i have a solution. GIVE ME A COACH THAT ISNT A FUCKING MAN.

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@lanadelspray02
i have a solution. GIVE ME A COACH THAT ISNT A FUCKING MAN.
"azzi fudd, one of the best shooters in UConn history"
Raven Johnson having reposts about SC and then her only other repost being the one of the girls talking about Azzi is really sweet to me. It shows the level of respect and support these competitors have for each other but it’s still fuck SC and go bruins!!💕
This is actually wild. No wonder Geno pissed af
thank you for 2 great seasons together you will be missed
WOKE UP TO SEE THAT MY GOAT IS GONNA HAVE A ROOKIE SZN😛😛
azzi fc we are so up
Thunderstruck- Chapter 3
A/N: Saturday chapter as promised. This one has lots of sweet moments but also gets a bit serious in the middle. Tried to lighten it up towards the end. Please read content warnings before (!!) and sorry for the lowkey cliffhanger…
WC: 12.6K
Content Warning: sexual themes 18+, language, discussions surrounding body image/dysmorphia
can you fix a broken heart
Synopsis: Azzi wins a game, loses a game, and completely loses the plot over Paige Bueckers wearing nothing but her jersey.
warnings: smut, so much smut, shower sex, truck bed sex, phone sex, sexting, down bad azzi, down bad paige, p?wp?
a/n: yes, the smut IS necessary to advance the plot. also, yes, i am aware i am going to hell for this. enjoy you heathens.
wc: 10k
chapter 11:
Azzi stood in the bathroom with the door shut, the mirror already fogging from the water warming in the shower behind her. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel, the thick cotton cinched at her chest, her hair loose and skin slicked with sweat after a grueling practice.
her hitting the griddy at the end is so funny💀she’s so cute 🥹
aweeee
Sweet girl smiling through it all 🥺
Repeat Rewind: Chapter 11
A/N: i promise this next chapter will be out so much sooner & i'm sooooo sorry i left you guys hanging for so long. classes just started back up again so that's been hectic but i already have part of chapter 12 written so it'll be out pretty soon! thanks for sticking around <3
Content Warning: language, smoking (marijuana), sexual content (18+, minors DNI)
Word Count: 7.6k
Paige’s POV
“Paige, what’s it like to be back home in Minnesota?”
Paige stood at the sideline with a hand on her hip and her jersey already clinging to her shoulders as the reporter angled the mic toward her face. The jumbotron loomed overhead, her own image staring back at her.
Trippy, she thought.
She brought her gaze back down to the reporter and exhaled through her nose, a half-breath that steadied her after the rush of the first quarter of the game.
“It’s special,” she replied with a smile. “I grew up coming to Lynx games, and my family’s here supporting me. It’s always good energy.”
Her eyes drifted upward as the reporter began asking his next question, scanning the stands and squinting slightly against the lights. She found them almost instantly—her grandparents sitting side by side, an aunt waving a little too enthusiastically a few rows down, cousins clustered together with their phones out as they recorded her interview.
Her jaw tightened as she hid a smile. Home.
Paige answered the rest of the questions reflexively, gave a polite nod once the camera had shifted away from her face, and jogged back to the bench where she squeezed in between Maddy and Azzi.
“You ready to keep watching me cook?” she asked, her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear it.
Azzi didn’t turn to face her, but her face broke into a small smile. “If by ‘cook’, you mean you’re gonna keep passing to me, then hell yeah.”
“Someone’s cocky,” Paige noted with a smirk.
Azzi leaned forward, squinting to get a better look at the play an assistant coach had been drawing up. “Just saying. Wouldn’t want you to choke up in front of your people.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “You’re a comedian today.”
“Am I any good?” Azzi asked, brows lifted hopefully. “I’ve been thinking about quitting my day job.”
“Mmm, you know,” Paige replied pensively with her lips pursed and her head tilted, “maybe sleep on it for a night or two.”
Azzi chuckled and shook her head, resting a palm on her hip as her focus returned to the coaches’ instruction. Her arm brushed against Paige’s as she extended it, just a gentle accidental graze, but Paige caught a tiny smile as Azzi shifted her elbow away.
Moments like that reminded Paige that it was worth it, like small incentives reminding her that if they kept careful, if they followed the rules, if they flowed with the current no matter how long it would take to get to where they’d land, they could share something real one day. It let little sneak peeks of what might lie ahead slip through—hands held in public, a closeness that everyone around them could recognize for what it was. Something private being made known, even in the center of the spotlight.
“I’m already starving, bro,” Aziaha groaned, running a hand over her face. “Imma need a nice, fat burger after this. And a shake. Cookies ‘n’ cream, specifically.”
Arike nodded toward Paige. “Maybe the local can show us a good spot around here.”
Paige scrunched her lips together, then shook her head. “I’m going over to my grandparents’ for dinner after this. Most of the family’s in town.”
“Oh, nooo,” someone replied sarcastically from across the group.
Paige didn’t let her gaze follow the voice. She didn’t have to.
