-and I cheered so loud for you guys. The loudest. So loud that even Pops had to tell me to be quieter. Can you believe it Pops had to tell me to be quiet,” the little girl giggles like it’s absurd that her grandfather -the most boisterous man she knew- could tell someone else to be quiet, “but I told him I’d only be quieter when you guys played less good-er and you guys never played less good-er so I never had to be quiet,” she finishes with a proud smirk.

Paige laughs at her enthusiasm, winking at Tim who’s spluttering justifications, as she swings Stephie into her arms, before plopping onto the sofa with the little girl comfortably settled in her lap, “You were that loud huh? I knew I heard you.”

Stephie beams, “you heard me?”

“Of course I did. Why do you think all my shots kept going in? It’s cause I knew my Stephie-bean was cheering the loudest for me,” Paige says, as she pulls on the little girl’s nose.

“The loud-est-est-est,” Stephie stretches her arms proudly before she wraps them around Paige’s neck, bringing the blonde closer to her so she can press a long sloppy kiss to her cheek.

“Oh okay I see how it is,” Azzi pouts dramatically as she perches on the armrest next to them, “guess nobody was cheering for me then.”

“Silly Mama,” Stephie shakes her tiny little hands reaching up to cup her mother’s face across Paige’s body, “I said I was cheering for both of you.”

“But only Miss Buecks is getting kisses. Where’s Mama’s kiss?” Azzi asks cheekily as she expectantly juts out her face towards Stephie.

But before the little girl can do the honors, Paige beats her to it, foolishly grinning like a teenager in love as she presses her own lips to Azzi’s cheek, “there you go baby, there’s your kiss.”

“Paige!” Azzi exclaims, eyes widening in surprise as a light blush creeps up her cheeks.

Paige shrugs mischievously, “What? You wanted a kiss Az, I gave you a kiss.”

“I was- I was-,” Azzi splutters, “I was asking Stephie.”

“Oh, were you? My bad. Didn’t realize, lemme take it back,” Paige smirks as she places her lips back onto the brunette’s cheek, suctioning them inwards like she’s trying to reverse what she did previously, “there! I took my kiss back.”

“Paige!” Azzi squirms again, her face crimson now as she rubs at her cheek, glaring at Paige who looks far too pleased with herself.

“You’re so red Mama,” Stephie giggles, all of her teeth showing.

“Zip it Stephie,” Azzi says, attempting to sound strict but there’s no bite to her tone and instead Stephie and Paige look at each other for a second, before bursting into another round of laughter.

Azzi groans, “I hate both of you.”

Stephie removes one arm from Paige’s neck, so she can loop it around her mother’s, bringing the brunette closer to the two of them, “no you don’t Mama, you love us the most-est-est-est in the world.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, but there’s no stopping the sappy smile that her daughter’s words elicit, “maybe just most-est-est,” she concedes as she nuzzles her head against Paige’s, her finger gently rubbing Stephie’s cheek.

They stay like that, the three of them cocooned in their own little bubble as Stephie recites her favorite moments from the game and the two adults listen on intently, adding a comment or two here and there to humor the little girl. This is Paige’s happy place; she thinks if peace had a definition, it would most definitely just be a picture of this: her, Azzi and Stephie, just existing together.

“Excuse me, Paige, Azzi, they’re ready for the two of you now,” a polite voice breaks in through the calm and Paige looks up to see their media manager looking pointedly at the two of them.

“Alright Stephie girl,” Tim calls out, “let's you and me go get some ice cream, while your Mama and Miss Buecks go do press.”

Stephie frowns, her grip instinctively tightening around the two women, “can I come with you?”

“Stephie-” Azzi begins gently, slowly rising off of the armrest.

“Please Mama,” Stephie implores, jutting out her bottom lip, “Ri-Ri says Uncle Twin used to let her do media with him sometimes. She showed me a video of it and everything. I’ll be good I promise,” she places a hand on her heart, “I just wanna be with you and Miss Buecks pretty please.”

Paige bites her lip, still a little scared to overstep boundaries since last time but she sends Azzi a pleading look, not wanting to let go of Stephie either. And really Paige has already fulfilled her saying no to Stephie quota for the week considering it was her, who’d said no to the little girl when she’d asked for extra whipped cream on her waffles this morning.

“Fine,” Azzi relents with a sigh, “but you better be on your best behavior Miss Stephanie and you too Paige,” she says pointedly to the blonde who holds her hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m always on my best-est-est-est behavior Mama,” Stephie says proudly as she slides off of Paige’s lap to allow the older woman to get up. As soon as she does, the little girl reaches for her hand, intertwining one through Paige’s and the other through Azzi’s as she excitedly bounces in between, pulling them towards the conference room, “let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

Murmurs ring out through the press cohort as the three of them enter together. Despite Azzi’s reassurance that she had no intent to hide their relationship this time around, neither of them were really the type to make a big public announcement acknowledging it either. But there had been a picture of Stephie and Azzi -both casually sticking their blue-tinted tongues out at each other while holding rainbow popsicles- that Paige had added to her life lately photo dump around a week ago, which had sent the rumours flying about what their potential relationship status might be.

As Paige and Azzi take their seats, Stephie looks thoughtful between them, clearly deliberating on where -or rather on who- she wants to sit. Eventually, she climbs onto Paige’s lap and the blonde smirks triumphantly as Azzi’s mouth falls open.

“Guess I’m the favorite,” the older woman says cheekily into the mic in front of her, causing a few chuckles to echo throughout the press room as she drapes an arm around the little girl’s middle -right against the #5 of her jersey- allowing Stephie to get comfortable.

Azzi shakes her head, the edges of lips turning upwards despite her attempt to look betrayed as she addresses the rest of the room, “y’all should know the ball isn’t the only thing she steals,” she says in reference to Paige’s three steals tonight, “she also apparently steals other people’s places as their child’s favorite person in the whole wide world.”

“That’s not true Mama,” Stephie quips defensively, “you guys are tied.”

“But me just a little bit more though right Stephie-bean?” Paige whispers conspiratorially, poking the little girl in the stomach and causing her to squeal.

“Miss Buecks stop,” Stephie says in between peals of laughter, “Mama said we have to be on our best-est-est-est behavior remember?”

“Oh right, right, right,” Paige nods vehemently, pretending to compose herself as the media personnel look on amused at the antics on display, “best behavior from now on I promise.”

The first couple of questions are directed to Azzi -mainly about her career high in blocks (4) and that she’d gone 7 for 10 from three- and Paige allows herself to dissociate a little bit. She hooks her chin against Stephie’s shoulder, bringing the box score closer to herself so she can look through it. The little girl leans in alongside her to look at the paper in front of them and Paige almost laughs at the concentration with which Stephie’s eyes trace the numbers.

“Only three rebounds tonight Miss Buecks?” the little girl notes keeping her voice low so the mics won’t pick it up as she raises her eyebrow at Paige and attempts to tsk tsk tsk.

“Can’t do everything I guess,” the blonde replies playfully, pointing out that she’d more or less stuffed the stat-sheet beyond that.

“But you still gotta rebound Miss Buecks” Stephie says gravely, with all the wisdom of a little girl who’s grown up around a lot of basketball, “don’t you always say to Mama that she has to rebound more? Cause rebounds win champ-ships right?”

“Not you using my own words against me. You’re too smart for your own good,” Paige mutters under her breath but there’s a gentle smile -one reserved solely for the little girl cuddled to her chest- playing on her lips, “but alright Coach Stephanie, I’ll get more rebounds next time.”

“Good. You should,” the little girl retorts happily, as she goes back to reading the box score, continuing to occasionally point out other things that peak her interest, to Paige. For her part, the blonde is so lost in this little bubble she’s in with Stephie -intently listening to the little girl’s analysis as they giggle over something they’d both found funny- that she doesn’t even register a question being sent her own way until Azzi loudly clears her throat.

She raises her head at the sound and even though the whole room is looking at her, Paige’s eyes -as they often seem to do whenever the brunette is around- immediately turn towards Azzi. The younger woman’s gaze is focused on the two of them, something unmistakably soft hidden behind the amused quirk of her eyebrow, as she tilts her head slightly towards the reporters, trying to signal that it was the older woman’s turn to answer a question.

“Sorry,” Paige clears her throat sheepishly, “what was the question?”

The reporter -a young man that she recognizes as working on one of the Dallas sports news channel- chuckles, “sorry to interrupt Paige; she’s a lot cuter than we are, I understand,” he teases good-naturedly and a series of amused laughs ring out through the room as Paige nuzzles Stephie closer to herself, “I was just asking -this is your first time playing in Dallas since you left, how does it feel to be back?”

“It feels great,” the blonde admits with a smile, and although it’s partly the politically correct answer, she really does mean it, “I’ve always loved playing here you know, the fans always- always showed out for this team when I was here and it’s great to see they did again today. It was a little weird being boo-ed by the same people who used to cheer for me when I was shooting free throws- but you know- that’s sports and you know they still clapped for me when I came out so I’mma take that as they still love me just a little bit cause I’m pretty easy to love,” Paige winks and can practically feel Azzi rolling her eyes at the gesture, as the reporters laugh at her feigned cockines, “but yeah you know- it was great to be here. You know this place used to be home once-”

“And now home is me and Mama,” Stephie announces, cutting Paige off mid sentence as she turns around in the older woman’s lap, her big brown eyes glittering as she looks up at her, “right Miss Buecks?”

It’s like everyone seems to hold their breaths at the little girl’s words; there’s no denying the meaning behind them. Paige opens and closes her mouth, trying to figure out the right way to respond. She glances towards Azzi, trying to figure out how the other woman wants them to play this. The brunette is already looking at her, her eyes slightly wide at what her daughter had just said but filled with the promise of we’ll always be your home as she gives Paige a slight nod, her lip curling upwards into a small grin.

“Right Stephie-bean,” Paige says softly, addressing the little girl more than the media, “my home is you and Mama.”

“You’re our home too Miss Buecks,” Stephie grins toothily as she reaches up to press an open mouth kissed against the blonde woman’s cheeks before turning her little body back towards the press, unaware of the spark of emotion her innocent little declaration had birthed in Paige’s heart. She looks at Azzi again, finding her eyes moist with the same tears of pure happiness that she knows are reflected on her own, a testament to finally getting everything they’d dreamt of as two naive college students, curled into each other on a twin-sized bed.

And then there’s a familiar cough resounding through the audience and Paige feels her entire body stiffen. She reluctantly drags her gaze away from Azzi and amidst the sea of smiling faces -all of whom had clearly found the scene rather sickeningly cute- she finds a distinctly known face scowling up at the podium. Olivia.

"Miss Buecks," Stephie whispers, as she lifts herself a little off of Paige's lap so her lips are level with the blonde's ear, "why does that reporter look so mad?"

Paige swallows, her grip tightening protectively around the little girl on her lap,

“It’s nothing honey,” she reassures but there’s little conviction in her voice.

Paige can almost feel the tension radiating off of Azzi’s body, clearly recognizing who the reporter is and she has to fight the urge to reach out and grab the younger woman’s hand, to squeeze or trace light patterns against her skin. She doesn’t know how she’d spent so long not realizing her ex-wife was sitting second-row at the press conference. Paige had known Olivia was gonna be here, had been mentally preparing for her to be covering the Dallas game and yet, perhaps because she’d been so preoccupied with Stephie and Azzi while walking, she’d barely taken note of the woman.

