Momma Fudd 35

Gonna write fics for wbb mainly paige and Azzi

[mommafudd]

✨Master list✨

Series:

Delivery for love?

Reversed

(Discontinued..) don’t hate me:(

(Chapter 1), (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3),

One shots!

[azzidefender]

honey bee ꫂ❁

paige bueckers x azzi fudd — 10.9k words

4 times Azzi related to song ‘honey bee’ by olivia rodrigo and 1 time Paige did too.

i don’t know how to explain this, but when i first heard this song. i immediately thought of paige in azzi’s POV. please watch the visualizer’s before reading here : one and two

content warning! : emotional vulnerability, overwhelming feelings, relationship anxiety, fear of loss, hurt/comfort, the feeling of loving someone so deeply and intense it saddens you sometimes, but in the absolute best possible way. happy ending obviously.

anyways, happy reading loves & tell me your thoughts as always 💭💝

—。Presented and written by, azzidefender. (unedited.)

ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶

connenicut, 2022.

— pick me up, walk me home. would you sit and keep me company?

“azzi, what’s gotten into you? you never drink this much.” caroline frowned, quickly reaching over to stop her best friend from taking a sixth shot. she caught the glass in her palm and pulled it out of the curly brunette’s reach, who was already more than drunk, her glazed eyes and unsteady movements making that painfully obvious.

“carolll, give it to me. m’fine, promiseee.” azzi whined, clumsily reaching for the shot in caroline’s outstretched hand. her movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, nearly stumbling into her best friend in the process. unsurprisingly, the older woman didn’t budge, keeping the glass well out of her reach.

“no, you’re not, az. you’re gonna be sick tomorrow if you have another shot. and we have practice. you never drink the night before practice—especially not this much.” caroline frowned, her brows knitting together as she searched her best friend’s face for an explanation. this wasn’t like azzi at all. she was usually the responsible one, always knowing when to let loose and when to call it a night. seeing her this reckless only made her more concerned.

then it clicked.

“is this because of paige?” the older asked carefully.

the moment the name left her lips, azzi froze, the playful haze on her face faltering for just a second.

jackpot.

“what?” the younger scoffed, her brows furrowing as she looked away. “no. why would it be about paige…?” she replied, though the slight pitch in her voice gave her away, making the denial sound far less convincing than she’d hoped.

“azzi.”

“it’s not about paige, carol.”

“well, the only time you drink this much is when you’re either having a bad game, got a bad grade, or had a fight with paige. so which is it? ‘cause i know it’s not the first two.” caroline said, her eyes fixed on the younger, already knowing she was about to hit a nerve.

“we didn’t fight!”

“but it is about her, right?”

azzi fell silent. her breath hitched as she desperately tried to swallow the sob clawing its way up her throat. a tear slipped free before she could stop it, then another. her lips quivered, trembling under the weight of everything she’d been trying so hard to keep inside, but no matter how tightly she pressed them together, the tears kept falling.

caroline’s expression softened instantly. without another word, she opened her arms and pulled the younger into a tight embrace. “oh, baby…” she murmured, rubbing slow circles against azzi’s back as the younger finally let out a quiet, broken sob into her shoulder. “it’s okay, az. shh… it’s okay.”

“i want paige.” was all azzi could manage between broken sobs, the words barely more than a whisper as they dissolved against caroline’s shoulder.

caroline closed her eyes for a moment. she knew exactly what azzi meant. it wasn’t just that she wanted paige there to hold her together. it was the quiet confession hidden beneath those three words. the longing, the ache, the kind of love azzi had spent far too long pretending she didn’t feel for her best friend. and judging by the way she was falling apart now, it was a secret she couldn’t carry much longer.

“i know, sweetie… i know,” caroline soothed, gently carding her fingers through azzi’s hair. “i’ll call her and have her come pick you up right now, okay?”

but once again, azzi shook her head. “no…” she mumbled, her voice cracking. “she’s sleeping, don’t wanna bother her.” another shaky breath escaped her. “she needs her sleep, she was tired today.”

“babe, it’s paige.” caroline let out a small, knowing chuckle, brushing a few curls away from azzi’s damp face. “she probably hasn’t even gone to sleep yet, knowing you’re still at ted’s.” she smiled softly before adding, “did you know she texted every single one of us tonight? told us to keep an eye on you since she couldn’t be here herself. she’s probably gonna kill me, finding out you’re crying.”

that finally coaxed a small, breathy laugh out of azzi. it came through the remnants of her tears, the sound shaky but genuine, as her crying slowly began to subside. caroline smiled at the tiny victory, gently wiping a tear from the younger’s cheek.

“i’ll text her, yeah?” she asked softly.

azzi lifted her head from caroline’s shoulder, her eyes still glossy and swollen from crying, before giving a small, hesitant nod.

caroline : paige come pick ur girl up rn. ASAP.

paige : what happened? is azzi okay?

paige : and why is she not replying to my text.

caroline : azzi’s drunk and

paige : and?

caroline : she’s crying.

paige : otw.

paige : i told you guys to fucking look after her.

caroline : you’ll take that back once you know the reason she’s crying.

paige : how drunk we talkin’?

caroline : five shots, she tried for six. but i stopped her before she could.

paige : jesus, we have practice tomorrow carol.

caroline : just shut up and drive paige, she needs you.

paige : be there in less than 5

caroline : you’ve been driving this whole time??!

azzi was sitting alone on the curb outside when paige finally found her. her knees were pulled tightly to her chest, her chin resting against them as streaks of smeared mascara stained her cheeks. she looked so small, so unlike herself, that paige’s heart sank the moment she saw her.

“hey, baby…” paige called softly.

the younger slowly lifted her head at the sound of the familiar voice. her red, puffy eyes met paige’s, and whatever strength she’d been clinging to disappeared.

“p…” she whispered sadly, lifting her arms without hesitation, silently asking for the comfort she’d been waiting for.

paige didn’t waste a second. instinct took over as she hurried toward her, crouching down before wrapping both arms tightly around the younger, pulling her against her chest as if she could shield her from everything all at once.

“why are you all alone, princess?” paige murmured, one hand rubbing slow circles against azzi’s back while the other cradled the back of her head. “where’s everyone?”

her voice was impossibly gentle, but azzi knew her too well. beneath the tenderness was the unmistakable edge of anger—not directed at her, but at the mere thought that her teammates had left her sitting outside in this state, drunk and crying by herself.

“i told them to go inside when they saw your car pull up.” azzi let out a watery laugh, nestling herself deeper into the blonde’s shoulder. “they looked absolutely mortified to face you.”

paige couldn’t help but smile, letting out a quiet huff of amusement.

“good call.”

they stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the silence neither of them felt the need to fill. paige held her until azzi’s breathing finally evened out, until the sobs had faded into the occasional shaky sniffle.

after a few more minutes, azzi was the one who slowly pulled away, wiping beneath her eyes with the sleeve of paige’s hoodie which the older only reply with a chuckle.

paige didn’t let the distance feel like distance. she simply lowered herself onto the curb beside her, their shoulders brushing as they sat side by side beneath the quiet night.

“you didn’t sleep? you had a long day today…” azzi murmured, resting her forearms over her bent knees as she turned to look at her best friend from the corner of her eye.

paige met her gaze, the corners of her lips lifting into a small, tired smile. “i tried,” she admitted with a quiet shrug. “but i couldn’t, knowing you were still out here.” her smile softened as she gently nudged azzi’s shoulder with her own. “can’t sleep without my cuddle partner.”

azzi smiled sadly, “you’re ridiculous.” and that was exactly why her heart ached.

paige said things like that so casually, as if calling her my cuddle partner was the most normal thing in the world. she’d hold her close, fuss over her, make her feel like the center of her universe… and then neither of them would say the one thing that mattered.

they danced around it so often that somewhere along the way, it had become normal. two people hopelessly in love, pretending there wasn’t anything to confess because neither one was brave enough to risk what they already had.

and azzi was so fucking sick of it.

and paige knew it, because she was sick of it too.

“wanna talk about it, az?”

of course paige already knew what was weighing on her. of course she did.

azzi turned to look at her, her gaze quietly sinking into the crystal blue eyes she’d been hopelessly fond of since she was fifteen. for a long moment, neither of them spoke. the silence wasn’t awkward, it never was with them.

paige simply waited, patiently.

which was almost laughable, considering patience had never been one of paige’s virtues. she’d always been impulsive, restless, eager. yet somehow, when it came to azzi, she could wait forever if that was what the younger needed.

if that wasn’t enough to tell azzi what she already meant to her, she didn’t know what was.

“tomorrow, p?” azzi finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “when i’m sober.” she swallowed, nerves twisting in her stomach. “promise me… we’ll talk about it?”

there was fear in her eyes—not because she doubted paige would stay, but because she knew that conversation had the power to change everything.

paige didn’t hesitate. “okay.” she nodded gently, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “i promise, baby.”

and just like that, azzi’s heart was hopelessly gone all over again. not that she’d ever had much of it left to begin with.

“ready to go home, princess?” paige asked softly as she rose to her feet, holding out a hand for the younger.

azzi looked up at her.

you’re my home.

the words sat on the tip of her tongue, begging to be spoken, but she swallowed them down before they ever had the chance, maybe tomorrow.

no, she knows it’ll be tomorrow.

“can we take a walk?” she asked instead, slipping her hand into paige’s with a small, tired smile.

paige’s brows immediately pinched together. “you’re drunk, az. can you even walk?” the concern in her voice was impossible to miss. she looked her over like she was already calculating how many times she’d have to catch her before they made it ten feet.

she really should’ve said no.

but this was azzi.

and paige had never quite figured out how to deny her anything.

letting out a defeated sigh, she intertwined their fingers a little tighter. “okay,” she relented. “but the second you can’t hold yourself up for more than three seconds, i’m giving you a piggyback ride. no arguments.”

azzi’s nose scrunched as a soft giggle escaped her.

“deal.”

ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶

connenicut, 2025.

— shooting stars, racing cars, everything i own just feel like ours.

“babe, can you hand me the tape?” the older asked, holding out her hand without looking up from the box she was sealing. across from her, the younger leaned her weight against another cardboard box overflowing with shoes, keeping the flaps shut. this was already the third box dedicated solely to the blonde’s footwear.

“babe?”

“…”

“azzi.”

“huh?” the brunette finally snapped out of her thoughts, turning her head just enough to look at her girlfriend. a faint crease formed between her brows as she blinked. what?

“the tape, az.” paige tipped her chin toward the roll of duct tape lying on the floor beside her, her outstretched hand still hovering expectantly.

“oh, right. sorry.” azzi murmured, quickly reaching down to pick up the roll before placing it into the older woman’s waiting hand.

“what’s with you? you’ve been spacing out a lot today, baby.” paige asked as she pulled a strip of tape across the box, pressing it down even though the cardboard was already bulging at the seams. it was holding together by sheer determination.

when no answer came, she let out a quiet sigh and pushed herself to her feet. brushing the dust from her palms with a couple of light claps, she walked over until she was standing directly in front of her girlfriend, searching her face for whatever had her so lost in thought.

paige followed the brunette’s gaze until it landed on the polaroid board pinned to the wall, one they had put together the year before. after a moment, she realized exactly which photo azzi had been staring at.

“we were so young there...” azzi finally murmured.

she was talking about the picture from her freshman year, when paige was a sophomore. taken during azzi’s very first month at uconn, long before they were girlfriends. but they most definitely had already developed feelings for each other, they were just too dumb and scared to commit to it. and that’s okay, they took their time.

and here they were now.

about to face distance all over again, except this time they weren’t just best friends. that had already been hard enough when paige left for college first, learning to be there for each other through phone calls, late night facetimes, and countdowns until the next visit.

now they were lovers.

and paige was about to be ripped away from her, all the way to dallas, fucking texas.

it wasn’t just a few hours down the road anymore. it was a different life, a different schedule, a different league. the kind of distance that couldn’t be fixed with a spontaneous drive or an afternoon together.

azzi wasn’t scared of falling out of love.

no. not with paige, never.

she was scared of missing the other. she already missed paige and the blonde was still right there, standing only a few feet away from her. close enough to reach out and touch, close enough to kiss, yet somehow already beginning to feel like someone she’d have to ache for.

ridiculous, isn’t it? she felt ridiculous.

“yeah, you were such a baby here,” paige chuckled, stepping closer to the polaroid board. her fingertips brushed gently over the faded picture, a smile tugging at her lips. “you still had your baby fat.” she laughed softly. “look at those cheeks, they were so squishy and cute”

that earned a scrunch of azzi’s nose. “so, i’m not cute anymore?” she pouted.

paige looked down at her, immediately shaking her head with an amused smile. she stepped into the brunette’s space before crouching slightly so they were eye level.

“nah,” she said softly. “still cute.” a smug grin slowly spread across her face. “just add extremely hot, smart and sexy to the list.” she reached up to cup azzi’s cheek, her thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“you’re unbelievable.” azzi scoffed through a smile, unable to hide the warmth creeping onto her face. she shoved paige away with one hand, though not nearly hard enough to create any real distance between them.

“what?” paige asked, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she lifted a shoulder in an innocent shrug. “am i wrong?”

god, azzi loved that lopsided smile of hers. it always felt like it was reserved just for her.

she rolled her eyes, though the fond smile threatening to break across her face gave her away.“no,” she admitted with all the sass she could muster, tapping the older’s cheek softly. “not wrong.”

before paige could get another word in, azzi leaned forward and stole a quick peck from her lips. using paige’s shoulders to steady herself, she pushed herself back to her feet. “c’mon, we still got a lot to pack.”

paige, meanwhile, simply stared up at her like an absolute idiot, all wide eyes and hopeless heart eyes, as if that tiny kiss had completely short-circuited her brain.

another few hours passed. a handful of their teammates had stopped by throughout the afternoon to help paige pack, but by the time the clock crept past nine, most of them had already left.

neither of them had the energy to cook. though, truthfully, they never really did—so they settled on ordering doordash instead. now they sat side by side at the kitchen counter, quietly picking away at their cava bowls, the silence between them easy and familiar.

it wasn’t until azzi’s eyes wandered toward the dorm’s living room that she finally spoke. “what are we gonna do with that?” she nodded toward the shelf lined with paige’s lego sets.

at one point, the blonde had been completely obsessed with building them, which explained why there were so many. some she’d built just for herself, others she’d made with azzi in mind.

azzi’s gaze settled on the bouquet of roses. the very first lego set paige had ever given her.

it had been for their first anniversary. paige had insisted it would make the perfect date night, they’d build it together, then put it on display.

instead, paige had ended up building nearly the entire thing herself while azzi sat comfortably in her lap, providing what she proudly called moral support.

every time paige reached for a new piece, azzi somehow became a little more distracting, resting her head on paige’s shoulder, stealing kisses against her jaw, asking a million questions, and ultimately contributing absolutely nothing to the construction process.

“there were way too many instructions,” azzi had defended herself afterward. paige had only laughed, kissed her forehead, and told her she was lucky she was cute.

then her eyes drifted to her favorite one,

the frozen castle.

the memory came rushing back almost instantly. she’d had an absolutely miserable day. everything had gone wrong, and all she’d wanted was to curl up in bed with paige and pretend the world didn’t exist. instead, paige had disappeared with the team, leaving azzi convinced her girlfriend would rather spend the evening with everyone else than comfort her.

she’d been so mad.

right up until paige walked back through the door.

her arms were overflowing with azzi’s favorite snacks, a ridiculously soft blanket she’d insisted “felt like hugging a cloud” and tucked carefully beneath everything else, the frozen lego set.

only then did azzi find out paige hadn’t gone out to ditch her at all. she’d dragged their teammates around target because she needed help finding everything that might make azzi smile again.

frozen had always been azzi’s ultimate comfort movie. that, and moana (which paige also bought and built for her, after this one) she’d watched it well over a hundred times, and paige had probably been there for at least half of those viewings.

every single time, paige would groan dramatically.“azzi, at this point i’m gonna remember the whole darn script.” and every single time, she’d end up singing every song anyway, grumbling about how much she hated han’s guts.

that night had been no different.

after laying out the snacks and wrapping the blanket around azzi’s shoulders, paige held up the lego box with the biggest grin on her face.

“i’m gonna build this for you.”

azzi remembered staring at her girlfriend, convinced she’d never heard anything so ridiculously and stupidly attractive.

she hadn’t dared say it out loud, though. paige’s ego was already insufferable enough. if she found out azzi was thinking things like that, her head would grow three times bigger than it already was.

instead, she’d smiled so hard her cheeks hurt, watched paige spend the next few hours carefully piecing the castle together, and when it was finally finished, azzi rewarded her with kisses all over her face while declaring it her favorite lego set in the world.

paige had tried to play it cool, but the blush creeping up her neck had given her away. she’d accepted every kiss with a sheepish smile, pretending they weren’t exactly what she’d been hoping for all along.

paige glanced over at the shelf lined with what had to be at least fifteen of her lego sets. there were even more scattered around her room.

she grimaced. “i think i’m gonna leave most of these with jana and kk,” she said. “i built a lot of ‘em with those two anyway. my apartment in dallas definitely isn’t gonna fit all of this.”

she took another bite of her cava bowl before pointing her fork toward azzi. “bht yso hsve to—”

“swallow before you speak, p.”

paige obediently chewed and swallowed, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect. “but you, missy,” she continued, pointing her fork at azzi again, “have to take the ones i built for you back to your dorm. you’ve been procrastinating for months az.”

azzi sulked. “yeah, because i’ve basically been living in your dorm. i’m barely ever at mine.”

paige’s eyes narrowed, her lips flattening into a knowing line. “i think you’re just too lazy to carry them over, babe.” azzi opened her mouth to protest, but paige beat her to it.

“‘sides,” she said, her voice turning absentmindedly casual as she scooped up another bite, “i won’t be here anymore. i want you to have something that reminds you of me.”

…

the words landed far heavier than paige intended.

the knot in azzi’s throat returned so suddenly it caught her off guard. she stared down at her half finished bowl, absentmindedly nudging the rice around with her fork as silence settled between them.

finally, barely above a whisper, she said,

“…but i always remember you.”

it was true. there was never more than a day—hell, not even an hour that went by without azzi thinking about paige.

paige was constant in her mind.

if azzi felt lonely, she looked for paige to keep her company. though more often than not, paige would find her first, barging into her room or wherever she was, just to annoy her before eventually making her laugh.

if she was angry, she looked for paige to calm her down. if she was sad, she looked for paige to hold her until the feeling passed.

if she was sleepy, she looked for paige because somehow sleep always came easier tangled up in the blonde’s arms.

paige.

paigepaigepaige.

her name occupied through every corner of azzi’s mind as naturally as breathing. other than basketball and her family, there was no one else who occupied her heart the way paige did.

not since she’d met paige at fourteen.

and certainly not after her feelings had rooted themselves so deeply inside her. so impossibly, painfully deep that the mere thought of learning to live without paige made her feel sick.

paige was going to be halfway across the country.

she wouldn’t be here anymore. not to hold her. not to annoy her. not to love—

“azzi.”

the brunette blinked, pulled from the spiral of her thoughts, again. when she looked up, paige had already turned on her stool to face her completely, her half eaten dinner forgotten.

one of paige’s hands was gently wrapped around her own. azzi didn’t even remember when the older had placed it there.

“hey, hey. i know that, baby.” paige’s voice softened, her thumb gently stroking the back of azzi’s hand. “i was just teasing you. ‘m sorry if that came out wrong.”

azzi’s gaze dropped to their intertwined hands. she let herself linger there for a few seconds… savoring the feeling.

soon, it’ll be gone.

finally, she looked back up at paige and forced the smallest smile, trying her best to make it seem like she was only mildly annoyed.

“well,” she muttered with a half-hearted glare, “it wasn’t funny p.”

thankfully, paige accepted it without a second thought. she laughed, squeezing azzi’s hand one last time before turning back to her cava bowl.

“i know you’ll never forget about me, princess.” she said between bites. “‘m never gonna let you anyway. i’ll haunt you down if i have to, so you better start answering your phone.”

she pointed her fork at azzi again, for emphasis.

“seriously, az.”

azzi rolled her eyes, with a small “i will.” earning a satisfied grin from paige, and the two quietly went back to eating.

i’ll never let myself do that to you anyway, azzi thought to herself.

or me.

and nine months later?

in the bitter, freezing january winter of connecticut, azzi had stayed true to her word.

the frozen lego set still sat on the shelf above her desk, exactly where she’d placed it months ago, when paige had left.

on the opposite wall hung the pink american flag with her paige’s face printed right across the middle of it. a fan had brought it to one of their games.

before they’d gone public with their relationship, azzi had jokingly asked the fan if she could keep it while she was busy signing it.

she hadn’t expected the fan to actually hand it over. now it hung where azzi could see it every day, her girlfriend’s face staring back at her from the wall.

wrapped in one of paige’s old hoodies that had long since lost her scent, azzi lay flat on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with her phone resting against her chest.

three missed calls.

all from her pinned contact.

p 💗

paige was probably busy with unrivaled now.

it’s fine.

azzi repeated those two words to herself like a mantra, over and over again, hoping that if she said them enough times, she’d finally believe them.

she huffed, her thumb hovering over the screen before opening their message thread.

i miss you.

she typed the three words.

then, she just… stared at them.

delete.

with a defeated sigh, azzi tossed her phone onto the bed beside her and let her arm fall limp at her side.

her eyes drifted to the chipped, aging paint on the ceiling of her dorm room, again. tracing the cracks absentmindedly as silence settled over the space once again. it was once the two of them… laying here together.

after a while, her gaze wandered back to her shelf once again. to the frozen castle. and the tiny olaf standing faithfully in front of it.

do you miss me too?

ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶

dallas, texas 2026.

— in the dark, i’m not scared. i just reach and you’re right there

“azzi fudd the worst number one pick in wnba history.”

“how olivia miles should’ve went number one instead of azzi fudd.”

“azzi fudd going number one has to do with her relationship with her former teammate and romantic partner paige bueckers.”

“azzi fudd starts her wnba career off the bench.”

“a number one pick averaging less than 8 fg attempts, is azzi fudd really worthy the number one pick?”

“worst number one pick rookie debut in wnba history, only scoring 3pts.”

those were just some of the headlines that had managed to flood the internet in less than two weeks of her wnba career. she knew exactly what people were saying about her—not just criticizing her game, but acting as if they knew her as a person, too.

they called her undeserving of being selected first overall, as though she had somehow made the decision herself, when in reality, she had never been given a choice about where, or in what order, her name would be called on draft night.

people think she doesn’t know, simply because she isn’t online as much. but that doesn’t mean she’s unaware. if anything, she’s painfully aware.

she’d seen enough. heard enough.

it would be a lie to say it didn’t sting. not because she believed them, but because their words echoed a version of herself she’d worked so hard to leave behind.

the version of azzi that sat in rehab after tearing her acl, wondering if she’d ever make it back. the one who questioned whether she’d ever be the same player again. whether she’d still be good enough when it was all over.

those doubts had lived in her once, hearing strangers repeat them now was enough to remind her of what that felt like. usually, she was composed. and after her last season at uconn, she gained a good amount of her confidence back.

she’d learned how to keep her head above the noise. the darkest chapter of her life had come years ago, during her injuries. nothing anyone could say online could ever compare to the fear, the uncertainty, and the loneliness she’d carried during those months.

but today, for whatever reason, the words lingered a little longer than they usually did. they found the cracks she’d spent years patching up, whispering the same doubts she’d once buried deep within herself.

“you checked, didn’t you?” paige’s voice cut through the silence, making azzi flinch ever so slightly.

the older woman had just stepped out of the shower, strands of blonde hair still damp, falling into the effortless waves azzi had always adored. leaning against the bathroom doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. dressed in nothing more than an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of boxers. her expression gentle but knowing.

she didn’t need an answer.

the look on azzi’s face had already told her everything.

“i told you not to, az.” paige said quietly, her voice carrying more concern than disappointment. the blonde made her way over to the bed, where azzi was resting against the headboard.

azzi looked, not because she meant to, but because she simply couldn’t help it.

it had been like this ever since she’d arrived. her eyes were always finding paige, stealing lingering glances whenever she wasn’t looking. though, if she was being honest, paige wasn’t much different. she’d caught her doing the exact same thing more times than she could count.

sometimes, it still left her a little lightheaded.

two months ago, she hadn’t known where she’d end up. she hadn’t known what the future held, or if life would somehow find a way to bring her back to the person she’d always called home.

yet here she was. back in paige’s arms, no longer separated by hundreds of miles. the odds of that still felt unbelievable, like the universe tied them back to each other.

paige had changed. not in a bad way, never in a bad way.

she’d grown in all the ways time was supposed to change a person, and a small part of azzi couldn’t help but mourn the eleven months she’d missed. she’d watched from behind a screen as her girlfriend navigated an entirely new chapter, seeing only glimpses through facetime calls and photos she’d send.

she’d grown stronger, too.

her arms were more toned now, her frame filled out with the strength that came from a year of professional basketball. gone was the impossibly skinny girl azzi used to tease, always afraid she’d accidentally crush her whenever they curled up together.

not that she’d loved her any less back then. if anything, she’d loved every version of paige with her whole heart.

the old, the new, the skinny, the stronger paige.

the one who acted like an overgrown kid, and the one who had become a little wiser after a year that had challenged her in every possible way.

every version of her was still paige. her paige.

and every version of paige, didn’t love her any less.

which sometimes made azzi felt undeserving. she wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve a love this unwavering from someone who had known her for so long.

“i can handle it,” azzi said softly.

paige sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, one leg folded beneath her as their thighs brushed together. without a word, she reached for azzi’s hand, intertwining their fingers as if it were second nature.

“i know you can, baby,” paige murmured. her gaze dropped to their joined hands, her thumb absentmindedly tracing over azzi’s knuckles. she clenched her jaw, the frustration she was trying so hard to hide flickering across her face.

“‘just hate the way they talk about you.”

azzi gave the blonde’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “i know.”

another silence settled between them, filled only with the absentminded brushing of thumbs and the gentle fidgeting of intertwined fingers.

“…‘m sorry.”

azzi’s brows knitted together in confusion, “sorry for what, p?”

“for people actin’ like they know us.” paige’s eyes stayed fixed on their joined hands. “like they know what we have.” she let out a quiet breath, shaking her head. “and i’m not sayin’ i regret confirming our relationship—god, no. you know i don’t, az.”

she looked up then, meeting azzi’s eyes. “i’d tell the world a thousand times over if i had to.”

another pause. “i just…” she swallowed, her jaw tightening again. “i fuckin’ hate that they belittle everything you’ve worked your ass off for. every injury you came back from, every accolade you earned because you’re fucking amazing.”

her voice cracked with frustration.

“…and then they just write all of it off because you’re my girlfriend.”

paige scoffed bitterly. “like that’s the only reason people should know your name.”

the blonde’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscle twitched. without thinking, azzi reached up, her fingertips gently brushing against paige’s jaw before her thumb slowly stroked over the tense muscle, silently urging her to relax. “as if you didn’t earn every damn thing on your own.”

