im sorry I've been inactive guys! I had a couple of things going on but I did go to the wings game yesterday. I met Bella Hines 🥺. But I will be back to writing soon!
honestly, Project B is the best thing for Azzi Fudd. She’s said in the last that she’s been wanting to expand her fan base and how she’s always wanted to playa round the world. Unrivaled barely left miami last season and i doubt there will be any big changes this upcoming season. Project B might seem sketchy, but i doubt Fudd would just sign for money. I think she’d sign for exposure, expanding her range of play, and to better her own talent. Stop bashing her for choosing something that doesn’t have to do with her significant other. which by the way, hasn’t even been confirming if she’ll play in unrivaled yet. I’m glad she’s branching out and finding new ways to enjoy the sport she loves. Respect my girl fudd!
pazzi x reader smut when they get jealous at a party OR pazzi x reader smut when they lose a game and need to blow off steam 🤷🏾♀️🤷🏾♀️
DO WHAT I SAY - PAZZI
“ and if you start to shake I can hold you down , on this bed frame , uh , hands mingle. she said she single but that pussy only tingle for me . ” - kwn, ‘25.
summary: at azzi’s after party after the draft, azzi and paige noticed you being handsy and flirtatious with someone.
both of your girlfriends have officially become #1 draft picks. you, azzi, and paige can all finally be together again. about an hour after the draft was over, azzi hosted one of after parties going on.
you met azzi right before she met paige, and you knew her old and recent teammates pretty well. there were her aau teammates, college teammates that already went pro, and her recent uconn teammates.
you were at the bar watching kk’s and ashanti’s dance party from afar. when you felt a bump on your side, you turned to toward the feeling seeing one of you and azzi’s best friends. you immediately had a bright smile on your face, “oh my gosh! how are you, I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“I know! oh my god, you look so good!” the friend exclaimed. “thank you, so do you!” she complimented. you and the friend had been talking for far too long, or at least that’s what paige thought. “hey can I steal her really quickly?” paige walked up. “of course!” the friend smiled.
paige pulled you away to a hallway near the bathroom. “why you talking to her and touching her like that?” she asked, dropping the fake voice. “what do you mean, we’re just sitting at the-” “stop touching her.” paige cut her off, voice rough.
“oh my god, paige chill out. and don’t ruin azzi’s night because you’re getting jealous.” she said unamused. “alright bro.” paige said before walking away from her. she rolled her eyes and went up to sarah strong and ice brady.
"what's wrong with her?" ice asked as you approached them. "she got mad over something stupid." she mumbled. sarah side eyed you and did her eyebrow arch. "bro sarah." you said as you and ice broke off into laughter.
TIMESKIP
as the party ended, you, paige, and azzi were the last few to leave. for some reason no one was speaking to each other.
as you three got in the shuttle, you felt paige's glare. "what?" you said with a bit too much attitude for paige. "who are you talking to?" she said straightening up. "you obviously." "okay what's going on why are y'all fighting." azzi interfered.
"she can't keep her fucking hands to herself." paige spat. "first of all-" "what are you talking about?" azzi asked turning to paige. "y'know that friend of y'alls that I don't like, she was being all friendly and shit, touching her knee and all this bullshit." paige rambled.
"oh my god you're overreacting." you said, rolling your eyes. "no I'm not." paige said crossing her arms. the shuttle came to a stop at the back of the hotel.
they walked in and made a beeline for the elevator. as everyone piled in the elevator, silence. no words, just eye contact being exchanged.
you, paige, and azzi stepped into the shared suite. you sat down and started taking your heels off. "get in the room and strip." paige spoke. you looked at azzi for help and she just gave you an apologetic look.
you slowly walked towards the room, you got undressed, and left the remains of your clothes on the nearby chair. you sat patiently on the middle of the california king sized bed.
it had been quite a while since you had entered the room. just then paige entered the room, strap on. "you enjoyed being a slut tonight?" she said. you swear you froze and didn't know what to do or say.
"cat got your tongue?" she teased. she started to push you onto your back. she leaned down and kissed you. not soft, not passionately, but hungrily.
"m'sorry." you slipped out. "yeah? show me you are." she said starting to kiss down your cheek to your neck. leaving little marks and hickeys in its path.
you heard a soft click, as paige continued to kiss down your body. "hi baby." you heard azzi's soft voice. she leaned down and kissed you. you gasped and broke the kiss feeling paige's lips on your core.