“This is a press conference, not your home,” Olivia remarks icily and all the other reporters twitch uncomfortably in their seats, clearly aware of the dynamics at play, “so if y’all are done, I think we’d all love to go finish this off and get back to our own homes as well.”

Azzi’s hands clench under the table and this time Paige doesn’t bother fighting it; she uses the hand not gripping Stephie, to grab for the younger woman's fists under the table, rubbing soothing circles against her knuckles to try and calm her down. It’s like there’s magic in her touch -the same that seems to exist in Azzi’s when she touches Paige- and slowly but surely it begins to calm the brunette down.

Still keeping hold of Azzi’s hand underneath the podium, Paige musters up an apologetic smile for Olivia, “sorry- that was uh- that wasn’t very professional of us.”

“Well workplace relationships aren’t quite professional either,” Olivia remarks pointedly, an unsettlingly saccharine smile on her face, and it’s like a cold chill -most definitely not from the air conditioning- settles across the room, “but that’s never been an issue for you has it Paige?”

Paige stares at the journalist in shock, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to respond. Since the divorce, despite the amicable appearances, Olivia had always had a thinly-veiled passive-aggressive jab ready to integrate into her post-game media questions. But there was nothing thinly-veiled or remotely passive about this particular remark and Paige is completely caught off-guard, her body freezing at the sheer amount of vitriol in her ex-wife’s voice.

As if sensing her unease, Stephie leans back into Paige, almost as if she’s trying to provide some semblance of comfort. Under the table, Azzi flips her hand over, unclenching her own fist so she can intertwine their hands together as she gently squeezes the blonde’s hand, a simple gesture of i’m here that makes Paige relax just a little bit.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says, her voice a matching syrupy sweet as she focuses her attention on the reporter, “I was under the impression you wanted to continue the press conference but well-” she tilts her head almost mockingly, “you don’t seem to be asking any basketball questions so unless you have one of those, I suggest you let the others ask their questions because like you said, we’re all ready to go home.”

There’s a quick flash of anger in Olivia’s eyes but she’s quick to compose herself, putting on a tight-lipped smile as she addresses the two of them again, “I do have a basketball question thank you Azzi,” she spits the brunette’s name out bitterly and Paige tries to not show her irritation on her face, choosing instead to focus on the pressure of Azzi’s fingers playing with her own, “the two of you have been known since college for your chemistry- on the court that is of course- apparently Paige has a knack for finding your or something. But over the last two games, only two of your shots have been assisted by her? So I guess I’m just wondering, is the chemistry fading? Were you guys maybe just trying to force something that used to exist but isn’t meant to anymore?”

It’s a ridiculous question laced with farcical underlying meanings and Paige can tell it takes every little bit of restraint left in Azzi’s body to not curse Olivia out right then and there.

“And what happened in the game before the last two?” the brunette asks calmly.

Olivia shrugs, “does it matter? I’m asking about the last two games.”

“Did you watch that game?” Azzi presses.

“There was a Wings game on at the same time. I had priorities,” Olivia answers airily.

“Fair enough,” Azzi says, her voice deceptively casual as she narrows her eyes at the other woman, “I’ll tell you what happened then. The game before that, Paige assisted on six of my eight made shots. The game before that one, she assisted on four of them. The game before that, on five of them. I guess it’s gone down a little these last two games but as a journalist you should probably know that two games doesn't make a trend. So no, we’re not trying to force something that used to exist. We’re building off of something -off of a chemistry- that has always existed,” she glances briefly at Paige, her stoic expression softening, “and always will,” before turning back to Olivia with cold eyes, “does that answer your question?”

Olivia purses her lips as she nods reluctantly, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Azzi retorts.

There’s only two more questions after that, the atmosphere in the room having clearly shifted and all the rest of the reporters clearly eager to escape the still-lingering tension. Paige doesn’t let go of Azzi’s hand, that and Stephie’s occasional fidgeting on her lap, the only thing keeping her fully grounded.

As soon as the press conference officially concludes, Azzi’s out of her seat, marching out of the media room with vengeance and Paige knows exactly where she’s going.

“Stephie sweetheart, you go hang out with Pops for a second okay,” she tells the little girl, pointing her in the direction of Tim who had been waiting on the sidelines, before rushing to catch up with her girlfriend.

“Az-” Paige attempts to say as she falls into step next to the younger girl, trying to match her furious pace, “baby come on it’s not worth it.”

Azzi ignores her, continuing on her tirade towards Olivia, who is where she always is, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Azzi hisses, coming to a quick half in front of the reporter and Paige stops right behind her.

Olivia quirks an eyebrow, “excuse me?”

“Oh don’t even try that bullshit with me. Look I get it okay- I get that you have issues with Paige and probably with me and that’s fine. You have every right to dislike us- maybe even hate us but pulling that stunt in front of all the media? You don’t get to do all that.”

“And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Olivia asks, not even attempting to keep up a pretense of cordiality.

“Do not test me,” Azzi warns, “you know damn well I can have your credentials to cover the Wings revoked with one word.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know me,” the brunette cuts off Olivia’s weak protest, “you don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do for the people I love.”

A flicker of hurt rushes across her ex-wife’s face and Paige suddenly feels a slight pang of guilt taking birth in her stomach. In front of her, Azzi lets out a shallow breath, clearly having noticed the same thing.

“I know what it’s like you know,” the younger woman says slowly, her voice much softer now, “I know what it’s like to lose Paige. I know what it’s like to see her with someone else. I know how much it hurts,” Azzi swallows, shaking slightly like even the memory of it is hard to relieve before her voice hardens again, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll just let you take that hurt out on us like that. Next time we’re in Dallas, if you pull that shit again, know that I will absolutely get you fired.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, pointedly looking away from Azzi as she crosses her arms around her body. Knowing the lack of response would only irritate the brunette further, Paige takes a step towards her, gently pressing her thumb against Azzi’s wrist to get her attention.

“Hey Az, baby how about you go check on Stephie? Maybe get changed so we can head out,” she says softly, giving the younger woman one of her patented charming smiles, “I’ll come find you guys in a little bit.”

For a second it looks like Azzi’s going to protest but there must be something in the look that Paige gives her and instead she sighs, nodding as she lightly bumps her forehead against the blonde’s temple, before walking back towards the media waiting room. Paige can’t help but watch her go until her silhouette disappears, can’t help the just for Azzi smile that stays glued on her face till the brunette is out of her sight.

“You used to tell me you didn’t do nicknames,” Olivia’s tone is tinged with resigned bitterness and Paige takes in a sharp breath before turning slightly to face her ex-wife.

“What?”

“I told you- on our first date I think- that you could call me Livvy and you said- you said you don’t do nicknames. Or pet names. But clearly,” she gestures in the direction Azzi had gone, “you do.”

Paige pauses, letting the other woman’s words sink in as she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry.”

Olivia chuckles unhumourously, “for not calling me by pet name or for all the stuff your girlfriend just said?”

“Neither, “Paige replies cautiously, “and Azzi didn’t say anything wr-”

“She threatened to get me fired-”

“Because what you did in there was really fucking unprofessional Olivia,” Paige defends immediately, matching the loudness in her ex-wife’s tone.

Olivia narrows her eyes, “so then what exactly are you apologizing for Paige?”

“I’m apologizing for making you feel like you have to be unprofessional. You’re a really good journalist and I- I hate that I make you act differently. And I know that- I know it comes from a place of hurt and I know I’m the reason that hurt exists. And I don’t think- I don’t think I ever properly told you how sorry I am for it,” Paige nibbles nervously on her bottom lip, “so that’s- that’s what I’m apologizing for.”

Olivia’s quiet for a second and when she finally does speak, there’s a fragility hanging onto her words, “I was right, wasn’t I? All those arguments- during all those fights about- about her when I said that you were still in love with her- you- you never denied it. You just- you would always change the topic- say that it wasn’t about her. But I was right, wasn’t I? You did still love her.”

Paige hesitates, “Olivia-”

“Give me this one last thing Paige, please,” Olivia pleads softly, “just- tell me I was right.”

“You were,” Paige admits finally and both of them seem to let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding, “I’ve loved her since I was fifteen and there hasn’t been a moment since then that I haven’t been in love with her.”

Olivia flinches, screwing her eyes shut for a second, “I thought that would hurt more to hear but it-” her eyelids flutter open as for the first time in a long time, she gives Paige an almost genuine smile, “it almost feels good to hear. To know I wasn’t crazy.”

“You weren’t. I’m sorry,” Paige repeats again, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“I know. Me too. You’re right- you’re both right. I- I shouldn’t have done what I did at the press conference. I’m sorry- for that and for all the other ones too,” Olivia acknowledges slowly, “tell um- tell Azzi that too. That I’m sorry and I uh- I’d really appreciate it if she didn’t try and get me fired.”

They both giggle softly at that and it feels like a weight being lifted off of Paige’s shoulders, something almost like closure.

“I’ll make sure she knows,” she promises.

“Thanks,” Olivia nods, folding her press notes into her purse as she gets ready to leave, “bye Paige.”

Paige smiles, “bye Olivia.”

And then she turns around, and walks back towards Azzi, back to where she’s always belonged.

***

Azzi’s sitting on the couch in the locker room -having changed back into regular clothes- by the time Paige returns from whatever conversation she’d been having with her ex-wife. She’s aware she’d probably been a little harsh on the other woman -knows that the not-so-kind feelings she has towards said woman is definitely unwarranted- but she’d had the audacity to target their relationship -to target Paige. And that had been enough for Azzi’s anger to cloud the more empathetic side of herself, who understood the hurt the other woman must have felt at having to watch the three of them -happy and giddy with love- on the podium together.

“How did your conversation with your ex-wife go?” she asks as Paige enters the locker room, swinging her feet up to lounge them on the armrest. Azzi’s not normally a petty person but the mere existence of another woman having been married to her Paige, seems to evoke that side of her more often than not.

The blonde shoots her a pointed look as she walks over to her stuff, “that was unnecessary and you know it.”

“It was. I’m sorry,” Azzi rubs her neck sheepishly, “but I really do wanna know what happened.”

“I apologized,” Paige says, slipping her jersey off and Azzi’s momentarily distracted by the sight of her girlfriend's abs, tongue instinctively darting out to lick her lips, that she doesn’t quite register what the older woman had just said.

“What?” she frowns when the realization finally does hit, “why would you apologize?”

Paige sighs, slipping on the light blue oversized shirt -the one Azzi loves because it brings out the color of her eyes- before reaching for the darker cargo pants that had accompanied it, “because she only pulls shit like this because I hurt her. And I guess it worked cause, she apologized too.”

“You’re a good person, you know that?” Azzi says softly and she means it. Sometimes it amazes her just how amazing Paige is despite it all, just how humble and kind she's remained despite the fame that surrounded her.

Paige grins, finally dressed as she plops on the couch next to Azzi, lifting the younger woman's legs up and rearranging them so they’re settled comfortably on her lap.

“I know but I like hearing you say it,” she says as she lets her fingers run across the exposed skin of Azzi’s thighs.

The younger woman raises her eyebrows as Paige’s hand moves higher up, a smirk on the blonde’s face, “what are you doing?”

“You’re hot when you get all protective and shit you know that,” Paige says slowly, pulling Azzi closer to herself, clearly pleased when she’s met with little resistance, “it’s really sexy when you get all defensive. Especially when it’s about me.”