The hidden insinuation landed deep in her gut like a punch she hadn't seen coming, and conveniently, she happened to be surrounded by cameras and fans and teammates that weren’t in on all the drama a select few of them had been through over the past few weeks. She couldn’t defend herself the way she wanted to.
“Love you, too, Nai,” she called out instead as her cheeks flushed a muted ruby red.
It did satisfy something in her to watch Azzi and NaLyssa scold DiJonai with stern, disapproving glances. Solidarity counted for something, even when DiJonai’s favor waxed and waned.
DiJonai scoffed. “Y’all take everything so seriously. You know it’s all love, P.”
“Reign it in for thirty seconds, guys. Please,” Coach pleaded quickly before turning back to the whiteboard he was holding up.
Paige straightened her shoulders and focused on the movement of his pen along the board, her attention fixing on circles and arrows.
“I’m sorry she’s so hard on you,” Azzi said softly after a moment. “She loves you, she just…”
“Loves you more,” Paige finished. “Don’t be sorry. You’re, like, the only innocent party in this whole thing.”
Azzi tensed, but she didn’t protest. That, more than anything, made it clear to Paige that DiJonai was a loose end she couldn’t afford to leave frayed. Trust didn’t hold weight if it was only given when it was convenient—it had to be steady in the quiet moments, too. Paige didn’t know how long it would take to earn it fully, but she did know that there was no path to Azzi that didn’t pass straight through DiJonai.
The game resumed quickly—energy surging like electricity, bodies settling into rhythm, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood as the crowd rose and fell with every spark of momentum.
Paige brought the ball up with her head high, reading the floor like a language embedded into her bones. She felt Azzi’s presence before she saw it, a subtle shift in the air in the exact fragment of space she needed to be in.
From the wing, Azzi caught her eye and gave the smallest nod. I’m here.
Paige dribbled once, then twice, and then she pulled her defender just a half of a step too far and whipped the ball across the court. Azzi caught it clean. No pause. No doubt.
She rose, smooth and balanced, her release effortless. The arena exploded as a textbook-perfect three slipped through the net.
The rest of the game came in bursts that blurred into one another. The crowd stayed planted on their feet, the endless rush of cheers nearly as deafening as it was invigorating. By the fourth quarter, the score was tight but it tilted toward Dallas. Paige slowed the pace this time, dribbling deliberately with her defender crouched low in front of her as the clock ticked down.
She glanced to her right. Azzi was open—just for a second, but that was all Paige needed. The pass snapped across the court. Azzi let it fly.
Swish.
Paige exhaled hard, fists clenched at her sides as the buzzer blared. Teammates surged around them in a collision of arms and bodies and laughter as the win settled in.
For a flicker of a moment, in the middle of the chaos, Paige met Azzi’s eyes again.
And everything else fell quiet.
———-
The backyard was still in that familiar, suburban way—not silent, and not loud, but as quiet as it would ever get. Crickets chirped sporadically, traffic hummed from the main road a block away, music from a comically tiny bluetooth speaker began to spill out into the night. Paige sat in a deep adirondack between her cousins with her knees pulled up and a hoodie draped loosely over her shoulders.
Jackson flicked the lighter and shielded the flame with his palm. He inhaled, exhaled slowly, then passed the blunt to Paige.
“So, anyway,” he said as she took her first drag. “I take her to this sushi spot in the city after… like, three weeks of just hooking up. All goes well. We have a great time. And then boom—I’m ghosted by Monday.”
Paige let the smoke billow out of her mouth in a long exhale. “Define ‘well’. She wouldn’t just ghost you for no reason.”
“Probably blabbed her ear off,” Katelyn chimed in. “What was it, the Vikings? Maroon 5? Your little moon landing conspiracy?”
Jackson opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out for a second or two. “I mean, she was kinda quiet. I don’t think I talked that much, though.”
Hannah snorted as she reached for the blunt from Paige’s hand. “Well, all you’d done together until that point was hunch. Sounds like she didn’t know she was messing with a yapaholic.”
“Can’t blame her,” Katelyn agreed.
Paige chuckled and scrolled through her Spotify library as Jackson tried to defend himself. It was always a given that she’d have aux privileges, but with the honor of having a widely-respected music taste came a slight pressure to curate the perfect soundtrack for the moment. She paused as she passed every track, swiping right to add only the best to the queue.
Destin Conrad got tacked onto the list, and then Don Toliver, then a few Drake songs. She wasn’t feeling Ella Mai, but Emotional Oranges seemed like the right vibe. Paige added her favorites—“Built that Way”, “Good to Me”, “Personal”, “Your Best Friend is a Hater”.
Ironic, she thought to herself. That last one got sent to Azzi.
Open in Spotify: Your Best Friend is a Hater - Emotional Oranges
She kept scrolling—Feid, FKA Twigs, FLO, Frank Ocean, then into the Gs. Another song sent straight to Azzi.
Open in Spotify: None of Ur Friends Business - Ginuwine
A reply rolled in by the time the blunt made its way back to her.