“they don’t see how much effort you put into taking care of your body to make sure you’re good to play. they don’t see the extra reps after practice. they don’t see how hard you are on yourself every time you think you could’ve played better.”

another bitter laugh escaped her. “they see one game and suddenly they think they’ve got you all figured out.”

paige squeezed azzi’s hand a little tighter, almost without realizing. “and what pisses me off the most is that they act like everything you’ve accomplished somehow stopped mattering the second they knew we were together.”

she paused, trying to collect herself, but the frustration only seemed to grow. “like being my girlfriend is somehow bigger than you being azzi fudd.”

“that’s bullshit.” paige continued. “you’re one of the hardest working people i’ve ever met, az. you’ve spent your whole life earning your place, and now people wanna reduce all of that to who you’re dating?”

she looked back at azzi, her expression softening despite the anger still lingering in her eyes. “i hate it, ma. i hate it so fucking much. because i know how hard you fought for this… and i hate it even more that people make you question it, even for a second.”

it made something inside azzi loosen, seeing paige like this.

it was funny, really. five minutes ago, she’d let complete strangers occupy so much space in her head. she’d let their words linger longer than they deserved.

but now? they didn’t seem nearly as loud.

not nearly as loud as the love the woman sitting across from her had always shown her.

her mind drifted back to april.

final four. the loss still stung whenever she thought about it. they’d fallen short, and as the team’s leader, azzi had carried more of that weight than she’d ever admitted out loud. she remembered walking through the hotel after the game, exhausted in every sense of the word, convinced she’d let everyone down.

their families had been waiting in the lobby, azzi hadn’t wanted to face them. she knew no one blamed her. logically, she knew that. but disappointment had a way of drowning out logic.

when she found paige, who she hadn’t seen in months, the older girl only needed one look to understand.

instead of bringing her toward everyone else, she’d quietly led her outside to the hotel pool, where it was just the two of them. paige hadn’t filled the silence with empty reassurance or tried to convince azzi everything was okay.

she simply opened her arms.

and, just like she had so many times before, azzi walked into them without a second thought.

she remembered standing there for what felt like forever, her face buried against paige’s shoulder while the older girl rubbed slow circles over her back, letting her say everything she needed to say. every frustration, every doubt and every feeling she’d been trying so hard to keep together since the final buzzer.

by the time they’d gone back inside, nothing about the loss had changed. but somehow, it didn’t feel nearly as heavy anymore.

that was what paige did. she never erased the hard parts, she just made sure azzi never had to carry them alone.

a small smile tugged at the corner of azzi’s lips. before paige could ask what had changed, azzi squeezed both of her hands and gently nudged her backward until her back met the headboard.

“az?” paige asked, her brows still furrowed. “what are you doing?” trying to understand why azzi was smiling in the middle of a conversation that had only moments ago left her feeling so angry on her behalf.

instead of answering, the younger swung one leg over paige’s lap before settling comfortably against her, wrapping both arms around the older woman’s shoulders.

paige stiffened for the briefest second, still caught off guard.

“…baby?” the concern in her voice lingered for another heartbeat before she let out a quiet breath, the tension slowly leaving her shoulders. a small, helpless huff of a laugh escaped her nose, once she realized what azzi was doing. “c’mere.”

her arms instinctively found their way around azzi’s waist, pulling her in until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.

“hi.” paige murmured into her hair.

“hi.”

they stayed like that for a while. azzi rested her cheek against paige’s shoulder, listening to the familiar rhythm of her breathing.

the comments were still out there and the headlines hadn’t disappeared. people would probably keep talking tomorrow. but none of it mattered, not when she was being held like this.

because every time life had managed to shake her confidence— whether it was the acl tear, the final four loss, or now, the beginning of her rookie season. paige had always been there, reminding her who she was before the rest of the world had the chance to tell her otherwise.

and maybe that was enough.

maybe, as long as she had paige… the rest of the world didn’t feel nearly as intimidating.

ྀི︶˚ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶

dallas, texas 2027.

— it’s too hard to describe this, in a way that feels honest. but even when i’m quiet, i love you baby. i promise.

“tell me what’s wrong, az.” paige called after her as they stepped into the apartment.

“nothing.”

“you ignoring me the whole day isn’t nothing.”impatience began to creep into paige’s voice, a slight furrow settling between her brows as she leaned back against the kitchen island, arms folded across her chest.

the younger didn’t answer.

instead, she wandered around the living room, straightening throw pillows that were already perfectly aligned, folding a blanket that didn’t need folding, picking up random things only to put them right back where they’d been. she busied herself with anything she could find, avoiding paige’s eyes as if keeping her hands occupied would somehow keep the conversation from happening.

“bro, just tell me.”

“it’s nothing, paige.”

azzi’s voice came out sharper this time, louder than she’d intended. she kept her back turned, pretending to be engrossed in wiping down an already spotless countertop.

“stop saying it’s nothing.”

“because it is nothing.”

“no, it isn’t.” paige pushed herself off the kitchen island, taking a few slow steps closer. “you’ve barely looked at me all day, you’ve been acting weird since this afternoon, and now you’re practically scrubbing my apartment apart just so you don’t have to talk to me.”

azzi’s shoulders tensed. “drop it, paige.”

azzi heard the blonde let out a slow, measured breath behind her before the quiet sound of footsteps drew closer. without a word, paige gently took the picture frame from azzi’s hands and set it back on the tv stand. then she reached for both of azzi’s hands, carefully turning her until they were face to face.

“baby,” she murmured, her thumbs absentmindedly brushing over azzi’s knuckles. “please… tell me what’s wrong.” her voice was soft now, stripped of the frustration from moments ago.

“don’t wanna’ fight with you.”

azzi’s eyes dropped to where their hands. a quiet, humorless scoff slipped past her lips before she could stop it. the weight of the entire day finally came crashing down.

“oh, so now you want to touch me?”

“…what?” paige’s brows knitted together in puzzlement, her grip loosening ever so slightly. “what are you talking about?”

azzi let out a shaky laugh, one that held no amusement whatsoever.

“now you want to touch me, paige?”

the accusation hung in the air between them, leaving paige completely lost. she searched azzi’s face for some kind of explanation, but all she found was hurt.

“what d’you mean?” paige asked, her brows pinching together even tighter. “have i not touched you all day?” she searched the brunette’s face, completely at a loss.

“we literally had sex this morning, azzi.” nothing about this conversation was making sense to the blonde.

“i’ve been holding your hand, checking on you, trying to get you to talk to me all day.” frustration laced back to her voice, though it was overshadowed by confusion. “i genuinely don’t know where this is coming from.”

“you really don’t know?” azzi asked quietly, her voice almost devoid of emotion as she looked into the disoriented ocean-blue eyes staring back at her.

paige slowly shook her head, “no.”

a bitter smile tugged at the corner of azzi’s lips before disappearing just as quickly. “then i guess…” she swallowed hard. “i’m the only one who’s been bothered by it.” the slight crack in her voice betrayed how hard she’d been trying to keep herself together. paige opened her mouth to respond, but the younger was already pulling her hands free.

“just leave it, paige.” she avoided her gaze as she stepped back. “it doesn’t matter anymore.” the words were meant to sound final, but they landed somewhere closer to defeated. without waiting for a response, azzi turned and headed toward the bedroom.

azzi just wanted the conversation to end.

she already felt ridiculous for letting it get to her in the first place, and having to explain it out loud would only make her feel worse. but, as always, paige refused to let it go.

“how am i supposed to know what’s bothering you if you won’t tell me?” paige called after her. “i can’t always understand what you’re thinking when you shut me out like this!”

her voice echoed down the hallway.

when azzi didn’t answer, whatever patience paige had been clinging to finally snapped. she followed her to the bedroom, pushing the door open with more force than she’d intended. it banged against the wall with a sharp crack.

“i’m trying here,” paige said, exasperation bleeding through every word. “but you’re making it impossible when you won’t let me in.”

“that’s the problem, paige!” azzi shot back, her voice finally breaking. “you’re supposed to know. you’re supposed to be bothered—but you’re not.” she yelled bitterly, blinking hard against the tears threatening to spill. “so… i already have my answer.”

the words hung heavily between them.

azzi’s eyes had gone glassy, her breathing uneven as she tried to hold herself together. they hardly ever fought like this. she could count the number of arguments they’d had on one hand, and every single one had left her feeling like this. small, overwhelmed, and wishing they could just go back to being okay.

she hated fighting with paige.

more than anything, she hated hearing paige raise her voice. it wasn’t that she was afraid of her. it was that the moment paige’s voice rose, it felt like the distance between them did too. and somehow, that shattered her more than she knew how to put into words.

the moment tears welled in azzi’s eyes, paige’s expression cracked.

just seconds ago, frustration had been written all over her face. now, it melted away, replaced by something much harder for azzi to look at.

hurt.

like seeing her cry pained paige just as much. azzi hated that. she hated that no matter how frustrated they got with each other, no matter how loud the argument became, paige could never stand the sight of her crying. the anger was always the first thing to disappear, washed away by concern.

and somehow, that only made the brunette’s chest ache even worst. because if paige cared this much…then, why hadn’t she noticed the one thing that had been breaking azzi’s heart all day?

“…i touched you, baby.” the older said quietly, her voice mirroring azzi’s. soft, hurt, and completely wounded.

“i held your hand walking to the car, in the car, and when we got out. i kissed you before we left—

“i made love to you this morning.”

her bottom lip trembled as she searched azzi’s tear filled eyes for something—anything that would help her understand.

“so please, azzi…” paige whispered, helplessly lifting her hands into the air before letting them fall back to her sides. “tell me what i did wrong.” her voice cracked.

“i just… i wanna’ fix it for you, baby.”

paige hated crying, and azzi knew that more than anyone. she barely cried, because crying, to her, made her feel weak and vulnerable. it made her feel seen.

but now, in front of azzi, all she wanted was to be seen.

“you do it when it’s just us.” the younger finally said, barely above a whisper.

“…what?” confusion returned to the older’s face as her head tilted back slightly.

“you touch me. you hold me. you kiss me.” azzi’s voice remained quiet, but every word landed with devastating clarity. “when it’s just us, paige.”

she held paige’s gaze, watching as the blonde searched her face for answers.

then she saw it.

the moment every scattered piece finally fell into place.

“az…” paige breathed, the confusion disappearing from her face for the first time all night. “you know we can’t—”

“can’t what, paige?” azzi cut her off, her voice suddenly rising. “can’t show each other affection? can’t act like we’re a fucking normal couple?” azzi laughed bitterly, shaking her head as tears blurred her vision.

“you told me during my senior year at uconn, and i agreed because you were starting your rookie season while i still had one year left. then last year, you told me it was because of my rookie season—that we had to prove to everyone we could be professional on the same team.”

she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “and i agreed to that too.” her eyes never left paige’s. “but it’s not like we weren’t together at uconn. people already know we can be professional.” her voice cracked,

“so what now, paige?”

“what’s stopping us now?”

silence.

there it was, the question she had been dreading to ask all day.

and azzi knew this wasn’t entirely fair to paige. she knew every reason paige had ever given her. she knew how important keeping their relationship private was to the blonde.

and don’t get her wrong—azzi had never had a problem with being private. uconn was proof of that. all she was asking for was to stop being treated like they were complete strangers the second other people walked into the room.

“today?” azzi said, her voice trembling. “you dropped my hand the second we walked over to phee and everyone else. you shrugged me off when i tried talking to you during practice. you were scared to even hold me in a fucking club, paige.”

her eyes searched paige’s desperately.

“i’m not asking you to make out with me in public.” she let out a shaky laugh. “i’m just asking you to stop acting like you can’t even touch me.”

“you don’t think i want to…?” the older’s breath hitched as she stared at the younger in disbelief. azzi pressed her lips together, her silence saying enough.

“is that what this is?” paige asked, her voice cracking. “you think i don’t want to touch you? hold you? kiss you in front of everyone?”

she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “i do, azzi.” her voice rose despite herself. “trust me, i fucking do.” she chuckled bitterly, wiping at her face with the heel of her hand.

“do you have any idea how hard it is for me? to stop myself from reaching for your hand every time we’re out because i know someone’s going to record us? someone’s going to clip a five-second video of us doing the most normal couple shit, post it online, and suddenly everyone’s dissecting our relationship.”

her chest heaved. “then the psycho parasocial fans are going to watch our every fucking move and twist it into something it’s not.”

“they’re going to watch our every move either way,” azzi fired back, tears spilling over. “we’re private, and they still analyze every interaction we have. they slow down videos, they make edits, they create narratives. there’s no difference.”

“there is a difference, azzi.”

paige’s voice broke. “i don’t want you to be reduced to just my girlfriend. you’ve seen what happened during your rookie season, az.”

azzi’s face crumpled. “i don’t care, paige.” she shook her head through her tears. “i don’t care what they say about me because i know none of it’s true.” her voice dropped to a whisper. “i just… i don’t want to hide anymore.”

“but i care, azzi!” paige shot back, her own tears finally falling. “what kind of partner would i be if i stood there and watched the world discredit everything you’ve worked for? watched people act like your career only exists because you’re dating me?”

she swallowed hard, her voice barely holding together. “i can’t do that to you.” another tear slipped down her cheek.

“i would hate myself for it...”

for a long moment, neither of them spoke. the room was quiet except for their uneven breathing, the remnants of raised voices still lingering between them. azzi stared at the floor, blinking away the tears that refused to stop falling.

and somewhere beneath all the hurt, her heart broke all over again. because she understood.

she understood why paige had done it. she knew every decision had come from love, from wanting to protect her, from wanting the world to see azzi for everything she’d built with her own hands and determination.

azzi knew that.

god, she knew that.

maybe that was the hardest part. because understanding paige didn’t make the hurt go away.

it didn’t stop the ache she felt every single time paige instinctively pulled her hand away. every time she took a step back the second other people walked into the room. every time she became someone azzi couldn’t openly love.

both things could exist at once.

paige was trying to protect her and azzi still felt lonely because of it.

she let out a shaky breath, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“…i’m sorry.”

paige’s head lifted immediately, “az…”

“i’m sorry i yelled.” her voice was quiet now, exhausted.

she walked over to paige’s bed, reaching for her pillow she’d place here after practically moving in with the blonde since arrived at dallas. she hugged it tightly against her chest before looking back at the older.

“i think…” she swallowed. “i think we both just need tonight.” paige’s expression fell. “what are you talking about?”

“i’ll sleep at my apartment.”

“az…”

the plea in paige’s voice almost broke her, almost.

azzi stepped closer until there was barely any space left between them. she leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss beside the corner of paige’s lips.

“goodnight, p.”

before the blonde could find the words to stop her, azzi was already walking out the door.

her apartment had never felt so empty.

she curled up beneath the covers without bothering to change, clutching the same pillow she’d carried over. the silence was deafening. every replay of the argument echoed through her mind until she couldn’t tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was from fresh tears or the ones that had never stopped.

she buried her face deeper into the pillow. maybe she’d pushed too hard, maybe paige was right, maybe she was right too.

she didn’t know anymore.

the soft click of her front door opening barely registered. not long after, she felt the familiar weight of the mattress dip behind her. warm arms cautiously wrapped around her waist, as though afraid she’d pull away.

she didn’t.

instead, another sob escaped her. blonde hair disappeared beneath the crease of her shoulder as paige tucked herself against her back, holding her like she was terrified she’d disappear.

“m’sorry…”

her voice was wet. the words came over and over again, each one quieter than the last, broken apart by trembling breaths as she pressed tear-soaked kisses against the back of the younger’s neck.

“i’ll fix it,” paige whispered. “promise. ‘m not gonna hide anymore, if you don’t want to.”

azzi squeezed her eyes shut. her chest throbbed, because that wasn’t what she wanted either, she didn’t want to do anything that paige also didn’t want.

she slowly turned over in paige’s arms until they were finally face to face. “it’s not about anyone else p…”she reached up, cupping paige’s damp cheek.

“it’s about you and me. please… remember that.”

another tear slipped down her face. “i just…” her voice cracked.

“i just want you.”

“i will baby, i will.” paige closed her eyes, leaning into her touch before pressing one more gentle kiss beneath her jaw. “i want you too.”

there was still so much for them to figure out. a shift they would have to face together. but instead of running from it, or hiding behind excuses and fear…they’d face it together.

because azzi knew one thing for certain.

the love paige had for her had always been deeper than any outside noise that ever tried to come between them.

ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶

minnesota, 2028.

— i hope i never see what your face looks like goin’, a face i swear that i could spend my whole life knowing.

“you nervous?” tim laughed as he shoved the black video camera way too close to the blonde’s face.

paige, who had been anxiously staring out the window for what felt like the hundredth time, slowly turned to him with the flattest look she could manage.

“what do you think?” she deadpanned. “‘m about to propose to your daughter.” she raised the palm of her hand, signaling a chop directly at him.

that only made the older man burst into an even louder laugh. it really wasn’t that funny. still, paige couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

there was never a dull day with the fudd family. which she’d hope to be her family too, very soon.

“where is she?” she muttered, immediately checking the clock before looking out the window again, then down at her phone. “she should’ve been here by now.”

“jon said he’s got her covered, they’re on the way.” jose called from across the room, casually munching on a bag of chips with his camera hanging around his neck.

paige slowly turned toward him. “bro… are you seriously eating right now?” jose blinked. “don’t get the lenses dirty,” paige continued, pointing accusingly at him. “this has to be perfect.”

he immediately lifted both hands in surrender. “relax, dude. azzi’s gonna kill me anyway if i mess up the pictures.”

“nah,” paige shook her head with a small laugh. “she wouldn’t care about the pictures.” she paused before pointing at him again. “i do. so don’t mess this up.”

“yes, ma’am.” jose saluted dramatically.

truthfully, paige had debated hiring a professional photographer. but she knew azzi. she knew she’d rather have the people she loved surrounding her than a room full of strangers documenting one of the biggest moments of their lives.

besides, jose was actually really good behind a camera.

“don’t worry, paige.” katie walked over, gently placing both hands on the younger woman’s shoulders. “she’ll be here any minute now.”

paige let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “…you really think she’ll say yes?”

and before katie could even open her mouth—

“oh, absolutely.” tim answered without a second of hesitation.

“bro,” jose snorted, “are you kidding? she’s literally been waiting for this forever. i was starting to get sick of hearing her talk about it.” he fake gagged.

“so thank god you’re finally doing it.” that earned another laugh from everyone in the room, including paige. the knot twisting in her stomach loosened just a little. “i guess that answers your question.” katie smiled, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

right on cue, a car horn echoed from the driveway.

“that’s them.”

everyone instinctively looked toward the front window. “finally.” paige breathed, quickly smoothing down the front of her shirt before immediately realizing she was fidgeting again.

tim let out a quiet laugh as he lifted the camera into position. “don’t pass out before she gets here.”

“i’m considering it…” paige muttered, earning another belly laugh from him. katie gave paige one last encouraging smile. “go get your girl.” paige swallowed hard, took one deep breath and walked toward the door.

go time.

the front door swung open just as paige reached for the handle. “oh,” she blinked. “you’re back.”

azzi stepped inside with a small paper bag in one hand, kicking the door shut behind her with her foot.“yeah, i am.” she laughed, slipping off her shoes. “it’s actually kinda cute that jon wanted to go get frozen yogurt with me.”

she looked over her shoulder toward where her younger brother was still locking the car. “he usually acts like i’m the most annoying person alive.”

“i do.” jon called back without missing a beat.

azzi gasped dramatically. “you totally missed me.”

“i only took you because i was hungry.”

“sure you did.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

azzi stuck her tongue out at him before turning back toward paige, who was smiling despite the fact that her heart felt like it was about to burst straight out of her chest.

every second brought her closer. closer to the moment she’d imagined a thousand different ways.

“you okay?”

the question snapped paige back.

“huh?”

“you’ve been staring at me.” azzi stepped closer, brows knitting together as she searched her girlfriend’s face.

“you look… nervous.”

“me?” paige let out a laugh that sounded nowhere near convincing. “no.”

“baby.”

“nothing’s wrong.”

azzi narrowed her eyes, “you’re being weird.”

“you always say i’m weird.”

“hmm, fair enough.” that earned the blonde a laugh.

“c’mon,” paige said, quickly changing the subject before azzi could ask another question. “wanna go watch the sunset with me?”

azzi tilted her head. “…now?”

“yeah.”

“you’re acting suspicious.”

“or,” paige smiled innocently, “i just wanna watch the sunset with my girlfriend.” azzi stared at her for another second before finally shrugging, “okay.” she reached for paige’s hand without thinking.

the simple gesture almost made paige lose every ounce of composure she had left.

together, they walked through the cabin and out the back door. and the moment azzi stepped onto the porch… she stopped.

“paige…”

stretching from the wooden deck all the way down the dock were hundreds upon hundreds of soft pink roses, lining both sides like they were leading somewhere. tiny candles flickered between them, their warm glow dancing in the evening breeze as the lake reflected the golden colors of the setting sun.

for a long moment, azzi just stared in awe. “baby…” she whispered, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “you did all this?”

paige rubbed the back of her neck, “maybe.”

“what’s the occasion?” the younger smiled so widely, as the dimple in her cheek deepened. paige’s favorite smile.

“what?” paige bumped her shoulder playfully. “i can’t spoil my girl?”

azzi looked back at the flowers before looking at paige again, her eyes impossibly soft.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i’ve been told.”

shaking her head with a quiet laugh, azzi intertwined their fingers again.

“thank you, i love it so much p. it’s so pretty”

paige smiled, the apple of her cheeks forming. “not as pretty as you.” which caused azzi to roll her eyes playfully, “sap.”

they slowly wandered down the rose-lined dock together until they reached the very end, stopping just before the water where the lake stretched endlessly beneath the sunset. the sky was painted in soft shades of pink, orange, and lavender, reflecting perfectly against the still water.

paige’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around azzi’s hand. from the corner of her eye, she caught movement behind the trees. tim had already lifted the camcorder, katie gently nudging him back down before he gave them away, while jose crouched nearby with his camera ready, giving paige a tiny thumbs-up from his hiding spot.

she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“it’s so beautiful,” azzi whispered, leaning lightly against her shoulder as they admired the view together. “i swear this place gets prettier every time we come here.”

eleven years ago, they stood in this exact spot. right here, on the dock outside azzi’s grandparent’s cabin.

paige remembered it like it was yesterday. the excitement bubbling inside her when her tiny crush from usa basketball camp invited her to spend the weekend here after they landed. they had sat on this very dock for hours, talking about everything and nothing, getting to know each other as the sun disappeared behind the lake.

what little paige didn’t know then was that she wasn’t just getting to know the girl she’d been crushing on.

she was getting to know her best friend.

her person.

the love of her life.

for the longest time, commitment had terrified her. she’d grown up watching her parents marriage fall apart, convincing herself that forever was something people only promised until they couldn’t anymore.

but standing here now, with azzi beside her, forever had never felt more certain. because when she pictured the rest of her life, there had never been anyone else.

she wanted every ordinary morning, every late night, every holiday, every win, every lost. she wanted all of it with azzi.

labels had never been what made them. they had always belonged to each other, long before either of them ever said the words out loud.

azzi was her past.

her present.

and now, hoping. she’d be her future, too.

the woman she hoped would still be holding her hand when they were old and gray.

before the blonde could answer, the faint hum of an airplane drifted across the lake. azzi looked up first, nudging her girlfriend with a smile. “baby, look.”

they both watched as the little plane flew overhead, a trail of white smoke beginning to curl through the sky. slowly, the letters started taking shape until the message became impossible to miss.

will you marry me?

“aww..” azzi smiled instantly, completely oblivious.“that’s actually so cute.” she let out a quiet laugh, still staring up at the sky. “someone’s getting proposed to.”

when no teasing comment came from beside her, azzi frowned slightly.

“p?” she turned toward paige with a confused smile still on her face.

the words caught in her throat,

paige was already down on one knee.

ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶˚̣ ྀི︶

[etherealprettysunsets]

Needs

a/n: i loved answering your anons please keep sending them cause yall are still funny as hell.  This chapter is going to be a shit ton of fluff. Paige is pretty much going to be down bad And then we are gonna get into the action.. I'm really sorry for the long wait. This week wasn't even hectic. My mood was just really low so I didn't feel like doing anything I didn't want to. But writing actually made me feel a lot better so it was a win-win situation lol. Chapters will start to come out every monday so i have a schedule of writing and i can distract myself. Thank you guys for reading and your patience. It means the actual world. Please let me know what yall would like to see and how I could make things better.

Xoxo

Au:!mafia!paigex!marketing!officeworker!azzi

Trope:marriage of convenience

Enemies-to-lovers

Mental health representation(both)

TW: minimal language

Chapter 8

Wc:2.4k

Paige stood in front of the mirror wearing an all black suit tailored to perfection, complimenting her height and skin tone quite well, her hair down in long blonde waves and a navy eyeliner decorated her eyes. She nodded in approval at her reflection, walking towards her closet to grab some jewelry. Just then Azzi walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress she had just picked out the day before. Her hair was up in a styled bun with curls framing her face and a subtle smoky eye. Paige couldn't even get a word out once Azzi started pacing the bedroom and occasionally looking out the window into the backyard where there were many guests waiting for the couple to make an appearance.

Paige chuckled lightly, but not loud enough the younger girl could hear. She walked up behind her and leaned down to whisper in her ear placing her hands on Azzi’s waist causing her to jump slightly from the sudden touch. They hadn't talked about the pantry or the way Paige had shamelessly flirted after the kiss, but it changed something in the relationship the two girls had even though it wasn't said out loud. And Azzi of course obviously couldn't forget about it. 

“Relax. I can feel your nervousness from across the room.” she spun Azzi around so she was facing her leaning down slightly keeping her eyes on her glossed lips.

Azzi pushed against the blonde's chest needing space to breathe since her heart decided to just stop for a minute. Although it didn't really help since Paige took that as her chance to track her eyes down Azzi’s frame. She brought them back up but they immediately narrowed onto her neck. She stalked toward her, reaching her hand to rub against Azzi’s neck, rubbing her thumbs together as she looked at the brown concealer left on her skin.

“You didn't seriously expect me to not cover them up did you?” Azzi stared at her in shock whilst Paige avoided her eyes. Azzi scoffed, grabbing her shoes by the end of the bed. 

Paige smirked, “Of course not. Why would I think of such a thing?”

Azzi didn't bother with a reply standing in her white heels. She stood in front of Paige who didn't have much more than a centimeter on her now.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Paige grabbed her hand leading her out the door. Once they had stepped out into the backyard it was like the world stopped moving. All eyes were on them and there was nothing Azzi could do to avoid it. She just had to go through it. Before her mind became her worst enemy she felt a familiar cold hand slip into hers. She turned her head looking into warm blue eyes for the first time since they met. She let out a breath nodding her head slightly hinting she was ready.

Everyone was dressed in white or black and you could tell how expensive everyone seemed to be. Even though they were outside a dance floor was built into the floor where most of the guests went back to conversing whilst some danced with their partners. 

Azzi wished this were all real. She didn't want this to stay a contract. She dropped her head slightly to hide her small pout. She had been doing so well,  hadn't even felt like dying for a while and then she decided to be dramatic over nothing. She had been able to eat a full meal without throwing it up. She looked up at the sky wishing this were real. She almost called on the god she had stopped talking to so long ago. But it's not like he would answer. He didn't before so why would he now. 

She hadn't realized Paige had been staring at her, scanning her face looking for the reason for discomfort. Paige decided she would ask later when they were alone. They made their way down the rest of the steps. Paige placed a hand on the small of Azzi’s back leading her through the crowd.