“Oh it is, is it?” Azzi asks, eyes hooding over when Paige presses her lips against her neck, her movements gentle but purposefully as her hands continue to roam up and down the younger woman’s legs, “Paige- fuck-,” she groans when the blonde’s teeth graze against her skin, “baby we’re in the lockerroom. Anyone could walk in.”

“Let them,” Paige says, mouth moving down to work against her collarbone, and Azzi shivers, almost losing her restraint, “been wanting to do this all day. Since you came out in this skirt- fucking tease aren’t you baby? And then you were so hot on the court- so sexy when you’re confident.”

“Paige please,” Azzi reaches out a hand to still Paige’s movements, finger enclosing over the older woman’s hands, knowing she’s one moment away from caving in and letting Paige have what she wants, “we gotta go baby. Gotta get back to the hotel and I swear, once Stephie’s asleep in my parents’ suite, you can do whatever you want to me.”

Paige smirks against her skin, “whatever I want?”

“Whatever,” Azzi promises coyly, pulling the blonde’s face out of her neck so she can meld their lips together.

“I like the sound of that,” Paige grins as she finally lets go of Azzi, standing up and pulling the brunette up with her so she can lace their hands together, “where is Stephie anyways?”

“With Ice and Jana. Something about aunty-niece bonding time,” Azzi answers with a slight fond shake of her head, only a little concerned about what mischief their friends might be up to with her daughter.

And sure enough, when Paige and Azzi do finally find the little girl, she’s sitting in between their former college teammates on a picnic bench right outside the Dallas facilities, her mouth stuffed with saltine crackers and her entire face decorated with crumbs.

“What on earth,” it’s Paige who recovers first, eyes darting back and forth between Ice and Jana, who both also have a mouth full of saltine crackers, and Stephie.

A series of indiscernible noises ring out from the three people in question, the crackers in their respective mouths clearly prohibiting them from being coherent and Azzi isn’t sure whether to be concerned or to laugh.

“They’re doing the crackers challenge,” a new voice explains helpfully, and Azzi follows the sound of it to find KK’s face -bright and goofy as always- grinning at her from Jana’s phone screen. Their former teammate waves excitedly, “HI MOM AND DAD.”

“Of course, you’re here too,” Paige chuckles as she lines up behind Stephie, rubbing the little girl’s back as she continues to scarf down crackers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” KK asks, affronted and then glances at the timer, “chop chop ladies, y’all only have 20 more seconds left- anyways what are you tryna say P Boogers?”

Paige rolls her eyes as Azzi stifles a laugh, taking a seat as she keeps a watchful eye on her daughter just in case.

“I am way too old for you to be calling me that nickname Kamorea.”

“You are too old,” KK admits thoughtfully and Paige immediately guffaws, “but not too old to be called P Boogers. Anyways, countdown time 10, 9, 8…”

Azzi shakes her head as Paige joins in with KK, banging her fists on the table for emphasis and for a second it almost feels like they’re back to being a bunch of twenty-something year olds just learning to navigate life together with a ball in their hands, “4, 3, 2,1!!!”

“I WIN,” Stephie announces, spraying the table with crumbs as she jumps up from her seat to claim victory.

“NO YOU DIDN’T,” Ice protests loudly, her voice still muffled by the remnant of crackers, as she points to her bowl, “I have two left and you have two and a half.”

“The half doesn’t count Aunty Icey,” Stephie says matter-of-factly.

Ice splutters, “what do you mean it doesn’t count,” she looks at Jana, who’s clearly still having trouble swallowing as she coughs, “Jana help.”

The Egyptian shakes her head, struggling to breathe and Azzi -with a pitying look on her face- hands her a glass of water that she gratefully takes. The entire scene is chaotic and yet, it brings the brunette a sense of peace, like something she hadn’t let herself realize was broken, is healing.

“KK,” Ice rounds on the shorter girl on the phone, once she realizes Jana’s not gonna help her, “KAMOREA TELL THIS- THIS- THIS CHILD THAT I WON.”

“No Aunty ‘Morea,” Stephie says sweetly and by the way KK’s face immediately softens at the nickname, Azzi already knows who the younger woman is about to declare as the winner, “tell Aunty Icey that I won because the half doesn’t count right? Cause I’m littler and my mouth is smaller than hers.”

“ARE YOU SAYING I HAVE A BIG MOUTH,” Ice explodes, her eyes widening when Stephie shrugs impishly and then proceeds to high-five a laughing Paige who almost has tears spilling out of her eyes.

“She makes a good point Isuneh,” KK says finally, “you do have a big mouth-”

“Kamorea when I fu-”

“Ice!” Paige warns, coughing slightly as she recovers from her laughter.

Ice glares at her, “when I fudging catch you.”

“I’m not scared of you Isuneh,” KK says ruefully, “anyways I hereby declare Stephanie Katarina Fudd, the winner of this saltine challenge.”

Paige and Stephie burst into cheers as Ice continues to shake her head, “y’all are some cheaters.”

Stephie sticks her tongue out at the older woman before bounding over to Azzi, swinging her arms around her neck as her mother lifts her onto her lap, “Mama, Mama, Mama, did you see I won?”

“I did,” Azzi chuckles, as she brushes the crumbs lining her daughter’s mouth.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna eat another car-ker again though,” the little girl makes a face, patting at her stomach, “I feel sick.”

“My poor baby,” Azzi coos, “eating a bunch of saltines after you’ve already had dinner will do that to you.”

Stephie pouts at the call-out, “but Mama I had to win the challenge. Miss Buecks says never say no to a challenge you know you can win and I knew Mama, I knew I could win and I did.”

Azzi looks over Stephie’s head at Paige, who grins sheepishly at her before coming over to sit right behind them on the bench, so her chest is pressed to Azzi’s back and she can wrap her long arms around both mother and daughter.

“I did teach her that,” Paige confesses, “and I mean,” she winks conspiratorially at Stephie, “she did win.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Azzi rolls her eyes, her body relaxing as she leans back into the warmth of Paige’s body, humming contently when the older woman presses a quick kiss against her temple.

“It’s good to see y’all are disgustingly cute as ever,” KK’s voice interrupts the calm, but there’s no real bite to her teasing; in fact there might even be a little bit of relief, “ion know how Jana’s dealing with the two of you again.”

“It’s a hard life,” Jana says solemnly, having finally recovered from the whole cracker debacle by having downed a whole bottle of water.

“I bet. Do they still do that thing they used to do? Where they just keep staring at each other with dopey smiles and not saying anything?” KK inquires, a mock disgusted expression on her face.

“Oh they might do it more than they used to actually,” Jana complains as both Paige and Azzi try to protest, “it’s sickening stuff. Free me forreal.”

“Y’all are so mean,” Paige grumbles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, smiling only when Stephie lightly pats her head in consolation.

“Don’t be mean to my Mama and Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently, turning towards her Aunties with a small frown, “they’re a little gross-”

“HEY.”

“Sorry Miss Buecks. But you are sometimes. But it’s okay,” the little girl grins, “because you’re in love and it’s okay to be a little icky in love.”

Azzi smiles at her daughter's wise words; thinks the little girl and their former teammates are probably both right. They are a little gross and disgusting and sickeningly in love but it’s their love. It’s the only way they’ve known how to love since they were fifteen -nauseatingly but all-consumingly- and she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“I think it’s sweet,” Ice defends finally.

“See, this is why you were always my favorite child back in school,” Paige fistbumps Ice and and immediately both Jana and KK let out a chorus of protests.

“I knew it,” Ice smirks triumphantly, “but no forreal. I’m really glad y’all found your way back to each other. I can’t lie, after that time you drunk-called Azzi and said all that stuff to her, I didn’t think y’all-” she stops abruptly, eyes widening in realization of what she’d just let slip out.

“Ice,” Jana hisses, glaring at her former teammate before looking concernedly at her two current ones.

Azzi twists uncomfortably, “P-”

“When did I drunk-call Azzi?” Paige asks slowly, her voice dripping with confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“Did I say that?” Ice chuckles nervously, her tone unusually high-pitched, “oh you know me, always make up stuff for no reason. Why would you drunk-call Azzi? Why would I even let that happen, amirite?”

“Nice job Isuneh, real convincing,” Jana mutters under her breath as Paige continues to look unconvinced.

“Mama,” Stephie cuts in, peering up at Azzi with big questioning eyes, “what’s drunk-calling?”

“It’s nothing sweetie,” Azzi reassures the little girl before looking pointedly at Ice, “you still driving us back to the hotel?”

Ice nods hesitantly, “I got a carseat and everything just for little miss Stephanie.”

“Good, it’s the least you could do,” Azzi bites out, referring to the secret the other woman had just accidentally let out -one they’d preserved for four years- and Ice at least has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “how about you and Jana take Stephie and start heading towards the car, we’ll catch up in a second.”

“Trust me Az,” KK calls out, still on facetime, “I’ll make sure they don’t lose her.”

Despite the newfound tenseness around them, Azzi smiles at her fellow UConn alum, “I’mma hold you to that Kamorea.”

“What is Ice talking about? What drunk phone call? What did she mean by all that bullshit I said to you,” Paige says immediately as soon as the trio of Jana, Ice and Stephie have made it far enough out of earshot, moving herself so that she’s now facing the brunette, “what did I say?”

Azzi gulps, searching to see if there’s even a hint of recollection in the blonde’s face, “you really don’t remember it do you?”

Paige shakes her head helplessly. Sensing how much it’s stressing her out to not know, Azzi takes in a deep breath, intertwining their fingers together, trying to provide the older woman with some semblance of comfort -of what happened in the past, is in the past- to make her feel just a little more at ease.

“Baby,” Paige pleads, “please tell me.”

“It was a couple of years ago. Probably- probably a month or so before your divorce or something and I guess- I guess you and your ex-wife, you guys had- you guys had a big fight or something and you were drunk- like really drunk,” Azzi begins.

Paige nods along, “I think- I think I know what night you’re talking about. Olivia and I- it wasn’t just one fight. It was constant, almost every night and then it just got really bad one night and I- I dragged Ice to a bar and I- I definitely drank too much,” she cracks a smile, “clearly cause I- I don’t even remember calling you. I can’t believe Ice didn’t tell me before.”

“I told her not to,” Azzi admits and she thinks it’s rather ironic that Paige has no memory of a phone-call that had been the only thing occupying her mind for days after it happened. But then again, that’s how she’d wanted it. She hadn’t wanted Paige to remember that phone call -hadn’t wanted her to feel those same waves of wretched guilt -the ones the blonde’s words had drowned Azzi in- that came crashing into you with hurting the person you love the most in the world.

“Az,” Paige presses softly, “what did I say?”

Azzi closes her eyes -and it’s almost like she can hear that call again, can hear the vitriol in the bullets Paige had aimed towards, “you- you were really upset Paige. Whatever fight you guys had, had- I guess- I guess it was about me and you- you were mad at me because of that. I think- I think you blamed me for it.”

“What? Shit baby, that was unfair of me,” Paige says immediately, squeezing the brunette’s hand “it wasn’t you. There was a lot wrong with me and Olivia and I- I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“Not you shouldn’t have. Not for that at least,” Azzi acquiesces and even with her eyes closed she can feel Paige frown.

“What else did I say?” the blonde urges, attune to the fact that there’s more to the story that the younger woman hasn’t revealed yet.

Azzi swallows, not wanting to tell her, “does it matter? It was a really long time ago.”

“But you remember it. I can tell- you remember it and that means- that means it must- it must not have been something good and I just- Azzi- baby I need to know,” Paige presses.