"mm, you like when I'm mad, look at you, dripping." she mumbled before diving back in. azzi slid under you, holding you against her, "tell daddy you're sorry." she purred in your ear, giving it a little nibble.
"mmm! daddy m'sorry! so sorry!" she moaned out, rutting her hips against paige's face. "good girl." azzi said, pinching your nipples.
paige moaned into your cunt, the vibration adding onto the stimulation azzi was already providing. she held onto your hips to stop you from fucking her face.
paige started tongue fucking you, azzi reached her hand down as scooped up some of your slickness and brought it to your mouth.
"open."
you obeyed and took her fingers into your mouth. "mmm, you just needed to be fucked?" she asked you. she pulled her fingers out and reached her hand back down, rubbing your clit in feverish circles.
you gasped, "s'too much! c-cant!" "shut the fuck up." paige pulled away then started to lick your wet cunt to up and down.
"m'gonna cum!" you moaned, thighs trembling. "yeah you wanna cum? make mommy cum first." she growled, pulling away. you whined at the loss of contact.
she tapped you, signaling for you to get up. you getting up allowed azzi to lay back and open her legs for you. you moaned seeing her glistening cunt underneath the lights.
just then, paige pushed you down into an arch and in front of azzi's pussy. you dragged a finger up her opening to her clit. paige smacked your ass, "no. you don't get to tease her."
"m'sorry mommy." you mumbled. then paige rammed into you, making you gasp. "s'okay baby." azzi breathed out as you're actively kissing her core.
you continued to moan into azzi's pussy because of the immense amount of pleasure from paige. "tell daddy how sorry you are." azzi moaned out.
"m'so sorry. i-i was just being nice." you moaned out, digging your fingers into azzi's sopping wet cunt. "fuck y/n..." azzi cried out, gripping the sheets.
"remember she cums, you can cum too." paige said, delivering a hard smack to your ass. you curled your fingers inside azzi and started sucking on her sensitive bud.
azzi's moans continued to get louder, "shit, y/n! oh my god!" she cried, rutting her hips up into your face. "m'gonna cum!" she cried. her eyes rolled back, hips thrusting into your face.
"good girl." paige purred. she pulled out, not allowing you to cum. "go clean yourself up." paige spat, leaving you high and dry.
you walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower. you slipped in as the shower, you could hear paige and azzi still going in the other room.
you finished your shower and the girls stopped a while ago. you slipped out of the bathroom room seeing the girls tangled up together. "c'mere baby." azzi rasped.
you laid down in between them. "im sorry baby. I just don't like that girl." paige mumbled into your neck. "s'okay." you mumbled. "now let mommy make you come."
pazzi take turns fucking a waitress after her long shift
basically they’re just flirting with her making her super flustered the whole time and then they leave a note with a/p’s number on it with a huge tip
NASTY - PAZZI
“ promise i’ma give it to you like you never had it , i do it so good , it’s gon’ be so hard to break the habit. ” - ariana grande, ‘20 .
summary: paige and azzi decided to go on a date on one of their off days, but they unexpectedly meet a beautiful waitress and they get her in their bed before the end of the night.
warnings: !smut, !oral(r and azzi receiving), !strap fucking(azzi, paige, and r receiving), !fingering(r receiving), !overstimulation, !edging | PLEASE READ A/N AT THE END!
8 PM.
reign was taking her last shift for the week, she’d just got done with 6 customers at one table, hoping she was done, “reign! take table 34!” her manager called out. she sighed, “got it!” she yelled back, looking at her work best friend. “girl you better clock out after this table. you look like burnt out.” aurelia pointed out.
“thanks, lia.” she mumbled, reaching for her notepad. “love you, girl!” she yelled as she walked out the kitchen. she put on an amazing fake smile as she headed toward the table. “hi, im reign! i’ll be taking care of you tonight!” she spoke up cheerfully.
"I can think of some other ways you can take care of me." the blonde mumbled. reign chuckled and brushed it off.
“what drinks can I get you started with tonight!” she said pulling out her notepad and her signature pink pen. “um… can I get a Shirley temple? Alcoholic, please.” the blonde haired woman said, peering her eyes away from the menu. “Make that two please, and I would also like water with lemon.” the curly haired brunette from aside spoke up.