*********

Everything had been going well. Azzi had met all of Paige's family and they were all copy and paste. Her mother welcomed her to the family with literal open arms and her father sent her a nod in approval. Even though her younger brother, Drew, was mixed you couldn't miss they were related. And the fact they had such a bond, it made Azzi’s chest ache. Both girls were now on opposite sides of the yard but every once in a while their eyes would catch. Paige would ask a silent question through her eyes and Azzi would nod her head. She was able to make conversation with David. He was definitely younger but was mature in a way Azzi didn't feel like she was talking to a child. Paige had been watching them the whole time with a gross feeling boiling under her skin, something she had never felt before. 

“Could we have both brides to the dance floor for a lovely dance.”

The crowd shifted creating a path that led both girls to the middle of the dance floor. Paige didn't hesitate to place her hands on Azzi's waist. She brought her arms around her neck realizing how close they were once again. The Night We Met started to play, hinting to the other guests to dance with their partners too but both girls didn't notice, their eyes were glued to each other. Like they were trying to read each other without saying a word.

“What’s on your mind?” Paige asked.

Azzi avoided her eyes for a moment before looking at her once again.

She smiled slightly, “How would you be able to tell somethings on my mind?”

“Because you're pouting.” she said simply.

Azzi giggled before she could catch herself, “I do not fucking pout.”

Paige’s jaw dropped in shock. “Everytime you're upset or thinking about something you pout. You have got to be kidding.”

Both girls were full on giggling quietly, the sentimental song still playing in the background. But they didn't care. They both smiled with a different meaning behind it. They seemed to come to an agreement that this was different, the feelings they held for each other. Azzi stepped closer into Paige's space, her eyes dropping to her lips. She leaned in slightly with Paige matching matching her actions. They both knew that once they crossed this line there was no going back. They didn't need to say anything to know how much things would change. Or how they would have to probably burn the contract.

Paige closed the space between them, pressing her lips to warm ones. It may have sounded cliche but she truly believed she heard applause and fireworks go off around them. Which they were. They hadn’t realized some guests had stopped dancing to watch them. Azzi smiled shyly trying to hide her face but Paige gripped her chin forcing her to look up.

She smirked, “Can't hide now baby.” She pecked her cheek before slipping her fingers into Azzi’s.

*********

Both girls spent the rest of the evening attached to the hip not letting each other be farther than a few centimeters. They laughed with each other finally getting to know about each other’s childhood and what their likes and dislikes were. Paige really liked hot dogs and Azzi loved cottage cheese which Paige found incredibly weird. But then Azzi started to pout again and so she immediately renounced what she said. She realized Azzi knew how much of a manipulator she could be and how powerful her brown eyes were.

It went on like this until the guests started to become less and less making sure to bid goodbyes and the final congratulations before they tied the knot.

Azzi walked into the house with Paige not far behind, throwing off her heels someplace she would figure out tomorrow. She stood for a moment saying nothing before heading to the kitchen. Paige followed her without question as she unbuttoned her jacket.

“What are you doing?” Paige asked. 

At this point Azzi was already in the pantry scanning shelves. Once she found what she was looking for she reached up to grab it but before she could Paige spun her around, placing cold hands on her waist. She leaned in kissing her softly, azzi hummed lightly into the kiss forgetting what she wanted to do. They pulled apart, memorizing eyes, lips and noses.

“Im getting a bit of deja vu.” Paige grinned as Azzi rolled her eyes, pushing the older girl off.

“You’re stupid.”

Paige gasped loudly clutching her heart like she had just been stabbed.

“Thats mean.”

Azzi spun around holding a box in her hand.

“I'll make it up to you with pancakes.” she winked leaving Paige starstruck.

Paige walked over to the island taking a seat. She watched Azzi move around the kitchen like it was second nature and not like she had only been living with her for about two weeks. 

Paige narrowed her eyes, “You look really used to this.”

Azzi stilled for a moment before moving once again, "I may or may not have had a few midnight snacks. What's it to you though”

“I think I would have noticed, don't you think.”

Azzi scooped up some batter with an ice cream scooper and dropped it into the already heated pan.

“I don't know if you know this but you're a pretty deep sleeper.”

Paige tilted her head in confusion.

“I’ve always thought I was a light one. What makes you think so?”

“I accidently slapped you in the face one night in my sleep. The only reason I know that is because I am a light sleeper.”

“Are you serious right now?” Paige laughed, “When was this?”

“Yesterday.”

There was nothing funny about this whole situation but to Paige it definitely was. She burst out laughing, not able to get another word in all due to the fact she simply couldn't without laughing again. All the while Azzi had a smile on her face as she finished cooking the first few pancakes, her stomach making her hunger quite obvious. She served the food onto some plates and walked into the pantry in search of some honey and syrup to top everything off. She placed one of the plates in front of Paige before sitting next to her with a plate of her own, putting  forks and knives in between the two girls when they were ready to use them. But before that Azzi made sure to smother her pancakes with honey and syrup while Paige stared at her in disbelief.

“You know how late it is? That's too much sugar.”  she drizzled syrup onto her pancakes once or twice before setting it down.

Azzi gave her a look before taking a bite. She nodded her head in approval at the sweet taste believing she cooked the pancakes to absolute perfection. They ate in silence for a bit the day catching up to them. Once they had finished their meals they sat in silence. It wasn't awkward one bit. They only felt the comfort of each other's company and that was all that really mattered to them. After a long while Paige stood from her seat grabbing the plates.

“I’ll do the dishes. Head upstairs first”

Azzi nodded her head slightly before letting out a yawn, stretching arms above her head. Paige watched her go and she hadn't realized until she heard the room door open from upstairs.

*********

Paige walked into a scene of her fiance sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. She quickly made her way to change her clothes, finding Azzi in the same spot once she was done. She walked over slowly taking a seat next to her, close enough that their legs would touch. Azzi turned to her scooching a bit closer than they already were, whilst Paige wrapped her arm around her.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” Paige asked.

Azzi chuckled lightly, "I've seen you kill a man. Nothing gets crazier than that.”

“Right.” 

“What is it?”

“I cut myself.”

Azzi didn't move an inch. She held on to Paige's hand, squeezing it gently, a sign that she was still listening. For some reason Paige felt like she could keep going without hesitating, like no one would look at her in disgust. Or ask a billion questions why. She couldn't even tell herself why.

“It's been many years. I went to therapy for a bit when I was in high school but it just didn't work out. It was just all unhelpful and truly made things worse. I wish I could say the reason why but I can't. I just did it, and then kept doing it. It made my brain quiet for a while and then the less I did the worse everything would get and I wouldn't be able to go a few hours without,” she sighed, "I still feel disgusting though. It's the type of shit you never get over but you have to force yourself too because who really cares.”

“A lot more than you think.” 

With that Azzi peeled herself away from the blonde just to straddle her lap. She wrapped her arms around her neck and Paige sighed into the warm embrace. She hadn't realized tears had started to slip from her face until she felt warm hands wipe them away.

“I know it's hard. Life just sucks. It really does. You have every right to cope the way you did. You don't have to know the reason why. It's not something you must explain. You are human. Everything you've been through shows that. Don't be sorry for that. Ever.” 

Paige tucked her head into the crook of Azzi’s neck. She liked this. She wanted life to be like this. Someone to talk to and the feeling of comfort. She wished her younger self could have heard those words because God, it made her feel so much better than she thought it would. She felt warm hands rub back and forth along her back, the warm breaths fanning against her neck. Paige kissed Azzi’s neck creating a trail until she reached her lips. The kiss wasn't rushed, like they were saying everything and more. It felt sweet. It felt more than what they have felt in the past few days combined.

It felt like something neither of them were ready to name just yet.

Love. 

[azzifudd10]

Line of Scrimmage: Overtime

A/N: Part 3 is here!!!! hope you guys enjoy now I have to start writing part 4 😖 send in ideas!!!

TW: cheating and smut

Azzi leaned her head back against the cool bathroom door, trying to slow her breathing. Her body still trembled from the call. The faint echo of Paige’s voice—low, filthy, commanding—was still in her ears.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down before slipping back into bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Her stomach dropped.

“Azz? You in there?” Joe’s voice, warm but curious, came from the other side of the door.

Azzi’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “Uh—yeah!” she called, her voice too high. “I’m—just washing my face.”

There was a pause. “At one in the morning?”

Her brain scrambled for an excuse. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d… do my skincare. You know how I get when I can’t relax.”

Another pause. Then a quiet chuckle. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She forced out a light laugh, gripping the counter so tight her knuckles turned white. “Guess so.”

“Come back to bed when you’re done,” Joe said. “You’ve got that brunch with Paige tomorrow, right?”

Her pulse spiked again at Paige’s name. “Yep. I’ll be there.”

When his footsteps finally retreated, Azzi stayed put for a moment, exhaling hard. She splashed cold water on her face—not because she needed to, but because she had to sell the lie.

The smell of coffee and fresh pastries filled the little café. Azzi spotted Paige at their usual table, sunglasses pushed up in her hair, a teasing smirk already tugging at her lips.

“You look… smug,” Azzi said as she slid into the chair across from her.

Paige’s smirk deepened. “I told you I’d have you thinking about me all night.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Well, mission accomplished.” She stirred her coffee slowly, then leaned in. “Joe knocked on the bathroom door right after we hung up.”

Paige froze for half a second—then grinned. “No.”

“Yes,” Azzi hissed, half laughing, half horrified. “I had to lie through my teeth while I was still… recovering.”

Paige leaned closer, eyes gleaming. “God, that’s hot.”

Azzi shook her head, trying not to smile, but her cheeks warmed anyway.

Paige’s voice dropped just enough to make Azzi’s pulse pick up again. “You love the risk, don’t you?”

Azzi sipped her coffee, holding Paige’s gaze over the rim. “Maybe.”

The week leading up to the Bengals’ away game was absolute torture.

Azzi could feel Paige in her head. Her texts were shorter than usual — a few emojis, a vague “we’ll see,” nothing like their normal playful back-and-forth. And every time they saw each other in passing, at practice or in the suite, Paige would give her this slow, knowing look that made Azzi’s stomach flip.

She knew exactly what Paige was doing. She was winding her up, making her wait, and by Thursday Azzi was practically vibrating with frustration.

Friday night, Joe was throwing things into his overnight bag for the team hotel when he kissed her goodbye. “Don’t stay up too late,” he teased. Azzi forced a smile. “I won’t.” The second the door shut, her pulse jumped. She didn’t even have time to move before—

Three sharp knocks at the front door.

When Azzi opened it, Paige was already stepping inside, eyes dark, lips curved in the smallest smirk. “Hi.” Azzi swallowed. “Hi.”

Paige didn’t bother with small talk. The door clicked shut, and before Azzi could breathe, Paige had her pinned against the wall, body pressing into hers, lips brushing her ear.

“You think you can wear dresses like that,” she murmured, voice low, “and not pay for it?”

Azzi’s breath caught. “I—”

“Shut up,” Paige ordered, one hand sliding slowly down her side. “Tonight, you’re mine, and I’m not letting you off easy.”

Paige didn’t rush. She dragged it out, every touch calculated, keeping Azzi hovering just on the edge until she was gasping, her head tipping back against the wall. Every time Azzi tried to chase more, Paige would pull back, her smirk growing at the frustrated little sounds slipping out.

“You love this,” Paige teased, fingers pressing just enough to make Azzi whimper. “You love me making you wait.”

Azzi’s knees felt weak, her fingers curling into Paige’s shirt. “Please—”

“Not yet,” Paige murmured, her lips ghosting over Azzi’s neck but never staying in one place long enough to satisfy. “I want you begging for it.”

By the time Paige finally let her tip over, Azzi was trembling, pulse hammering, eyes half-lidded. Paige held her through it, murmuring in her ear until her breathing evened out.

Azzi thought that was it — that Paige had won this round — until Paige stepped back, smirk still in place.

But Azzi’s smile was sharper. “My turn.”

Paige’s brows lifted. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, voice low, stepping in close until Paige’s back hit the couch. “You wanted to punish me? Cute. But now I’m going to ruin you.”

She pushed Paige down, straddling her, hands pinning her wrists to the cushions. “You don’t get to touch,” Azzi whispered, her mouth brushing Paige’s ear. “Not until I say so.”

Paige let out a shaky laugh. “Bossy.”

“Confident,” Azzi corrected — and then she was on her, relentless and merciless, taking her time in a way that made Paige’s breath hitch and her thighs tense.

“You looked so smug at brunch,” Azzi murmured, lips brushing her jaw. “Now look at you. Already falling apart for me.”

Paige’s head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut. “Azzi—please—”

Azzi smirked. “Not yet.”

She kept her right there, holding her in place, every little sound making her grin widen. And when she finally gave Paige what she was desperate for, it hit hard — Paige’s breath catching, a ragged sound tearing from her throat as she came apart under Azzi’s hands.

Azzi didn’t stop until Paige was gasping, chest rising and falling fast, her body slack against the couch cushions.

When Paige could finally speak, her voice was hoarse. “Okay… you win this round.”

Azzi leaned down, kissing her slow and deep, her smile smug. “Oh, baby. I’m just getting started.”

Paige had barely caught her breath before Azzi was tugging her upstairs.

“Azzi—” Paige laughed, stumbling after her. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“That’s the point,” Azzi tossed over her shoulder, pulling her into the bedroom and shutting the door.

The room was dim except for the soft glow from the lamp on the dresser… and the massive floor mirror angled beside the bed. Paige noticed where Azzi’s gaze landed and smirked. “Oh. That’s dangerous.”

Azzi stepped closer, her hands finding Paige’s hips. “I want you to see exactly what I do to you.”

Paige’s smirk faltered into something hungrier. “Show me, then.”

Azzi turned Paige so she was facing the glass, standing behind her. One hand slid around her waist, the other brushing her hair aside so her bare shoulder was exposed. Their eyes met in the reflection — Paige’s already dark with want, Azzi’s steady, unblinking.

“Watch,” Azzi whispered.

She started slow, her fingers trailing lazy patterns along Paige’s skin, her lips brushing the back of her neck. Every little shift made Paige’s breath hitch, her eyes darting between Azzi’s face and her own flushed expression in the glass.

“See that?” Azzi murmured, her voice low and rough. “That’s what you look like when you’re falling apart for me.”

Paige swallowed hard, her hands curling into the sheets. “Azzi—”

“No,” Azzi cut in, lips grazing her ear. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to see everything.”

She picked up the pace, her touch growing firmer, more demanding, the rhythm deliberate. Paige’s head tilted back, a soft sound escaping her throat, but Azzi’s voice pulled her back.

“Eyes. On. Me.”

The command landed hard, Paige’s thighs trembling as her gaze locked with Azzi’s in the mirror. Every little gasp, every shift of her body, Azzi made sure she watched.

When Paige finally tipped over, her eyes stayed locked on the reflection — on the sight of Azzi holding her steady, mouth curved in the smallest, wickedest smile.

Paige was still catching her breath when Azzi spun her around, pushing her gently back toward the glass. “You didn’t think I was done, did you?”

Paige let out a breathless laugh. “You’re insane.”

“I’m insatiable,” Azzi corrected, her lips already on Paige’s collarbone, her hands sliding lower.

This time was rougher — Azzi pinning Paige’s hips against the dresser, every move deliberate and forceful. The mirror caught everything: the flushed skin, the way Paige’s hands gripped at the edge, the sharp intake of breath every time Azzi shifted.

“God—” Paige gasped, eyes flicking between the mirror and Azzi’s reflection. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Azzi’s smirk was pure sin. “If this is how you go, you’ll die smiling.”

By the time Paige came undone again, her forehead pressed to the cool glass, both of them were breathless, the room warm with the heat of them.

Azzi leaned in, kissing the back of her neck, their reflections still tangled in the mirror. “Told you I wasn’t done.”

Azzi woke to the faintest ache in her thighs and a deep, slow throb that made her cheeks warm before she even opened her eyes.

Paige’s arm was slung lazily over her waist, her face buried against the curve of Azzi’s neck, breathing soft and steady. She looked completely at peace — which was ironic, considering the absolute chaos she’d caused a few hours ago.

Azzi tried to shift carefully, but Paige’s arm tightened.

“Mm-mm,” Paige mumbled, her voice low and gravelly with sleep. “Stay still. You’re warm.”

Azzi smiled despite herself, tracing lazy circles on Paige’s forearm. “You’re impossible.”

Paige’s lips brushed her skin in a slow, sleepy kiss. “You didn’t think I’d let you get up after that, did you?”

“That?” Azzi arched a brow, finally glancing at her. “You mean the war crime you committed against my legs?”

Paige laughed, the sound deep and smug. “You loved every second.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her smirk gave her away. “You’re dangerous in front of a mirror, you know that?”

Paige shifted closer, her hand sliding along Azzi’s stomach, fingers grazing just under the hem of her shirt. “And you’re dangerous when you decide to fight back.”

The touch was slow, teasing — enough to make Azzi inhale sharply.

“Paige…” she warned, though her voice lacked conviction.

“What?” Paige asked innocently, her hand moving a little lower. “You’re the one who said you liked our mornings quiet.”

Azzi swallowed, her pulse kicking up. “Quiet doesn’t usually mean this.”

“Guess we have different definitions,” Paige murmured, brushing her lips over Azzi’s jaw.

They didn’t move for a long time — Paige’s fingers drawing invisible patterns against Azzi’s skin, Azzi letting herself melt into the warmth, into the scent of coffee still lingering faintly from the night before, into the fact that the world outside didn’t matter right now.

For the first time since the beginning of whatever this was, it didn’t feel dangerous. It felt… safe.

Azzi had been determined to get out of bed at a reasonable hour. She’d even swung one leg over the side, ready to start the coffee — until Paige’s hand caught her wrist.

“Where’re you going?” Paige’s voice was still sleep-rough, her hair a beautiful, messy halo around her face.

“Coffee,” Azzi said, though her tone was already wavering.

Paige’s smile was slow, knowing. “That’s cute. Come here.”

Azzi barely had time to roll her eyes before Paige was pulling her back down, sliding her onto her back, the sheets cool against her skin compared to the heat radiating off Paige.

“This is your fault,” Azzi murmured, even as Paige’s thigh slid between hers.

Paige smirked. “What, for waking up wanting you?”

Azzi meant to fire back — but Paige’s mouth was on her collarbone, her teeth grazing gently before kissing the spot better. Azzi’s fingers curled into the sheets, her breath hitching as Paige’s hands found their way under her shirt.

It wasn’t rushed. Paige kissed her like she had nowhere to be, like she could memorize every inch of her skin. Every lazy drag of her lips was calculated, every slow shift of her hips a quiet reminder that Paige knew exactly what she was doing.

By the time Azzi came undone, she was trembling, her head tipped back against the pillow, her voice breaking on Paige’s name.

Paige kissed her softly, smug and sweet all at once. “Now we can get coffee.”

An hour later, freshly showered but still carrying that afterglow, they slid into a corner booth at a small café near downtown. Azzi had thrown on a cropped hoodie and leggings; Paige wore an oversized denim jacket and her favorite sunglasses.

They’d just started on their lunch when a woman in her seventies paused by their table, her partner hovering behind her with an affectionate smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the woman said, her voice warm. “I just had to say… you two remind me so much of us when we were your age. The way you look at each other… it’s lovely.”

Azzi blinked, her heart stuttering.

“Oh, we’re—” she started, but the woman’s partner laughed softly.

“You don’t have to explain. We just wanted to wish you both the best.”

And just like that, they were gone — leaving Azzi and Paige staring at each other over their plates, something unspoken hanging thick in the air.

Paige broke the silence first, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Guess we’ve got a ‘look.’”

Azzi tried to laugh it off, but she felt warm all over, the words echoing in her head long after the check came.

The smell of fresh basil and garlic fills the kitchen as Azzi chops vegetables, her hands moving almost on autopilot. The late afternoon sun filters through the window, casting golden light across the cluttered counters. Paige is beside her, stirring sauce and humming quietly, but the air between them feels charged — heavier than usual.

Azzi glances at Paige out of the corner of her eye. Paige’s gaze flickers to hers, lips twitching into a small, knowing smile.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” Paige says, voice low and teasing. “Thinking about those two old ladies from lunch?”

Azzi shrugs, cheeks warming. “Maybe. It just… got me thinking.”

Paige leans closer, eyes gleaming. “About what?”

“How people see us,” Azzi admits, “how they think we’re… more than just friends.”

Paige’s smile softens. “Yeah. I noticed that look they gave us. Like they saw something real.”

Azzi swallows hard, feeling a sudden vulnerability she’s not used to sharing. “Do you ever wonder what that would be like?”

Paige’s fingers brush against Azzi’s arm, light but electric. “I do,” she confesses. “More than I probably should.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that hums with possibility. Azzi’s heart thuds in her chest as Paige’s hand slides slowly down her back, resting at the curve of her hip.

Azzi freezes, breath hitching when Paige’s thumb brushes in small circles. Their eyes meet — a silent challenge, a promise.

Paige’s voice drops, barely more than a whisper. “You know I want you.”

Azzi’s pulse races. “Show me.”

The kitchen fades away as Paige’s lips find Azzi’s neck, slow and teasing. Azzi melts against her, fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. Their movements are languid at first, savoring the moment, but the heat builds fast.

Paige presses Azzi’s back against the counter, hands exploring, teasing over fabric and skin. Azzi’s breath quickens, her fingers digging into Paige’s jacket as she pulls it off in one smooth motion.

“I want you,” Paige murmurs, voice thick with need.

Azzi’s eyes darken, her own desire roaring to life. “Not yet,” she says, voice firm, sliding down to crouch in front of Paige.

Paige gasps softly as Azzi pulls the hem of her hoodie over her head, revealing bare skin and the delicate line of a strap harness.

Azzi meets Paige’s gaze, her expression fierce. “Tonight, I’m in control.”

The next hour is a slow, delicious battle of wills. Azzi teases Paige relentlessly, exploring every inch of her skin with hands and lips, making her wait and beg for release. Paige’s protests dissolve into gasps and moans, each one fueling Azzi’s confidence and hunger.

“Tell me what you want,” Azzi commands, voice low and demanding.

Paige shivers, eyes dark and pleading. “I want you inside me. Now.”

Azzi smiles wickedly, sliding forward with care and precision. The sensation pulls a sharp breath from Paige’s lips, her hands clutching at Azzi’s shoulders as waves of pleasure ripple through her.

Azzi sets the pace — slow and steady at first, then building with deliberate intensity. Every movement is measured, designed to make Paige fall apart under her touch.

“You’re mine,” Azzi whispers between kisses, “and you’re going to beg me to stop.”

Paige’s body trembles, her voice cracking as she begs and pleads, lost in the overwhelming flood of sensation.

Azzi doesn’t relent, driving them both to the edge until Paige’s cries echo through the room, raw and beautiful.

Afterwards, they collapse tangled together, breathless and glowing. Azzi brushes a stray lock of hair from Paige’s forehead, smiling softly.

“We really do have that look,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s jaw. “Yeah… and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

The morning light spills softly through the blinds, casting stripes across the tangled sheets where Azzi and Paige lay. Neither moves much, caught in the quiet aftermath of last night’s firestorm.

Azzi’s fingers trace lazy patterns along Paige’s bare shoulder, memorizing every curve, every breath that trembles against her skin. Paige’s eyes flutter open, meeting Azzi’s gaze with a smile that’s part mischief, part vulnerability.

“Morning,” Paige murmurs, voice husky.

Azzi grins, brushing a stray curl from Paige’s face. “Morning. You okay?”

Paige shrugs, pulling the covers closer. “Better than okay. Different.”

Azzi’s brow furrows. “Different how?”

Paige hesitates, then sighs. “Like… I don’t know where this is going, but I don’t want it to end.”

Azzi’s heart skips. “Neither do I.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels like a promise. But the weight of unspoken questions hangs heavy.

Paige breaks the quiet, voice low and trembling just a bit. “Are we still… you know, with Sam and Joe?”

Azzi exhales, the question she’s been dodging. “I don’t know.”

Paige’s hand finds Azzi’s, squeezing tight. “I don’t want to lose what we have. But I’m scared of what that means.”

Azzi pulls Paige close, forehead resting against hers. “Me too. But maybe we don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

The moment is broken only by the buzz of Azzi’s phone on the nightstand. She glances at the screen — Joe.

She silences it without answering, eyes never leaving Paige’s.

“Later,” Azzi promises. “For now, this.”

Paige smiles, relief flooding her features.

The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife as Azzi and Paige sit side by side on the couch, fingers barely brushing but sparks flying between every touch.

They talk in whispers — half confessions, half dares — about what they want and what they’re afraid to admit. Every glance, every hesitant smile, pulls them closer to a line neither is sure they want to cross, yet both are desperate to.

Azzi’s hand finds Paige’s, gripping tight. “This is dangerous.”

Paige leans in, voice low and teasing. “Since when did that ever stop us?”

The space between them shrinks until their lips almost touch, breaths mingling. Neither pulls away.

Azzi’s fingers trail up Paige’s arm, igniting a fire that burns hotter with every second.

“Maybe we should stop talking,” Paige whispers. “And start feeling.”

Before Azzi can respond, Paige’s mouth is on hers, fierce and demanding — a messy, breathless kiss that promises everything and nothing all at once.

The night stretches ahead, a tantalizing blur of whispered names, tangled limbs, and that delicious tension of not knowing what tomorrow brings — only that right now, they’re lost in each other.

Azzi and Paige are barely holding it together — lips tangled, breaths heavy, bodies pressed close — when a sudden knock at the door shatters the moment.

“Shit,” Azzi hisses, eyes wide.

Paige pulls back just enough to whisper, “Who the hell is that?”

Before Azzi can answer, the door swings open, and standing there is Maya — one of the other WAGs — holding a bag of sugar.

“Hey! Sorry to bother,” Maya says cheerfully, oblivious to the electric tension dripping from the room.

Azzi scrambles to pull on a shirt, Paige grabbing a blanket to cover herself.

“Just… sugar,” Maya says, stepping inside like she owns the place. “Thought you might need it for the game day snacks.”

They exchange awkward smiles as Maya leans down to put the bag on the counter — close enough to see Paige’s flushed cheeks and Azzi’s tousled hair.

“You two okay?” Maya asks with a knowing look, then laughs softly. “Never mind. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

As Maya backs out and closes the door behind her, Azzi and Paige exchange a look — equal parts panic and something dangerously like amusement.

“Maybe next time we pick a less convenient time,” Paige mutters, biting her lip.

Azzi grins wickedly. “Or maybe we don’t.”

The moment the door clicks shut behind Maya, the air shifts. Paige’s eyes blaze, dark and hungry, locking onto Azzi like she’s the only thing that matters.

“No more hiding,” Paige growls, fingers digging into Azzi’s hips, pulling her flush.

Azzi shivers at the heat in Paige’s voice, but there’s no fear—just wild, desperate craving.

Before she can say anything, Paige’s mouth crashes down on hers, teeth grazing lips, tongue tangling in a fierce, possessive kiss that steals her breath.

Hands roam with reckless need—Paige’s nails rake down Azzi’s back, gripping tight as she spins her, pressing Azzi against the kitchen counter.

Azzi gasps as Paige’s mouth trails down her neck, sucking bruises into soft skin, fingers slipping beneath her shirt to cup, squeeze, and knead.