“It was nothing- honestly- I mean you’ve said that stuff to me sober too. I already knew- I already knew how upset you were with me about saying no,” Azzi babbles, “I mean yeah it- it hurt to hear it all over again and you- you sounded so broken but it wasn’t- it was nothing-”

“It’s not nothing,” Paige cuts her off frustratedly, “Azzi please, what exactly did I say?”

“Paige-”

“Azzi.”

Azzi lets out a sharp breath as she finally opens her tear-filled eyes, her voice small when she finally does speak, “you said you hated me.”

Saying it out loud seems to make all the hurt of the moment, that she’s slowly buried away since, come rushing back into her body, like a thousand needles -all at the speed of lightning- being pricked against her skin.

“I- I what?” Paige asks throatily, a myriad of emotions sprinkled all across her face as she processes the brunette's word.

“It’s- it’s fine,” Azzi rushes out, partly because she doesn’t want to dwell on these memories and the way they haunt her and partly because she wants nothing more than to take away all the pain clearly visible on the older woman’s face, “really Paige- it’s fine. I knew- I knew you were drunk and that you didn’t mean it- that it was the alcohol speaking. It’s- it’s fine,” she repeats again, unconvincingly.

“It’s not fine,” Paige whispers, “baby I- I’m so- I’m so sorry.”

“No- no Paige you don’t-”

“I do,” Paige says firmly, cupping Azzi’s face with two hands, “you can’t lie to me baby. I can tell- I can always tell with you- I can tell that I hurt you and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry Azzi.”

“It’s okay Paige. I promise it’s okay,” Azzi reassures, resting her own hands on top of the blonde’s, “it doesn’t matter anymore. That was- that was then and what matters is now. I know you love me.”

“And I always have,” Paige presses her forehead against Azzi’s, her fingers gently caressing the younger girl’s cheeks, “I need you to know that- that no matter what I said- I never- I never hated you baby. I couldn’t- not even if I wanted to because I'm pretty sure I’ve loved you since the second I set eyes on you. I love you even more now and I swear I've loved you every moment in between. I promise.”

“Me too. I love you. Always,” Azzi says softly before pulling the love of her life into a searing kiss.

They’ve both thrown grenades at each other, shot well-aimed bullets at each other’s hearts in an attempt to avenge the pain the other had given them. For a long time, all that was left around them was a wreckage of empty casings and deep gash wounds that refused to heal.

But those wounds are healing now.

Because for all the ways Paige and Azzi had destroyed each other, they’ve always known that they’re still the only bandages to each other’s scars and slowly but surely, they’re starting to fix every piece of each other they’d broken, healing together.

***

August 2033

Tempo 54 Valkyries 57

It’s been a defensive slogfest of a game, neither team fully getting into rhythm offensively and the frustration is beginning to show. There’s a minute left in the game and the score is tight, the Toronto Tempo -a franchise still struggling to find its identity- is putting up hell of a fight against the current top team in the league. Paige can tell that players on the other team are desperate for this win- for the glory that would come with breaking the Valkyrie’s current 5 game win streak right as they’re about to head into all-star break.

She’s at the top of the key -having just gotten the ball off of a perfect hand-off from Joyce- when it happens. Paige’s defender gets stuck on the screen and she lets the likely dagger three fly, a cocky grin on her face as the ball swishes through the net, just as the shot-clock runs out.

And then

THUD

Paige has almost run halfway back on defense when the loud sound of a body hitting the ground -far harder than it ever should- rings out through the arena. The sharp ring of the ref blowing the whistle echoes next and then, nothing.

Silence.

Concern ebbs through Paige’s veins as her eyes immediately search for Azzi. It’s habit really -has been since she was fifteen- a natural instinct to seek comfort in the brunette that had started front the moment they’d started playing together. Even when they’d been on opposing teams in the league -their first year as rivals who’s animosity ran much deeper than the court- Paige remembers when one of her former Wings had gone down with an injury during a game against the Valkyries, it had been Azzi she looked for first.

And so it’s a given of course, that now -when they’re more each other’s than they’ve ever been- that Paige is looking for Azzi, looking for the comfort and reassurance and whatever happens as long as I have you it’ll be fine that the younger girl’s presence brings. She squints her eyes at the blurred combination of maroon and lavender jerseys rushing towards whatever had happened under the basket, her own feet moving in the same direction. At first, she’s confused why she can’t seem to find that familiar #35 and then-

Paige’s eyes snap towards the ground as she comes to an abrupt stop just a few meters away from the scene.

Her breath catches in her throat.

And Paige Bueckers has been scared a fair few times in her life; remembers the absolute panic of when a four year old Drew had been admitted to the hospital with a fever, can still feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins the first time she watched Azzi tear her ACL, doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the absolute dread that had hit her when tearing her own, or that sinking familiar feeling as she watched her best friend endure her second one. Paige knows fear all too well.

But nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to the way her stomach lurches at the sight of Azzi Fudd, her Azzi, lying -eyes closed, body unnaturally still- on the cold hard floor.

It’s an image she thinks will haunt her forever and if she could, she thinks she’d bleach her eyes just to get rid of it. But no matter how many times Paige blinks, Azzi stays on the ground, completely unmoving.

Paige watches for a second, still rooted to her spot, as her other teammates on the floor -Jana, Joyce and Tessa- crowd around the girl on the floor. She can almost see waves of tension rolling off of their bodies and it isn’t until Tessa turns around, beckoning for their team doctor -her eyes shining with distress-that Paige finally finds herself running towards Azzi.

“Baby,” she whispers, falling onto the ground next to her girlfriend -comforted slightly by the fact that she can clearly hear her still breathing-, “c’mon Az, don’t scare me like this.”

Nothing. No response.

“Paige,” Jana’s hand on her shoulder is meant to be something comforting but instead it feels heavy and Paige shrugs it off, ignoring the younger woman’s words.

“Azzi,” she repeats again, reaching out but hesitating to touch the girl.

“Paige you gotta move bro,” it’s Joyce this time, “you needa let the doctor see her.”

Paige ignores her too, pulling Azzi’s head onto her lap, “this isn’t funny baby. You know I don’t deal well with shit like this.”

In the distance, she can hear her teammates telling their team doctor what had happened. Something about Azzi colliding against a player, trying to move back and instead losing balance and hitting the floor hard. The crowd has gone from silent to antsy, curious murmurs tinged with anxiety ripple throughout the stadium. In the distance, it almost sounds like someone’s crying. She hears the doctor trying to reassure her, something about how Azzi’d probably just got the wind knocked out of her or perhaps she’d hit her head first and that it was maybe a concussion. Nothing too bad. But Paige doesn’t care.

Because she still can’t see Azzi’s pretty brown eyes.

“Azzi,” Paige says more urgently, “c’mon baby please.”

She keeps repeating it like a mantra, decisively not listening to her teammates or the doctor’s pleas to let the latter please examine the girl on the ground. And logically, Paige knows that’s what she should do but she can’t find it in herself to move until she gets something -just an inkling- that makes her feel certain the brunette is going to be alright.

“Baby please.”

Azzi’s face twitches. The slightest movement first and then something more clear, until her eyelids start fluttering. It takes her a couple of beats to get them fully open, like it’s a struggle to do the most basic thing. But she does.

And Paige lets out a sigh of relief, body almost sagging as the weight of worry that had been holding her up eases just a little bit at the sigh of dark brown eyes -confused and slightly bleary- staring up at her.

“Wh-what’s going on,” Azzi manages to slur together, her eyes blinking rapidly as she looks up at Paige.

“It’s okay,” Paige reassures immediately, her thumbs caressing the younger woman’s cheeks, “you’re okay baby.”

“I- I don’t- what-,” Azzi continues to ask disorientedly as she looks from Paige to the doctor and teammates still hovering over her. She tries to sit up and almost immediately falls back as Paige’s arms reach out to steady her.

“Careful baby,” the blonde mumbles as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, letting her lean on her for a second, before pulling the brunette’s arm around her shoulder. She gently lifts her up onto her feet and the crowd begins to clap, a collective sigh of relief resounding through the arena.

“We’ve got her,” one of the assistant coaches says softly as she and the team doctor try to take Azzi off of Paige, “I know you wanna be there for her but we’ve got this.”

The older woman is about to protest, not wanting to let Azzi out of her sight when despite her confused state, the brunette shakes her head, moving herself out of Paige’s grasp so that her entire body weight rests on the doctor and the assistant coach instead.

“Go win it,” Azzi whispers, mustering up a small but sincere smile.

Paige hesitates for a second before nodding as she watches the love of her life being steadily walked off the court as she herself is pulled into a team huddle. There isn’t much time left and victory is practically imminent after Paige’s last three-point shot. But still, there’s a newfound determination amongst the players, the will to win it for Azzi.

And win it they do.

The rest of the game passes in almost a blur and all Paige really remembers of it is that the Valkyries are in full control of the last couple of possessions. But for as much as she’s present on the court, Paige’s entire mind is already off of it -her play driven by the need to just have this game end so she could go see Azzi. It feels like every crevice of skin is burning with a fire that can only be doused by holding the brunette in her arms again, touching and re-memorizing every part of her to give her the reassurance that she’s okay.

When the buzzer does finally ring, Paige couldn’t possibly care less about the win and if she hadn’t been media-trained since practically the age of 15, she wouldn’t have even bothered with the formalities of going through the handshake line. But she knows the media is watching every move -that they’d spin some ridiculous controversy out of her not shaking hands with the player who had been the catalyst to Azzi’s injury. So she rushes through it, not so accidentally squeezing said player’s hand just a little too tight before she’s ignoring the entire world and running towards her girl.

The crowd is rambunctious still but it’s all white noise to Paige as she weaves through the people -players and managers and all of that- trying to get off the maroon and white court. She’s almost there when the now more clear sound of familiar crying stops her in her tracks and she feels her heart plummet into her stomach as she comes to a quick freeze. Paige had been so consumed by her own emotions, by her own fear when she’d seen Azzi on the ground that she hadn’t considered that there was someone else in the crowd -someone else who’s world revolved around Azzi just as much as hers did- that had been witness to the scene as well.

Paige turns around slowly, her eyes scanning the stands right behind the Valkyries bench. With everyone on the move as the crowd thins out, it takes a second before she finally finds who she’s looking for and as soon as she does, it feels like her feet have a mind of her own, speed walking and then almost running towards the sobbing little girl in the stands. Paige almost kicks herself for not having thought of Stephie first, for not having considered that whatever fear she was feeling -the innocent child was likely feeling twofold of that.

As if sensing Paige beelining towards her, Stephie looks up from where she’d been crying into Katie’s neck just in time to spot the blonde. The puffy-faced girl’s eyes widen, her lips forming words that Paige can’t quite decipher -still too far to properly see them- but then Stephie’s wriggling out of her grandmother’s arms, trying to race down the stands towards the blonde. Paige feels a panic course through her veins, not wanting the little girl to get lost in a sea of people trying to leave the arena and she picks up her pace. For a brief second, she loses sight of Stephie and her already rapidly beating heart seems to somehow quicken even more, like it might just beat out of her chest.

She swears she doesn’t breathe again until the little girl comes into view, pushing through the much larger people in front of her. There are still tears streaming down Stephie’s face but it’s clear the little girl is determined to get to Paige who can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief, almost having reached the steps leading up to the section Stephie had been in. But that relief quickly turns into anger as she watches her little girl being stopped in her tracks by a tall burly security guard, who grabs Stephie with far more force than necessary. The little girl’s eyes shine with fear as she tries to fight his grip and Paige feels a newfound fire -one that burns stronger than any other sense of protectiveness she’s ever felt before- simmer in her stomach as she finally reaches Stephie.