“Of course! Any appetizers for you two?” She asked them. The blonde looked over at azzi, eyebrows raised as if she asked her if she wanted one. “No, we’re good. Thank you.” azzi spoke up. “Okay, I will be back with those drinks!” She said slipping her notepad back in the pocket of her apron and walking away.
“az, do you thin-” “no.” she cut her off, not needing her to finish the sentence. “please, mama. she’s different, I can tell.” Paige pleaded. “We’ll see.” Azzi mumbled. perfect timing, reign came back with their drinks. “alright, here are your Shirley temples and your water.” she said placing the drinks down with care.
“are you guys ready to order?” she asked with a soft smile on her face.
*TIME SKIP.*
After she took in their orders, she went back to the kitchen to enter them and she heard her best friend's gravelly, raspy voice. "girl, both of them girls at that table are fine." she said, elbowing her playfully.
"you're a hoe, but you're not wrong. the blondie has been flirting with me the whole time." she informed the girl. "oooh, please get you some! I'm tired of you being lonely." she said clasping her hands together.
"no, I think her and the girl that she's sitting with are together." she implied, rolling her eyes. "they might want a thir-." "hell no." she cut her off.
"you're life is so boring." her best friend sighed, finally walking away.
*FAST FORWARD.*
"have a good night." reign smiled at the couple, placing the receipt down with their card. "you too." the brunette smiled at her. the taller one winked at her as she got up.
she noticed a good amount of money was left and a napkin. she saw some red pen ink on the paper napkin, '***-***-****, call us pretty.'
she ran to the back as soon as she saw the money and piece of paper. "aurelia!" she yelled, calling for the shorter girl. "what?" "look!" she said waving the napkin. "I fucking told you!" she exclaimed, hitting her shoulder playfully.
"do you think they'd really answer?"
a/n: I'm gonna make this a part 2 bc I didn't wanna keep putting time skips.
More Than A Headline - Jessica Shepard x Female Reader 💙
Jessica Shepard didn’t mean to say it.
Honestly, it just slipped out naturally.
One second she was answering a postgame question about offseason training during an interview after a game, and the next—
“My wife actually helped me a lot with staying disciplined during the offseason,” Jessica said casually.
Silence.
Then every reporter in the room immediately perked up.
Jessica noticed it instantly.
And internally?
She knew she was cooked.
Because up until then, she’d kept your marriage extremely private.
Not secret exactly.
Just private.
The people who mattered knew.
Her teammates knew.
Close friends knew.
Family knew.
But the public?
Not really.
Jessica always preferred keeping her personal life separate from basketball. Especially because she worked hard to make sure people respected her for her game first.
Her rebounding.
Her passing.
Her IQ on the floor.
Not who she went home to at night.
Unfortunately, the internet had other plans.
Within hours, clips from the interview exploded online.
“JESSICA SHEPARD CONFIRMS SHE HAS A WIFE.”
“WNBA STAR SECRETLY MARRIED?”
“Fans shocked after Jessica Shepard revelation.”
Jessica hated every headline immediately.
Because suddenly, interviews stopped feeling normal.
The next few days became exhausting.
“What’s married life like?”
“How did you meet your wife?”
“Does she travel with you?”
“What does your wife think about your career?”
It never stopped.
And worst of all?
Hardly anyone asked about basketball anymore.
Not really.
Not in the way they used to.
Jessica would finish a game with a double-double and somehow reporters still found a way to circle back to you.
At first, she tried being polite.
Short answers.
Quick redirects.
Professional.
But internally, frustration kept building.
Because she loved you deeply.
More than anything.
But that wasn’t why she sat at press conferences.
She sat there to talk about basketball.
The sport she dedicated her entire life to.
And it started genuinely upsetting her.
One night after another frustrating media session, Jessica came home exhausted.
You were already laying in bed reading when she walked into the bedroom still visibly irritated.
“That bad?” you asked softly.
Jessica sighed heavily while pulling off her hoodie.
“I had eighteen rebounds tonight.”
You looked up immediately. “Baby, that’s incredible.”
“Apparently not incredible enough,” she muttered.
Your expression softened instantly.
Jessica climbed into bed beside you before dropping her head against your shoulder dramatically.
“They asked me one basketball question,” she complained. “One.”
You brushed your fingers gently through her hair while she vented.
“I’m happy people are supportive,” Jessica continued quietly. “I really am. But I feel like I’m turning into relationship gossip instead of an athlete.”
You nodded slowly.
Because honestly?
You understood exactly what she meant.