“God, you’re mine,” Paige hisses, voice low and dangerous.

Azzi’s breath hitches, knees trembling as Paige’s hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her leggings, fingers teasing the edge of bare skin.

The heat between them ignites, raw and unrelenting—Paige’s hands everywhere, claiming, marking, owning.

Azzi arches into her touch, lips parted, eyes dark with want.

“Not here,” Azzi murmurs, breathless.

Paige smirks, wicked and confident. “Everywhere.”

They’re a whirlwind—tearing through the house with desperate, greedy need. The living room couch is next, the soft cushions muffling their gasps and whispered names as Paige drags Azzi over her, grinding hard and fast, fingers tangling in hair.

Azzi’s hands clutch at Paige’s back, nails digging in as they move together, raw and hungry.

But Paige isn’t done.

She hauls Azzi up, dragging her toward the office door.

Joe’s office.

The moment they cross the threshold, Paige’s eyes darken even further.

“This is mine,” she growls.

Azzi shivers, anticipation and arousal knotting inside her.

Paige bends her over the sleek desk, hands sliding beneath her shirt to grip hips and pull her tighter.

“Louder,” Paige demands, voice harsh, “I want to hear you begging.”

Azzi obeys, moaning into the space between them as Paige’s hands and mouth ravage her skin.

The desk shakes beneath them, the room filled with their sounds—the thud of skin against skin, sharp gasps, whispered curses, and desperate pleas.

Paige’s control is absolute, every movement deliberate and punishing, driving Azzi to the edge and beyond.

When they finally collapse, tangled and breathless, the house seems to hum with their heat.

Azzi’s lips brush Paige’s cheek, voice soft but certain.

“We’re not hiding anymore.”

Paige smiles, wicked and satisfied.

“No. We’re claiming.”

The bedroom feels impossibly warm, shadows softening every corner as Azzi and Paige stand close, the air thick with anticipation and something fragile—something they’re both trying to name.

Azzi’s heart hammers in her chest, eyes tracing every line of Paige’s face, memorizing the slight curve of her lips, the way her breath catches when she looks at her like that—hungry, tentative, and full of promise.

Paige reaches out, fingertips brushing over Azzi’s jaw, thumb grazing her cheekbone. Her touch is featherlight but it sends a shiver straight down Azzi’s spine.

“We’ve never done this before,” Paige says, voice low and raw, as if admitting a secret she’s barely dared to say out loud.

Azzi swallows, trying to steady her breath. “I know.”

The words hang between them, weighty and electric. Azzi feels a thrill ripple through her—not just because of what Paige means, but because of the trust it implies.

She nods slowly, reaching up to close the small gap between them, lips brushing in a tentative, searching kiss.

Paige’s hands slide down Azzi’s back, pulling her closer until there’s nothing but heat and skin between them.

Azzi’s fingers twist into the fabric of Paige’s shirt, heart pounding, mind racing with a million questions and just as many answers.

Paige breaks the kiss, breathless. “I want to explore this… with you.”

Azzi’s eyes flicker with something fierce and sure. “Me too.”

Paige moves to the bedside drawer, fingers deft and sure, pulling out a sleek, elegant toy they’ve never used before.

Azzi watches, breath catching in her throat. There’s a mixture of nervous excitement and raw desire in her eyes.

Paige kneels in front of her, eyes locking with Azzi’s as she slowly begins to remove her leggings, leaving her bare skin exposed to the soft light.

“Tell me if anything feels too much,” Paige says, voice soothing and steady. “This is about us—our pace.”

Azzi nods, heart swelling with gratitude and yearning.

The slow dance begins—soft touches, exploring hands, whispered words of encouragement and affirmation. Every sensation new, every gasp and moan a step deeper into uncharted territory.

Paige’s careful, deliberate movements are worshipful, focused entirely on Azzi’s pleasure, while Azzi surrenders, trusting Paige with everything she is.

Time blurs as they weave together, discovering new rhythms, new heights of pleasure that leave them breathless and trembling.

Azzi’s fingers weave through Paige’s hair as she arches into her touch, eyes squeezed shut against waves of bliss she never expected to feel.

“God, Paige…” Azzi whispers, voice thick.

Paige’s grin is triumphant and tender. “You’re incredible.”

Azzi’s chest rises and falls, every breath a soft gasp as Paige’s fingers continue their gentle exploration. The newness of every sensation sends tiny shocks rippling through her nerves, and the mixture of anticipation and trust electrifies the space between them.

Paige watches her with an intensity that makes Azzi’s skin tingle, as if she’s mapping every inch of her soul. The quiet sounds they make — soft moans, whispered encouragements — weave an intimate soundtrack that feels sacred and private.

“Tell me what you want,” Paige murmurs, her voice velvet and command.

Azzi’s fingers trace Paige’s jaw, trembling slightly. “To feel… everything. With you.”

Paige’s smile deepens, a blend of tenderness and hunger. She shifts closer, lips trailing slow, heated kisses along Azzi’s neck and collarbone, every touch sending shivers racing down her spine.

Their bodies move together in a dance of discovery — hesitant at first, then growing bolder, more confident. The slow build of pleasure is intoxicating, weaving a web that binds them tighter than either expected.

Paige’s hands find new places to explore — the curve of Azzi’s waist, the soft skin behind her knees — every touch a promise, a question, a plea.

Azzi arches against her, breath hitching as Paige’s fingers tease delicate spots that spark wild flames beneath her skin.

“This… this is everything I didn’t know I needed,” Azzi whispers, voice thick with awe.

Paige’s answer is a kiss—slow, deep, and searing—as if trying to imprint herself on every inch of Azzi’s skin.

The night stretches on, each moment a new revelation, a push into deliciously uncharted territory where pleasure and emotion blur into one seamless, overwhelming experience.

Paige’s voice drops to a low, teasing whisper, every word dripping with promise. “You feel so damn good under my touch, Azzi. Can’t wait to see you lose control.”

Azzi shivers, breath catching as Paige’s fingers trace teasing patterns across her skin. “I’m already falling apart… and you’re just getting started.”

The way Paige looks at her — hungry, fierce, owning — makes Azzi’s pulse race faster than she thought possible.

“Don’t hold back,” Paige murmurs, voice velvet and command. “Show me how much you want it.”

Azzi’s hands tighten around Paige’s hips, pulling her closer. “I want all of you. Every inch.”

The room fills with their whispered promises and heated breaths, every touch a spark igniting a wildfire of sensation.

Paige leans in, lips brushing Azzi’s ear. “You’re mine tonight. Only mine.”

Azzi gasps, voice trembling. “And you’re the only one I want.”

The space between them crackles like electricity, every glance and brush of skin sparking a fire they both feel but neither rushes to extinguish.

Paige’s fingers trail lazy, featherlight patterns across Azzi’s arm, drawing slow circles that leave goosebumps in their wake. Azzi closes her eyes, savoring the sensation, the soft hum of Paige’s breath close to her ear.

“You feel like a secret,” Paige murmurs, voice low and thick, “one I want to shout from the rooftops.”

Azzi opens her eyes, catching Paige’s gaze — intense, burning, vulnerable. The world shrinks until it’s just them, suspended in a bubble of heat and possibility.

Slowly, deliberately, Paige leans in, brushing her lips across Azzi’s jawline, down her neck — each kiss a silent question, each touch a promise.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s waist, pulling her close. “Show me,” she whispers, voice husky. “Show me everything.”

Their kisses deepen, slow and lingering, a dance of discovery and desire. The hours stretch ahead, filled with whispered secrets, tentative touches, and the delicious ache of longing.

Neither rushes; neither holds back.

The night is theirs — endless, intoxicating, and perfectly imperfect.

Azzi and Paige linger in the warm glow of the bedroom, breaths mingling, skin barely touching but sparks flying everywhere.

Paige’s fingers trail along Azzi’s collarbone, teasing and bold, her voice a soft purr. “You’re driving me insane… in the best way.”

Azzi bites her lip, eyes dark with want. “Good. I want to lose control with you.”

Their lips meet again, slow and hungry, and the world outside disappears.

Suddenly, the soft ding of a notification breaks the spell—Azzi’s phone lighting up with a message from Joe.

Paige pulls back just a fraction, eyes gleaming. “Looks like we’re not the only ones craving attention tonight.”

Azzi laughs, a little breathless. “We should probably silence that.”

But Paige’s mischievous grin only widens. “Or… we could have some fun with it.”

Before Azzi can respond, Paige presses a finger to her lips, whispering, “Let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

The moment Azzi silences her phone, a mischievous grin curls Paige’s lips. “Game on.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, heart pounding. “What game?”

Paige’s eyes gleam with wicked delight. “A little game of control. Of teasing. Of pushing limits without getting caught.”

Azzi’s breath catches, the promise igniting something fierce inside her. “I’m listening.”

Paige steps close, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Every time I want you, I’ll send you a text. You can’t respond right away. You have to wait—make me wait.”

Azzi’s pulse races. “And if I break the rules?”

Paige’s smirk deepens. “Then there’s a consequence. Something… unforgettable.”

Azzi shivers, the thrill of the unknown wrapping around her like a second skin.

“Deal,” Azzi breathes, eyes locked on Paige’s.

As the night stretches on, they play their game with delicious tension—text messages sent and ignored, subtle touches exchanged, stolen glances and secret smiles.

Each moment is a tease, every look loaded with meaning, until the air itself seems charged with electricity.

Paige trails her fingers over Azzi’s bare skin, whispering promises that make Azzi’s knees weak.

Azzi responds in kind, her voice thick with need. “You’re killing me.”

Paige laughs softly. “Good. I want you desperate.”

The teasing escalates until they can no longer resist. In a rush of heat and hunger, they collapse onto the bed, tangled limbs and ragged breaths the only evidence of their surrender.

The bedroom was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of Paige’s phone screen as she slid it back onto the nightstand.

Her eyes never left Azzi’s face, watching the subtle catch in her breath, the way her lashes fluttered as her heart visibly hammered beneath her chest.

 I don't know if I can take much more.”

Paige laughed softly, a sound full of promise and power. “Oh, baby, you’re just getting started.”

Late into the night, when the world finally fell away, the restraint shattered like glass.

Paige claimed her with slow, demanding kisses, hands roaming with fierce intent.

Azzi surrendered, arching into every touch, every whispered word.

They moved together, a symphony of breathless moans and gasps, fingers tangling, lips devouring, hearts pounding in perfect rhythm.

Paige’s voice dropped to a growl, words rough and raw:

“You don’t get to hide from me. Not tonight. I want you all in—mind, body, soul.”

Azzi’s answer was a broken gasp, her body trembling as she gave in to the delicious chaos swirling inside.

The tension between them was a living thing—wrapping around their bodies, crawling under their skin, filling every space with urgent need.

Paige’s eyes locked onto Azzi’s, dark and smoldering, the kind of look that promised everything and held nothing back.

“Do you feel it too?” Paige whispered, voice thick with hunger. “That pull? That fire?”

Azzi nodded, breath hitching. “Every second. It’s like… like I’m drowning in you.”

Paige’s hands slid down Azzi’s sides, firm and possessive, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

“No one’s drowning tonight,” Paige growled, voice low and dangerous. “You’re drowning in me.”

Their lips crashed together—hard, demanding, desperate. Fingers tangled in hair, pulling, claiming, owning.

Azzi moaned against Paige’s mouth, body arching, craving more—more touch, more heat, more everything.

Paige’s hands roamed, memorizing every inch of Azzi’s skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The room felt smaller, the air thicker, the world fading until it was just them—two wild hearts burning too brightly to be contained.

Paige’s voice dropped to a dark, sultry murmur as she pulled back just enough to whisper, “You’re mine. No one else gets to touch you like this.”

Azzi’s answer was breathless, trembling. “I want you. Only you.”

And with that, the slow, fierce dance of possession and surrender began—each moment a battle, each touch a promise, each gasp a confession.

The room is thick with warmth, their ragged breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath of a storm.

Azzi’s fingers trace slow, featherlight patterns across Paige’s arm, a gentle reminder that she’s still here — still real.

Paige’s eyes flutter open, meeting Azzi’s gaze with a softness that makes Azzi’s chest tighten with something fierce and tender all at once.

“You okay?” Azzi whispers, voice low and full of concern.

Paige nods, a small smile curving her lips. “Better than okay.”

Azzi moves closer, resting her forehead against Paige’s, their breaths syncing in a perfect, soothing rhythm.

“Thank you,” Paige murmurs, fingers threading through Azzi’s hair like a prayer.

“For what?” Azzi asks, heart swelling with the need to protect and cherish this fragile moment.

“For trusting me,” Paige says softly. “For letting me in.”

Azzi’s lips press against Paige’s temple, voice thick with emotion. “I hate the fact that we have to hide this, when your the only one who really sees me”

The space between them hums with unspoken promises — safety, vulnerability, and an unbreakable bond forged in fire and softened by love.

Paige’s hand cups Azzi’s cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear neither of them admitted to shedding.

“We’re in this together,” Paige says, voice steady and sure. “Always.”

Azzi’s heart feels impossibly full as she leans into the touch, the weight of the world falling away in the sanctuary of Paige’s arms.

They stay like that for what feels like forever — bodies entwined, hearts beating slow and steady, wrapped in the kind of tenderness that heals and holds and never lets go.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them felt heavy with possibility — the kind that only comes after a storm, when everything feels raw and new and honest.

Azzi’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Paige’s back, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you ever think about having kids?”

Paige’s eyes softened, searching Azzi’s face like she was trying to see every secret hope buried deep inside.

“Before all the chaos, before Sam and everything… yeah,” Paige said, voice catching. “I dreamed of a quiet life. A family. Something real. But it always felt like those dreams belonged to someone else — like I was living someone else’s story.”

Azzi nodded slowly, her own heart aching with the weight of that same regret. “Joe’s dreams came first for me too. His career, his goals… I was so focused on being his rock, his support. But sometimes, I wonder what I wanted before all of that.”

Paige reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind Azzi’s ear, eyes shining with unshed tears. “What did you want?”

Azzi hesitated, then spoke softly, “I wanted to be a mom. Not just to the world, but to someone — to a little life that was mine. I imagined teaching them, watching them grow… sharing the kind of love I didn’t always feel.”

Paige’s hand found Azzi’s, fingers intertwining. “Me too. I wanted to build something that was ours. Something no one else could touch or take away.”

The vulnerability between them was a balm, a bridge that made the space between their pasts and futures feel smaller — more hopeful.

“We don’t have to hide those dreams anymore,” Paige said, voice steady and sure. “Maybe we can find a way to make them real — together.”

Azzi’s heart fluttered with something fierce and new — a chance to rewrite their stories, to build a future on their own terms.

“Together,” she echoed, sealing the promise with a soft kiss that spoke of hope, healing, and a love that refused to be anything less than everything.

The soft quiet between Azzi and Paige felt like a fragile promise — a safe place where their hopes could breathe.

Azzi was tracing circles on Paige’s hand, eyes heavy with dreams when her phone buzzed sharply against the nightstand.

Her heart sank a little as she saw the caller ID: Joe.

Paige felt it too — the sudden tension that tightened the air, a reminder neither wanted but both needed.

Azzi glanced at Paige, voice barely a whisper, “I have to answer.”

Paige squeezed her hand, giving a small nod of understanding — the weight of their reality pressing in like a storm outside their door.

Azzi’s voice softened as she spoke, “Hey, Joe. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… resting.”

From the way her face tightened, Paige could hear the undertone of responsibility and distance.

Joe’s voice crackled with concern. “You okay? Need anything?”

Azzi’s smile was strained but genuine. “I’m good. Just missing you.”

As the call continued, Paige felt the sting of the barrier between them — the life Azzi had built with Joe, the promises and routines that tied her down.

Azzi ended the call with a sigh, eyes meeting Paige’s with a complicated mix of longing and regret.

“We’re not each other’s,” Azzi said softly, voice breaking the fragile bubble they’d created.

Paige nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “But maybe… we can be something new. Something ours.”

They held each other tighter, the ache of reality softened by the fierce hope burning between them — a promise to fight for the love they both deserved, no matter the cost.

The first sign the bubble had popped was the sound of Joe’s suitcase thumping onto the hardwood.

“Home, babe!” he called, voice warm and easy in the way only husbands could manage — completely unaware of the firestorm in his wife’s chest.

Paige had texted Azzi only minutes earlier: He’s pulling in. See you tonight.Now, the reality was here. The house that had been their private playground for a week was full again, and every door between them might as well have been locked.

That night, the Bengals hosted a team dinner — playoff tradition. The kind of loud, celebratory night where the guys got ribbed by their teammates, where WAGs clustered in little groups with champagne flutes.

Azzi had dressed carefully — nothing overtly suggestive, but enough that Paige’s gaze lingered the moment she walked in. Black silk blouse. Wide-leg trousers. Gold hoops catching the warm restaurant light.

Paige’s dress was deep green, the shade that made her hair glow like firelight. The slit up her thigh was nothing short of dangerous.

They sat at the long table — Joe on Azzi’s left, Paige across from her, Sam beside Paige. From the outside? Perfectly normal. Underneath? Chaos.

It started with a casual brush of feet under the table — Paige’s toe tracing along Azzi’s ankle before retreating. Azzi’s hand gripped the stem of her wine glass tighter. She tried to focus on Joe’s story about practice, but her attention kept drifting.

Halfway through the appetizers, Paige leaned forward to pass the bread basket. Their eyes met — just a flicker too long. Then, under the cover of clinking glasses and laughter, Paige’s fingers slid across the table to hook into Azzi’s.

The world didn’t see it. Not the other WAGs gossiping about outfits. Not Joe or Sam, both deep into some debate about college ball. Only they knew. Only they felt the soft, desperate squeeze that said everything they couldn’t.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Joe said suddenly, glancing at Azzi.

She smiled easily, a skill she’d perfected over the past few weeks. “Just listening. It’s fun watching you two go off.”

Paige smirked across the table, hidden enough that only Azzi caught it.

Later, when the guys got up to greet a late-arriving teammate, Paige leaned just far enough to murmur — her lips barely moving — “You look so good I could break every rule right now.”

Azzi’s pulse spiked. She wanted to say something back, to push, to tease — but Sam was already returning to his seat. The moment was gone.

The rest of the night was a dance in plain sight. Passing napkins with fingers brushing just a little too slow. Knees bumping under the table and not moving away. Shared smirks when someone made a joke with an unintended double meaning.

By dessert, the ache had shifted from playful to sharp. They weren’t used to this anymore — not after weeks of having everything. Now every small touch felt like oxygen in a room that was running out of air.

When the dinner finally broke up and the group spilled onto the sidewalk, Joe slung an arm around Azzi. Sam did the same with Paige.

Paige caught Azzi’s eye one last time before they went their separate ways — the kind of look that made promises and threats all at once.

And when Azzi climbed into Joe’s truck, she could still feel Paige’s fingers in hers, even though they’d been apart for twenty minutes.

The playoffs had started. The away games would be rare now. The rules were back in place. But they both knew they’d spend every stolen second finding ways to bend them.

The stadium was shaking. Not from them — not yet — but from 65,000 Bengals fans losing their minds as the team jogged out for the wildcard round.

Up in the private family suite, Azzi stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, clutching her coffee cup even though she’d finished it twenty minutes ago. The suite was crowded — Joe’s mom, his brothers, a couple of cousins, Sam’s sister and her fiancé, plus a smattering of kids in jerseys too big for them.

And then there was Paige.

She was across the room, leaning casually against the counter where the catering trays were set out. She’d chosen black jeans, a cropped Bengals jersey, and just enough makeup to look flawless but effortless. When she caught Azzi looking, she smirked and tilted her head — that little I know what you’re thinking tilt that made Azzi’s stomach flip.

The problem was, it had been weeks. Weeks since the last away game. Weeks of whispered jokes, hidden touches, and replaying every memory in their heads while they smiled at their husbands. Weeks of frustration building like a stormcloud.

Today wasn’t supposed to be different. The rules were clear: no risky moves when the guys were around. But the playoff tension and the electricity in the air were shredding all the self-control they’d managed to hold on to.

By the middle of the second quarter, the Bengals were up, the suite was loud, and Joe and Sam’s relatives were deep in conversation. That’s when Paige crossed the room, brushing just close enough to let her hand graze Azzi’s hip before leaning in.

“Want a snack?” she asked casually.

Azzi knew exactly what she meant. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They slipped out, laughing at something innocuous for anyone watching. They didn’t head for the main concession stands, though. Paige led the way down a quieter corridor lined with “Family Only” signs.

The family bathroom was small — clean, warm, and private. The moment the door clicked shut, Azzi’s back was against it and Paige’s mouth was on hers.

The kiss wasn’t tentative. It was hungry. Weeks of restraint poured into it, every second making their hands greedier. Paige’s fingers slid up under Azzi’s jersey, tracing the edge of her  bra before pushing higher.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” Paige murmured against her mouth, the sound low and rough. “All night, standing there in that jersey like you don’t know exactly what you do to me.”

Azzi gripped the front of Paige’s jeans, pulling her closer. “I’ve missed you so bad.”

They were moving before either of them could think — Paige turning them so Azzi was pressed to the counter under the mirror, jersey riding up. Their kisses turned messy, frantic. Paige’s hands gripped her hips, dragging her forward so their bodies locked together.

The sound of the game over the stadium speakers bled faintly through the walls, but in here it felt a world away.

Paige’s lips traced Azzi’s jaw, down her neck. “Tell me you thought about me every night.”

Azzi’s breath hitched. “Every damn night.”

Her voice cracked just enough that Paige’s grin turned wicked. One hand slid lower, testing, teasing — Azzi’s knees nearly buckled.

“God, you’re already—” Paige didn’t finish, just pressed her forehead to Azzi’s and worked her hand until Azzi was biting her lip hard enough to keep quiet.

The risk only made it hotter. Any second, someone could knock. Any second, Joe’s mom could be wandering the hall looking for them.

“Paige—” Azzi’s voice was a whisper and a warning, but her hands were gripping the counter so tight her knuckles went white.

Paige kissed her again, slower now but deeper, her fingers moving with deliberate, relentless pressure. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Azzi shook her head desperately, eyes wide. “They’ll hear—”

“That’s half the fun.”

Her resolve broke. The sound she made was muffled in Paige’s shoulder, her whole body arching as Paige pushed her right over the edge she’d been teetering on for weeks.

For a few breathless seconds, neither of them moved. The only sounds were their breathing and the faint roar of the crowd outside.

Paige smoothed her jersey down, stealing one last kiss. “We should… actually grab snacks. So it looks real.”

They laughed, still flushed and shaky, and left the bathroom with two pretzels and sodas in hand — their alibis.

When they reentered the suite, no one even looked twice. Joe was yelling at a play on the field, Sam was laughing with some other DEs, and the rest of the family was too locked in on the game to notice the secret hanging in the air between the two women.

Azzi sat, pretending to focus on the third quarter. Paige slid into her seat across the room, but her smirk said everything.

The rules had been broken. Again. And neither of them regretted a single second.

The Bengals had pulled it off — wildcard win in the bag, confetti cannons firing, the crowd singing along to the victory anthem. The players were heading to the locker room for media, and the family members were slowly filing out of the suites.

Joe and Sam emerged from the tunnel twenty minutes later, damp hair from quick showers, dressed in crisp button-downs that said family dinner instead of club.

“You guys wanna celebrate?” Joe asked, tugging his beanie over his curls. “There’s that steakhouse downtown. Lowkey.”

“No drinks?” Sam confirmed.

Joe shook his head. “Not during playoffs.”

Azzi smirked, glancing at Paige. “Guess that means no one’s getting wild tonight.”

Paige’s answering smile was sharp. We’ll see about that.

On the way to the parking lot, Joe tossed Azzi the keys. “We’ll meet you there — I gotta grab something from the locker room.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride together,” Paige said quickly, already sliding into the passenger seat of Azzi’s SUV.

The doors shut, and the low rumble of the heater filled the silence between them. For a moment, neither spoke — just glances exchanged in the dim light of the dashboard.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who…” Paige’s voice dropped, a sly edge curling at the words, “…could barely stand up earlier.”

Azzi’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you back into that bathroom for round two.”

They were grinning at each other now, but it was the kind of grin that made Azzi’s pulse spike.

“You still worked up?” Paige asked, voice dipping lower.

Azzi flicked her eyes from the road to her. “Drive-thru confession booth — what do you think?”

Paige leaned back in the seat, crossing one leg over the other slowly. “I think you’re gonna be the picture of innocence tonight. And I’m gonna know exactly what’s going through your head while you smile and nod at your husband.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head, but her cheeks burned all the way to the restaurant.

The steakhouse was warm and softly lit, the kind of place that smelled like butter and expensive cuts of meat. Their booth was big enough for the four of them, Paige across from Azzi, Joe and Sam bookending the table.

Menus were passed around. Orders placed. And then the quiet battle began.

Under the table, Paige’s foot brushed Azzi’s ankle. Accident? No. Paige’s expression didn’t flicker, but her foot stayed there, sliding slow and deliberate up the back of Azzi’s calf.

Azzi swallowed a sip of water, setting the glass down carefully. “So… playoff schedule’s locked?” she asked, looking at Joe but catching Paige’s smirk from the corner of her eye.

Joe nodded. “Divisional next week, AFC after that if we win. You guys coming to both?”

Azzi managed a casual, “Of course,” while Paige’s foot pressed just a little higher.

The conversation flowed — team strategy, random jokes, Sam complaining about the dessert menu being too small. All the while, Paige kept her game up, toes curling against the back of Azzi’s knee until Azzi had to bite her cheek to stop from reacting.

By the time the check came, Azzi felt like her pulse had been stuck at sprint speed for an hour.

In the parking lot, Joe and Sam said goodnight, heading to Sam’s truck.

Azzi unlocked her SUV, and Paige lingered by the passenger door.

“You’re evil,” Azzi muttered.

Paige’s smile was pure trouble. “And you love it.”

Azzi shook her head, but her laugh gave her away. “Drive me home before I do something we’ll regret in the parking lot.”

Paige slid into the seat, still grinning. “Oh, I’m counting down the days to that away game, sweetheart.”

Azzi’s hands tightened on the wheel again. “So am I.”

They drove off into the quiet Cincinnati night, playoff victory in the rearview, and the kind of tension that wasn’t going anywhere.

The stadium was already loud when Azzi stepped out of her car. Her Bengals jersey was cropped — not because it was designed that way, but because she’d tied it up and tucked it under her bra, exposing the flat stretch of her stomach and the small glint of her belly-button piercing under the winter sun. A black mini skirt skimmed her thighs, paired with tall boots that made her legs look endless.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder like she didn’t notice the heads turning. She definitely noticed.

Paige noticed most of all.

From across the concourse, she slowed her walk, her eyes dragging over every inch like she was trying to memorize it. Mini skirt? Bare stomach? Paige’s jaw clenched, and her pace quickened.

By the time Azzi joined the rest of the family members in the suite, Paige was already waiting at their table, pretending to scroll her phone.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Paige murmured under her breath as Azzi sat down beside her.

Azzi gave a small, sweet smile. “It’s a football game, not a funeral. I dressed for the occasion.”

The suite filled quickly — Joe’s mom, his sister, an uncle, a couple of his college friends. Azzi settled in beside Paige, crossing her legs, skirt riding just enough that Paige’s mind went somewhere entirely different than kickoff.