Azzi Fudd: you’re funny
Azzi Fudd: i’ll talk to her
Azzi Fudd: she needs to chill
Paige’s throat bobbed as she brought the blunt to her lips. The offer was sweet, but they needed to be careful.
don’t worry about it
wyd how was dinner
“It’s not that you’re a bad guy,” Hannah said with a wave of her hand as Paige passed her the blunt again, still scrolling slowly as she tuned back into the conversation. “You’re very sweet. You’re good-looking. You work out. Got a good job and a nice house. Every box is ticked off.”
Jackson ran a hand through his hair. “So then what?”
“You’re just…” Hannah paused as her lips closed around the blunt. “You’re not great at seeing women.”
“Yes, I am,” Jackson argued. “I think I’m very empathetic.”
Paige shook her head. “Not the same thing. There’s basic respect and reciprocation, and then there’s…”
Her voice trailed off as her phone buzzed in her hand.
Azzi Fudd: otw back to the hotel
Azzi Fudd: dinner was pretty good lol we fucked those burgers uppp
Azzi Fudd: we missed you though
Paige tugged her inner cheek between her teeth to keep her lips from curling, but she was hopeless. Her heart backflipped every time her eyes brushed over that last line.
It felt against the rules—technically, any type of progression was supposed to be on hold at least until Brianna was long gone—but Paige couldn’t deny herself that tiny pleasure. Azzi felt her absence.
“Who got you cheesin’ like that?” Katelyn asked, brows lifted high on her forehead as she sat up in her chair to get a better look at Paige.
“Wait, no way,” Hannah said with a grin. “Oh, my God, she’s blushing. This is gold.”
Paige shrugged, a smile still hidden behind her lips as her shoulders rose and fell. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It is literally our job to worry about you,” Jackson replied, eyes wide with anticipation. “Tell us!”
Paige scanned the intrigue and excitement in her cousins’ faces, then gulped. She trusted them, sure, but this wasn’t the same as some random fling. It was sensitive, more fragile.
She stared out at the dark yard, at the faint outline of the fence she used to climb as a kid. “It’s not serious yet, but there’s… someone. Azzi.”
“Ummm,” Hannah said slowly. She paused, squinting like she was piecing something together. “Your teammate Azzi? The one with a whole wife?”
Katelyn and Jackson just stared, jaws slack and eyes bulging. Paige ran a hand over her face.
“Yeah, they, uh… they split a couple months ago.”
The others went quiet. Not dramatically, just… still. Katelyn took another hit, let the smoke drift out of her mouth, gaze fixed somewhere past the yard. Paige shifted, suddenly aware of the weight of the words hanging between the four of them.
“How long ago?” Jackson asked.
“Not that long,” Paige admitted. “I’ve liked her for a while, and things got… out of control, so I told her, and now we’re—” She stopped herself. “We’re just taking it really, really slow.”
Katelyn nodded once, then again. No one said anything for a minute. Paige waited, anxiety creeping up her spine.
Finally, Hannah shook her head. “Bad idea.”
Paige laughed reflexively. “Geez. Thanks.”
“No, seriously,” Katelyn said quietly, turning toward her. “She’s healing.”
“I know,” Paige replied quickly. “And I’m not pushing. At all. We’re okay.”
Jackson studied her face, as if to try to read between invisible lines. “How long were they together?”
Paige hesitated. “Like… eight years.”
Jackson leaned back, eyes squeezed together. “So she’s never really been alone, has she?”
Paige’s chest tightened. “I mean—”
“Jesus, P,” Hannah muttered with another shake of her head. “You’re a rebound.”
The words landed harder than Paige expected. She scoffed lightly, trying to brush it off, but it hurt like it was true. Maybe it was.
Jackson sighed, softer now. “I mean, we’ve established that maybe I’m not the most qualified to be giving dating advice. But from what this looks like… you need to watch out before you become part of her healing, not her future.”
The words sunk in slowly, like a weight settling in her stomach. Somehow, the thought of being nothing more than a stepping stone in Azzi’s development stung harder now than it did before, back when it was only a “what-if”. To have her, to know her, to love her—but only temporarily—sounded like Paige’s personal hell.
“That’s not fair,” she said quietly.
“It’s not,” Hannah agreed. “But he’s right.”
Paige stared at her hands, fingers laced together. “So, what, I just give her more space? At that point, what are we even doing?”
“Not necessarily,” Jackson replied. “You don’t have to punish her, or yourself, or push her away or anything. Just protect yourself.”
“You gotta let her actually establish feelings for you,” Katelyn added, fingers combing loosely through her long, dark hair. “It kinda looks like she just lost someone and jumped at the next girl that came her way. Just be careful.”
“She’s not using me,” Paige said with less certainty than she’d planned to.
Jackson shrugged. “We’re just saying she might not even know what she’s doing yet, and honestly it doesn’t really matter either way. You’ll still get hurt if things go wrong.”
Paige hated how much sense they were making, hated that the implication of Azzi being disingenuous or truly blinded by her pain wasn’t too far of a reach. She yearned to reject it, to shut it all down, but truthfully, it was hard to be certain about what exactly had been going through Azzi’s head since the start of whatever this was.
She exhaled slowly, head still buzzing even with Jackson hogging the blunt. “I just don’t wanna lose her,” she said softly.
Hannah let her frown soften. “Letting her actually like you is how you don’t.”