Jessica worked too hard for her career to have everything overshadowed by her personal life.
“They don’t respect boundaries because you haven’t really set any publicly yet,” you said carefully.
Jessica frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to politely redirect instead of directly telling them to stop.”
She looked thoughtful immediately.
You continued softly, “You’re allowed to decide what parts of your life stay private.”
Jessica stayed quiet for a second.
Then sighed. “I just don’t want to sound rude.”
You smiled softly. “Baby, setting boundaries isn’t rude.”
That made her finally look at you fully.
“You think I should say something?”
“I think,” you said gently, “that you deserve interviews where people respect you as a basketball player first.”
Jessica stared at you for a moment.
Then slowly—
She smiled.
Because somehow you always knew exactly what to say to settle the storm in her head.
“You’re smart,” she mumbled while pulling you closer.
“I know.”
Jessica laughed quietly for the first time all night.
—
A week later after another huge game, Jessica sat down at the postgame press conference already knowing exactly what she wanted to say.
The room quieted immediately.
Cameras ready.
Reporters waiting.
Jessica adjusted the microphone calmly before speaking first.
“Before we start,” she said evenly, “I want to set a boundary moving forward.”
The room instantly became attentive.
Jessica stayed calm.
Professional.
Confident.
“I’m happy people support me and my career,” she continued. “But these press conferences are for basketball. They’re for discussing games, teammates, strategy, and the sport itself.”
A few reporters shifted awkwardly already understanding where this was going.
Jessica continued anyway.
“My personal life is not going to be a recurring topic anymore. So from this point forward, any questions unrelated to basketball will not be answered.”
Complete silence filled the room.
Then Jessica added firmly:
“And if boundaries continue being ignored, those reporters will be removed from future media availability.”
That definitely got everyone’s attention.
One reporter awkwardly laughed a little like she might be joking.
Jessica didn’t laugh back.
The message landed immediately.
And honestly?
It worked.
The very next question was about defensive rotations.
Jessica almost smiled.
Almost.
Because finally—
Finally—
They were talking basketball again.
Later that night, Jessica walked through the front door looking lighter than she had in weeks.
You looked up from the couch immediately. “How’d it go?”
Jessica grinned slowly.
“I think I scared them.”
You burst out laughing.
She dropped onto the couch beside you before pulling you directly into her lap.
“No relationship questions?” you asked.
“Not one.”
Your smile softened proudly. “Good.”
Jessica leaned her forehead against yours tiredly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me I’m allowed to protect my peace.”
Your chest tightened a little at that.
Because Jessica spent so much of her life being strong for everyone else.
The media.
Her teammates.
Fans.
The league.
Sometimes she forgot she was allowed to say enough.
So you kissed her softly before smiling against her lips.
“You’re a basketball player first,” you whispered.
Paige and Azzi have a fixation on being your personal stalkers, watching you in the shower, and peeping through the cracks of the door, trying to get an unauthorized glimpse of your body. They tried to keep their thoughts of you in a friendly space, trying you respect you as a roommate, but that soon failed.
You knew they were together, and never felt uncomfortable with their relationship until you swore you heard Azzi moaning your name one night, then hearing foot steps creep every time you got into the shower.
For some reason, being a pervert towards you caused the girls to feel things they never did before, maybe it was the fact that they were doing it together, or the fact that you just looked so easy to manipulate, but nothing happened until one night when you thought you were home alone.
The slight hum of your vibrator, as you lay tucked under the covers, biting your lip, doing your best to conceal your moan. You were so caught up in your own pleasure, you failed to hear the door open and shut.
Inching towards your orgasm, you let your sounds escape, grinding against your toy, moving the towel underneath you up and down.
Paige grabbed Azzis arm, stopping her from going into their bedroom, signaling her to be quiet as they listen to you touch yourself. Moaning and whimpering like you’re dying for them to come in there.
A few minutes past, you jump as 3 soft knocks were let off to your door, before granting permission, they storm into your room.
Paige and Azzi stood in the doorway, eyes locked on your flushed face and the way your hips kept rolling under the blanket. Paige smirked first, biting her lip as she stepped closer.
"Fuck, look at you, knew you were a little perv, grinding on that toy like you wanted us to catch you”
Azzi shut the door behind them, leaning against it, her voice low and teasing. You think we didn’t notice you leaving the door cracked when you shower? We’ve been watching you for weeks, baby. Watching water run down your tits, listening to you touch yourself when you thought you were alone."