Halfway through the first quarter, Paige leaned back in her seat. Her hand rested innocently on her own thigh… and then, in a slow, deliberate shift, her fingertips slid under the hem of Azzi’s skirt.

Azzi froze for half a second.

“Paige—”

“Shh,” Paige murmured, eyes fixed on the field, as if she was discussing a penalty call.

On Azzi’s other side, Joe’s mom turned to her. “So, how’s things at the hospital? I heard you had to handle the people from that pile up last week…”

Azzi’s lips parted on a soundless breath as Paige’s fingers moved higher. She forced a smile, leaning toward Joe’s mom like nothing was wrong. “Oh — it’s been ok, actually. We got more E.R doctors recently.” Her voice was steady, but her pulse was anything but.

Paige’s touch wasn’t rushed. She moved with slow precision, fingertips brushing over soft skin, teasing in a way that made Azzi’s knees press together — not that Paige let her.

Azzi laughed at something Joe’s mom said, the sound a little too high, a little too quick. Paige’s eyes flicked sideways, her own mouth twitching into the faintest smirk.

By the time the quarter ended, Azzi’s cheeks were warm, her breathing shallow, and Paige withdrew her hand like nothing had happened. She reached for her soda. “Want a sip?” she asked sweetly.

Azzi wanted to kill her. Or kiss her. Or both.

The second they were out of view of the rest of the suite, Azzi’s fingers wrapped around Paige’s wrist.

“Bathroom. Now.”

Paige raised her brows but followed without a word, letting herself be tugged down the hallway to the locked family restroom.

The door clicked shut.

Azzi didn’t waste time. She backed Paige against the counter, caging her in with both hands. “You think you can just—” Her mouth pressed to Paige’s ear, voice dropping into something low and dangerous, “…touch me in front of my husband’s mother and get away with it?”

Paige bit her lip, eyes sparkling. “Maybe I thought you liked the risk.”

Azzi smirked. “I like payback more.”

Paige barely had time to gasp before Azzi’s hands were under her shirt, mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was all teeth and heat. She turned Paige, bending her slightly over the counter, shirt riding up as Azzi’s palm slid along her thigh.

“This is mine,” Azzi murmured, nails grazing just enough to make Paige shiver. “You don’t get to forget that.”

Paige gripped the counter, knuckles white, a quiet curse spilling from her mouth when Azzi pushed just the way she knew would undo her.

It was controlled chaos — Azzi refusing to let Paige turn the tables this time, keeping the pace just slow enough to draw out every sound, every twitch, until Paige was trembling and clutching the countertop like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

When Azzi finally stepped back, Paige’s eyes were glassy, her breathing wrecked.

“Now we’re even,” Azzi said with a grin, smoothing her skirt like she hadn’t just wrecked Paige in a public bathroom.

Paige straightened slowly, still catching her breath. “We are not even.”

Azzi’s laugh followed them all the way back to the suite.

The whole week felt different.

There was no mid-week teasing, no lingering in kitchens, no stolen moments in the family suite bathrooms. The Bengals were facing the undefeated Chiefs, and the guys were… laser-focused. Sam was at the facility before the sun. Joe spent hours reviewing film until his voice was hoarse from going over plays with the offense.

Azzi noticed the difference in Joe’s eyes — that mix of nerves and fire that only came when the entire season was on the line. She kept things calm at home: cooking, keeping the space quiet, giving him the room to prepare. Paige was doing the same with Sam.

They still texted — of course they did — but even their messages were softer this week. Encouragement. Little check-ins. The kind of words that kept each other grounded while everything else felt high-stakes and electric.

The stadium was a sea of orange and black, every cheer deafening. From the suite, Azzi’s hands gripped the railing so tight her knuckles were pale. Paige stood beside her, just as tense, her eyes fixed on the field.

The game was brutal. Hits that made the whole crowd flinch, back-and-forth drives, no one able to fully pull away. Every time Joe got sacked, Azzi’s heart lodged in her throat. Every time Sam made a tackle, Paige’s hands clapped so hard they stung.

Then… the final drive.

Joe found Chase on the sideline. Then Higgins over the middle. Then, with twelve seconds left, a bullet to the end zone. Touchdown. The stadium exploded.

Paige was screaming before she even realized it, hugging Azzi tight. In the chaos, they didn’t even notice the security staff waving the players’ families down to the field.

The grass was still littered with orange confetti when Azzi spotted Joe through the crowd of helmets and cameras. He had his helmet off, hair damp, grinning like a kid who just pulled off the impossible.

“Joe!” she called, running toward him.

He caught sight of her and didn’t hesitate — met her halfway, scooping her up off the ground. The cameras were everywhere, but neither of them cared.

He set her down and cupped her face, pressing his forehead to hers for a beat before kissing her. Not a rushed peck, not anything over-the-top — just warm and sure and full of the weight of the moment.

The photos went everywhere. By the time they made it to the locker room tunnel, “People’s Princess” was trending next to Joe’s name. NFL Twitter was full of slow-mo replays of Joe smiling down at Azzi, clips of her laughing with her hair falling in her face, people calling them storybook.

Even Paige, walking a few steps behind with Sam, shook her head with a smile. “You’re gonna break the internet again, Princess.”

Azzi just laughed, cheeks flushed from more than the cold. “Guess I can live with that.”

If the AFC Championship had been intense, the two weeks leading up to the Super Bowl were… insane.

Joe was unbearable in the most Joe way possible. He was up at dawn, reading over playbooks while pacing the kitchen. He had an actual notepad for his press conference answers, crossing things out like it was a college midterm. Sam wasn’t much better — watching game film at the dining table with headphones on, occasionally muttering defensive calls under his breath like he was in some NFL-themed trance.

To the outside world, Paige and Azzi looked like dream wives. Always smiling on media day, standing beside their men for photo ops, answering polite questions from NFL Network about “what it’s like supporting them at the big game.” Paige had even worn a perfect, cream-colored coat with her hair down and soft waves — Instagram called her graceful, poised, supportive. Azzi’s clip in a burnt orange trench coat and black boots went viral again, with captions like She’s glowing.

The reality?

The moment the cameras were gone, they were side-eyeing each other over their phones.

Paige: “If Sam rewinds the same defensive snap one more time I’m going to ‘accidentally’ break his iPad.” Azzi: “Joe’s currently timing how fast he can tie his cleats. Help.”

They kept it playful — FaceTiming late at night just to rant about how dramatic their guys were being. One night, Joe was practicing his media day answers in the living room, and Azzi had to mute herself so Paige could watch silently from the screen while dying of laughter.

“I swear to God,” Paige whispered, “these next two weeks, we’re just Stepford Wives, huh?”

Azzi smirked. “Perfect smiles, nodding at the right time, and hiding all evidence we’re slowly losing our minds.”

“And not touching each other,” Paige added, with a fake dramatic sigh.

Azzi’s eyes flickered, a little too knowing. “Don’t remind me.”

By the second week, the whole city was buzzing. The Bengals were practicing in the mornings, locked away in strategy meetings all afternoon. Nights were for early dinners and more tape review. The guys barely noticed Paige and Azzi exchanging looks from across the room, the subtle smirks when they passed each other a wine glass at a team dinner.

Neither said it out loud, but the tension was there. They’d promised no hookups until the next away game — which meant at least three weeks without touching. Every polite wife smile they gave to reporters was hiding the fact they both knew the second the Super Bowl ended, all bets were off.

The morning of the flight was one of those rare ones where neither of them had to rush. Azzi woke up to a soft gray sky outside her window, the kind of weather that makes the world feel quiet and slow. She padded into the kitchen in fuzzy socks, already wearing the oversized Bengals hoodie Joe had “accidentally” shrunk in the dryer so many times it was practically molded to her.

She tossed her hair into a loose bun, brushing away a few stubborn curls, and checked her phone. Paige: You awake yet or should I bring coffee to bribe you into functioning?

Azzi smirked and typed back, Already dressed. But yes, coffee.

By the time Paige knocked on her door—messy bun, sweats, hoodie pulled up like she’d just rolled out of bed—Azzi already had her duffel bag by the door. Paige was holding two paper cups from their favorite local spot, sleeves still warm from the machine.

"Extra caramel, because apparently you don’t respect the taste of coffee," Paige teased, handing it over.

Azzi grinned. “And extra ice because apparently you don’t respect hot drinks.”

They left together, the easy rhythm between them so natural now it didn’t even require thought. In the car, they laughed over their husbands’ pre-Super Bowl tension—how Joe and Sam had been locked into game film like their lives depended on it, pacing around the house muttering plays under their breath like possessed chess players.

When they reached the private jet terminal, the families were already gathering. The air was filled with quiet excitement and the sound of luggage wheels rolling over the sleek floors. Joe’s parents were there, Sam’s too—both women blending easily into the family group, but subtly gravitating toward each other like magnets.

Once they boarded, Azzi found two seats side by side near the middle of the cabin. Paige plopped down first, stretching her legs out and tugging her hoodie tighter. “Two hours of peace,” she sighed.

Azzi dug around in her bag, pulling out a well-worn paperback. Paige raised an eyebrow. “What are we reading?”

“Something you wouldn’t touch,” Azzi teased. “It has more words than pictures.”

Paige grinned, leaning over her shoulder to skim the page. “Huh. No murders yet? How are you surviving?”

Azzi laughed, but before she could answer, Paige was already pulling something from her own hoodie pocket—a tangled mess of wired earbuds.

“Oh my god,” Azzi groaned, dramatically covering her face. “Paige. Wires? What century is this?”

“They’re more intimate,” Paige said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “Wireless is for strangers. Wires are for someone you don’t mind leaning close to.”

Azzi’s comeback got lost somewhere in her throat when Paige plugged them into her phone, handed her one earbud, and the familiar opening chords of a sza song started to play—something low, warm, and slow. Paige turned her head, watching her for a second too long before looking away.

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi murmured, but she didn’t hand the earbud back.

Half an hour later, the book was closed in her lap, her knees pulled up onto the seat. The low cabin light, the gentle music, and Paige’s steady presence all blurred together into something Azzi couldn’t fight. Her eyelids grew heavier with each mile they flew.

She didn’t even realize she’d leaned over until the steady thump of Paige’s heartbeat was under her ear. Paige didn’t move, didn’t speak—just shifted enough to let Azzi’s head rest comfortably against her shoulder. Her hoodie smelled faintly like coffee and vanilla lotion.

When the plane dipped slightly in the air, Paige’s arm tightened instinctively around her, keeping her steady. No one else seemed to notice—Joe’s mom was deep in conversation with Sam’s dad—but Paige’s gaze lingered down at her for a moment, her thumb brushing idly along Azzi’s forearm in a slow, absentminded motion.

Azzi stirred only when the pilot announced they were beginning their descent. She blinked sleepily, realizing where she was, and sat up just enough to meet Paige’s amused expression.

“Comfortable?” Paige murmured, voice low.

Azzi smirked, rubbing her eyes. “Wired headphones are growing on me.”

Paige just grinned, tugging her hood back over her head like she hadn’t just turned an ordinary flight into something that made Azzi’s chest feel too warm.

Azzi and Paige were unwinding in the hotel lounge, still cozy in their oversized hoodies and sweatpants, when Robin breezed in carrying a tray of fresh coffee and pastries.

“Oh! You two! Before you get too comfy, just so you know—your rooms aren’t on the same floor as Joe and Sam,” Robin said casually, setting down the tray with a smile.

Paige blinked, then glanced at Azzi, her eyebrows knitting together. “Wait, what? Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

Azzi frowned, crossing her arms. “Yeah, why keep us in the dark?”

Robin chuckled, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Oh, it’s just league policy for ‘focus’ during Super Bowl. Keeps the players… well, you know, in the zone.”

Paige exchanged a look with Azzi, a mix of confusion and mild irritation simmering between them. “So, basically, we’re being separated from our husbands so they stay in the"zone "?"

Robin nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. “Exactly. You girls are expected to be the perfect supportive wives—cheer from afar, no distractions.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no distractions except for not telling us this ourselves.”

The two of them huddled close, whispering quick theories about why their husbands hadn’t said a word, while Robin watched with a knowing smile.

Azzi and Paige exchanged a look, the silence stretching between them heavier than the early morning air.

Paige broke it first, voice low, “I don’t get it. If this is supposed to be about ‘focus,’ why didn’t Joe or Sam tell us? Seems like something they should’ve said themselves.”

Azzi nodded, biting her lip. “Exactly. It’s not like we’re strangers, or that we’d distract them by just being around. It feels like they’re shutting us out.”

Robin set her cup down gently, her expression softening. “Sometimes the league puts these rules in place without much input from the players or their families. It’s… not ideal, I know.”

Paige’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “So we’re supposed to just sit on our hands? Pretend like everything’s normal when it’s not?”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “We’ve been juggling so much already. This just adds another layer of distance.”

Robin reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Azzi’s shoulder. “You’re both strong women. You’ll get through it.”

Paige glanced at Azzi, a flicker of determination lighting her eyes. “We will. But maybe it’s time we make sure our voices are heard next time.”

Azzi smiled, the tension easing just a bit. “Agreed.”

The three of them sat quietly for a moment, the coffee cooling between their hands, each lost in thought about the game ahead.

after Robin left, her casual little bombshell still hanging in the air like smoke neither of them could wave away.

“You caught that too, right?” Paige asked, leaning back against the couch cushions, legs crossed and eyes narrowing.

Azzi gave her a slow look. “That our husbands apparently didn’t feel the need to tell us we’re sleeping on different floors from them during the single most stressful two days of their careers? Yeah, I caught it.”

Paige’s laugh was short and humorless. “I mean, is it just me, or is this actually insane?”

Azzi tilted her head. “It’s not just you. And the fact that we’re hearing it from Joe’s mom? I mean… come on.”

Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “We’re not in high school. Why are they acting like sneaking out of our rooms at night is going to tank the Super Bowl?”

Azzi’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “Well…” she started, teasing just enough to get a glare from Paige.

“Don’t even,” Paige said, pointing a finger at her. “That’s not the point.”

Azzi raised her hands in mock surrender, but the flicker of amusement faded. “It’s just weird, Paige. Like… are they keeping us away because they actually think we’d mess up their focus? Or is this some team rule they just didn’t bother explaining?”

Paige sighed, leaning forward. “I need to know. Because right now, it feels like they didn’t trust us enough to just tell us themselves.”

That sat between them for a beat too long.

“Okay,” Azzi finally said, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. “We ask. No overthinking, no stewing. Just ask.”

Paige mirrored her, phone already in hand. They typed at the same time. Azzi: Why didn’t you tell me I’m not on the same floor as you?Paige: What’s with the separate floors? Can you explain?

Paige’s phone buzzed first. She glanced at it, then rolled her eyes. “Sam says, ‘Yeah, just league rules. Keeps us locked in.’”

Azzi’s screen lit up next. She read it aloud. “Joe says, ‘It’s for focus. Coach wants the team all together so we don’t get distracted.’”

They stared at each other.

“‘Distracted,’” Paige repeated, voice dripping with disbelief.

“‘Locked in,’” Azzi echoed, setting her phone down harder than she meant to. “You’d think we were asking to throw a party in their rooms or something.”

Paige’s voice was quieter now, but sharper. “Feels like they’re treating us as if we’re the problem.”

Azzi shifted uncomfortably. “And I hate that I feel… hurt. Like, shouldn’t they be excited to see us after practice? Not avoiding us?”

Paige gave her a long, considering look. “We’re going to ask them. In person. Tonight.”

Azzi nodded once, firmly. “Face to face. I don’t want another vague text.”

That night, after the team’s meetings wrapped, Joe and Sam walked into the hotel lounge where Azzi and Paige were waiting. Both women had that unmistakable mix of calm and steel in their eyes that told the guys this wasn’t just a casual hangout.

“Hey,” Sam said cautiously, leaning down to kiss Paige’s cheek.

Joe followed suit with Azzi, but she didn’t melt into it like she usually did.

“So,” Paige started, crossing her arms, “are we going to talk about the fact that you didn’t tell us we wouldn’t be on the same floor?”

Sam blinked, caught off guard. “We—uh—it’s just how the team sets things up for the Super Bowl.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t you just say that? Instead of letting us hear it from your mom, Joe?”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “I… didn’t think it was a big deal. It’s not personal. We just have team curfews, meetings, and the staff wants us in one place so—”

“So you stay ‘locked in’ and ‘focused’ and don’t get ‘distracted’?” Paige cut in, her voice just shy of sarcastic.

Sam gave her a sheepish look. “Basically, yeah.”

Paige leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Do you honestly think us being in the same room would ruin your prep? We’re not groupies. We’re your wives.”

Joe exhaled. “It’s not about that. It’s just… the routine. They want zero variables. Everyone on the same floor, same sleep schedules, same everything. It’s—”

“Control,” Azzi said softly, finishing his sentence for him.

The four of them sat there in silence for a moment.

“Look,” Sam finally said, “it’s a few days. Then we’re home, and it’s back to normal.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She glanced at Azzi, who was still watching Joe carefully, her lips pressed together like she had more to say but wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Eventually, Paige just nodded slowly. “Fine. But next time something changes, we hear it from you first. Not your mom. Not the coach. You.”

Sam reached for her hand under the table, squeezing gently. “Deal.”

Joe’s eyes softened, and he mirrored the gesture with Azzi. “Promise.”

But when they left the lounge, Azzi and Paige exchanged another look — a silent agreement that, even if they accepted the explanation, they didn’t necessarily believe it.

The elevator ride to Azzi’s floor was quiet. Too quiet. Paige kept her arms folded, tapping her nails against her elbow like she was trying not to say something she’d regret in public.

When they stepped into Azzi’s suite and the door clicked shut, Paige finally let out a sharp laugh. Not a happy one. “They’re worried about ‘distractions.’” She shook her head. “Azzi, we are the distractions.”

Azzi sank into the couch, tugging off her hoodie. “Yeah. And the best part? They don’t even know they’re right—just… not in the way they think.”

Paige smirked, dropping onto the cushion beside her. “Oh, they’d die if they knew.”

Azzi tilted her head, lips curving. “You think they’d still be worried about us sneaking into their rooms… or worried about us sneaking into each other’s?”

Paige’s laugh was softer this time, but it carried something else—an edge of guilt. “We’re sitting here all worked up about being separated from them when, truthfully, the last time I was in your bed wasn’t even when Joe was gone. It was when Sam was gone.”

Azzi leaned back, looking at the ceiling. “And here we are, demanding honesty from them when we’re… doing this.” She gestured between them, the space suddenly charged despite the weight of the conversation. “Does that make us hypocrites?”

Paige bit her lip. “Probably.”

They sat in that truth for a moment. The room was warm, the air thick with unspoken things.

Azzi finally broke the silence. “But it’s not the same, Paige.”

Paige turned to her. “How is it not?”

“Because,” Azzi said slowly, “we’re not hiding this to hurt them. We’re… hiding it because it’s ours. Because I’m not ready to let anyone else touch it, or name it, or ruin it.”

Paige’s gaze softened. “And because it’s the only thing in our lives that’s just… for us.”

Azzi nodded, almost reluctantly. “Exactly. Everything else is about them—their games, their schedules, their careers. But this? This is the one thing that’s ours.”

Paige leaned in, her voice low. “Which is why I’m not spending these few days missing Sam more than I miss you.”

Azzi’s stomach flipped at that, a warmth curling low inside her. “That’s dangerous talk, Maddison.”

Paige grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, well. The truth usually is.”

For a while they just sat there, close but not touching, both of them quietly grappling with the fact that they were furious at their husbands for not being completely transparent—while they were holding the biggest secret of all.

Eventually, Paige broke the tension with a playful nudge. “You realize if they did put us on the same floor as them , we’d be sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of theirs, right?”

Azzi smirked. “Which is probably the real reason we’re not on the same floor.”Paige laughed, shaking her head, but the sound was laced with something heavier. They both knew the game they were playing was dangerous. And yet, neither of them wanted to stop.

[lilirae00]

Marked Up

Summary: One-shot: Paige and Azzi wake up after a night that got a little out of hand. With a game that night, they’re forced to call in their friends for damage control (and endure relentless teasing).

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: completely chaos and silliness, that’s about it. 

a/n: this is from this prompt here. Enjoy! 

Masterlist

—

Paige woke slowly, blinking at the pale dawn leaking through the cheap dorm blinds, the distant bass of someone’s music three doors down thrumming through the wall. 

Her body ached pleasantly, every muscle heavy and loose in the aftermath of last night’s chaos. She groaned when she tried to shift, realizing immediately why she couldn’t move. 

Azzi was plastered to her chest like a human furnace, arms locked tight around her torso.

Paige huffed a sleepy laugh, her voice cracking from disuse—and, let’s be honest, from yelling Azzi’s name more times than she could count. She pressed her lips to the top of Azzi’s hair, breathing in the soft scent of her shampoo.

“Az,” she rasped, amusement lacing the ruined edge of her voice. “C’mon. Scoot. I gotta pee.”

Azzi made a low, petulant whine and burrowed closer, her fingers bunching the hem of Paige’s old t-shirt in a stubborn grip. Paige felt the answering grin spread across her own face despite her best efforts.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, abs flexing as she tried to push herself up. Azzi just grumbled, cheek rubbing warm against her sternum.

Memories from last night tumbled through Paige’s head in blurry, heated snapshots: the cramped press of bodies at Ted’s, girls leaning too close, touching her arm, giggling at everything she said. Azzi’s black-eyed glare across the bar. Paige laughing and buying Azzi her favorite drink just to keep her there a little longer. Azzi leaning in too close, muttering dire threats in her ear.

And then stumbling back here. The door slamming shut. Azzi’s hands everywhere. Paige didn’t even remember taking her clothes off—Azzi had apparently ripped them straight off her body. Paige gasping, swearing, grabbing at Azzi’s hips while Azzi left her teeth in her skin like she wanted to stake a claim.

Paige flushed at the memory, her chest going hot. She let out a helpless laugh, low and wrecked. “You were a little feral last night.”

Azzi cracked one eye open, dark and unimpressed. “They wouldn’t stop touching you.”

Paige bit back another smile. “Jealous?”

Azzi didn’t bother denying it. She just pressed her face deeper against Paige’s chest and mumbled, voice muffled but clear enough: “Mine.”

Paige’s heart squeezed, unreasonably full and stupid. She let herself savor it for one long moment before huffing.

“Alright, up.” She tried to push her off gently, but Azzi only groaned in protest and tightened her hold.

Eventually Paige managed to untangle herself, rolling out of bed with a hiss as her back cracked like bubble wrap. She scrubbed a hand through her wrecked hair and glanced around the disaster that was her bedroom. 

Clothes were everywhere—her bra dangling from the desk lamp like a white flag of surrender. Azzi’s torn Ted’s wristband lay on the floor like evidence.

“Jesus,” Paige muttered. “We were animals.”

Azzi didn’t even open her eyes, just gave a smug little hum of agreement that made Paige snort. She padded over to her dresser, rummaging for anything clean.

But the silence stretched, turned weird, and Paige turned halfway around, frowning.

“Azzi?”

Azzi was staring at her. Or more accurately, at her shoulders. Her mouth had fallen open slightly, horror dawning in slow motion.

Paige scowled, socks dangling from her fingers. “What?”

Azzi pointed wordlessly, eyes wide.

Paige glanced down.

And felt her blood drain.

“Oh. My. God.”

Her entire chest and shoulders were a battleground. Angry red and purple splotches trailed over her collarbones, some so dark they were almost black. She twisted to see her ribs and found more, like some kind of terrible connect-the-dots.

“AZZI!” she squawked.

Azzi winced. “I… um.”

Paige spun, lunging for the cracked mirror on the back of the door. Her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit,” she whispered in horror. Her fingers brushed over a mark that practically glowed neon purple. “And on my thighs? Are you kidding me?!”

Azzi’s face went beet-red but she had the gall to look smug. She shrugged one bare shoulder under Paige’s old UConn t-shirt. “You didn’t exactly tell me to stop.”

Paige whipped around, sputtering. “Azzi!”

Azzi bit her lip, fighting a smile she absolutely shouldn’t have. “I… might have been… feeling a little possessive.”

Paige slapped a hand over her face and let out a strangled noise. “We have a game tonight.”

Azzi’s smugness evaporated in an instant. She went pale. “Oh. Shit.”

Paige’s finger shot out like she’d just solved a murder. “Exactly.”

Azzi scrambled out of bed, the sheet tangling around her hips as she staggered upright, hair sticking out in all directions. “Okay. Okay. We can fix this. Makeup. We’ll call Caroline and Nika. They’ll know what to do.”

Paige dropped her hand, glaring murder. “We’re gonna need like industrial paint.”

Azzi let out a mortified squeak and buried her face in her hands.

Paige groaned at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ. I’m never living this down.”

But when Azzi shuffled over, barefoot and oversized tee brushing her thighs, she didn’t even hesitate. She pressed her arms around Paige’s waist from behind and mumbled into her bare back, “I’m sorry.”

Paige let out another long-suffering sigh. Her voice was gruff but softer. “You’re not sorry.”

Azzi smiled against her skin. “I’m not sorry.”

Paige’s mouth twitched, giving in despite herself. She covered Azzi’s hands with her own and gave them a squeeze.

“C’mon,” she muttered. “We’re calling in reinforcements.”

—

Paige cracked the bedroom door open just enough to peek out. The apartment’s tiny living room was bathed in watery morning light, every scuff on the ancient coffee table and battered couch suddenly too obvious. 

Nika was sprawled there like royalty, one leg hooked over the armrest, her hair a bird’s nest, TV remote resting on her stomach.

Azzi was right behind Paige, gripping the hem of Paige’s stolen hoodie like she could just crawl inside it to hide.

Paige cleared her throat and tried to sound like she had an ounce of dignity left. “Nika.”

Nika didn’t even glance their direction. “Busy.”

Paige scowled. “Turn it off.”

Nika groaned theatrically but paused the show. Slowly—so slowly—she dragged her gaze to them. She blinked once. Twice. Then snorted.

“You both look like shit.”

Azzi made an awful strangled sound, half humiliation and half protest. Paige felt the death-grip on her hoodie tighten. She shot her girlfriend a grim look over her shoulder, then faced forward and sighed.

“We need help.”

Nika’s eyebrows crawled halfway up her forehead. “With what. Did you break the bed?”

Azzi’s fingers spasmed. Paige winced, fighting the urge to just crawl back into the bedroom and die.

“No,” Paige snapped. “Shut up. It’s— Look, can you just text Caroline? Tell her to come over?”

Nika perked up immediately. She sat forward, the remote clattering to the floor. “Why?”

Paige shot a pleading look at Azzi, who was doing her best impression of a turtle, face hidden against Paige’s shoulder. Neither of them spoke.

Nika’s mouth spread into a slow, delighted grin. “Oh my god. What did you two do?"

Azzi squeaked and buried herself even harder in Paige’s side. Paige closed her eyes in defeat, her voice dropping to a mutter.

“Nika, please.”

Nika was full-on vibrating now. “Show me.”

Paige exhaled like she was walking to her execution. She reluctantly tugged the hoodie collar down just enough to reveal the angry purple-black bruises climbing her collarbone.

Nika’s scream-laugh was so loud Paige was convinced the neighbors heard it. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT.”

Azzi made an inhuman squeak and pressed her entire face into Paige’s back. Paige considered self-immolation as a valid option.