“Mommy,” the little girl calls out as soon as she spots the older woman -her tone terrified- and Paige feels something snap.

“Get your fucking hands off of my daughter,” she snarls, pulling Stephie out of the security guard’s grasp and into her own arms instead.

“Mommy,” Stephie whimpers again, her voice uncharacteristically scared as she burrows her head into Paige’s neck, her tears wetting the collar of the blonde’s jersey.

“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you sweetheart,” Paige whispers quietly.

“I- I’m sorry. I- I- I didn’t- know-,” the security guard- splutters but Paige ignores him, already turning away she rubs her hands up and down Stephie’s back.

“It’s gonna be okay sweet girl,” she soothes gently, “I’ve got you.”

“Mommy, is Mama okay?” Stephie asks, her voice muffled against Paige’s skin, “can you take me to her? Please Mommy. Wanna see Mama. Please. I wanna see her”

“I know sweetheart. I know,” Paige tries to calm the shaking girl in her arms, her feet moving as fast as they can while holding her, “we’re going to her right now okay?”

“Wanna see Mama,” Stephie continues to repeat, her voice quivering.

And logically Paige knows Azzi’s okay; she’d seen her get back up with her own two eyes. But still, she doesn’t think that fear, the one that had consumed her the second she’d seen the other woman lying on the ground, that’s consuming both her and Stephie right now, will be quenched until they see Azzi, until they’re both securely wrapped in the safe arms of the woman who feels like their home.

“Almost there baby,” Paige says softly as she turns the corner towards the medical room, her steps getting faster in anticipation of almost reaching her destination.

“Mommy I was so scared,” Stephie confesses, her face still firmly tucked into the blonde’s neck, “so scared for Mama. She- she didn’t get up for so long. Made me so scared.”

“Me too sweetheart,” Paige admits as she comes to a stop right outside the door, “but she’s okay. Look sweetheart,” she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, as she slowly opens the door, crossing her fingers that she hadn’t just told a lie.

Azzi’s leaning back against the bedrest, a cold compress pressed against her forehead with her eyes closed. But they flutter open at the sound of a door opening, going wide as she catches sight of Paige first and then the little girl in his arms, whose bottom lip trembles as soon as she sees her mother. It’s like the air rushes back into Paige’s lungs as she slowly walks towards the other woman’s bed, that fog of worry muddling her brain slowly starting to clear as she takes in the fact that her Azzi is okay.

“Oh sweetheart come here,” the woman in question coos immediately, holding her arms out for Paige to place Stephie into them.

“Are you okay Mama?” Stephie asks worriedly, tiny little hands cupping her mother’s face, “you’re really, really, really okay?”

“I am baby,” Azzi reassures softly, nuzzling the little girl’s nose as Paige perches on the bed next to the two of them, “just a little headache but I’m fine. I promise. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You scared me a lot,” the little girl says slowly, her eyes brimming with fresh new tears as she burrows her head against the crevice between her mother’s neck and her head, “it was so scary Mama. You were on the ground for so long and you weren’t moving and even Mommy looked so scared and Mommy never looks scared cause she’s the bravest of them all right.”

Mommy.

Paige freezes. She’d been so caught up in the stress and anxiety of it all that she hadn’t even registered the word that had been falling so naturally out of Stephie’s mouth. But now- now that she can process it all -can let that word seep into her veins and make itself home in her heart- it feels a little bit like a magical spell has been cast over her, shrouding her in an indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her entire body.

“And-and-and the secu-ty guard wouldn’t let me come see you,” Stephie continues to babble, still oblivious to the impact of her own words, “and he- he tried to stop me but Mommy didn’t let him. She told him to get his-” the little girl pauses, eyes widening when she remembers exactly what Paige had said to the security guard.

“What did she say? What did Mommy say Steph?” Azzi’s eyes twinkle as she briefly glances at Paige over Stephie’s head, clearly having also noticed the little girl’s use of the new term.

“She told him to get his” Stephie lowers her voice to a whisper, “bad word hands off of her daughter.”

“Her daughter huh?,” Azzi repeats, looking back at Paige who flushes slightly.

It had slipped out in the heat of the moment but really, that’s how Paige has seen Stephie since the minute the little girl had crawled into her lap that first day at the Valkyries facilities. Or maybe even before that, when she’d met her at All-Star Weekend and the little girl had spoken to her for the first time.. Or maybe it was after the semi-finals when she’d first held her in her arms and Stephie had smiled at her for the first time. Or maybe it was even earlier than that. Maybe it was the day of her wedding, when she’d spoken to Azzi’s stomach -to Stephie- for the first time. Because the truth is that Paige has always subconsciously thought of Stephie as hers, as theirs.

Tears -happy ones, fucking ecstatic ones- prickles against Paige’s waterline as the little girl slowly turns around in Azzi’s lap to face her.

“Mommy you said a bad word so you owe me a ki-” Stephie stops as notice the little droplets of water dripping down the blonde’s cheeks, “why are you crying Mommy?” she asks concernedly, “are you still scared about Mama? She’s okay Mommy. See-” she points back towards Azzi, “Mama’s okay.”

“I know- I know she’s okay baby,” Paige wipes at her tears, trying and failing to keep the shakiness out of her voice.

“Then- then what’s wrong Mommy? Why are you crying?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose with a mixture of confusion and worry.

“Because you-” Paige swallows, “you called me Mommy.”

“Oh,” Stephie says quietly, biting her lips as she looks up at Paige, suddenly looking even smaller than she really is, “is that- is that okay? Can I call you Mommy?”

“Is it okay? Oh sweetheart,” Paige holds Stephie’s face in between her hands, “it’s the best thing anyone’s ever called me.”

“Even better than Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks coyly.

Paige lets out a watery laugh and she thinks she’ll miss that little nickname -it had become an innate part of her in a sense- but it can’t be compared to being called Mommy, to being called a name that makes Stephie completely and wholly hers.

“Even better than Miss Buecks,” Paige confirms, causing Stephie to shriek as she launches herself onto the blonde, making the older woman laugh as she almost falls backwards, squeezing the little girl -who slots into her arms like the missing piece of a puzzle- as tight as she can.

“And you called me your daughter,” Stephie remarks gleefully.

“Did I? Hmmm I don’t remember that,” Paige teases, tapping her chin like she’s pretending to think deeply about it.

“Don’t be silly Mommy,” and there’s that word again and the blonde feels her heart flutter against her ribcage as Stephie flicks her nose, “I heard you.”

“Oh you did, did you?” she asks, flicking the little girl’s nose right back.

“I did,” Stephie grins triumphantly as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, “because you’re my Mommy and I’m your daughter.”

She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, a universal truth that destiny itself had written for them and Paige feels her breath hitch at the sincerity in the little girl’s tone as she brushes a loose strand of hair out of Stephie’s face, before her eyes trail over the child on her lap to meet with Azzi’s over her head. The brunette’s gaze is fixated on the two of them, unshed tears dancing on her waterline as she takes in the scene, watching intensely -a contrastingly soft smile on her face- as if she’s trying to take a mental image of it to keep it safe in the treasure chest of her most precious memories forever.

Paige looks back down at the little girl latched onto her body, “I like that,” she whispers as she nuzzles her face against Stephie’s, “I’m your Mommy and you’re my daughter.”

***

It hits Paige again that night when they’re back at the hotel suite. Stephie’s fast asleep in her bedroom, the sound of her soft breathing filtering in through the small crack in the door. Azzi’s curled against Paige’s chest, one arm thrown around the blonde’s waist, the other pressed against her own body. Despite the scary fall, the concussion symptoms didn’t seem to be anything too severe but had made her adequately exhausted and as soon as their little girl had been tucked into her bed, Azzi was pulling Paige down into theirs and wrapping herself tightly around the blonde’s body so they could go straight to sleep as well.

Their little girl.

God, Paige can’t help but goofily grin up at the ceiling as she replays Stephie calling her Mommy over and over again in her head. She’s won a lot of things in her life. The individual accolades, the championships and a game-night or two here and there but they all seem to pale in comparison to the high of this win. Because really Paige has considered the little girl her daughter for a long, long time and even though she’d always known that Stephie loved her back just as much as she did, she hadn’t been sure if the little girl saw their relationship through the same lens as Paige did.

And now she knew she did. That Stephie considered her, her mother, just as much as Paige considered her, her daughter. The thought makes her giddy and Paige almost giggles out loud.

“Baby, I can literally hear you thinking,” Azzi mumbles against her chest and Paige bites her lip, her arms tightening around the younger woman’s body.

“I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m just so excited,” Paige whispers -still in awe of the whole thing- and she feels the woman on top of her sigh into her neck at the the way the blonde's entire body is buzzing, “Az did you hear what Stephie called me? She called me Mommy, Azzi. Can you believe it? I’m her Mommy.”

“Well she wasn’t gonna call you Miss Buecks forever,” Azzi concedes, her voice still heavy with sleep as she keeps her head comfortably buried against the warmth of Paige’s skin.

“I know- it’s just- I just-” Paige swallows, the emotions suddenly just a little too heavy against her throat, “I’m just so fucking happy Azzi. I’ve just- I’ve wanted this for so long. You and her. It’s all I wanted. And- and there were so many times- so many fucking times I wasn’t sure I was ever gonna get it and now- now I have you and I have her. And it just- it means everything to me. The two of you- you guys mean everything to me.”

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, her hands tightening around her waist as she draws her impossibly closer to herself, “you mean everything to us too Paige.”

Paige places a featherlight kiss against the crown of Azzi’s head, letting their words hang soak in the air for a second before speaking.

“I used to imagine it, you know,” she says slowly, “what it would be like to be with you two. I- I’d stare at the pictures you’d post -even if you posted barely any- but whatever you did post of the two of you, I’d stare at it for ages. And I’d- I’d imagine myself with the two of you. Wherever the two of you were- whatever you two were doing- I just- I imagined myself there too. I’d think about what it would be like- to be in whatever picture you posted. Holding you- holding Stephie. It’s all I wanted. To be with you guys.”

There’s another moment of silence and the only sound is that of the two of them breathing -almost perfectly in sync- echoing throughout the room. Paige uses her thumb to trace circles around the younger woman’s waist as Azzi props herself up on her chest, her face -as beautiful as the first time Paige had seen it from all the way across the court- illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the curtains.

“The first time Stephie smiled,” Azzi begins, her hands fidgeting with the collar of Paige’s nightshirt, “she was in her crib and I was standing over her. And as soon as she smiled, I turned to look next to me. But there was no one there. When she said her first word, I did the same thing. And when she started crawling- when she started walking. All of her little firsts- every time she did anything, I’d- I’d look next to me and there was never anyone there,” Azzi draws in a shaky breath as she looks back up at Paige, “and I- I imagined it too. What it would be like if I could turn next to me and see you there. What it would be like for you to be with us. I wanted you there with us so fucking much baby.”

“I wish I had been,” Paige says wistfully, bringing her hands up to cup Azzi’s face as her thumbs gently wipe at the younger woman’s tears.

“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters,” Azzi moves her body up so her face is hovering right over Paige’s and she’s smiling that smile that Paige loves, the one that’s filled with promise and reassurance and hope, “you’re here now and you’re ours and we’re yours.”

“All mine,” Paige whispers back as she tugs Azzi down onto herself, making sure every part of her skin is touching the brunette’s as she melds their lips together in a slow and lazy kiss.