Paige stared out at the yard again, memories layered over the lawn—childhood, family, safety. She thought about space. About distance. About how hard it was to want something and not reach for it immediately.
She leaned her head back, eyes closing for just a second. Something shifted—not resolve, not certainty, but more like awareness that they were right. That knowing that didn’t make it easier, it just made it real.
She tapped her phone screen twice and let herself stare at that message again, let herself really contemplate what it meant or didn’t mean. The we stuck out most of all. Had someone else reminded her that Paige was missing? Something? Maybe just a random realization that the moment wasn’t whole? Or did Azzi actually feel something when they were together that left her hungry when they separated?
who missed me? she texted back.
They sat there for a minute, just existing and puffing and passing in the not-so-silent yard. Paige leaned back on her hands, head tilted toward the sky. It felt restorative to be away from the noise and the expectations, just her and three people who’d known her since she was a kid tripping over her own feet in the same overgrown grass.
Her phone vibrated again.
Azzi Fudd: i did
Azzi Fudd: do*
That was more like it.
well in that case, i missed you too, Paige typed.
miss*
—----------
Azzi’s POV
Seattle hadn’t quite gone as planned.
It wasn’t clear what specifically went wrong this time. The last matchup had been an easy win, and Azzi’s statline was almost identical in both games, but the team’s energy was off again. DiJonai fouled out in the third quarter. Arike’s shots stopped falling again. A win slipped out of reach early on and never returned to their grasp.
Azzi left the court with a heaviness on her shoulders that clung to her like a magnet. She knew better than to write a single loss off as an off-night or a one-time thing, but it was getting exhausting to carry the weight of the team’s revival on her back time and time again. No one had burdened her with it, but no one else could carry it, either. This was her team. When people saw Dallas, they saw Azzi.
She slid into the conference room, flashing coach a tight smile as she passed behind him into the next seat.
“Maddy?” he asked.
Azzi shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in a minute.”
Coach sighed, flipping his wrist over to check his watch. “Who can be here in the next two minutes?”
“Ummm,” Azzi hummed. “Haley, Paige, Lyss, Zaza…”
“Paige’ll do,” Coach replied as he took a look at the stat sheet. “Shoot her a text for me, please.”
Azzi nodded, a small wave of ease coming over her as she found Paige’s name at the top of her messages. She’d stared at that last text for way too long last night and her heart still fluttered at the sight of it. It added a softer glow to their interactions today, too—not fluffy enough to turn heads or raise brows, but gentler in a way that only they understood. Deeper.
coach wants you for media, Azzi texted.
A minute later, Paige jogged through the doorway and around the table to take a seat on the other side of Azzi.
“Thanks, P,” Coach said with a nod before turning to the reporters. “We’re good to get started. Thanks for your patience.”
“No problem,” a woman in the front replied. “Gia Porter, ESPN. Azzi and Paige, can you both tell me a little about what this fourth loss feels like as we move towards wrapping the season up?”
Paige nodded slowly. “Yeah, um… it’s not ideal, obviously. We’ve pretty much been a powerhouse all summer, so it’s definitely discouraging even if this setback isn’t huge in the grand scheme of things, but we’re all taking note of how we can learn and improve as these mistakes build up.”
“Thank you,” Gia replied. “Azzi?”
Azzi let the question settle in for a moment longer. “It’s definitely more nerve wracking as playoffs get closer and closer,” she began, her eyes fixed on the sheet in front of her. “We haven’t been the best on defense lately and that’s not something we can ever afford to slack in, but especially not once September rolls around. We’ve all got our things that we’re working on, though, and all that matters is that we keep ourselves accountable and work hard from this point on.”
Gia nodded and stepped aside.
“Hi,” said the tall, dark-haired man next to her. “Rhett Stevens. I’m with Fox Sports. Azzi, we know you’ve been working your way back up after a brief leave of absence earlier this season and you had an incredible game tonight with 24 points. What was that process like and how does it feel to have bounced back?”
Azzi pursed her lips. “I think it’s just been a matter of time, really. I honestly haven’t been as intentional as I normally try to be when it comes to training and preparing outside of practice, just because there’s… a lot going on in my personal life.”
Her voice shrunk as she reached the end of her sentence. She squinted at something in the distance, trying to appear as though she was thinking hard about what came next, but really she just needed a second to recalibrate. The question had been simple, but it did mark the start of something Azzi knew she wasn’t ready to take on. She wouldn’t be able to keep work and home separate for too much longer.
A hand grazed her thigh then. It startled her a bit, but Azzi didn’t jump. She kept her face steady, her breathing level, let herself melt under the warm touch on her skin and the support she hadn’t known she’d needed.
Paige rested her palm flat against Azzi’s leg, then squeezed gently. Her touch spoke when her words couldn’t. I got you.
Azzi sucked in a short breath through her nose. “It’s just taken a lot of patience, honestly. It’s been a pretty gradual incline to get back to feeling my best on the court, but it definitely feels good to be back.”
“Great. Thank you,” Rhett said as he turned the floor over to the next reporter.