Nika was wheezing. “Jesus Christ, Bueckers. Did you let her eat you alive?”

Paige hissed, “NOT helping!”

Azzi groaned, her voice muffled in Paige’s shirt. “It’s not funny.”

Nika was wiping actual tears from her face, struggling to breathe. “It’s a little funny.” She was already fumbling for her phone.

Paige lunged for it. “NIKA, DON’T YOU DARE—”

But it was too late. Nika had Caroline on FaceTime before Paige even reached her.

Caroline answered in a mess of tangled hair and confusion. “What—”

Nika flipped the camera gleefully to Paige’s bruised collarbone. “Bro. LOOK at this shit.”

Caroline blinked, squinted, then recoiled like she’d seen a murder scene. “OH MY GOD.”

Paige made a noise of mortal suffering.

Azzi whimpered. “Caroline please don’t—”

Caroline’s laugh cracked like glass. “Jesus. That’s not one hickey, that’s—”

Nika chimed helpfully, “A full fucking art exhibit.”

Paige let out a dying groan. “CAROLINE. PLEASE. HELP. I have to play tonight.”

Caroline finally got control of herself enough to wipe her eyes. “Oh my god. I’m on my way. Don’t move.” She hung up, still cackling.

Paige turned and glared at Nika with every ounce of murderous intent she could muster.

“You’re dead to me,” she hissed.

Nika just leaned back on the couch, beaming like Christmas had come early. “Worth it.”

Azzi was still cowering behind Paige, muttering miserably. Paige sighed, running a soothing hand over the arm around her waist.

“We’re gonna fix it,” she promised quietly. “Okay?”

Azzi only groaned. Paige could feel the heat of her embarrassment radiating like a furnace.

Exactly eight minutes later, Caroline banged on the door once and let herself in without waiting. She had a literal suitcase of makeup in hand. She took one look at them on the couch—Azzi practically in Paige’s lap, Paige glaring at the ceiling—and dissolved into fresh laughter.

“Oh my god,” she laughed, voice cracking, pointing at Paige like she was a sideshow exhibit. “It’s even worse in person.”

Paige’s groan could have shattered glass. “Caroline. Please. Help me.”

Caroline didn’t even blink. She dropped the makeup case on the coffee table with a dramatic thunk. “First,” she declared, flipping the latches, “you both swear you’ll tell me everything.”

Azzi whimpered. Paige’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine,” she muttered.

Nika let out a gleeful sound from the arm of the couch, kicking her feet. “This is the best day of my life.”

Paige glared at her. “Shut up.”

Paige sat on the edge of the couch like she was about to be executed. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, hoodie tied tight, and her face was locked in a glower of deep, murderous embarrassment.

Caroline, on the floor in front of her with her makeup bag splayed open like a surgical kit, arched an eyebrow. “Paige. Take. It. Off.”

Paige’s scowl deepened. “Absolutely not.”

Nika, perched on the arm of the couch, nearly fell off from laughing. “Bro. You have, like, a constellation on your neck alone. I see Orion’s belt. Take the damn hoodie off.”

Azzi was next to Paige, trying to look supportive but her ears were bright red. She wouldn’t even make eye contact.

Caroline sighed dramatically. “Do you want to walk onto the court tonight looking like your girlfriend tried to eat you alive?”

Paige shot Azzi a glare, which just made Azzi shrink into her shoulder and mumble, “Sorry.”

Paige huffed. “Don’t apologize.” She flicked her eyes back at Caroline. “Fine. But I’m leaving my bra on.”

Caroline made a show of checking her invisible watch. “Sure, prude. We don’t have all day.”

Paige grumbled curses under her breath but yanked the hoodie off in one angry motion, tossing it on the floor. She sat back, rigid and humiliated in black boxer briefs and a grey sports bra that did nothing to hide the multicolored carnage Azzi had left behind.

Nika let out a scandalized squeal and pointed. “OH my GOD, Azzi, you are an artist!”

Paige rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Nik, shut up.”

But it was hard to argue. The hickies were everywhere. Deep purple and red splotches trailed over her collarbones, down her sternum, ringed one shoulder, dotted her ribs, and—worst of all—crawled up her neck to her jawline in a proud, damning banner.

Caroline sucked her teeth. “Damn, Az”

Azzi made a strangled sound and actually hid behind Paige’s back, fingers gripping her side. “Shut up,” she hissed, mortified.

Nika just laughed so hard she was wheezing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m trying to stop—it’s just—the dedication here—like damn, Azzi, you want people to know she’s yours or what?”

Azzi groaned and buried her face further into Paige’s back. “I got mad.”

Caroline’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

Azzi peeked out, glaring. “Some girls from campus wouldn’t stop hovering and buying her drinks last night.”

Nika snorted. “Ohhhh. So you claimed her like a damn vampire.”

Azzi’s ears went impossibly red. Paige fought back a smirk despite herself and ran a gentle hand over Azzi’s thigh. 

Caroline actually snorted so hard she coughed. “Focus, idiots,” she said, fanning her eyes with her hand to stop tears of laughter. “Hold still, Paige.”

Paige glared but did as she was told, arms dropping to her sides. Caroline got to work with concealer and corrector, dabbing green and peach tones, blending foundation over the worst of it. Paige winced every time the cold sponge hit a mark.

Azzi’s hand kept creeping back to Paige’s hip, thumb brushing circles as if apologizing.

“Hold still,” Caroline barked again, voice all business.

“Easy for you to say,” Paige snapped. “You’re not the one who got mauled.”

Azzi choked. “Stop saying mauled.”

Nika wiped away tears of laughter. “It’s accurate.”

Caroline sat back, assessing her work like Michelangelo with the Sistine Chapel. “Okay. I think I got the neck and chest. The shoulder’s gonna need extra though.”

Paige groaned. “Great. Just great.”

Azzi slumped forward, pressing her forehead into Paige’s bare shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again.

Paige’s voice went soft. “Stop apologizing. I liked it.”

Nika gagged so dramatically that Caroline slapped her in the stomach with a makeup sponge.

“OH MY GOD,” Nika wailed. “This is why I need therapy.”

Azzi didn’t even move, just mumbled into Paige’s skin, “I’m still sorry.”

Paige lifted her arm and let Azzi curl closer. “Next time, maybe just… less. So I can still show my face in Gampel without everyone knowing you branded me.”

Azzi made a squeaky noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Caroline finally set down her tools. “Done. Mostly. You’re gonna owe me for this, Bueckers.”

Paige lifted an eyebrow. “Like?”

“Coffee. For a month.”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Fine.”

Nika pointed at Azzi. “And you, Dracula, you’re buying me lunch. This was traumatic.”

Azzi finally lifted her head, cheeks blazing. “Deal.”

Caroline stood and stretched. “Now get dressed, Paige. Before I regret helping you.”

Caroline squinted, leaning in. “Hold up—legs.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

Caroline gestured at her boxer-clad thighs with her brush like a general commanding troops. “Spread ‘em a little. Shorts ride up when you run. Let’s make sure Dracula didn’t leave you any parting gifts there.”

Azzi made a noise of mortal embarrassment and buried her face in Paige’s back again.

Nika wheezed, “OH MY GOD,” while Paige groaned but obeyed, adjusting slightly.

Caroline checked both thighs, dabbing concealer carefully along one particularly dark mark near Paige’s inner thigh. She squinted at it, then let out a scandalized laugh.

“Oh my God. Azzi. I know where your mouth was last night,” she sing-songed.

Azzi let out a strangled noise from behind her hands. “Carol—please.”

Caroline just kept smirking. “Didn’t know this side of you existed, Az. Miss quiet and polite, my ass.”

Paige didn’t even try to hide her grin. She flicked her gaze at Azzi, eyes hot and fond all at once. “Oh, it exists.”

Caroline gagged theatrically. “Gross.”

Nika snorted so hard she choked on her coffee. “After seeing all this in front of you, you’re surprised?”

Azzi whimpered into her palms. “I’m moving. I’m transferring. I can’t do this.”

Caroline just snickered and finished blending the last mark with almost professional care.

Paige scowled, but her voice was grudging. “Did you get ‘em all?”

Caroline nodded, smoothing it expertly. “Yeah. But don’t stretch too far in warmups or you’ll give the entire student section a show.”

Paige sighed, tugging Azzi closer for one more reassuring squeeze. “Yeah. Okay.”

But neither of them missed the way Azzi’s fingers lingered, or the soft smile Paige gave her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

—

When Caroline finally packed up her giant case and sauntered out the door with Nika cackling behind her, the apartment fell into a heavy, humming silence. 

The door shut with a solid thunk that seemed to echo forever. Paige exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the whole time.

Azzi still had her face buried in Paige’s back, arms cinched tight around her waist like she was scared Paige might evaporate. 

Paige huffed a tiny laugh, despite her raw embarrassment. She reached back, dragging Azzi’s arms tighter and giving them both a squeeze.

“Hey,” Paige murmured, voice low and warm. “C’mon. Let’s go get ready.”

Azzi let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, but she finally peeled her face away, eyes red from laughing and mortification alike. 

She didn’t meet Paige’s eyes as they stood. Paige offered her hand and Azzi took it immediately, letting herself be pulled to her feet.

They trudged down the tiny hall to Paige’s room, clothes scattered from last night still hanging off furniture and draped across the back of her chair. Azzi toed at one of Paige’s socks, cheeks pink.

Paige turned and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed lightly over her bandaged-up chest. She was quiet for a beat, just taking her in. Azzi in one of her massive UConn tees, hair tangled and wild, lips bitten from worrying them.

Paige finally sighed. “Stop it.”

Azzi blinked, brow furrowing. “Stop what?”

Paige uncrossed her arms and stepped forward, slipping her fingers under Azzi’s jaw and tilting her head up until their eyes locked. “Stop looking like I’m gonna be mad. Or embarrassed.”

Azzi’s breath hitched. “Paige… I am embarrassed. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to go so hard. It’s just. Last night…those girls. And then you were just… you. And I—” Her voice cracked, the last word falling apart.

Paige’s expression softened so much it nearly broke. She brushed her thumb over Azzi’s bottom lip.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Listen to me.”

Azzi swallowed hard, breathing shaky.

Paige’s thumb traced her lip again. “I like it,” she said. “I like knowing you want me that much. That you want everyone to know I’m yours.”

Azzi made a tiny strangled sound. Paige smiled, just a little crooked, the cockiness dimmed by how real her eyes were.

“But you don’t have to do that to remind me,” Paige added, voice quiet. “Because I am. I’m yours. Always.”

Azzi’s eyes went shiny, her mouth twitching like she might start crying or laughing or both.

Paige huffed softly and leaned in, pressing a warm, careful kiss to Azzi’s forehead. She felt Azzi’s breath shudder out against her collarbone.

“I’m serious,” Paige mumbled against her skin. “You don’t ever have to doubt it.”

Azzi sniffed. She slid her arms around Paige’s waist, hugging her so tight Paige squeaked.

When they finally pulled back, it was gentler, the air between them calmer. Paige thumbed at Azzi’s cheek fondly before stepping over to the dresser.

“Alright,” she said, voice settling into that old, reliable captain’s rasp, equal parts teasing and leadership. “Gear up, 35. Game day.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but she was smiling too, the lines of tension finally easing off her shoulders. She watched Paige rifle around for clean socks and a spare jersey, then started gathering her own clothes from the floor.

Neither said anything for a second, but it wasn’t awkward. Just quiet. Settled.

When Paige tossed Azzi her shorts, she added under her breath, “We’re gonna pray to God Caroline’s makeup skills hold up under arena lights.”

Azzi choked on a laugh, face flaming again. “Jesus. Don’t remind me.”

Paige grinned. Wide. Real. She reached out and hooked a finger under Azzi’s waistband, tugging her in just long enough to kiss her softly, sweet and sure.

“Best part?” Paige whispered against her lips.

Azzi blinked, dazed. “What?”

Paige smirked. “They can all look. They just can’t touch.”

Azzi’s answering smile was slow and hot and so full of love it made Paige’s chest ache.

Because yeah—they were ridiculous.

They were trouble.

But they were theirs.

And tonight, they’d suit up. They’d hoop. And after that? They’d go home together.

Because nothing—not relentless fangirls, not teammates, not even Caroline and Nika’s teasing—would ever change that.

[azzifudd10]

Line of Scrimmage

A/N: sorry guys ive been super busyyy so while I catch up on writing heres a random one-shot hope you enjoy!!!

TW: cheating, sex with men (sorry), smut

The doorbell rang just as Azzi finished lighting the last candle on the dining room table. She wasn’t a perfectionist by nature, but tonight felt important. Joe had been buzzing about this dinner for weeks, claiming it was going to be the start of a new era.

Azzi smoothed the front of her navy silk blouse, adjusted the delicate chain around her neck, and shot her husband a look. “Are you going to get that, or are you just going to stand there staring at the wings like they’re a playbook?”

Joe glanced up from the kitchen island, where he was absentmindedly fanning the steam from the platter of lemon pepper wings. He grinned sheepishly. “I just… I know Sam loves these. I want him to know I remembered.”

Azzi rolled her eyes affectionately and went to the door. When she opened it, she was immediately greeted by the broad frame and familiar smile of Sam Hubbard, carrying a bottle of red wine like it was a trophy.

“Azzi! Finally, we meet in person.” His voice was warm, friendly. He stepped aside, revealing the woman next to him.

Paige Bueckers.

Azzi had seen her in photos that Joe had shown her from the couple’s wedding last year, but photos didn’t do her justice. Paige was taller than she expected, with long, straight blonde hair and the kind of effortless beauty that made Azzi suddenly aware of the flour smudge on her wrist.

“Hi,” Paige said, her voice soft but steady as she extended a hand. “Thanks for having us.”

Azzi smiled and took it, a small spark of something she couldn’t place running up her arm. “Of course. Welcome to our chaos.”

Joe appeared behind her, clapping Sam on the shoulder in a hug that was more like a linebacker tackle. “About time you got here, man! And you brought the good stuff,” he said, holding up the wine. “Come in, come in. We’ve got wings, steaks, Azzi made this insane roasted veggie thing—”

“And the good mac and cheese,” Azzi interjected, ushering them toward the dining room.

The house smelled warm, a mix of garlic butter and the candles Azzi had scattered around. Paige’s eyes flicked across the space—family photos of Joe in LSU and Bengals gear, a few framed shots of Azzi in her white coat at the hospital, and one candid Polaroid of them on a boat, sunburned and grinning.

“It’s beautiful here,” Paige said softly as they settled at the table.

Azzi smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Thank you. We don’t usually get to entertain much—our schedules are kind of…” She gestured vaguely.

“Insane?” Paige finished for her with a small laugh. “I can imagine. I’ve barely adjusted to the NFL WAG life and I’m just… an accountant. Sam’s schedule alone is nuts.”

Joe and Sam were already deep in a conversation about some college teammate who’d ended up in the CFL, leaving the women in their own little bubble across the table.

Azzi leaned in, intrigued. “An accountant? I would’ve guessed… I don’t know. Something glamorous.”

Paige laughed again, a little self-deprecating. “Glamorous? God, no. I stare at spreadsheets all day. I like the quiet stuff. Sam’s the exciting one.” Her eyes flicked toward him, softening with love. “Though I guess your life isn’t exactly quiet either, Dr. Burrow.”

Azzi shrugged modestly. “ER doctor. It’s chaos sometimes, but… I like helping people.”

“And Joe likes throwing footballs,” Paige teased, and they both laughed quietly, glancing at their husbands who were now reenacting some play with their hands in the air.

Wine flowed. Conversation drifted from football to hometown memories to Cincinnati life. Paige loosened up as the night went on, leaning her chin on her hand as she watched Joe animatedly tell a story about Sam sneaking him into some OSU party back in the day.

“Was he always like this?” Azzi whispered to her at one point, nodding toward Sam.

“Loud? No,” Paige said. “He’s quieter off the field. But with joe? They’re basically teenagers again.”

Azzi smirked. “Guess that makes us the responsible ones.”

Paige tilted her head, her gaze holding Azzi’s for a second longer than expected. “Guess so.”

When dessert came out—a simple homemade apple crumble Azzi had thrown together between hospital shifts—Paige insisted on helping in the kitchen.

“You really didn’t have to—” Azzi started, but Paige was already rinsing the wine glasses in the sink.

“I like kitchens,” Paige said simply, over the running water. “And… I don’t know. I wanted a second to say thanks. For tonight. For… I don’t know, making it feel easy to be here.”

Azzi’s heart fluttered unexpectedly. “It is easy,” she said before she could stop herself. “With you.”

There was a beat of silence, broken only by Joe and Sam’s laughter from the living room. Paige looked at her, something unreadable passing between them, and for just a second the air felt charged.

Then Paige smiled, gentle and polite. “I’m glad.”

After dessert, the guys inevitably ended up in the living room, sprawled across the couch with another round of beers and a replay of some random college football game Joe had recorded. Azzi and Paige lingered in the kitchen for a while, chatting and laughing quietly, the clinking of glasses and the faint hum of the dishwasher filling the space.

“Do you want to sit outside for a bit?” Azzi asked impulsively, nodding toward the sliding glass doors. “It’s actually nice out tonight.”

Paige’s face lit up. “Yes, please. I’ve been dying for some fresh air after all that mac and cheese.”

Azzi grabbed a throw blanket from the back of a chair and led her out to the back patio. The Burrow backyard was sprawling, with string lights draped along the fence and the faint scent of the neighbors’ honeysuckle riding the summer breeze. Crickets hummed in the background, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

Paige sank into one of the cushioned chairs with a sigh of relief. “Okay, this is… insanely cozy. I’d never leave if I lived here.”

Azzi laughed, tucking one leg under herself as she sat across from her. “Joe barely lets me leave as it is. He’s like, ‘Why go out when we have a perfectly good grill and TV here?’”

“Sam’s the same way,” Paige said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “We’ve been here for two weeks, and he already thinks he’s a full-time tour guide for Cincinnati. Like, sir… I don’t need to see your high school three times.”

Azzi snorted, covering her mouth. “Joe made me go to his high school weight room the first month we were dating. He was like, ‘This is where it all started.’”

They dissolved into laughter, the kind that comes easier with wine and soft night air.

When it quieted, Paige pulled the blanket over her lap and tilted her head. “So… ER doctor. That’s insane. Do you just… thrive on stress, or…?”

Azzi shrugged, her curls catching the light from the string bulbs. “Maybe. I like knowing I can do something for people when they’re at their worst. It’s exhausting sometimes, but it’s worth it. I think it also makes me appreciate nights like this more. The calm ones.”

Paige hummed in understanding. “I can imagine. I… I do taxes.” She laughed softly at herself, shaking her head. “Not quite as heroic.”

Azzi smiled. “I don’t know. Somebody has to make sure people like Joe and Sam don’t end up in prison for forgetting to file.”

That earned a real laugh from Paige, soft and melodic. “True. I like it, though. Numbers make sense to me. They’re… stable, you know? No surprises. After everything with moving for Sam and his career, I think I just needed something that was mine and predictable.”

Azzi leaned forward a little, curious. “Was it hard? The moving, I mean?”

Paige hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. We met in Minnesota, I was so close to my family, and then suddenly we’re in Ohio. Sam’s career comes first in a way, and I’m okay with that, but… sometimes it feels like I’m starting over every few years.”

Azzi’s chest tightened in empathy. “I get that. Joe’s schedule runs my life half the time, too. I mean, I love him—obviously—but sometimes I feel like I live in two different worlds. One at the hospital, and one here, being… you know, a ‘football wife.’”

Paige nodded, her eyes soft and understanding. “Exactly. It’s like… you love them, but there’s this other life that’s yours, and you don’t want to lose it.”

They sat in that shared understanding for a moment, the crickets filling the silence. Paige’s gaze drifted over the yard, then back to Azzi. “It’s… nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

Azzi smiled, warm and genuine. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”

Paige held her eyes for a second longer than expected, and there it was again—that quiet charge, like the night air itself had shifted around them. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Before either of them could say more, Joe’s voice bellowed from inside. “Babe! Sam wants to know if you have any more of those little pretzel bites!”

Azzi groaned and dropped her head back against the chair. “I swear, I married a child.”

Paige giggled. “I’ll come help before he eats the furniture.”

They stood, brushing off the blanket, and walked back inside side by side. Something unspoken lingered between them—a new connection, soft and sparking, like the first flicker of a candle.

Training camp was not what Paige expected.

She thought it would be… exciting, maybe? Watching her husband run drills in the August heat, the sun catching the shine of the orange helmets. But after the first forty-five minutes of warm-ups and whistles, her excitement had wilted in the ninety-degree Cincinnati heat.

She wiped sweat from her forehead with the edge of her tank top, scanning the bleachers where the other WAGs sat in their perfectly coordinated outfits and oversized sunglasses.

“They’re really committed to the aesthetic,” Paige murmured.

Next to her, Azzi sipped from a water bottle, her curls piled in a high bun. “They’re always like this. First camp, I showed up in scrubs straight from the hospital and they looked at me like I had committed a crime.”

Paige smirked, trying to keep her voice low. “I feel like they already hate me. Every time I ask a question, they look at me like I’m twelve.”

Azzi leaned in conspiratorially. “They don’t hate you. They just… don’t get us. I don’t think either of us fit the mold they want.”

“The mold?”

“You know,” Azzi said, miming a scroll on her phone. “Instagram-perfect, gym selfies, every game in full glam. Nothing wrong with it, but… I’m usually covered in someone else’s blood by noon.”

Paige burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “Oh my God.”

Azzi grinned, proud of herself for getting that laugh. “You want to get out of here?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Please.”

They slipped out quietly, weaving through the line of cars parked behind the practice fields. Paige felt lighter the second they left the bleachers behind, like she could actually breathe without the weight of all those judgy stares.

“Coffee run?” Paige suggested, sliding into the passenger seat of Azzi’s sleek black SUV.

Azzi smirked. “I was thinking iced coffee and maybe a muffin. Hospital life has ruined me—I’m a sucker for any carb I don’t have to cook myself.”

They hit the Starbucks drive-thru, and Paige leaned against the window, finally relaxing.

“You weren’t kidding about the WAG thing,” Paige said after they’d ordered. “It’s… intense. I thought being married to an NFL player would automatically make you part of the club, but it’s like high school all over again.”

Azzi nodded knowingly, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Oh, it’s worse than high school. At least in high school you could escape to your house. Here, your house is the reason you’re in the club.”

Paige groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “I already miss Minnesota. At least there, I had friends who didn’t care about any of this.”

“You’ll get that here too,” Azzi said, her voice softer now. “Even if it’s just me.”

Paige peeked at her through her fingers, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just you is fine. You’re way cooler than any of them, anyway.”

Azzi laughed, a warm sound that made Paige’s chest flutter. “Don’t hype me up too much. Joe will get jealous.”

They parked in a shaded spot outside the coffee shop, deciding to sit and drink their iced lattes with the windows cracked. The AC hummed softly, and for a moment, it felt like they were in their own little world.

“So,” Paige said, tracing the condensation on her cup. “What’s it really like? Being married to… well, Joe Burrow?”

Azzi thought for a moment, then shrugged. “He’s… him. Quiet at home, kind of goofy, obsessed with his cats. Everyone else sees this… football god. But to me, he’s the guy who can’t fold a fitted sheet to save his life.”

Paige smiled, her eyes soft. “I like that. I feel like… with Sam, too, people only see the helmet and the jersey. But I get the guy who falls asleep on the couch halfway through a movie and snores like a bear.”

They shared a laugh, the kind that felt easy and real.

“Honestly?” Azzi said, looking out the windshield. “I used to feel… kind of lonely, even with him. Not because of him, but because of this life. Like I didn’t fit in anywhere. It’s nice to not feel like the only one.”

Paige’s chest ached in recognition. “Me too. I was so nervous to come today because I thought I’d just… sit there and feel out of place again.”

“You didn’t,” Azzi said gently, meeting her eyes. “Because we ditched and got coffee instead.”

Paige grinned, her shoulders finally dropping. “Best decision I’ve made all week.”

Azzi smiled back, the air in the car shifting for a second—warmer, closer. For a brief, unspoken moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the city.

Then Paige’s phone buzzed with a text from Sam: ‘Where’d you go? Joe says Azzi probably kidnapped you lol.’

Paige laughed, showing her the phone. Azzi smirked. “He’s not wrong.”

The iced lattes barely made it halfway down before Paige leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed.

“Tell me we don’t have to go back yet.”

Azzi smirked, sipping her drink. “Absolutely not. Let them sweat a little. They will survive.”

Paige glanced at her, eyes glinting with mischief. “So… what do we do instead?”

Azzi paused for a moment, then smiled. “We’re already out. Might as well make a day of it.”

They ended up in a quiet little shopping district a few blocks over, the kind with boutique clothing stores, candle shops, and a bakery that smelled like heaven from down the street. Paige followed Azzi into the first boutique, immediately distracted by a rack of oversized sunglasses.

“Okay,” Paige said, sliding on a ridiculous pair with gold rims and pink-tinted lenses. “Be honest. Do I look like a celebrity… or like I own a chihuahua named Princess?”

Azzi burst out laughing, leaning on the rack for support. “Definitely the chihuahua. But like… a stylish chihuahua mom.”

“Rude,” Paige said, but she was laughing too. “Your turn.”

Azzi grabbed a pair of huge round sunglasses, put them on, and struck a mock-serious pose.

Paige gasped dramatically. “Okay, that’s a celebrity. That’s a woman who tells the maître d’ she doesn’t wait for tables.”

They dissolved into laughter again, ignoring the store clerk’s amused smile. For the first time in a long time, Paige felt like herself—not Sam Hubbard’s wife, not the new girl in the Bengals WAG circle, just Paige, wandering around a boutique with someone who got her.

Their next stop was the bakery. Paige ordered a cinnamon roll the size of her face, and Azzi grabbed a chocolate croissant. They found a shady bench outside and split both pastries between them, licking icing off their fingers and brushing crumbs off their laps.

“So tell me the real ER story,” Paige said between bites. “The one that’s like… TV-level dramatic.”

Azzi smirked. “Hmm… there was this one guy who came in with a broken arm because he tried to… ride a shopping cart down a flight of stairs.”

Paige nearly choked on her cinnamon roll. “What?!”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, grinning. “He said, and I quote, ‘I saw it in a movie once.’”

Paige shook her head in disbelief, still laughing. “See, this is why you’re way cooler than me. My wildest story is like, ‘One time I found a decimal error on a tax return and saved someone fifty grand.’”

“Honestly?” Azzi said, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “I think that’s heroic in its own way.”

Paige smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “You’re just saying that because you like me.”

Azzi tilted her head, smiling back. “Maybe I do.”

For a moment, the air between them felt charged again, that same soft spark from the patio the other night. Paige glanced down at her lap, heart skipping just once.

By the time they finally wandered back to the car, the sun was starting to dip lower, streaking the sky with soft gold. Paige checked her phone—seven missed texts from Sam, most of them variations of ‘Where are you two??’

“Oops,” Paige muttered, holding her phone up for Azzi to see.

Azzi grinned. “Worth it.”

“Definitely worth it.”

When Azzi finally got home that night, Joe was already in his sweatpants, lounging on the couch with one of their cats sprawled across his chest. He looked up with a grin.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to come back from her secret adventure.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips as she toed off her sneakers. “We went to coffee. Then shopping. Then a bakery. It turned into a whole thing.”