They can’t escape the regrets of the past, can’t escape the moments they’d missed out on but there’s still so much life left to live -so much left to do together- and Paige thinks she’ll never take any of it for granted. No matter how much time has passed in this journey to get here, to get her girls, to get her family and make them hers, she has them now and she intends to keep them like this until the end of time itself.

***

December 2033

Azzi doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of watching Paige and Stephie together. It’s a sight she sees every day now and yet, every time she sees the utter gentleness with which the blonde treats the little girl, every time she sees the complete adoration with which the little girl looks at the blonde, it almost feels like Azzi’s heart might just explode with how much she loves the two of them together. And every day she finds herself thanking her lucky stars that she gets to be the third piece of their mosaic, the three of them fitting together perfectly like they were always meant to be.

There’s a fond smile on Azzi’s face as she watches the two of them now, Stephie propped up on Paige’s feet as the older woman sways the two of them around to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers. The two of them are in contrasting shades of green to match Tallulah’s chosen color scheme for the wedding. Paige is in a dark bottle green suit and Stephie flower girl dress is in the same pastel green shade as Azzi’s bridesmaid one. It had been the little girl’s idea, once Paige had picked out her suit, for the two of them to have matching bottle green bows around their waists that matched the blonde’s outfit. And as they’d all gotten ready together, when Azzi had glanced at the mirror, she couldn’t help but think they looked like the perfect little family she’d always dreamed of having for herself.

There’s a crowd of people on the dancefloor and while most other spectators are likely either not paying attention, or watching the lovely bride and groom, Azzi’s sole focus is on her daughter and her girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

It almost feels like too mild a term for what Paige is to her. Even when they’d been girlfriends the first time, Azzi had still thought the word did little to encapsulate just how much Paige meant to her. And now that they’ve been through so much more, the word feels even more inadequate for the brevity of their relationship than it had the last time around. Because really, Paige is the love of her life, she’s an innate part of Azzi’s being and the years without her had felt a little bit like trying to live with a part of her soul missing. She thinks the word girlfriend just doesn’t quite capture all of that.

“Hey,” Azzi’s broken out of her reverie by a body sliding into the empty seat next to hers and she turns her head to find Drew sitting next to her.

“Hi Drew,” she says softly, a little surprised at him having approached her.

Since that dreadful night at Paige’s, Drew has made a handful of appearances in their lives. He’d been at a couple of their games and he’d definitely been there when they’d won the championship but he was a busy guy and with the WNBA season ending just as the NBA season began, time barely permitted him from staying for more than a night. And when he did, Stephie -enamored with the idea of having another uncle- had consumed most of his time and the two of them had bonded quickly with the little girl, as she did most people, having him wrapped around finger. It had taken a little bit but one or two awkward conversations at games they’d sat together in later, Drew had fit right back in with Jose and Jon (and Katie and Tim of course) too and it had been a no-brainer that he’d be invited to the wedding.

But despite all of that, there’s still a lingering awkward tension between her and Drew’s relationship, which Azzi hates. They’re civil of course -Drew seemingly having less reservations about her Paige’s relationship now- and they’ve even been able to share a laugh here and there in group situations but she misses the little boy who’d once been her menace-mischief-making partner in crime. She misses the way they’d conspiratorially giggle non-stop over nothing, the way they’d tease their siblings in tandem, the way they’d always take each other’s side (much to everybody else’s chagrin) no matter what. And she misses being another person Drew could confide in, being another version of his older sister that he could come vent to about anything and everything. She misses him being like another little brother to her that had once looked up at her with so much adoration, instead of this guarded, hesitant expression he seems to wear around her all the time now.

“Paige’s feet are gonna hurt like hell tonight,” Drew remarks, his eyes fixated on the same scene Azzi’s had been.

The brunette chuckles, watching as Stephie continues to happily dance on Paige's feet, the blonde smiling down at her, showing no sign of the likely discomfort that would eventually hit her after a night of carrying the little girl’s weight on her toes.

“I told her not to,” Azzi shakes her head fondly.

“Of course you did,” Drew’s lips curl into a half-smile, “but Stephie’s enjoying herself and there’s nothing Paige wouldn’t do to make her happy. She really loves your little girl.”

“Our little girl,” Azzi corrects gently and Drew’s smile seems to deepen at that, “and Stephie loves her back just as much.”

“I know,” Drew says softly, “I knew from the first time I met her. It’s why I was so scared that night.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “Drew-”

“It wasn’t just about Paige,” Drew continues on, “I mean I was scared for her too of course but- I know what it’s like you know. To be really attached to someone when you’re little- to think of someone like family and then one day they just- they’re gone.”

Azzi swallows, her hands fisting on the table as guilt inches up her spine.

Drew’s eyes are still trained ahead of him as she speaks, “and you’re so young -even if you’re not that young- that no one even really tells you what’s happening. All you get is vague answers and you have to figure it out yourself- figure out why someone you used to see all the fucking time just isn’t there anymore. It hurts and I-” his voice cracks, “I didn’t want that for Stephie.”

“Drew,” Azzi whispers again, her voice filled with raw emotion as she look at the young man -who for as much as he’s grown up, is still just as reminiscent of the little boy she’d once known.

“Do you remember that one summer you guys had like a family reunion barbecue type thing? And of course Paige and I were invited cause we- we were family too,” Drew asks slowly.

Despite being a little confused by the change in topic, Azzi nods her head, “summer of ‘23.”

“Yeah and there was music and everyone was dancing. Well I don’t know if you could call what Jon was doing dancing,” Drew winks and Azzi laughs at the memory of her youngest brother doing the most ridiculous moves on the dancefloor.

“Thank God he’s gotten better since,” she grins, briefly glancing over to where Jon is dancing normally with his date.

Drew chuckles, “yeah thank God indeed. And you and Paige were dancing, but I wanted to dance with you too, do you remember?”

“Yeah I do. I think you cut right between us and Paige was NOT happy about it,” Azzi smirks, remembering the way her girlfriend had pouted at the interruption.

“No she wasn’t but you said yes to dancing with me anyways. You always said yes to me no matter what. And I wasn’t nearly as tall back then so you-” Drew finally looks at him, that neutral expression having finally given away to something far softer, “you let me stand on your feet just like Paige is letting Stephie do right now. And we danced for god knows how long and now that I think about it, I’m sure your feet really fucking hurt too. But it didn’t matter, you kept dancing with me anyways.”

“You were having so much fun,” Azzi chokes back a sob, “that’s all that mattered, “ the brunette pauses, “Drew I-” she hesitates for a split second before reaching for his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Drew is silent for a moment, his head downcast as he plays with the edges of the table-covering, before finally looking back at Azzi with watery eyes, “I’ve really missed you Azzi.”

“I missed you too, pookie,” Azzi whispers, squeezing his hand tightly as they smile wistfully at each other.

They stay like that for a little while, basking in each other’s company as the hum of chatter and music drawls on around them.

“Hey Az,” Drew says after a while as he stands up, a smirk on his face as he reaches his hand out towards her, “you wanna dance with me? No stepping on toes is necessary this time I promise.”

Azzi giggles, grinning ear to ear as she accepts his outstretched hand, “I’d love to dance with you Drewski.”

She lets Drew drag her out to the dancefloor, skillfully maneuvering them around the other guest until they’re right by Stephie and Paige. A surprised laugh rumbles from her throat as Drew twirls her around, the sound of it causing Paige to catch sight of them. The blonde’s lips part slowly as she takes in the sight of the two of them dancing, shock gradually morphing into something happier, like she’s been waiting for this moment. Azzi knows how important her and Drew’s relationship has always been to Paige, and even if the older woman hadn’t said anything about it, Azzi knew -Azzi always knew when it came to the blonde- that the distance between two of her favorite people in the world this time around, had been bothering her.

Azzi’s not sure how long they dance for -she just knows she’s completely at peace right here in this moment- but it catches her off guard when Drew spins her again, making her stumble a little as she goes crashing into a solid body and familiar arms come to steady her waist.

“My turn?” Paige asks softly, her blue eyes glittering with love and adoration as she smirks at Azzi.

“Won’t your date mind?” Azzi teases, referring to Stephie -who after having been explained the concept of a plus-one- had been adamant that despite Paige having her own invitation to the wedding, that the blonde was going to be her date. Sorry Mama, you’re just gonna have to go alone, cause Mommy’s going with me, the little girl had said, her arms wrapped around a beaming Paige from behind, as she’d stuck out her tongue at Azzi, who had of course played along with a dramatic gasp.

Paige laughs, her arms tightening their grip on the younger woman, who in turns fastens her own arms around her neck, “she’s abandoned me for my brother.”

“Oh I see, so I’m your second choice?” Azzi raises her eyebrows, trying to hide the smile on her face when she sees Stephie giggling as Drew lifts her and up and spins her around.

“Baby, you are the only choice,” Paige whispers as she brushes their lips together.

Azzi sighs contentedly, pulling the blonde in closer so she can deepen the kiss as their mouths move expertly against each other, and for a while it feels like that cliché feeling of when the world fades away and it’s just the two of them.

“Can we go home yet?” Paige murmurs against her lips, her hands sliding dangerously low against the silk material of Azzi’s dress.

“It’s my brother’s wedding. We can’t leave till the rest of the guests do,” Azzi pats the older woman’s cheeks, giggling softly to herself when Paige lets out a low disappointed groan, letting her head fall onto the brunette’s shoulder.

“Have I told you how much I love that dress on you,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s collarbone, causing her to shiver at the sensation, “think you should keep it on tonight.”

Azzi’s eyes widen at the implication, heat pooling in between her thighs as Paige places a series of subtle kisses against her neck, “Paige, we’re in public.”

“I know. I don’t care,” Paige says and as if to prove her point, she lets her hands drift downwards to quickly squeeze Azzi’s ass.

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately and she can feel the blonde’s cocky smile against her skin, clearly pleased with herself.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it Az,” Paige’s teeth lightly graze against her jaw and Azzi tries her best to swallow the whimper threatening to spill from her lips, “I know you baby. I know your body- know what you like.”

And it’s true. Paige knows Azzi’s body like it’s a treasure map and she’s a treasure hunter on the search for gold. She’s memorized every little detail of it -marked every crevice with her name- could navigate it with her eyes closed if she wanted to. Paige is nothing if not a diligent learner when it comes to Azzi and even the little things that have changed over the years, the blonde has already vigorously committed them to memory.

“Paige stop,” Azzi says again, reluctant yet firm, as Paige bites just a little too hard in a way that’s likely to leave a tenuous but still spotable mark, “our daughter is right there.”

That seems to do the trick as Paige finally pulls away. Not completely of course, her hands are still gripping tightly onto Azzi’s waist but enough so the brunette can see her face. It blows Azzi away sometimes, the sheer amount of love reflected in Paige’s face; she can��t quite believe that she gets to be the recipient of it all, that Paige and her love are all Azzi’s. It makes her want to kiss the blonde all over again.

“I like when you say that,” Paige softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “our daughter.”

Azzi grins, her fingertips playing with strands of blonde hair, “it’s what she is, isn’t it? Ours.”

“This isn’t fair Az,” Paige huffs and Azzi raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because now I wanna kiss you again and if I kiss you again-”

Azzi doesn’t let her finish because fuck it, she really wants to kiss Paige again too. So she does. Because she can. Because Paige is hers, hers to kiss, hers to hold and hers to love. Besides, they’re making up for eight long years of being apart, it’s only fair they get to indulge in a little bit of PDA.