“Good evening,” she began as she stepped up to the mic. “Lina Gardner, CBS. Paige, you came in at six assists tonight, five of which were to Azzi. We’ve seen your chemistry together really take off over the past few weeks, and you two are such a fun, electric duo to watch. What’s that been like on your end?”
Azzi didn’t move, or turn, but she felt it—the soft pressure of Paige’s hand on her thigh again, a quiet reassurance under the table. Another squeeze, warm and firm. Another buzz along her leg.
“I mean, it doesn’t get much better than Azzi Fudd,” Paige responded. “My job is just to find her. She’s the one that makes the magic happen when I do.”
“Thanks, Paige,” Lina replied with a chuckle before her eyes flicked to Azzi. “Azzi? Anything you wanted to add?”
“Yes, actually,” Azzi replied before she could second-guess herself. “She gives me way too much credit.”
She could feel Paige glancing at her now, but she didn’t look. Her gaze stayed forward, steady.
“Paige is amazing,” she continued, and this time her voice dropped just slightly. “And she’s been super helpful these past few weeks, but she’s also just incredible on her own. Like, when it comes to setting the right tempo for us to play to, that’s all her. She’s calm, she’s smart, and it’s insane how well she reads the floor and sets us up to be great.”
Azzi took a breath. She hadn’t meant to say that much, but the words kept coming. A pause followed, brief but charged, before Lina gave a polite nod and stepped aside. The next question came, then the next, but Azzi’s focus had already shifted. Her words still echoed faintly in her ears, and she wasn’t sure what landed heavier: the truth of them, or what it meant that her chemistry with Paige had been building in more ways than one. That others could already see it.
Chairs scraped back once the session ended, people whose names Azzi already couldn’t remember filtering out through the narrow doorway. Coach left first, pausing by the door to talk to someone he recognized, then Azzi, and then Paige followed her out.
They walked side by side down the hallway, the echo of postgame chatter trickling from the locker room ahead. Azzi kept her gaze forward but she felt Paige close beside her, arms brushing briefly every now and then as they walked in sync.
“You okay?” Paige asked softly. “That one question kinda came outta nowhere.”
Azzi went quiet for a moment. Her thoughts were still tangled from earlier—the game, the question, the subtle touch under the table. The weight of being the face of the team. And Paige—always Paige—like a constant rhythm beating underneath it all.
“Yeah,” she said eventually, her tone quieter than usual. “Just caught me off guard. But I’m fine.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it did feel a bit oversimplified. Paige nodded, hands tucked into her pockets, eyes scanning Azzi’s face, but she didn’t push.
They reached the locker room just as a burst of laughter exploded from inside. The music had gotten louder, some bass-heavy rap song thumping through the walls as NaLyssa belted the lyrics out—off-key, as usual—and someone groaned in response.
Haley was mid-rant when Paige pushed the door open, sitting in a chair with her hands in the air as she retold the story of the screen that had launched her into orbit earlier. “I swear to God, I levitated. Ask Nai. I was airborne for, like, three whole seconds.”
“No, like, she was literally horizontal,” DiJonai confirmed from across the room as she pulled a t-shirt over her head. “Like a fucking Looney Tune.”
Azzi stepped inside behind Paige and the door swung shut with a soft click, sealing them back into the world that belonged only to the team. A part of her still felt the press of Paige’s palm on her thigh, though, and it stayed there long after the room swallowed them up.
—----------
Azzi reached straight for her phone when she stepped through her front door later that night. She didn’t bother to drag her suitcase down the hall or even pull off her shoes. She hit Paige’s name before the door had even clicked shut behind her.
“Hey,” Paige answered on the third ring, her voice warm and a little tired. “You okay?”
Azzi exhaled through her nose, still leaned against the front door, and closed her eyes. “What, I can’t just call you?” she teased.
“You can,” Paige replied, voice low and casual. “Just making sure. You at home?”
Azzi let her bag slide off her shoulder and onto the floor before heading into the kitchen. She flicked on the overhead light, setting her phone to speaker and leaving it on the counter while she opened the fridge.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, peering in and quickly closing it again when nothing looked edible. “Just walked in.”
“Me, too,” Paige said, a keychain rustling faintly on her end. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Azzi leaned her elbows on the counter and rubbed a hand down her face. “I’m gonna go look at some cars, I think,” she answered through a yawn. “Bri moves out pretty soon and I’m really not tryna be stranded here.”
There was a short pause, and then Paige laughed. The sound tugged something loose in Azzi’s chest.
“Good call. What have you been looking at?”
Azzi moved toward the couch, the phone back in her hand, and curled into the corner. “I’m gonna shop around a little, but I kinda want a Volvo. I like the XC40.”
“Volvos are good,” Paige replied. “Safe.”
Azzi smiled to herself, staring out of the dark window across the room. “Yeah, I can’t take any chances given my, uh… history,” she said—half-joking, but her voice softened near the end. She sank deeper into the couch, tucking her knees up to her chest as her thumb brushed along the edge of her phone. “What about you? You got any plans?”
“Not really.” Azzi could hear her shifting in the background, maybe flopping down onto her own couch or stretching out on her bed. “I’ll probably work out in the morning and then just chill at home.”