Joe sat up, his expression softening when he noticed how happy she looked. “You had fun?”

Azzi plopped onto the couch next to him, tucking her feet under a throw blanket. “I really did. Paige is… she’s just easy to be around. And she gets it—the football life, the feeling of being a little on the outside with the other WAGs. I don’t know… I think I actually made a friend today.”

Joe’s grin widened, genuine and proud. “Babe, that’s awesome. I’ve been saying forever I wanted you to have someone like that here. Sam’s gonna be pumped too—he’s been talking about you two hitting it off since the trade.”

Azzi rested her head on his shoulder, feeling content. “Well, he was right. I think I like her.”

Joe kissed the top of her curls. “Good. Because Sam’s already planning double dates, I can feel it.”

Azzi groaned playfully. “Ugh, I just wanted a friend. Now I’m getting a whole social calendar, aren’t I?”

Joe chuckled, tightening his arm around her. “Pretty much.”

But secretly, Azzi didn’t mind. For the first time since moving to Cincinnati, life here felt like it could actually… fit

Azzi stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the sleeve of her white off-the-shoulder top. Joe leaned against the doorway in his usual quiet way, sipping from a bottle of water, watching her fuss.

“You look perfect,” he said finally.

She squinted at him in the reflection. “Perfect, or ‘you’re my wife so I’m legally required to say that’ perfect?”

Joe smirked. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from forming. Tonight was their first official double date with Sam and Paige—not an impromptu dinner at their house, not a coffee run, but a real “four of us out in public” thing. Joe had suggested a new spot downtown that he claimed was lowkey, but Azzi had learned that “lowkey” in Joe Burrow’s vocabulary just meant not immediately mobbed by fans.

“Relax,” Joe said, crossing the room to kiss her temple. “You like Paige. Paige likes you. Sam and I can talk football and probably embarrass ourselves. It’ll be fun.”

Azzi exhaled, smoothing her top one last time. “Okay. Let’s go be social.”

They pulled up to the restaurant—a modern steakhouse with dim lighting, dark wood, and quiet music. Sam and Paige were already waiting outside. Paige wore a simple green slip dress that hugged her in all the right places, her blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders.

Azzi felt her stomach flip.

“Hey!” Paige waved, her smile bright and easy, like she’d been waiting just for her.

“Look at you,” Azzi said, hugging her. “You’re about to put us all to shame.”

Paige laughed, brushing it off. “Please. I’m sweating through this thing already. Cincinnati humidity is evil.”

Joe and Sam did their signature bro-hug while Azzi and Paige fell into step behind them, naturally drifting into their own bubble of conversation.

Dinner started out easy. Joe and Sam dominated the first twenty minutes talking about training camp, plays, and some rookie who had apparently dropped an “unacceptable” number of passes that day.

Paige leaned over to Azzi, whispering, “I understood exactly zero percent of that conversation.”

Azzi bit back a laugh. “I’ve learned to just nod and drink my wine.”

They clinked glasses in a little private toast, sharing a grin.

As appetizers arrived, the conversation shifted toward less football-centric topics. Paige told a story about the nightmare accountant who’d left her firm last year and how she’d been stuck fixing months of his mistakes.

“I swear, it was like untangling someone’s brain in Excel,” Paige said, gesturing with her fork. “I was living off coffee and pure rage.”

Azzi giggled, twirling a piece of calamari on her fork. “That’s exactly how I feel during night shifts. Coffee and rage. Though sometimes… also panic.”

Sam shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know how either of you do it. I think I’d rather get tackled for a living than stare at a spreadsheet or deal with ER chaos.”

“Yeah, but you get tackled for fun,” Paige teased, and the table broke into laughter.

By the time entrees arrived, the table had settled into an easy rhythm. Paige and Azzi talked like old friends, sharing little side comments that made the guys roll their eyes.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Paige said at one point, leaning her chin on her hand. “What’s your worst ER story that doesn’t involve… like, blood?”

Azzi grinned. “A man came in because he had a Lego stuck up his nose.”

Joe groaned, already laughing because he’d heard this one. “It was a grown man.”

Paige clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling. “No way!”

“Way,” Azzi said, trying to keep a straight face. “And when I asked him why, he said… ‘I wanted to see if it would fit.’”

Paige was laughing so hard she nearly choked on her wine, and Azzi couldn’t help but join her. For a moment, the rest of the restaurant faded, just the two of them across the table, shoulders shaking, eyes bright.

After dinner, the guys suggested grabbing ice cream from a spot around the corner. It was late enough that the streets were quiet, a soft breeze cutting through the summer heat. Paige and Azzi lagged a few steps behind the guys, their voices low.

“I really like this,” Paige said softly, glancing at her.

Azzi tilted her head. “This? Like, double dates?”

Paige hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. And… you. I like having someone who feels like… mine here. Not just Sam’s world.”

Azzi felt that familiar warmth bloom in her chest again. “I get it. You make this all feel a lot less lonely.”

Their eyes met for a moment, lingering just long enough for Azzi to feel her breath catch before Joe turned around with two cups of ice cream and broke the spell.

“Chocolate for you,” he said, handing Azzi hers.

Paige’s fingers brushed Azzi’s when she reached for a napkin, a tiny electric spark neither of them acknowledged out loud.

By the time they dropped Paige and Sam off, Joe was humming along to the radio, glancing at her with a knowing little smile.

“You’re glowing,” he said as they pulled into their driveway.

Azzi laughed, tossing her head back against the seat. “I just… really like her, Joe. She’s funny, she’s real, she doesn’t make me feel like I have to… perform. It’s just easy.”

Joe reached over, giving her knee a squeeze. “Good. I’ve been waiting for you to have someone like that here. Makes the season feel shorter when you’ve got a friend to survive it with.”

Azzi smiled to herself, already replaying Paige’s laugh in her head.

It started with a text.

Paige:Joe and Sam left for their away game. You free tonight?

Azzi:Always. What’s the vibe?

Paige:Wine. Food. Zero football talk.

Azzi:Say less. I’m on my way.

By the time Azzi arrived at Paige and Sam’s new house, the sky had turned a soft, dusky pink. Paige opened the door barefoot, wearing an oversized crewneck and bike shorts, her hair up in a messy bun that somehow still looked unfairly good.

“Hi,” Paige said, her voice already warm and excited. “Come in. I ordered enough Thai food to feed a small army.”

Azzi held up the bottle of wine she’d brought. “And I brought reinforcements.”

They moved into the kitchen, where takeout bags covered the island. The smell of pad thai and spring rolls filled the air, making Azzi’s stomach growl.

“This is perfect,” Azzi said, tugging her own sweatshirt over her head and settling into the casual chaos of the night. “I needed this.”

Paige poured two glasses of wine and slid one across the island. “Me too. The house is too quiet without Sam. I swear I can hear the fridge hum.”

Azzi laughed, opening a container of curry. “I feel like I forget what silence sounds like sometimes. The ER is always so loud, and Joe… talks in his sleep.”

“Does he really?” Paige grinned, curling her legs onto the barstool.

“Oh, yeah,” Azzi said, nodding solemnly. “Last week, he said ‘touchdown’ in his sleep. I almost kicked him out of bed.”

Paige nearly spit her wine out, laughing. “That’s incredible.”

Dinner bled into lounging in the living room, the takeout containers abandoned on the coffee table. A playlist hummed softly in the background—some mix of R&B and indie that Paige said she used for “cozy vibes.”

“So,” Paige said, tucking her feet under herself as she turned toward Azzi on the couch. “Do you ever miss… I don’t know… just being normal?”

Azzi tilted her head. “Normal how?”

“You know. Not being the ER superhero or Joe Burrow’s wife. Just… Azzi.”

Azzi considered this for a moment, twirling her wine glass between her fingers. “Yeah. Sometimes I think about it a lot. Like, there’s this other life where I’m just… a girl who goes to work and comes home and no one cares what her last name is. But then I think about the life I do have, and… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Paige nodded slowly, her expression softening. “I get that. With Sam, everyone expects me to be this perfect WAG. I feel like I have to smile and dress a certain way, but all I want is to… be home in my sweats and eat cinnamon rolls.”

Azzi smiled, nudging her knee gently. “For the record, I think sweats-and-cinnamon-roll Paige is the best version.”

Paige’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she ducked her head. “Yeah? Well… you’re easy to be around, too. Like, I don’t have to try so hard.”

The night drifted slower as the wine bottle emptied. They sprawled across the couch, shoulders brushing occasionally, talking about everything—family, childhood memories, the weird pressure of their lives.

At one point, Paige leaned her head on Azzi’s shoulder, sighing. “You’re warm. I might just stay here forever.”

Azzi laughed quietly but didn’t move. Her hand hesitated for a second, then gently rested over Paige’s where it was tucked against her leg. It wasn’t intentional, wasn’t planned, but the soft warmth of it sent a tiny shiver up her spine.

They sat like that for a while, letting the music and the hum of the quiet house fill the silence.

“I’m really glad we met,” Paige murmured, eyes half-closed.

Azzi glanced down at her, heart tightening in a way she couldn’t name. “Me too.”

The moment stretched, soft and warm, before Paige yawned and curled further into the couch.

“You’re falling asleep on me,” Azzi teased gently.

“Maybe,” Paige said, voice sleepy but content. “But you’re comfy.”

Azzi smiled to herself, letting her head fall back against the couch as the night settled around them, soft and unspoken.

Later, when Azzi got home, Joe was on FaceTime from the hotel. He grinned when she answered.

“You look happy,” he said immediately. “Good night with Paige?”

Azzi flopped onto their bed, still warm from the wine and laughter. “The best. We just… talked. Ate too much. It felt… easy.”

Joe’s eyes crinkled. “I told you. You needed a friend here. And it sounds like you found a really good one.”

Azzi smiled faintly at the phone, her chest still buzzing from the quiet warmth of the night. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I really did.”

The flight to Kansas City was smooth, but Azzi’s nerves buzzed the whole way. She kept glancing across the aisle at Paige, who was scrolling through her phone with her AirPods in, occasionally catching Azzi’s eye and smiling in that quiet, knowing way that made Azzi’s stomach do a slow flip.

They landed, shuffled through the hotel lobby behind the players, and finally got their room keys.

“Back-to-back,” Joe said, jingling the keys. “Sam and Paige are next to us.”

Azzi felt her pulse skip. “Oh. Nice.”

The evening was a blur of team dinner and small talk in the hotel lounge, until finally she and Joe retreated to their room. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, scrolling absently on her phone while Joe rummaged through his duffel.

“Shoot,” he said suddenly, patting his pockets. “I left my charger in the bus bag. I’ll run down and grab it from equipment.”

Azzi nodded, distracted. “Okay. Hurry, I might fall asleep.”

He kissed the top of her curls and disappeared into the hallway, leaving the room quiet—quiet enough that Azzi could hear faint noises through the shared wall.

At first, it was just the hum of the TV in Paige and Sam’s room. Then a muffled laugh—Paige’s laugh, soft and airy, like the one Azzi had started to crave.

Azzi froze, listening before she could stop herself.

Then a low murmur—Sam’s voice—and the distinct sound of a soft moan. Paige.

Azzi’s breath caught.

It was faint, but clear enough to paint a picture in her mind: the rhythm of the bedframe, the sighs, the stuttered laughter between kisses. She pressed a hand to her chest, heart pounding in a way she didn’t understand. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly… but something hot and sharp twisted low in her stomach.

She thought about the way Paige had leaned against her on the couch, the way her fingers had brushed hers over a napkin, the way her laugh had stuck in her head like a song.

Her thighs pressed together on instinct.

The door clicked open, and Joe stepped in, holding his charger.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing the flush in her cheeks.

Azzi nodded quickly, maybe too quickly. “Mm-hm. Just… thinking.”

Joe smiled, tossing the charger on the nightstand. “Well, I can help with that.”

She didn’t know if it was the wine from dinner, the soft hotel lighting, or the echo of Paige’s laugh still ringing in her ears, but she grabbed his hoodie and pulled him down to kiss her.

Joe grinned against her mouth, caught off guard by the sudden heat. “Well, hello…”

Azzi kissed him harder, climbing into his lap. She needed—no, craved—something to ground her, something real and familiar. His hands slid up under her shirt, warm against her skin, and she sighed into his mouth.

“Bed,” he muttered, flipping them easily so she landed against the pillows.

Azzi gasped softly as he trailed kisses down her neck, her body arching into his touch. Everything felt sharper tonight—the drag of his hands on her hips, the scrape of stubble along her collarbone, the way his breath hitched when she whispered his name.

She let herself get lost in it, in him. In the way he filled the room with warmth and weight, the way he moved against her with steady, practiced need.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as his hips pressed harder, and she let out a soft moan that he swallowed with a kiss.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against her ear, and she shivered.

She came fast and hard, gripping him tight, chasing the wave that left her chest heaving and her mind spinning. He followed soon after, groaning her name into the crook of her neck, his body heavy and grounding over hers.

Afterward, Azzi lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as her pulse slowed. Joe kissed her shoulder and murmured, “That was… something.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, curling into his side.

It had been good. More than good. She loved him, she wanted him, and yet…

The echo of Paige’s soft moan slipped unbidden through her memory, sending a confusing heat through her chest.

Azzi closed her eyes, pressing closer to Joe, letting his familiar weight anchor her in the storm of feelings she didn’t quite understand.

Paige hadn’t expected the trip to make her chest feel… fluttery.

Not because of the game, not because of Sam—though she loved supporting him—but because of the girl sitting next to her on the plane.

Azzi was leaned back with her curls piled high, scrolling on her phone, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she read something. The sunlight through the oval window caught on the curve of her cheekbone, and for some reason Paige couldn’t look away.

They’d been hanging out for weeks now—coffee runs, the girls’ night, the double date—but lately Paige felt something… more. Like a string had tied itself between them when Azzi had let her head fall on her shoulder during girls’ night, and it hadn’t let go.

She brushed the thought away as the plane landed, reminding herself: You’re married. She’s married. This is just friendship.

The day passed in a blur of travel and team schedules. Paige and Azzi followed the other WAGs to the hotel, grabbed a late lunch together in the lobby café, and spent most of it laughing about a barista who had recognized Joe and Sam and offered free cookies like they were royalty.

Paige couldn’t help it—every time Azzi laughed, a warm, fizzy feeling bloomed in her chest.

Azzi didn’t seem to notice, but Paige’s stomach did a little flip.

Later that night, after team dinner and a quick shower, Paige curled into the crisp hotel sheets while Sam scrolled through his iPad. He leaned over to kiss her shoulder, warm and familiar.

“You had fun today?” he asked casually.

Paige hesitated, then smiled. “Yeah. I really did. Azzi makes it… easy. Being around her just feels…” She trailed off, searching for a word. Safe? Exciting? Both? “…comfortable.”

Sam nodded, oblivious to the tangled mess of feelings in her chest. “Good. I like that you two get along. Makes these trips better.”

Paige hummed in agreement, but her mind flashed back to Azzi—her laugh, her warm shoulder, the way her fingers had brushed Paige’s earlier in the day when passing a water bottle. She felt a flush start low in her chest.

When Sam kissed her again, she responded more eagerly than she meant to.

He smiled against her lips. “Missed me?”

“Maybe,” Paige whispered, letting him push her back against the pillows.

The truth was… she was chasing something. That fizzing heat she’d been feeling all day hadn’t gone away. It pulsed now as Sam’s hands roamed her body, her soft sighs filling the room.

She didn’t realize how loud she’d gotten until a soft laugh slipped out between kisses, followed by a low moan she couldn’t hold back.

For a flicker of a moment, in the hazy overlap of wine and heat, a thought hit her like a spark: Azzi might hear this.

And god… some part of her wanted her to.

When it was over, Paige lay on her back catching her breath, a little dazed and flushed. Sam murmured something sweet and pulled her close, already drifting toward sleep.

But Paige stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, heart thudding with a confusing cocktail of warmth and guilt and something she couldn’t name.

Because she knew the truth now—whatever she was feeling, Azzi wasn’t just her friend anymore in her head.

Azzi woke to the soft beep of the hotel alarm clock and the faint sound of running water in the bathroom. Joe was already up, in his usual quiet pre-game routine, and she could hear the faint sound of him humming under his breath.

She rolled over and checked her phone: a text from Paige.

Paige:You up? Wanna get ready together?

Azzi grinned, texting back: Always. Give me 10.

Paige’s room smelled like body lotion and faint perfume when Azzi slipped in, still in Joe's oversized bengals and sleep shorts. Paige was perched at the little desk, curling the ends of her hair, a half-finished iced coffee sweating on the counter.

“Good morning, neighbor,” Paige said, her voice soft but warm, like they were already in their own little world.

“Morning,” Azzi said, flopping onto the edge of the bed. “Do you ever get used to this?”

Paige tilted her head. “What, game days?”

Azzi gestured around the hotel room. “The travel. The weird schedule. The… knowing your entire weekend revolves around three hours of football.”

Paige gave a little smile, setting her curling iron down. “Not really. But I think… it’s better now. With you here.”

Azzi felt that same spark from the night before flare in her chest. She busied herself with lip balm and mascara, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck.

By the time they walked down to the lobby to meet the shuttle, they were laughing at something stupid—Paige had attempted to put on her jacket while holding her coffee and spilled half of it on her sleeve.

“I’m blaming you for this,” Paige said, holding the offending splash for Azzi to see.

“How is that my fault?” Azzi laughed.

“Because I was laughing at your story about Joe folding the fitted sheet and—” Paige dissolved into giggles, “—and I wasn’t paying attention!”

Azzi shook her head, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

The stadium was chaos—screaming fans, blaring music, the smell of nachos and popcorn wafting through the concourse. But in their little WAG section, tucked a few rows behind the Bengals bench, it felt like their own bubble.

Azzi and Paige sat shoulder-to-shoulder, knees brushing in the cramped seats. The other WAGs had done their usual thing—full glam, oversized sunglasses, designer jackets—and, as usual, barely acknowledged them.

“Do they ever… talk to us?” Paige whispered, leaning close enough that Azzi could feel her breath against her ear.

“Not really,” Azzi murmured back. “Which is fine. More snacks for us.”

She held up the bag of M&Ms she’d smuggled in her purse, and Paige lit up like a kid.

“You’re my hero,” she said, popping one into her mouth.

Azzi grinned, shaking the bag. “I also have Twizzlers. And trail mix. We’re set for the apocalypse.”

They giggled like teenagers, sharing candy and commentary as the game kicked off.

At one point, a vendor came down their row, and Paige insisted on buying nachos. They sat with the little cardboard tray balanced between them, fingers brushing every time they both reached for a chip.

“This is so bad for us,” Paige said, licking cheese off her thumb.

Azzi watched the motion for a second too long before looking back at the field. “Worth it, though.”

Paige’s eyes lingered on hers, just for a moment, that soft smile tugging at her lips.

The game was tight, the kind that had everyone on edge in the final quarter. Joe threw a touchdown, Sam made a huge tackle, and the crowd went wild. Paige and Azzi jumped up, screaming and grabbing onto each other instinctively.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around her waist, Paige’s face buried briefly against her shoulder, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

When they finally pulled back, breathless and laughing, something unspoken flickered between them.

“Guess we’re good luck,” Paige said softly.

Azzi swallowed, her pulse still racing. “Yeah… guess we are.”

After the game, they followed the other WAGs down to the family area to wait for the guys. It was loud and bustling, kids running around, reporters lingering nearby. But Paige and Azzi stayed tucked in their corner, leaning against the wall, trading little side comments that made them giggle.

Sam came out first, sweaty and grinning, scooping Paige into a hug. Joe followed, catching Azzi’s eye and smiling warmly before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You two have fun?” he asked.

Azzi glanced at Paige, who was still glowing from the win. “Yeah,” she said softly. “We really did.”

The post-game glow followed them all the way downtown. Joe and Sam were riding the high of the win, both still in team hoodies and baseball caps, and Paige and Azzi were tucked into the backseat of the Uber, leaning toward each other like they always did.

“Tell me the nachos were worth it,” Paige murmured, nudging Azzi’s leg.

Azzi grinned. “Totally worth it. I think I still have cheese under my nails, though.”

Paige laughed softly, and Joe glanced in the rearview mirror of the car with a smirk.

“You two are dangerous together,” he said, teasing. “We’re gonna come home from a game one day and find out you’ve started a snack cult.”

“Maybe,” Azzi said, leaning into his side but exchanging a subtle glance with Paige that felt like a secret.

The restaurant Sam had picked was one of those upscale-but-cozy spots: dim lighting, exposed brick walls, and a soft hum of jazz in the background. A hostess led them to a corner booth, and as usual, Joe and Sam immediately slipped into their own world of post-game debriefs—plays, tackles, and jokes only they would find funny.

Paige and Azzi, tucked into the opposite side of the booth, naturally formed their own bubble.

“Okay, serious question,” Paige said as she unfolded her napkin. “If we get dessert tonight, are we splitting it?”

Azzi arched a brow. “Obviously. We’re a package deal now. If it’s chocolate, it’s ours.”

Paige’s smile widened, and her sneaker nudged Azzi’s under the table.

Dinner flowed in easy rhythms—Paige and Azzi sharing bites, laughing softly over private little jokes, their shoulders brushing in the booth whenever one leaned in too close.

Then, halfway through the entrée, Paige froze.

“Don’t look now,” she whispered, leaning closer to Azzi. “But… tell me those two don’t look exactly like us.”

Azzi glanced up discreetly and blinked.

Across the room, seated at a two-top by the window, were two women—one blonde, one with soft dark curls—laughing over a shared dessert, heads bent toward each other. Their body language mirrored the way Paige and Azzi were sitting, knees angled in, gazes locked.

And then, casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, the blonde leaned over and kissed the brunette softly across the table.

Azzi’s breath caught.

She could feel Paige go still beside her, a subtle shift in the air between them. For a heartbeat, the restaurant noise faded—just the sight of the couple, the reflection it cast in their minds, and the way it ignited something low and electric in her chest.

She swallowed, reaching for her water, trying to act normal.

Paige forced a little laugh, her voice low. “Well. That’s… something.”

“Yeah,” Azzi murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “Something.”

They both looked back at their plates, pretending to focus on dinner, but the air between them buzzed. Every accidental brush of fingers over the table, every bump of knees under it, felt amplified.

Joe and Sam were oblivious, locked in football talk.

“You good?” Paige murmured at one point, eyes flicking to Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded, maybe too fast. “Yeah. Just… warm in here.”

Paige hummed, unconvinced, and popped a piece of bread into her mouth to avoid saying what was really pressing at the edges of her thoughts: That could be us.

By the time dessert came, the other couple had left, hand in hand, disappearing into the night. But the image burned behind Azzi’s eyelids: the soft smile, the casual kiss, the way the world had allowed them to exist in that moment without question.

Paige caught her staring into space and nudged her knee gently.

“Chocolate cake?” she asked softly.

Azzi blinked, meeting her gaze. “Yeah. Let’s split it.”

Their fingers brushed over the fork as they both reached for the first bite, a soft electric jolt that neither of them acknowledged out loud.

When the night ended and they slid back into the car, Paige rested her head against the cool window, replaying the restaurant scene in her mind.

Beside her, Azzi did the same, her hand pressed absently against her thigh, pulse thrumming.

Neither of them spoke about it. They didn’t have to.

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn’t empty—it was charged. Sam and Joe were talking in low voices up front, still buzzing about the game, but the backseat had its own energy.

Azzi could feel Paige’s thigh pressed against hers, the faint warmth of it through her jeans. Every bump in the road seemed to nudge them closer, and neither of them moved away.

When the car pulled up to the hotel entrance, the guys were out first, heading toward the lobby to grab snacks from the little market by the front desk.

“ gonna grab some Gatorades,” Joe said. “You coming?”

Azzi hesitated, glancing at Paige, then shook her head. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Paige gave the same answer, and suddenly, it was just them, lingering in the soft glow of the streetlight by the hotel entrance.

The elevator ride up felt like a bubble. Azzi leaned against the wall, heart drumming, while Paige fiddled with her room key in her fingers.

“That restaurant was… interesting,” Paige said softly, finally breaking the silence.

Azzi’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Yeah. Interesting.”

Paige’s eyes flicked up to hers, a question hovering there, unspoken.

When they reached their floor, their rooms side by side, they paused in the hallway like neither of them was ready to go in yet.

Paige leaned against her doorframe, her hair falling over one shoulder. “I’m… glad we do this together,” she said quietly. “All of it. I don’t think I’d survive this season without you.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. She took a small step closer, like the pull between them was magnetic. “I feel the same way,” she murmured.

The hallway was quiet, soft carpet muffling every movement. Azzi could hear her own heartbeat, the faint hum of the hotel AC, and the way Paige’s breath hitched when she shifted closer again.

They were so close now, just a breath apart. Paige’s back pressed lightly against her door, Azzi standing in front of her, the world narrowing to the space between their lips.

Azzi’s hand lifted on instinct, brushing a stray piece of hair behind Paige’s ear. Her fingers lingered there, tracing the warm line of her jaw.

Paige’s lips parted, a barely-there exhale leaving her mouth, and Azzi swore she could feel the heat of it against her own.

For a heartbeat, it felt inevitable. Like the universe had finally tilted them into place.

Then the distant ding of the elevator broke the spell.

Azzi froze, and Paige’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before she slipped her key into the door.

“Goodnight,” Paige whispered, almost too softly to hear.

“Goodnight,” Azzi echoed, her voice a little unsteady.

She slipped into her room and leaned against the closed door, heart racing. Joe was still downstairs, and for a brief, dizzying moment, she was glad—because she needed a second to breathe, to understand the fire still crackling in her chest.

On the other side of the wall, Paige pressed her forehead to the door, her pulse matching Azzi’s.

They hadn’t kissed. But they both knew how close they’d come.

The pool was buzzing with life that afternoon. Sunlight glittered off the water, the smell of sunscreen and chlorine mixing with the faint scent of grilled burgers from the patio. Players lounged under umbrellas, the WAGs clustered in little groups on loungers, and kids splashed in the shallow end.

Azzi followed Joe out onto the pool deck, adjusting her sunglasses. He was already halfway to Sam, who was manning the grill like he owned the place, while the other guys were laughing near the deep end.

“You coming in?” Joe called over his shoulder.

“In a minute,” Azzi said, scanning the chairs automatically for Paige.

She found her instantly.

Paige was stretched out on a lounge chair, her blonde hair tucked under a baseball cap, oversized black sunglasses covering her eyes. Her swimsuit was a simple black one-piece, the kind that somehow managed to be understated and devastating all at once.

Azzi felt her chest warm just looking at her.

She made her way over, claiming the chair beside Paige.

“Hey, stranger,” Paige said, turning her head with a soft smile. “You hiding from the water?”

“Just… warming up,” Azzi said, dropping her cover-up and settling into the sun. “You’ve been out here long?”

“Since Sam dragged me out this morning,” Paige said, tilting her head toward the grill. “Apparently, being a human good-luck charm means I have to witness all his pool volleyball victories.”

Azzi snorted, relaxing into the lounger. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Tell me about it.”

It was only a few minutes before Paige sat up, stretching her arms overhead. “Ugh. I need more sunscreen before I burn.”