Paige moved to the side of the bed, pulling the blanket down slowly so your naked body was on full display. "Look how wet you are, that pussys dripping for us and you haven’t even said yes yet."
Azzi knelt on the mattress, crawling closer until her face hovered near your thigh. “ Let us help you baby, we wanna to use that pretty cunt until you can’t think straight, you can say no… but we both know you won’t. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?"
Paige’s hand slid up your leg, fingers brushing your inner thigh without quite touching where you needed. "Tell us we can have you baby”
Azzi’s breath ghosted over your clit, kissing your thighs. Your mind raced with responses, subconsciously, you grind towards Azzis face.
“Words baby, come on, use that pretty mouth”
“f-fuck me.. please” You beg, cracks throughout your voice.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Heavy flirting, language, reader is a hoe (with heart), gay panic, team claiming you like a trophy, tension between teams
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.7k
ᴠɪʙᴇ:Reader walks like the game hasn’t started until she arrives
You walk in like it’s a fashion show.
Baggy sweats. Crop top. Warmup unzipped halfway. Gloss poppin’. Lashes ridiculous. Everyone’s stretching, locked in, and you? You strut in late with headphones on and hips moving like you’ve never tripped a day in your life.
The crowd shifts.
USC’s bench turns. JuJu leans forward like she just spotted dessert. Aaliyah straightens up like she wasn’t just tying her shoes.
“That’s her?” one of them whispers.
JuJu smirks. “Number seventeen. Heard she’s got a roster longer than the bench.”
They all laugh. You don’t even look over. Just wink once—and keep walking.
KK sees it first.
“Why they looking like that?” she mutters, eyebrows raised.
“They better not be talking about who I think they talking about,” Nika adds.
“She didn’t even play yet,” Paige says under her breath. “And they already plotting.”
⸻
Warmups start. You’re at half court, stretching deep, ass up, no shame. USC’s side watching like it’s halftime already.
JuJu strolls by on her way to the table, slows down, and lets her eyes sweep over you.
“Don’t play too hard, baby,” she says. “We still need you in LA.”
You smirk, slow and dangerous. “You tryna recruit me or date me?”
She shrugs. “Whichever gets me the win.”
You laugh. Loud. The UConn bench collectively malfunctions.
KK jumps off the seat. “Oh hell no—nah. NAH. She not with y’all!”
Azzi grabs her arm. “Sit down before you get ejected pre-tip.”
“She just let JuJu flirt with her,” Paige says. “I’m gonna vomit.”
“She flirts with everyone,” Nika deadpans. “That’s not the point. The point is they’re trying to claim her.”
⸻
Tip-off.
You’re in. Hair slick. Gloss reapplied. Lining up next to Aaliyah from USC, who looks dangerous in red and gold, shoulder ink peeking from her sleeve.
“You wear 17?” she asks, voice low.
You nod.
“That’s cute. But I think 22 looks better on you.”
You turn. Raise a brow. “You tryna switch jerseys or undress me?”
“Both.”
From the sideline:
“SHE PLAYS FOR US!”
KK, at full volume, standing on the bench like a rabid chihuahua.
⸻
Game flows. You light it up. Steals. Floaters. You let JuJu body you up full-court and whisper, “I like it rough,” and she chokes on air.
Aaliyah gets physical in the paint. You let her. You lean close and say, “I’d let you pin me any day. Just not during game time.”
She bricks the shot.
Every time you wink at USC, your bench loses it.
“She tryna get flown out mid-quarter?” Nika snaps.
“Say one more word to them and I’m subbing myself in,” Paige threatens.
⸻
Fourth quarter. Tight game. Tie score. You sink a corner three and blow a kiss—not at the crowd. Directly at JuJu. That’s when it breaks. Timeout. Geno pulls the team in. But KK’s already at your side.
You laugh. Finally. But something in your chest twists. Because yeah… you flirt with everyone. But they’re the ones who bring you Gatorade before you ask. Who walk you home from the bus. Who still laugh at your dumb little pickup lines after all this time.
⸻
You win. Final buzzer. You drop 24. UConn by 6.
As you walk off the court, JuJu calls out, “You know where to find me if you wanna switch teams.”
You slow. Smirk. Then turn around, walk straight to your bench sitting on kks lap. She Doesn’t even flinch. You rest your chin on her shoulder and look right at the USC bench. Then kiss KK’s cheek and say, “I only play hard for my girls.”