Azzi scoffed gently. “You’re better than me. First day off after back-to-back games? I’m sleeping in.”
Paige laughed. “Nah, my body doesn’t let me sleep past eight.”
Azzi could picture it perfectly—Paige wide awake at some ungodly hour of the morning, already halfway through a book, sipping black coffee or a green smoothie on her way to the gym. “You’re ridiculous,” she said fondly.
“But,” Paige added, her voice sliding into something a little bit lighter, “let me know when you’re free tomorrow. We can grab dinner or something.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I’m telling you,” Paige said, no hesitation at all. “I’m taking you out.”
That earned a sharp laugh from Azzi, but it wasn’t sarcastic. It was warm, caught off guard. “You’re moving like we didn’t agree to keep it slow two days ago.”
“Nothing fast about two friends going out to eat,” Paige argued. Azzi could practically hear the smirk behind her words. “You just let me know. I’ll pick you up.”
Azzi bit the inside of her cheek. Her heart felt lighter now—less weighed down by the game, the presser, the season, the pressure. It wasn’t gone, but Paige had a way of quieting it.
“If you say s—”
Azzi slid her phone from her ear as a series of quick beeps interrupted the line. She squinted down at the screen, confused for a beat before the caller ID lit up.
Incoming Call: Brianna Carrasco <3
Her stomach gave a subtle, reflexive flip. Not in the old way, but her body still stiffened like she needed an extra second to process.
“Um…” she said, her voice hitching as her eyes stayed fixed on the glow of the screen. “Let me put you on hold for, like, two minutes. Bri’s calling me.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Yeah,” Paige said eventually, her tone even but noticeably… different. “Yeah, of course. You should take care of that.”
Azzi exhaled, her fingers already hovering over the screen. “Thank you. Two minutes.”
“Two minutes,” Paige echoed, quieter now.
Azzi tapped the screen to switch lines, her phone warming in her hand. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank God,” Brianna’s voice burst through. “I’m so sorry. I’m at an event for work and Marissa gave me a ride, but her sitter had a family emergency so she had to leave and I told her I’d get an Uber but the service here sucks and no one else was picking up and—”
“It’s fine,” Azzi interrupted. “I’ll come get you. Where are you at?”
“The Hyatt Regency,” Brianna said, still a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”
Azzi was already typing the hotel name into her GPS, her thumb flying over the keyboard. “It’s fine,” she repeated. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end, and then a relieved, apologetic sigh. “Thanks,” Brianna murmured.
“Yup,” Azzi replied, her tone sharp but not unkind.
Her eyes flicked to the screen again, to the “On Hold” banner at the top. Paige was still there, still waiting. Azzi ended the call with Brianna, the line clicking softly as it switched back.
“Hey,” she said, reaching for the keys from the hook by the entryway. “She’s okay. She just needs a ride back from a work thing.”
“Mmm,” Paige hummed. The sound was neutral, but not completely effortless. “You’re picking her up?”
“Yeah,” Azzi replied as she stepped out and walked toward the elevator. “I’m leaving now.”
Another pause on the line. A real one, this time—not just a beat, but a space that hung there long enough that Azzi felt its weight.
“Okay,” Paige said finally. “Be careful. It’s late.”
“I will,” Azzi assured her.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding and Azzi stepped inside. She leaned her shoulder against the mirrored wall, the phone still pressed between her ear and her shoulder and her keys jingling softly in her hand.
Silence stretched between them again, but Azzi didn’t move to fill it. She wanted to, but something in her told her to wait.
“I’m gonna go to sleep,” Paige said suddenly. “Good night.”
Azzi blinked, thrown by how fast it came. Something about the way Paige said it felt incomplete. Not cold, or deliberately harsh, but quick. Like she wanted to end the call to keep something else from slipping through.
Azzi frowned, a crease forming between her brows.
“Good night,” she said back, but her voice was uncertain. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Paige replied dryly. “Just tired.”
Azzi almost asked again. It sat on the tip of her tongue, so close to slipping out that she could almost hear it. But Paige didn’t give her the space. Her tone had flattened in that way that didn’t leave enough space for a closed door to reopen.
So Azzi let it go.
“Okay,” she said instead, softer now. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“See you.”
The line went quiet, just a quick click, and then… silence.
Azzi stared at her phone for a second longer, the dark screen reflecting a distorted version of her face, before turning it over and tucking it into her pocket. Her movements were slow and reluctant, like she was leaving something unfinished behind.
She stepped out into the parking garage as the doors shut behind her. The air was cool and damp, thick with the scent of wet concrete and motor oil and car exhaust. Her footsteps echoed off the ceiling, the only sound aside from the distant hum of a fan somewhere overhead until she reached her car and slid into the driver’s seat.
Azzi didn’t start the engine immediately. She sat there in the stillness, hands resting at ten and two like she was bracing for something.
Just tired, Paige had said in that unusual, expressionless tone.
Something about it didn’t sit right. The suddenness of her exit, the shift in her voice after Brianna’s name came up. It dropped like a cold breeze in the middle of a warm room.