Clearly, Jana doesn’t agree because no sooner have they started getting lost in each other again, when there’s the sharp sound of a throat clearing behind them. They withdraw from each other breathlessly to find their younger teammate looking at them with an amused smile. The separation lasts for about two second as Paige turns Azzi around and pulls the younger woman’s back flush against her chest, hooking her chin over the brunette’s shoulder as she keeps her hands fastened around her waist. Jana rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Something you need El-Alfy,” Paige asks pointedly.

“I need the two of you to be less gross,” Jana supplies snarkily, “you’re gonna scar the children. And anyone who’s single,” she says the last part under her breath, eliciting laughter from both Paige and Azzi which only makes her scowl deepend, “it’s not funny. Some of us are sad and lonely and having to watch you to be in love is sickening.”

“Well why are you watching us?” Paige says cavalierly, “it’s wedding Jana. It’s literally hookup central. Go find someone hot to fuck.”

“There's not a single man over six feet here,” Jana bemoans miserably.

“José’s got some 6’7 friends,” Azzi supplies helpfully, raising her hands in surrender when Jana glares at her.

“Lemme correct myself, not a single attractive man over six feet,” the Egyptian amends.

“I mean you could always hook up with a woman instead. Trust, women are much better and there’s plenty of pretty girls here,” Paige says casually and Azzi sideyes her.

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” she asks slowly.

“Oh um-,” Paige stutters nervously, “well I couldn’t tell you that of course. I mean like- I haven’t looked or anything cause you know you’re the only one I look at baby- only you I swear- but like you know girls in general are pretty so like- I’m sure she could find someone pretty. Just nobody as pretty and gorgeous and beautiful as you of course.”

Azzi laughs as she presses a quick kiss to her silly girlfriend’s cheeks, “you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“You think I’m cute?” Paige waggles her eyebrows at Azzi, clearly not satisfied with the chaste kiss on the cheek as she steals one from the brunette’s lips instead, “I think you’re cute too baby.”

“And I think you guys are nauseating,” Jana cuts in, pretending to barf, “but please I’m begging, when y’all get married, please invite me some attractive tall men.”

It’s only for a second but Azzi still feels the way Paige tenses against her teammate's words. The blonde recovers, the stiffness gone as fast as it had come but it sends a ripple of confusion and worry down Azzi’s spine.

“We’ll try our best. Just for you J,” Azzi promises their younger teammate and even though Paige nods along, there’s something almost half-hearted about her agreement.

“Thanks you guys. Knew I could always count on my mother’s to get me laid,” Jana winks as she pulls both of them in a quick hug before bounding over to the bar.

Azzi turns herself around in Paige’s arms, her eyes scanning the blonde’s face as she tries to piece together what’s going through her mind. The older woman smiles but there’s something unspoken hidden behind it, like she wants to say it but isn’t sure how.

“Hey,” Azzi whispers, hands reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “what are you thinking? Talk to me baby.”

“Nothing I just-” Paige takes in a deep breath, her thumbs rubbing circles against Azzi’s waist like she’s trying to ground herself in the brunette’s presence, “Jana said- she said when we get married. Like it’s a given or something and we- we haven’t really talked about it so I just- I don’t know Az- I guess I just- is it a given?”

And Azzi can see the carefully camouflaged insecurity in Paige’s eyes, that flash of you didn’t want to marry me that the older woman won’t say out loud but is still clearly running through her thoughts. They’ve worked through a lot of it, had countless conversations even after finally getting together so that they could overcome the past but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still some things lingering between them -some lesions that are still waiting to be healed. That familiar sting of guilt spurns in her stomach as Azzi presses herself even closer to Paige and there’s a thousand things she wants to say -and she’s sure she eventually will- but for now, she keeps it simple and hopes it’s enough to reassure the blonde who’s looking at her with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah,” she says softly, tapping her forehead against Paige’s, “I think it’s a given.”

***

February 2034

Paige had assumed that being home for the weekend would mean spending every second with her girls. Throughout the course of the last two months, it had been Stephie and Azzi who had visited her down in Miami to cheer her on for Unrivaled but it just so happened that the schedule had been set up perfectly for to take this weekend off and Paige was ecstatic about finally being home for a little bit. Her plan had been to do nothing but laze around, arms wrapped tightly around Azzi with Stephie cuddled right between them where she belonged as they talked or watched movies or played board games. Whatever they did, as long as they did it together, it would be perfect for Paige.

After a very much perfect morning, where Azzi had woken her up with slow i missed you in our bed morning sex and then the two of them had taken Stephie out for brunch, Paige had been looking forward to a very perfect afternoon with her girls as well. Instead, it’s very much not perfect and somehow Paige finds herself driving back from a bakery all the way across town, alone. It had started with Stephie insisting that she just had to have her favorite chocolate cake from that one bakery that they’d gone to that one time that just happened to be an hour drive away from their house. Much to Paige’s surprise, Azzi had almost immediately agreed with the little girl but knowing the brunette’s sweet tooth, it wasn’t really that shocking. And if both her girls -with their identical dark brown doey eyes staring up at her expectantly- wanted something, who was Paige to refuse.

So of course she’d happily agreed, telling the two of them to get ready so they could come here and that maybe they could even stop by the park right next to the bakery after. And that’s when it had happened, both mother and daughter up in arms in protests about how they absolutely could not go with Paige because Stephie was oh-so tired and Azzi had a killer headache, followed by but Mommy I swear the chocolate cake would wake me up and yeah baby I think some chocolate cake could really help with the pain. Paige had stared at them wearily, confused by their antics but still unable to say no.

And now Paige is driving back, grumbling under her breath about they’re lucky I love them with the chocolate cake securely fastened into the passenger seat that should be occupied by her girlfriend. She pulls into the driveway still grouching but it quickly morphs into an expression of confusion when she notices a big purple sticky note -that definitely wasn’t there when she’d left- taped on their door. Frowning, Paige slowly gets out of her car, going around it to grab the cake before slowly making her way up the porch steps until she’s right in front of the door and can fully make out the words -written carefully in Azzi’s handwriting- on the sticky note.

Welcome back home baby <3

Thanks for getting our favorite chocolate cake. Since that day when you showed up on our porch, you’ve gone above and beyond for us and we love you for it. Thank you for always doing everything we ask and for doing the things we don’t. But more importantly, thank you for always coming back.

Love you always,

Stephie and Azzi <3

A wobbly smile stretches across Paige’s face as she reads the letter, her heart fluttering at the sincerity behind the words Azzi had written. Suddenly desperate to have her girlfriend and her daughter in her arms, Paige rushes to open the door, ready to see the two of them waiting for her.

But they’re not there.

Instead there’s a beautiful path of rose petals winding down the floor and Paige’s mouth falls open at the sight.

“Azzi! Stephie. I’m home,” she calls out, her eyes searching for her two most favorite people in the world -and answer to what the hell is going on- but instead of them she finds another large sign, this time written in Stephie’s uneven handwriting.

Follow The Flowers Mommy!

Paige laughs at the smiley faced heart that Stephie had placed in the corner, can practically imagine the concentrated look on the little girl’s face when she’d been drawing. She has no idea what all of this is but she knows she’s excited to find out.

“What are you two up to,” she mutters under her breath as she does as the sign had said and follows the path of flowers.

It leads her into the kitchen first and Paige immediately notices a purple envelope on the counter. Gently putting down the chocolate cake she’d been cradling in her arms, she reaches for the letter.

Hi again baby,

Paige Bueckers you are good at a lot of things. But cooking? Definitely not one of them. If I had a dime for everytime you burned something in this kitchen, I would probably have enough dimes to pay for one of your old college NIL deals (well maybe not that much cause damn baby you were expensive). But that’s okay my love, you’re still the only person we’d spend our mornings flipping pancakes with.

(Stephie wants me to remind you that chocolate chips are definitely better than blueberries though!)

Love you always,

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige’s lower lip trembles as she finishes this letter, holding it closer to her heart as she continues to follow the trail of roses into Stephie’s bedroom. There on the little girl’s bed is another purple envelope, almost camouflaged against her lavender bed sheets. Taking a deep breath after having slowly caught onto the fact that these letters are going to kill her in the best way possible, Paige reaches for the paper on her daughter’s bed.

Hi Mommy!

Mama’s still gonna write this for me because writing is so tiring but it’s me Stephie speaking (Azzi’s note: your daughter is just as lazy as you are Bueckers.)

Paige lets out a watery laugh as she continues reading.

Do you remember when you went back to Dallas before you moved here, and you used to facetime me and Mama every night and you’d stay on the phone while Mama read me my bedtime story until I fell asleep? Mama says that if you make a wish right before you fall asleep, there’s a really, really, big chance it might come true. She was right because Mama’s all right and guess what Mommy? My wish came true! I wished that instead of facetime, you’d be here with us in real life for my bedtime story. And now you are and you always will be.

Love you always,

Stephie and Azzi <3

Paige catches a brief glance of herself in Stephie’s vanity mirror as she finishes reading the letters. Her face is a little blotchy and red, big fat happy tears cascading down her cheeks as she tucks the paper back into the envelope. She remembers that first night on facetime like it had happened yesterday; remembers making the same wish that Stephie had time and time again. And she thinks her daughter is right -or really that Azzi’s right as per always- wishes do come true.

Hurriedly wiping away her tears, Paige rises back onto her feet, ready to continue on this journey that Stephie and Azzi had set out for her. She follows the roses into the guestroom -which could basically be rebranded as Jana’s room with the amount of times she’s started to stay over- and almost trips over her feet in her quest to get to the next letter. And next to it is an unclear package that confuses Paige but she figures the letter would tell her all about it.

Back to me again baby,

This is the room where it all began again. I know technically we started a little before and we officially didn’t start again until a little later but that night is when I knew. I knew that whatever I felt for you eight years ago, hadn’t gone away. Not at all. In fact, if anything, it had gotten even stronger, even deeper. Loving you comes as naturally to me as breathing. It always has. And I loved you before- of course I did- but it’s nothing compared to how much I fucking love you now.

“I love you too,” Paige whispers into the room. She’s not sure if Azzi can hear her -still doesn’t quite know where exactly her girls are- but she’s certain that they’re connected enough that her girlfriend can feel her emotion no matter where she is.

Anyways baby time to take your clothes off in this room again!

Wait, wait, wait don’t get too excited Bueckers. I know you’ve got a one-track mind but baby first of all, Jana might never come over again if she finds out we’ve fucked in this room and second of all, we’ve got plenty of time to do that after. I promise.

Stephie and I picked something out for you to wear tonight. It’s in the parcel next to you. Put it on and come find us. We really hope you like it!

Love you always,

Azzi and Stephie (even though she has no idea what this letter says for obvious reasons) <3

Placing a quick kiss against where Azzi had kissed it herself in red lipstick, Paige puts the letter back in the envelope before grabbing for the package next to it. She tears it open gently, to find a light purple vest with matching pants. The outfit is familiar and Paige vaguely remembers lying next to Azzi, browsing through an online catalog when the fit had caught her eyes.

“Can’t get nothing past you huh baby?” Paige remarks with a fond shake of her head.