So i was thinking about a concept where reader used to dance or still currently does majorette or something like that and during halftime she comes on the court and just does a lil dance or maybe she does a little choreography with like 2 of her teammates after they win to be a lil funny. And in the concept that she does a halftime dance maybe she does it with a few other professional dancers or a team and surprises her whole team because they didn't know she could dance. If you choose to go the majorette dance, when we usually do dance performances we either do stands, which are tiny ripple chorography's that we do in the stands of the court or arena or we do full out half time performance's.
Again you dont have to majorette, you can do regular dance too.
Oh boo. Don’t you know. I watch dancing dolls. Yeah. I am majorette. 😭 Ok but in all seriousness I have only watched. I have no clue what I’m writing bear with me!!
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: They knew reader could ball. They did not know she could dance like that. When halftime rolls around and reader hits the court in full glam with a majorette squad or professional dancers at her back, the team loses their minds.
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Fluff, humor, team reactions, playful flex, shock and awe
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None—just sweaty palms, weak knees, and girls gasping in gay
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.3k
ᴠɪʙᴇ: “WHO TAUGHT YOU TO MOVE LIKE THAT?” / “Don’t look at me, I’m blushing.” / “Nah. Be so real. You did a toe touch and made eye contact with me. What’s that about?” / “I need water. I need Jesus.”
I didn’t tell them.
Not a soul. Not Paige, not Nika, definitely notKK.
They knew me as the calm one. The one who stretched in silence, stayed locked in, barely cracked a smile until the scoreboard hit 0:00.
But they didn’t know this part of me.
Didn’t know about the hours I spent in another life—on the field, under stadium lights, moving like my body was built for rhythm and heat and high kicks.
Didn’t know I used to eat up halftime shows like they owed me money.
Until tonight. I walked off the court at halftime, towel around my neck, ignoring the team’s questions when I dipped past the locker room and kept going.
“Where you going?”
“Did she forget something?”
“Why’d she bring a separate bag?”
They’re still asking when the lights drop. And then the music hits. Heavy drumline. Southern brass. That bounce.
I step onto the court in a completely different fit—custom two-piece, rhinestoned top, cut-off shorts that glitter under the spotlight. My hair’s slicked, edges laid, lashes full. And behind me? My old dance girls. Full formation. Tight. Smiling.
The crowd starts screaming before we even move.
I hear Nika first.
“WAIT A MINUTE.”
Then KK: “Is that—OH HELL NO.”
And then Paige, already grabbing her phone: “She did not hide this from us.”
We hit our first set hard. Ripples, toe touches, floor slap, hair flip—all sharp, no hesitation. I don’t even blink. My body knows what to do.
It’s hips and heels and attitude. A strut down center court, a drop to the floor, a fast eight-count of pure filth. I hit a split so clean the ref on the sideline audibly gasps. The crowd’s roaring. But I’m not listening for them.
I’m listening for the girls. For my team.
“Oh, I’m not okay,” Ashlynn breathes.
“She’s got jumps?!” Bri shrieks.
“IS SHE LOOKING AT ME?!” Paige yells, borderline hysterical.
I wink. I definitely make eye contact. Then I hit a windmill, flip my hair, and throw a little solo eight-count straight toward their bench. They lose it.
KK’s on the floor like she’s been shot.
Nika’s standing on the bench yelling “THAT’S MY GIRL” like it’s a final.
Aaliyah just covers her face and mutters, “I can’t even look at her right now. I’m embarrassed. She’s so fine. I’m embarrassed.”
The dance ends in a pyramid pose. I’m in the center. Chest heaving. Grinning. And as I walk off—slow, strut-heavy, towel tossed back over my shoulder—I glance at them one time and say:
okay so we seen how menace! reader reacted to a teammate getting hurt, how would the team react if she got hurt???
(See I hate being seen as hurt soooo honestly I didn’t know how to right this.)
UConn WBB x Menace!Fem!Reader
When She Goes Quiet
MASTERLIST | MORE
Summary: You hit the floor hard, couldn’t breathe, but got up like always. Played it off like always. Until after the game, when the pain hit too deep—and for the first time, you couldn’t hold it in.
Vibe: “you okay?” turns into dead silence, teammates realizing the loudest one going quiet is the worst sign, fierce love under pressure, team panic turned protective wall
It didn’t feel that bad when it happened.