Azzi let out a slow breath through her nose and finally turned the key. The engine rumbled to life, headlights drawing out long streaks across the concrete walls before she pulled out of the garage. She turned into the muted darkness of the city in silence.
Her mind kept circling back for the next twenty minutes, looping Paige’s voice over and over in her memory—the hesitation, the pause, the way her tone had lowered not in exhaustion, but in withdrawal. If she was upset, or jealous, or uncomfortable, clearly she hadn’t wanted Azzi to know. And that was scary. Azzi knew better than to invent problems where there weren’t any, but she also knew how to read between the lines. And something in Paige’s goodbye wasn’t… right.
Azzi pulled into the circular drive at the front of the hotel, headlights streaking across the wide glass entrance and the potted plants near the revolving door. The lobby inside glowed a soft, warm gold—too bright, too sterile to feel welcoming at that hour. A valet stood near the front desk, half-asleep against his podium, but no one else lingered outside.
She eased the car into a spot just off to the side of the loading zone and shifted the car into park, her fingers already reaching for her phone.
i’m here, she typed. She paused for a second, watching the cursor flicker in the message field before hitting send.
The light from the dashboard light washed her face in a dull blue as she leaned back against the seat and glanced toward the front doors. No sign of Brianna yet.
Azzi let her phone fall into her lap and drummed her fingers lightly against the wheel, the murmur of a late-night radio ad playing so softly that she hadn’t even registered it until then. She leaned her head back against the seat and her eyes drifted toward the hotel’s entrance again. The lobby doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and two women stepped out into the night with their heels clicking softly against the pavement as they made their way to a bench.
“He’s around the corner,” Azzi heard one of them say to the other through an open window. “Two minutes, it says.”
She half-listened, not expecting to care, but out of the corner of her eye, something about the woman’s profile pulled at her attention. She turned, squinting under the exterior lights. The woman’s face did look familiar—something about her dark skin, and her soft eyes, and the way her head tilted when she laughed.
But Azzi couldn’t place it. A teammate’s friend, maybe? A superfan? Someone she knew from college? Whatever it was, it didn’t stick.
She shrugged it off and turned her attention back to her phone. She tapped the screen. Still no reply from Brianna.
Worse, actually. Her message hadn’t even delivered.
Azzi frowned and checked her service, toggling the internet on and off, but nothing changed. She hit the phone icon at the top of the thread and raised the phone to her ear, only to hear the silence of a failed connection before it cut to voicemail.
With a tired sigh, she dropped the phone back onto her lap and sat back again. She wasn’t about to go chasing Brianna through a hotel at almost midnight unless she absolutely had to. She could give it a few more minutes.
“Which one is that again?” one of the women on the bench asked, catching Azzi’s attention out of boredom and not interest.
“The one from Hinge,” the familiar one replied, exasperation in her voice. “I asked if she wanted to hang out and she said she wanted to go bowling. Who even goes bowling anymore?”
“There’s no way,” the other woman laughed. “Whatever happened to Miss Tall, Hot, and Blonde?”
That question made something in Azzi sharpen. She kept her head facing forward, eyes on the lobby doors, but her ears caught every word.
“Who, the basketball player?” a voice replied.
Azzi blinked. Her posture straightened a bit, but her attention snapped fully to the conversation. She didn’t dare turn her head, didn’t want to make it obvious she was listening, but now she was intrigued.
“Long gone,” the woman went on. “Incredible in bed, but she couldn’t commit for shit.”
The other woman laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. “Sounds about right,” she said as an SUV turned the corner.
They both rose from the bench at once, their laughter fading as they stepped toward the curb. “I’m too old to keep playing games with people who aren’t gonna stick around,” said the woman Azzi recognized. “I’m trying to find my wife, you know? I don’t know if Anaya Bueckers really flows like that.”
The other girl made a soft sound of agreement, her exact words inaudible as she slid into the car.
And then, before the door slammed shut with a dull thunk, “I wouldn’t be mad at a relapse, though. That strap was… an out of body experience.”
The color drained from Azzi’s face, pieces clicking together as she watched the car pull out of the loop. Now that her brain was catching up, she did recognize the girl. The dark hair, the laugh… that was Anaya. The one Paige had been kinda sorta with for weeks until Azzi gave her the green light.
Azzi slumped back in her seat, eyes pressed shut, fingers slowly curling around the steering wheel again. She let out a slow, stunned breath as her mind began to spin so much it hurt. Anaya’s words had lodged themselves deep—the comment about Paige not being able to commit, especially, since that was her fault. She was on Paige’s mind.
She also hadn’t really thought about Paige like that before, but she couldn’t unhear Anaya’s graphic retelling of Paige in the bedroom and now the mental image was unavoidable. The kind of image that made her shift in her seat without meaning to, legs pressing together subconsciously. Suddenly, she had a million more questions than she did five minutes ago—about Paige, about what it would be like if the distance they’d agreed to keep between them were to ever close.
“Azzi.”
Azzi whipped her head to the right. Brianna offered a quick smile, her hand gripping the handle of the locked car.
“Hey,” Azzi said as she reached for the controls on her door. “Sorry.”