Once she’s put the vest and pants on -and shaken her hair out of her ponytail for good measure because Azzi loves when her hair is down- Paige embarks down the path of flowers once again. This time it leads her to their bedroom. Paige had basically moved in the day they’d gotten back together -a stream of her stuff slowly and steadily building up in what had then been Azzi’s room- but they’d never really had a proper conversation about and it had basically been an unspoken agreement till the day Paige had casually mentioned that the lease on the house she’d initially rented in the Bay Area had ended. So I guess I’m officially moving in with you guys, she’d joked to which Stephie had wisely pointed out that she did in fact already live here. And that was that. This was Paige’s house just as much as it was Stephie and Azzi’s.

Her eyes scan the room, taking in all little bits of PaigeAndAzzi that are scattered throughout it, until she finally finds another purple envelope tucked into a book on the bedside table next to Azzi’s side of the bed. Paige’s left hand flies to her mouth when she gets close enough to see the cover of the novel, a strangled noise escaping her throat. Because the book isn’t the one Azzi’s currently reading.

No, this is their book. The one that had been left unfinished years ago and Paige had been so convinced they would be left to the same fate, that they’d be left incomplete.

With trembling hands, she picks up the book, leafing through it to open it to the pages that have the letter eased between them. But before Paige can take out the envelope, her eyes swim with tears when she notices the words that Azzi had circle -in purple highlighter of course- scratching out the character’s name for Paige’s own.

I’m in love with you, Sutton Paige Terrifyingly, irreversibly, life-alteringly in love with you.

Paige brushes her thumb against the words, like she’s trying to let them sink into her skin and become a part of her bloodstream. They might be someone else’s words but she knows they convey everything Azzi feels for her. Taking another shuddering breath, Paige finally opens the envelope.

Hi again baby,

I’m sorry for how much I know I’ve made you cry (don’t even try hiding it Paige Bueckers I know you’re a sobbing mess right now) and I can’t wait to see you and wipe your tears away. You’re almost there P!

We never finished this book. Ironic that it’s called those who wait and baby I think we’ve waited enough. You know, I’ve come across this book many times in the years we’ve been apart and I’ve considered if I should buy it- if I should finish it by myself. But it never felt right.

Not without you.

Because baby you have been there for the beginning of almost every story in my life and I want you to be there for the ending of every single one. Mine. And Stephie’s.

Love you always,

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige catches her teardrops in her palms before they hit the letter, not wanting the water to damage it. She intends to treasure every single one of them for the rest of her life; thinks it’ll be the perfect memorabilia when she’s eighty years old and her and Azzi go rummaging through their storage and find this bundle of purple envelopes and Paige gets to relieve this day -the one she’d been worried not too long ago wouldn’t be perfect- all over again.

Antsy to finally see her girls, Paige finds herself almost running towards the next stop on the trail of roses, which happens to be their living room. There, hidden behind the newly customized cushions with their names -Paige, Azzi and Stephie- embroidered on them, is another purple letter that she immediately snatches up.

This is our last letter to you baby.

And I think it’s fitting that you should find it here, in our living room, where everything came back together for us. I can’t lie to you Paige, I was so fucking scared you’d make a different decision. I was so scared that you’d walk away from us- that our present and the possibility of our future together wouldn’t be enough to overcome our past.

I don’t know if I would have survived that. I guess I would’ve had to learn to. For Stephie. And she would’ve learned too, for me. But there would have always been a little part of us missing.

Because you complete us Paige. Stephie and I- we aren’t whole without you. You’ve always been our missing piece baby, and we’re so grateful that you came back to us, that you made us whole again.

Love you always,

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige holds the final letter against her heart for a while, letting her head replay all of the beautiful words her girls had written for her. She doesn’t know when they’d planned this, can’t imagine how they’d somehow pulled it all together within the two hours it had taken her to get to the bakery and back but she knows she’ll cherish this day forever.

“I’m the luckiest fucking woman on this planet,” she whispers to herself as she follows the final trail of roses that lead her out to the garden in the back.

It’s golden hour outside and it feels like their backyard is shrouded in a golden hue that makes it feel like everything -the trees and the leaves and the flowers and the sky are shimmering in drops of gold. Paige is almost blinded by it for a second, blinking her eyes rapidly to adjust to the blazing sunlight as she finally catches sight of her girls.

They’re standing in the middle of the garden -in the middle of a heart to be precise but Paige can’t quite tell what the shape’s been made out of- Stephie in a dress and Azzi in a pantsuit that’s the exact shade of lavender as the outfit they’d picked out for the blonde. The two of them wear matching exuberant smiles and Paige thinks if she could pick the last image to flash through her mind at the end of her life, she’d pick this one.

“Hi Mommy,” Stephie waves excitedly with one hand, her other carrying a bunch of papers that pique Paige’s interest, “did you get our chocolate cake?”

Paige laughs as she starts to make her way down towards, “you know I did sweetheart.”

“Do you like our surprise?” the little girl asks, almost vibrating with enthusiasm as Paige gets closer and closer to them.

“I loved it-” the blonde cuts herself off with a gasp when she finally realizes what the heart had been created out of.

Carefully curated photographs, some with all three of them and some of just Paige and Stephie or Paige and Azzi, have been perfectly set up around them. All their beautiful memories aligned in the shape of a heart with Stephie and Azzi right in the middle of it, just waiting for Paige to join them inside.

“You guys. This is-” Paige chokes back a sob as she finally reaches the two of them, “this is perfect you guys. I can’t believe you guys did all of this.”

“Sorry we made you drive all the way across town,” Azzi says sheepishly, “we wouldn’t have had time to set this up otherwise”

“It’s perfect,” Paige repeats as gently brushes her hands through Stephie’s hair before placing a chaste kiss against Azzi’s lip, “it’s everything.”

“You’re everything,” Azzi counters and Paige notices her shuffling her feet nervously before she speaks, “and we- wanted to show you that.”

“You did so good, baby,” Paige reassures, reaching out to squeeze the brunette’s hand, “all of it. The letters, the outfit, the book. God baby, it’s all just- it’s all perfect.”

“That’s not all though Mommy,” Paige feels a tiny tug on her arm and she turns away from Azzi to look down at Stephie who’s staring shyly up at her.

“There’s more?” the blonde asks softly, as she kneels down in front of the little girl, hands rubbing up and down her shoulder.

Stephie bites her lip as she nods, holding out the elusive papers that Paige had previously noticed in her hands, “these are for you.”

Paige takes them from her slowly, keeping one hand wrapped around he little girl’s bicep as she takes in the words -printed in big bold jet black letters- on the document. Her eyes widen in shock as she swivels her head around to look at Azzi.

“These- there are-” Paige swallows roughly, “these are adoption papers.”

“Yeah they are,” Azzi confirms quietly, “I um- I tracked down Stephie’s-” she pauses, clearly unsure of what term to use for the man that had abandoned the two of them -the man Paige thinks is the dumbest person in the world for having abandoned the most wonderful two people in the entire universe-, “I tracked down Stephie’s donor and I uh- I had him sign away any and all parental rights.”

“Az,” Paige whispers in awe, knowing just how much strength it would’ve taken Azzi to have even considered reaching out to that man. They haven’t spoken much about it beyond when Azzi had told her the full story but Paige had realized quickly that there was a lot of resentment there and it fills her with warmth to know that Azzi had overcome all of that, just to do this for Paige.

“Mommy,” Stephie calls out softly, tiny hands gently cupping Paige’s face to bring her attention back to her, “you’re already my Mommy. You do everything a Mommy’s supposed to do. You pick me up from school and you get me ice cream and you give me cuddles when I’m sad and you give me tickles to make me happy. You watch movies with me and teach me how to play bask-ball and you dress me up in your clothes and you tease Mama with me and you give me goodnight kisses. And you love me, just like Mama does,” the little girl sniffles and Paige’s own eyes are watering as she brushes away Stephie’s tears, “but Anya says that you’re not my Mommy of-shaly because- because we’re not related. I think that’s really stupid and I told Mama that too and she said she agreed but that- that you could become my Mommy of-shaly too if you- if you adopt me. So Mommy-” Stephie takes a deep breath and Paige feels herself shiver with anticipation, “will you adopt me?”

“Yes,” Paige says as soon as the little girl finishes her sentence and then she’s pulling Stephie into her arms, kissing all over her daughter’s face as she keeps repeating herself, “yes, yes, yes. Of course I’ll adopt you sweetheart. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Stephie giggles in Paige’s arms, wriggling slightly as the blonde continues to pepper sloppy kisses all over her skin, “you have to sign the papers first Mommy.”

“Right, right of course. I need- I need a pen,” Paige manages to blabber out as she looks around as if willing for a pen to appear magically out of thin air.

“Here,” Azzi's voice breaks in through the excitement, holding out a ballpoint for the blonde to use and as Paige reaches for it, she can see every emotion of her mirrored in the brunette’s eyes.

Her gaze locks back with Stephie’s as she signs the papers, watching the little girl’s smile deepen with every flick of her wrist.

“Done,” Paige exclaims as finishes off her signature, setting the document aside as she swings Stephie into her arms, standing up and twirling the girl -her daughter almost officially- around in circle as the two of them whoop with delight.

She’s so caught up in the moment -in the peals of Stephie’s vibrant laughter- that she almost misses when it happens. Everything around her seems to freeze as Paige stops abruptly, her eyes fixated on Azzi- Azzi who’s kneeling in front of her, Azzi who’s holding open a velvet box with a diamond ring.

“Baby,” Paige breathes out as she slowly lowers Stephie back onto the ground.

“I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you,” Azzi begins slowly, her voice trembling as she repeats the familiar words, “so you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too. Because I just- I just couldn’t find the right words- the right phrases to tell you everything that you mean to me. And then I realized that I- I don’t need to think that hard because you- you already found the perfect words and I-” she gulps emotionally, “I was an idiot for saying no to them.”

“No- no I was an idiot for not understanding why you did,” Paige says with a shake of her head as she falls to the ground to be level with Azzi.

“We were both idiots,” Azzi concedes and next to them Stephie giggles a little at the repeated use of the “bad” word, “but that- that doesn’t matter anymore. And I- I don’t need a speech. I don’t need to say a hundred words. Because you already know them- you already know me. You know my heart and I hope you know that it beats for you- the two of you. Because I love you. I love you so bleeping much Paige Bueckers and I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you more,” Paige says, unable to wait to say it as she cups Azzi’s face, “ask me Azzi. Don’t make me wait anymore baby. Please.”

“Paige Madison Bueckers, the love of my life, the mother of my child,” Azzi’s voice breaks and Paige isn’t faring much better as the tears freefall down her cheeks, “will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes I will,” Paige nods through her sobs as she holds out her hand for Azzi to slide the ring -a simple cushion cut enshrined against a diamond encrusted infinity band- onto her fingers.

And it’s unclear who moves first, but they surge towards each other, lips meeting a kiss that holds the weight of all the emotions they’re feeling right now. They’re a tangle of limbs as they lick into each other’s mouth, giggling as they fall back into the grass, still holding onto each other. This is a long time coming, the forever they’ve been searching for since they were just little girls who barely even understood what forever was. And it hasn’t been easy but every second spent apart has led them back to this, back to each other- and forever feels like it’s finally here.

“MAMA AND MOMMY ARE GETTING MARRIED,” Stephie shrieks as she throws herself onto Paige and Azzi, the two adults laughing at her excitement as they open their arms for her to fit in perfectly in between them.

In the sky, the sun is beginning to set as golden hour comes to an end. But it doesn’t matter. Because the love between Paige, Azzi and Stephie -as long as they get to be just like this, safe and content in each other’s arms- shines brighter than gold itself and that incandescence will glow forever.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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