Hard screen. Caught high in the back. Lower spine twisted a little too sharp, maybe, but you bounced back. You always do. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t rattle you for a second—knocked the wind out of your lungs and made your arms go tingly—but you got up. You always get up.
Finished the quarter. Then the next.
No one really noticed you grimace every time you turned your torso. Or how your stride shortened after halftime. You still clapped loud, still talked shit, still hit your free throws. Didn’t flinch during press. Didn’t ask for a sub. You ran it through like nothing was wrong.
Because that’s what you do.
Take the hit. Make the play. Laugh it off.
Even if it hurts like hell.
Especially if it hurts like hell.
And when the buzzer sounds and UConn takes the win, the locker room explodes.
Shoes flying, towels whipping, KK yelling at full volume, Ice dancing, Paige hugging Aaliyah in slow motion while the music kicks in over the speakers. Someone’s dumping water on someone else. Everyone’s screaming. Including you. Sort of.
You’re in the back corner. Sitting on a chair. Hoodie on. Clapping when someone makes eye contact, nodding like you’re in it, but your body’s not keeping up. You’re sweating and shivering at the same time. Your lower back feels like it’s cemented. And every time you inhale, something catches mid-spine, like the air gets stuck somewhere it’s not supposed to.
You try to sit up straighter. Then you hiss. Quiet, but sharp. Paige glances over. You wave her off before she even asks.
Geno walks in five minutes later. Whistle in his mouth, trying to be heard over the chaos. “Hey. HEY. Shut it down for a second.”
The room quiets. Not out of fear—just respect. You’ve won, and now he’s about to give the speech. The one that ends up quoted on Instagram slides and shared on TikTok edits.
“You showed up,” he starts, voice gruff, pointing toward the whiteboard like he’s not getting emotional behind it. “Y’all showed me some grit tonight. That’s a physical team and we answered every time. I don’t give a shit if it was ugly. It was ours.”
Applause. Slaps on the back. KK yells, “SAY IT AGAIN,” and you force a smile from the corner. Then your body shifts just a little too fast.
Pain slices straight through your lower back and into your ribs. Your vision whites out for a second.
You bite down hard. Chest tightening. You can’t breathe right. You press your hand to the bench like grounding will help, but it’s no good. The sweat on your face isn’t from the game anymore—it’s panic. Raw pain. It feels like something’s locked up inside you, like your body’s telling you, no more.
“…Ay.” Geno’s voice cuts through the noise.
He’s looking at you now. Everyone is.
You’re still hunched, breathing shallow, hand gripping the edge of the bench.
Geno steps forward, brows furrowed. “You alright back there?”
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.
KK turns around, face dropping the second she sees you up close. “Yo.”
You try to nod. You really try. But you shake your head. That’s all it takes.
In a heartbeat, the energy in the room shifts.
Geno’s across the room in three strides, crouching a little in front of you, hand hovering near your shoulder. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You finally gasp it out. “It’s my back. I—I couldn’t tell during the game. But I can’t—” Your breath breaks. “I can’t breathe right. It’s—it’s locking up.”
Trainer’s already on the way. Paige is right behind Geno now, not saying anything, just watching with wide eyes. KK’s kneeling to your left, face full of that same panic you had when she went down two games ago.
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to mess it up. We were winning.”
Geno doesn’t even scold you. His voice softens instead. “You’re not messing anything up.”
You’re shaking now. The pain’s catching up to the adrenaline. Every second hurts worse. And it’s scary. Not just soreness. Not something you can walk off. It’s the kind of pain that makes your chest feel tight and your head spin. And worst of all—it’s public.
You start crying.
Not loud. Not like a breakdown. Just quiet, frustrated sobs, shoulders trembling, eyes stuck to the floor as the whole team watches the strongest one break.
“I didn’t want them to see me like this.”
You don’t even know who you’re talking to anymore.
Geno’s hand settles gently on the back of your neck. “Hey. Come here.”
You don’t think. You just lean forward.
And you hug him.
You let it all go. Press your face into his chest, trying to breathe through it, hands clenched in the front of his jacket while the trainer checks your back. You hear Paige clear her throat. Hear Ice whisper something to KK. No one’s making fun of you. No one’s laughing.
They’re just there. Watching you finally fall apart.
“I’ve seen you take hits no one else would get up from,” Geno says, low so only you can hear. “This doesn’t make you weak. This makes you human.”
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