Brianna pulled the door open, setting her clutch down in the center console as she stepped inside carefully. “No, it’s okay. Thank you again. I didn’t mean to drag you out this late.”
She looked… good. Too good. The sequined blue dress she was wearing caught the light from every angle, hugging her in places that used to feel familiar. Azzi’s eyes snagged on the sight before she could stop herself, tracing lines and curves she’d once known by heart. It was automatic. Habitual. Thoughtless.
She caught herself and forced her gaze up to the dashboard, clearing her throat as Brianna leaned her head back against the headrest.
“So,” Azzi said casually as she pulled away from the curb, “what was the event for?”
“Oh,” Brianna replied, settling back with a sigh. “Um, it was this benefit gala thing for the peds unit and pediatric cancer research. They invited the whole team, plus some of the researchers who are getting grants from the funds raised.”
Azzi nodded, eyes on the road. “Nice.”
“Yeah. Long speeches, tiny little desserts that all tasted the same, bad champagne,” Brianna added with a quick laugh. “You didn’t miss much.”
Azzi realized she couldn’t even remember what Anaya did for work, if she’d ever been told at all. Something medical-adjacent? Maybe she was there as a plus-one? The gala explanation brushed up against that thought and then quickly slid past it, unimportant compared to the way jealousy had begun to bloom in her chest.
It surprised her with its sharpness. It didn’t have the same possessive, territorial edge she’d learned to recognize and manage when Brianna was done-up and in the gaze of every greasy man in a five-mile radius, but it was something quieter, more invasive. Like curiosity threaded with insecurity. It made her stomach tighten to imagine Paige with someone else, and she immediately hated herself for imagining it in such detail.
She wasn’t jealous of Anaya, exactly. She didn’t necessarily hate Paige’s past, didn’t resent that it existed. But the ease Anaya had spoken about Paige with—like she was still an option, still an experience worth revisiting—stuck under Azzi’s skin.
It wasn’t abstract. It was real, and tangible. Someone else had known Paige in ways Azzi hadn’t yet. Someone else had touched her, and impressed her, and laughed with her, and slept with her.
Azzi told herself it didn’t matter, that what Paige chose now mattered more than what she’d walked away from. But jealousy didn’t give a shit about logic. It just sat there, low and persistent and unreachable, buzzing under her ribs and asking questions she wasn’t sure she was ready to answer. At least not quite yet.
By the time she’d made it back home and crawled into bed in the clothes she’d been too tired to change out of, the information Anaya had left her with wasn’t any further from the very front of Azzi’s mind. She couldn’t let her thoughts settle on anything but Paige—her sudden good-bye, her hesitance and withdrawal with Anaya, details about her past that Azzi definitely wasn’t supposed to know.
That last part stuck with her more than she would’ve liked. She replayed moments she’d never actually seen before, the main characters constant while little details shifted with every loop. Her curiosity felt wrong, but she couldn’t turn it off.
Deep down, she knew the truth. She didn’t want to.
She wondered what Anaya had felt that first night—their first conversations, her first moments as the object of Paige’s attention. Azzi pictured Paige eyeing Anaya down, wanting her, taking her home, touching her, fucking her, making her feel things that she still craved.
Azzi’s thighs clenched again. She imagined herself lying on her back in a bed she didn’t recognize—at least not yet—with blond hair hanging in front of her face as warm silicone thrust in and out of her. She imagined strong hands holding her steady, warm breath whispering sweet nothings into her ear, blue eyes looking down at her with lust and need and adoration that belonged to no one else.
Her hand slipped below her waistband before she could hold herself back. She slid a finger under the hem of her boxers, let it graze the sensitive nub tucked between the top of her folds. Her touch wasn’t met with friction. Too much wetness had collected there.
Azzi reached down lower after a moment, to the opening just an inch south. She eased her middle finger in, then her ring finger, and worked up to a slow, even motion. She squeezed her eyes shut, imagining herself clenching around Paige instead of herself. Her breaths grew ragged quickly, her heart thumping faster at the fantasy she continued to build—Paige’s body, Paige’s hands, Paige’s eyes, Paige’s mouth, Paige’s dick.
She curled her fingers enough to feel the pressure of the ridged walls around them closing in tighter and tighter, her arousal sending muffled squelches through the room. A groan made it past her lips, low and uncontrollable, at the buildup of pleasure already cascading through her bloodstream. Her lips parted, her face twisting into a desperate pout as she drifted towards her climax.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she moaned quietly as she came, in both awe and disgust of the dark, dangerous place her imagination had taken her. “Paige.”
just a reminder
Thunderstruck- Chapter 2
A/N: Well y'all... I lied. Cranked this out between UCONN and USWNT games. Definitely on the short side but hope the smut makes up for it. Now I for real will be taking a mini break from posting updates for both Thunder and HU because I have to do midterm projects. And I'm fucking terrified for NFC Championship tomorrow. FML.
WC: 7.2K
Content Warning: Language, sexual content 18+
Hey guys, sorry ive been ghost for a while. I just went through my messages, i hope i invited everyone to the community who asked, if i missed u im so sorry just send me another message :)
can i please get let in the community🙏🙏
message me :)