Azzi glanced around instinctively. Sam was still at the grill, deep in conversation with Joe and one of the linemen.

Paige twisted slightly in her chair and held out the bottle. “Will you?”

Azzi hesitated a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

Paige leaned forward on her knees, sweeping her hair over one shoulder, and Azzi squeezed a line of cool sunscreen into her palm. Her hands hovered for a beat, then touched warm, smooth skin.

She started slow, spreading the lotion over Paige’s shoulders, the muscles shifting slightly under her fingertips.

“Mm—”

The sound was soft, almost involuntary—a tiny, breathy hum that slipped out the second Azzi’s thumbs grazed the dip just below Paige’s neck.

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

Paige stiffened slightly, like she’d heard herself, then forced a laugh. “Cold lotion,” she murmured, voice a touch too casual.

“Right,” Azzi said, her own voice tighter than she meant. She smoothed the sunscreen down Paige’s back, hyper-aware of every shiver of skin under her hands, every subtle inhale.

The world around them felt muted—the splashes, the chatter, even Joe’s laugh in the distance—reduced to the sound of her own pulse and the heat radiating off Paige.

“There,” Azzi said softly when she finished, pulling her hands back like they’d burned her.

Paige turned just enough to meet her eyes over her shoulder, a faint pink flush creeping up her neck. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Azzi managed, reaching for her sunglasses to hide the storm on her face.

The moment passed, at least on the surface. Joe and Sam wandered back over with plates of food, and Paige slipped easily into conversation about the game, laughing at one of Sam’s jokes.

But Azzi couldn’t unhear the sound Paige had made.

Soft. Barely there.

And completely undoing her.

Hours later, after the sun had set and the pool had emptied, Azzi would still feel it. The ghost of her touch on warm skin, and that sound that had lodged itself in her chest like a secret.

The pool day had ended hours ago, but Azzi could still feel the sun on her skin.

Or maybe it wasn’t the sun.

Maybe it was the echo of Paige’s soft little moan, playing over and over in her head, making her pulse skip every time.

Joe had noticed her spacing out during dinner, teasing her for yawning into her pasta. She’d blamed the sun and the pool, and he’d bought it—thank God.

Now, back in their hotel room, Joe was in the shower, humming off-key to some country song, while Azzi sat on the edge of the bed in her tank top and shorts, staring at the floor like it could answer why her chest felt so tight.

She tried to push it away, tried to focus on her husband, on the good and familiar and safe. But the image of her hands on Paige’s back wouldn’t leave her.

The way Paige had arched just slightly into her touch. The soft, involuntary sound that slipped out. The heat that had rushed straight between her legs.

She squeezed her thighs together, pulse thrumming.

The bathroom door opened, steam curling into the room, and Joe stepped out in just a towel, hair damp, grin easy.

“You alive?” he teased, tossing the towel onto the chair and digging into his duffel for shorts. “You’ve been a zombie all night.”

Azzi blinked up at him, heart pounding. “Yeah….”

He crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her, slow and warm, and she let him. Let herself sink into it, desperate for the grounding.

But the second his tongue brushed hers, a jolt shot through her chest. Not because of Joe.

Because the warmth of his mouth triggered a flash—Paige, lips parted in that almost-kiss in the hallway, her breath brushing Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi whimpered softly before she could stop herself.

Joe pulled back, eyebrows raised. “Damn. Missed me that much?”

Azzi swallowed hard. “Yeah. I… yeah.”

It didn’t take much after that.

Joe kissed her again, and this time she let herself drown in it, climbing into his lap, fingers digging into his damp hair. She needed the distraction, needed the release, needed something to untangle the knot inside her.

“Whoa,” Joe murmured as she rolled her hips against his. “Someone’s worked up.”

Azzi only hummed, kissing down his neck, tasting the salt of chlorine and sweat and clean hotel soap. She didn’t care if it felt a little desperate. She was desperate—her body chasing a spark that had been lit hours ago by someone else.

He groaned when she tugged his shorts down and slid her hand over him, already hard.

“Azzi…” he rasped, gripping her hips as she ground down harder.

Minutes blurred into heat and skin and tangled sheets.

Joe laid her back on the bed, his mouth trailing fire down her stomach as she arched into him, biting her lip to keep quiet. But when his fingers brushed over her core, slick and ready, she let out a shaky moan that surprised even her.

Her mind betrayed her again, flashing to the pool, to Paige’s soft sound under her touch.

Azzi gasped, body jerking under Joe’s hands, her breath coming fast.

“God, you’re wet,” he groaned, sliding inside her slowly, and Azzi’s head tipped back, a broken little whimper escaping her lips.

She moved with him urgently, every roll of her hips sharper than usual, chasing the edge like it could erase the memory buzzing in her brain.

“Baby,” Joe groaned, “you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me—”

Azzi cried out as the wave hit, nails digging into his back, body trembling through the release. Joe followed, collapsing against her with a satisfied groan.

They lay tangled in silence after, Azzi staring at the ceiling, her heart still racing.

It had been good—amazing, even. But instead of feeling steady, she felt… unmoored.

Because the fire wasn’t gone.

It wasn’t Joe who had lit it.

The week after the pool day, everything looked normal.

On the outside, anyway.

Azzi still texted Paige in the morning about coffee runs. Paige still sent her memes about the other WAGs and their matching designer tote bags. Their husbands still thought it was cute how inseparable they’d become.

But under the surface, something had shifted.

Azzi could feel it every time her phone buzzed with Paige’s name, every time their hands brushed when they passed a drink or a snack, every time she caught Paige’s eyes lingering for a beat too long.

They weren’t talking about it. They weren’t acknowledging it. But it was there.

Wednesday evening found them at Joe and Azzi’s house, Sam and Joe out back tossing a football around like they were teenagers again. Paige and Azzi were on the patio couch, barefoot, a bowl of popcorn between them and a muted baseball game flickering on the outdoor TV.

Paige was telling a story about a nightmare client from her accounting firm, using her hands to act it out, and Azzi was doubled over laughing.

“I swear to God, he came in with a shoebox full of receipts from 2015 and asked if I could ‘just make it work.’” Paige rolled her eyes dramatically.

Azzi snorted, clutching her stomach. “No way—”

“I’m serious! He tried to claim his dog as a dependent!”

They dissolved into laughter, the kind that left Azzi warm all over, shoulders brushing as they leaned into each other without even thinking about it.

The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange. Joe and Sam were still out in the yard, shouting plays at each other, and Azzi and Paige had settled into a comfortable sprawl on the couch.

Azzi’s legs were tucked under her, her knee pressed against Paige’s thigh. At some point, Paige had let her head tip back against the cushion, and now Azzi’s arm was draped along the back of the couch behind her.

From a distance, they probably looked like best friends. Up close, the air hummed with something quieter.

Paige reached for the popcorn, her fingers brushing Azzi’s wrist, and neither of them moved away.

“You ever think about…” Paige started, then hesitated, her voice soft.

Azzi tilted her head. “About what?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to hers, then to the sky. “…About how weird this life is? Like, our husbands living out their dreams, and we’re just… here, orbiting around it.”

Azzi considered that, her chest tightening for reasons she didn’t fully understand. “Yeah. I think about it all the time.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy but comfortable. Paige shifted slightly closer, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Joe’s voice broke through from the yard. “Hey! You two gonna sit there all night?”

Paige jumped a little, laughing. “Maybe!” she yelled back, her hand brushing Azzi’s knee as she adjusted on the couch.

Azzi caught the tiny spark in her chest and buried it under a smile.

From the outside, they were just two friends watching their husbands goof off in the yard. On the inside, it felt like the couch was a live wire.

Later, after the guys came in sweaty and grinning, they all ordered pizza and ended up in the living room. Somehow, Azzi and Paige wound up sharing a blanket on the floor while Joe and Sam claimed the couch, scrolling through old football highlights.

Paige leaned into Azzi’s side to grab her soda, and Azzi didn’t move away.

It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t a touch that would raise any eyebrows. But it was closer.

Closer than they’d been before. Closer than they should be.

The house felt different without Joe.

Azzi noticed it the second she closed the door behind her that afternoon—quieter, softer, almost echoing in its emptiness. Joe and Sam had flown out for the away game that morning, the team group chat buzzing with pictures of airports and stadiums.

By 6 p.m., Paige was knocking at the back door with a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Game night?” she said, grinning.

Azzi’s chest did that fluttering thing it always did when Paige smiled at her like that. “Game night,” she confirmed, stepping aside to let her in.

They kicked off their shoes, poured wine, and curled up on the big sectional in front of the TV. Joe’s game was already on, the pregame commentary humming in the background.

It started normal.

Laughing at the announcers, yelling when the camera panned to their husbands, sharing greasy pizza straight from the box.

Paige had her legs tucked under her, socks brushing against Azzi’s bare thigh. Every time she shifted to grab her drink or a slice, Azzi swore she felt it in her chest.

By the second quarter, Paige was lying sideways, her head on Azzi’s thigh, scrolling through her phone.

“You’re comfortable?” Azzi teased, trying to keep her voice light.

Paige hummed without looking up. “You’re comfy.”

Azzi’s stomach flipped. She reached for her wine, needing something to do with her hands that didn’t involve tracing the curve of Paige’s shoulder.

The game was close, the living room glowing with the soft blue light of the TV. Paige sat up at halftime to grab more pizza, and somehow they ended up sitting closer than before, shoulders pressed, their shared blanket slipping to the floor.

“God, this game is stressing me out,” Paige murmured, leaning forward as the third quarter started.

Azzi laughed softly. “You get more worked up than Sam does.”

Paige’s hand landed on Azzi’s thigh as she reached for her drink, casual and thoughtless—but Azzi froze.

Heat shot through her veins, her breath catching, and when Paige’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, the air shifted.

Heavy. Electric. Inevitable.

They didn’t move for a long moment.

Then Paige’s thumb brushed, barely there, over the inside of Azzi’s thigh.

Azzi’s breath hitched. “Paige…”

Paige’s voice was a whisper, trembling. “I can’t—stop thinking about you.”

The world seemed to tilt. The game, the wine, the rules they’d been clinging to—it all fell away.

Azzi leaned in before she could second-guess it, and their lips crashed together.

The first kiss was messy, all heat and teeth and years of repressed curiosity cracking wide open.

Azzi’s hands tangled in Paige’s hair, pulling her closer, while Paige clutched at Azzi’s hoodie like she might disappear.

“Oh my God,” Paige breathed against her mouth. “You taste so good—”

Azzi groaned, deep and low, and slid her hands under Paige’s Top, fingers skimming over warm, soft skin. Paige shivered under the touch, gasping when Azzi’s thumbs brushed just under the curve of her breasts.

“Is this—okay?” Azzi murmured, breathless.

“Yes—God, yes—” Paige whispered, crashing their mouths together again.

They toppled backward onto the couch, Azzi on top now, her knee sliding between Paige’s thighs. The soft, involuntary sound Paige made against her mouth almost undid her.

Azzi rolled her hips experimentally, and Paige arched up into her, a broken moan spilling out.

“Azzi—oh, my God—”

The sound lit something wild in Azzi. She tugged Paige’s Top up and over her head, tossing it to the floor, and stared for a second, chest heaving.

“You’re—so beautiful,” she whispered.

Paige blushed, biting her lip. “I’ve never—done this before.”

“Me either,” Azzi admitted, her voice rough. “But I want to. I want you.”

What followed was a blur of heat and hands and discovery.

Azzi kissed down Paige’s neck, tasting her skin, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. Her hands roamed—tentative at first, then bolder—memorizing every curve, every soft gasp she could pull from Paige’s lips.

Paige clung to her, nails digging into Azzi’s back, her hips moving desperately against Azzi’s thigh.

“Please,” Paige whimpered, her voice wrecked and needy. “Don’t stop.”

Azzi’s hand slipped under the band of her leggings, and the soft, wet heat she found there made her moan against Paige’s shoulder.

“You’re so—God, Paige—”

They moved together in a messy rhythm, all instinct and need, learning each other’s bodies in real time. Every gasp and moan only made it hotter, more urgent, more overwhelming.

Paige came first, a soft, shuddering cry muffled against Azzi’s neck, her body trembling in Azzi’s arms. The sound and the feeling of it dragged Azzi over the edge soon after, the world narrowing to nothing but heat and touch and the taste of Paige’s lips.

When it was over, they collapsed against each other, sweaty and panting, the TV still murmuring in the background.

Paige’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Azzi’s arm. “Holy… shit.”

Azzi let out a breathless laugh, her head spinning. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

Neither of them moved for a long time. They didn’t know what this meant, or how they’d face the world tomorrow.

But right now, in the quiet glow of the living room, all that existed was them.

The living room was still warm with the smell of pizza and wine, the TV murmuring about the third quarter like nothing in the world had changed.

But everything had.

Azzi lay back against the couch, chest still rising and falling, Paige tucked into her side, their skin damp and slick under the blanket they’d grabbed at some point.

They should have moved. Showered. Put their clothes back on. Pretended like this never happened.

But Paige’s hand traced slow circles on Azzi’s stomach, and Azzi’s fingers were tangled in her hair, and the air between them felt like fire.

Azzi turned her head slightly, catching Paige watching her with that soft, wrecked expression.

“What?” Azzi whispered.

Paige bit her lip, then shook her head. “I just… I can’t believe we did that.”

Azzi’s heart thudded. “Do you… regret it?”

Paige hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her—soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. “No,” she whispered against her lips. “I want more.”

The words snapped something inside Azzi.

She rolled them over in one smooth motion, caging Paige against the couch, her hands greedy now, sliding over every inch of warm, familiar-but-new skin.

Paige gasped, arching up to meet her, and Azzi swallowed the sound in another kiss, her tongue sliding against Paige’s.

“You’re addictive,” Azzi murmured between kisses, her voice ragged.

Paige whimpered, fingers clutching at Azzi’s hoodie as she pulled it off, tossing it to the floor. “You make me feel—God—so much.”

Round two was different from the first.

The first time had been discovery—hesitant touches, shocked moans, the thrill of newness. This time was pure hunger.

Azzi kissed down Paige’s neck, biting gently at the curve of her shoulder, and Paige’s nails scraped down her back in response.

“Azzi—please—” Paige breathed, her voice breaking in a way that went straight to Azzi’s core.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Azzi groaned, slipping her hand between Paige’s thighs again, feeling the wet heat that made her dizzy. “So ready for me.”

Paige moaned, hips bucking up into her touch.

They moved against each other with frantic rhythm, the couch creaking under them, the blanket slipping to the floor as Azzi’s mouth explored every inch of Paige’s skin.

Paige’s legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, grinding desperately. “I—I’m gonna—”

Azzi kissed her, swallowing the cry that tore from her throat as she came, trembling all over.

The sight, the sound, the feel of her falling apart underneath her was too much—Azzi followed seconds later, gasping into the curve of Paige’s neck, her whole body shuddering with the release.

They collapsed together again, sweaty and tangled, the world spinning around them.

Paige giggled breathlessly, brushing hair from Azzi’s damp forehead. “We’re… insane.”

Azzi laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Completely.”

They lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the TV announced the final score in the background, Joe and Sam winning the game.

Azzi thought about Joe for the briefest moment—and then Paige kissed her collarbone, and all thoughts scattered.

They weren’t done. Not yet.

The house was silent, save for the low hum of the fridge and the distant tick of the living room clock.

Azzi should’ve been asleep hours ago.

Paige was curled against her on the couch under the thin blanket, their legs tangled, the faint glow of the muted TV flickering over her soft blonde hair. They’d cleaned up eventually—half-heartedly stacking plates and wine glasses in the sink—but mostly, they’d just… stayed here.

Stayed touching.

Stayed breathing in each other like they couldn’t help it.

Azzi had finally drifted off sometime after midnight, her head resting against the couch arm, Paige tucked into her side.

And now, at 3 a.m., she was awake again.

Awake and aware.

Of the warmth pressed against her hip. Of the faint rise and fall of Paige’s chest. Of the fact that her entire body was humming with want again.

She shifted slightly, and Paige stirred with a soft sigh. Her lashes fluttered open, and she blinked up at Azzi, confused and adorable in the blue-gray glow of the room.

“…Hi,” Paige whispered, voice raspy with sleep.

Azzi’s stomach flipped. “Hey.”

Paige yawned, stretching a little—and in the process, her thigh brushed right against Azzi’s core, still sensitive from before.

Azzi bit her lip, stifling a sound, but Paige noticed anyway.

Her sleepy eyes sharpened instantly, and a slow, dangerous smile curved her lips.

“…You’re awake-awake,” Paige murmured, sliding her hand over Azzi’s stomach.

Azzi’s breath hitched. “Maybe.”

Paige’s fingers dipped under the waistband of her shorts, teasing. “Round three?”

Azzi didn’t answer—she kissed her instead, deep and needy, pulling her onto her lap.

This time was slower at first, lazy and molten, the kind of heat that felt like it could last forever.

Paige straddled Azzi’s thighs, kissing her like she’d been starving in her sleep, her hair falling in a curtain around them.

Azzi’s hands roamed over soft skin, gripping her hips, her back, her ass—committing every curve to memory.

“God, I can’t stop,” Azzi murmured against her mouth, voice low and wrecked.

“Don’t,” Paige whispered, rolling her hips, drawing a moan from Azzi’s throat. “I don’t want you to.”

They moved together in the hush of the living room, stifling moans and gasps, their bodies already knowing the rhythm from earlier.

Paige came first, biting into Azzi’s shoulder to muffle the sound, her body trembling in the dark.

Azzi followed soon after, gripping her tight, the world narrowing to heat and heartbeat and the taste of Paige’s lips.

They stayed there for a long time after, foreheads pressed together, catching their breath.

It was Paige who finally broke the quiet.

“We… we can’t get caught,” she whispered, still straddling Azzi’s lap, her voice barely audible over the hum of the house.

Azzi nodded, chest still heaving. “I know.”

“I mean it. We can’t—be like this in public. Not in front of them. Not where anyone can see.”

Azzi hesitated, then exhaled. “…Okay. So… rules?”

Paige chewed her lip, thinking. “Rules. We’re just… friends when they’re around. No touching. No looks. No flirting.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “And this?”

Paige’s fingers traced over Azzi’s shoulder, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Only when they’re gone. Only away games.”

Azzi leaned forward, brushing their lips together in a soft, conspiratorial kiss. “Deal.”

They fell asleep like that, tangled on the couch in the faint glow of the TV, the smell of wine and skin still in the air.

By morning, the house would look normal again.Two best friends, waiting for their husbands to come home. No one would know the truth.

[coldestduointhenation]

Pazzi Fic Recs

This is as much for me as it is for you. Giving all of these authors all their flowers because everyone is so, so talented.

Series

Between Shades of Blue Golden Hour For the Plot Looking Down at You Platonic Plus One Sherry Bomb Soft Spot Terms of Endearment Terms of Play Thinking of You (While I'm Up Here) Trouble Wishing You the Best (In the worst way) Your Lips My Lips

One-Shots

Anaktoria Beneath Her Tongue, There is a Poem... Between Breaths (I lose myself in you) Cause I Could Be So Good to You... Cost of Attention Exit 42 Five Lies and One Truth Heat Check I am giving you food because I cannot give you the world I want to be something useful, like in love Letters of Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd Long Time Coming Paige's Lessons on Kissing Petty Recognition Study In Want Tipping Point & TP2 Trust in me (I'll Give You All of Me)

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 19

paige x azzi

a/n: Surprise lol I locked in and decided I wanted to make myself have happy tears before the day ended so pass around the tissue box and enjoy 🤧

word count: 4.5k

"The Wedding"

The boutique sat nestled on a quiet corner of Monrovia’s main street, the kind of place that looked more like a restored craftsman home than a storefront. Ivy climbed the trellis near the porch, and a little chalkboard sign on the steps read, Welcome Brides! in swooping cursive. Inside, soft jazz played from a retro speaker, mingling with the faint scent of lavender and old wood floors.

Azzi tugged open the door, and the little bell above chimed. Her mom followed close behind, eyes already scanning the racks with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for holidays and baby showers. Ice brought up the rear in a pair of tinted sunglasses and a hoodie, trying (and failing) to stay lowkey.

“This place is cute,” Ice said, peeking over the tops of the racks. “Feels like the kind of place where the mirrors are honest.”

Azzi laughed. “Let’s hope not too honest.”

The boutique owner, a woman named Nadine with silver curls and paint-smudged glasses, greeted them with a warm smile. “You must be Azzi,” she said, clasping her hands. “I’ve been so excited for your appointment.”

Azzi nodded shyly, suddenly more nervous than she expected. “That’s me.”

“Well then,” Nadine said, waving them toward a cozy corner. “Let’s find your dress.”

It was more fun than Azzi thought it would be. Less pressure. The kind of afternoon where joy just hummed in the air like background music. Her mom cried at almost every dress, even the ones that clearly weren’t the one. Ice offered running commentary that was both brutal and hilarious. “This one says ‘I sell crystals on Instagram.’” “That one looks like it’s been cursed by a Victorian ghost.”

But then came the fifth dress.

Soft satin. Thin straps. A slightly scooped neckline with a whisper of structure. It hugged her frame without being too much. Elegant, but not stiff. Romantic without veering into frilly.

Azzi stepped out onto the platform and turned toward the mirror.

And everything just… stilled.

Her mom’s hands flew to her mouth. Ice blinked once. Twice.

Azzi smoothed her palms down the front of the dress. Her throat tightened.

“Oh,” her mom whispered. “Baby. That’s the one.”

Ice nodded. “Yup. This is it. You look like… you.”

Azzi turned toward them, trying not to cry. “Yeah?”

Her mom stood and crossed the little room, taking her hands. “You look like the future. And I’ve never seen you shine like this.”

Azzi blinked fast. “Don’t make me cry in this dress, Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, brushing a tear from her own cheek. “I just… I knew. I knew she was the one.”

Azzi tilted her head, smiling. “Paige?”

Her mom nodded, that soft kind of knowing in her eyes. “It was the first dinner. Months ago. You brought her over, and she was trying so hard to play it cool. But when she talked about you, she slipped. She said, ‘I love—’ and then caught herself so fast it was like watching someone trip over a crack in the sidewalk.”

Azzi laughed, shoulders shaking. “She did.”

“She did. Right in the middle of talking about what drew her to you. And I just… I knew. She didn’t mean to say it. But she did. And she meant it.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to hold it together. “I love her so much.”

Her mom pulled her into a hug, careful not to wrinkle the dress. “And she loves you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

From the corner, Ice gave a little nod. “Okay, that’s sweet. But also, can we get snacks after this?”

Azzi wiped at her cheeks, laughing through it. “Yes. But first—”

She turned back to the mirror.

“I’m saying yes to this dress.”

And the room erupted in cheers.

—-

The shop Paige chose wasn’t flashy. No champagne on arrival. No velvet chairs or runway mirrors. Just exposed brick walls, clean tailoring stations, and racks of dark wool and linen that looked like they belonged in a GQ spread without trying too hard. It was tucked away on a side street in Hopkins, the kind of place her dad would’ve driven past a hundred times and never noticed — but today, he was waiting out front with her little brother, arms crossed and sunglasses still on despite the overcast morning.

“You’re late,” her dad said, handing her a coffee without preamble.

Paige took it and nodded once. “I’m the bride. I’m allowed.”

Her brother, Drew, grinned. “You say that like you’re the only bride.”

“Touché.”

Inside, the shop was quiet. The kind of quiet Paige liked. She’d made an appointment for first thing in the morning, hoping to dodge the crowds — and maybe the nerves. The stylist, a guy named Mason with a crisp rolled cuff and a dry wit, welcomed them with a practiced ease.

“So,” he said, eyeing Paige’s sweatshirt and joggers. “This is what we’re upgrading?”

“Hey,” Paige said, mock defensive. “This hoodie’s seen me through several tournaments and one Euro cup. Respect the cotton.”

Drew snorted. Their dad just sighed.

Mason chuckled. “Fair enough. But let’s find you something that makes your fiancée stop breathing when you walk down the aisle.”

Paige smirked. “She already does that.”

But inside? Her stomach was flipping.

They started with a few standard looks — classic tux cuts, single-breasted suits, even a navy velvet blazer that made Drew say, “You look like you’re about to host the Oscars.”

Paige vetoed most of them quickly. Too stiff. Too flashy. Too not-her.

Her dad stayed mostly quiet, watching from the leather bench with the same furrowed brow he wore at most of her games growing up. Drew offered commentary when appropriate, but didn’t push. Paige appreciated it — this wasn’t a show for anyone else. It was for her. For Azzi.

But then the curtain rustled, and a new voice joined the mix.

“I can’t believe I actually found the place.”

Paige froze.

Her mom stood near the door, umbrella in hand, cardigan buttoned wrong. Her hair was pulled back neatly, though a little wind-blown. She looked older than Paige remembered — or maybe just softer.

“I, uh… called your dad” her mom offered. “Asked if I could come.”

Paige looked at her dad.

He shrugged. “She said she wanted to be there.”

Her mom took a step closer. “You’re getting married. I just wanted to see you… in the thing you’re going to wear when you say yes to forever.”

Paige didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then she nodded toward the open garment rack. “Pick one,” she said. “But no sequins.”

Her mom smiled — tentative, but real. And together, the three of them started sifting through the options.

Eventually, it was Mason who pulled out the final contender.

Black Italian wool. Structured shoulders, tailored waist. Understated silk lapel. Crisp, modern, but soft in all the right places. A custom button down with a collar Paige could pop or leave open. No tie. No frills.

It looked like her. The elevated version.

When she stepped out of the dressing room, it was the first time no one said anything right away.

Drew’s eyes went a little wide. “Damn.”

Her dad gave the smallest smile. “There she is.”

And her mom? Her mom teared up.

Paige adjusted the jacket cuffs, cleared her throat. “Too much?”

Her mom shook her head, then crossed the room to gently fix the fold of Paige’s collar. “Just enough,” she said. “And for what it’s worth… you’ve never looked more like yourself.”

Paige met her eyes.

There was history there. Strained years. Mismatched expectations. So much left unsaid.

But in this moment, she felt it — her mom wasn’t here as an obligation.

She was here as her mother.

And Paige let herself believe that could be enough.

—-

The idea was simple. Separate bachelorette weekends. Not because they didn’t want to celebrate together — they did — but because everyone insisted they deserved their own time. Own fun. Own chaos.

Azzi’s party was in Palm Springs.

Paige’s… was in Big Bear.

Two very different elevations. Two very different outcomes.

Palm Springs – Azzi’s Weekend of Dreams

It was everything she didn’t even know she needed. Sunshine. Pool floats shaped like flamingos. Cold drinks in glass cans with “Fudd’s Final Fling” etched on the side. Her mom came for the first night (because of course she did — and brought personalized face masks). Then she left the girls to it: Ice, old college friends, Sparks teammates, even Azzi’s cousin with the energy of a Red Bull commercial.

The Airbnb had vibes — mid-century, colorful tile, a neon pink sign by the pool that read “Bride Energy.”

They did a sunset hike and toasted with tequila. Played a game called Paige or Palm Tree where people had to guess whether an anonymous quote came from her fiancée or a live blog about botany, Paige still didn’t know this happened.

There was laughter. Champagne. Ugly crying at 2 a.m. when Azzi pulled out a playlist of songs that reminded her of Paige and accidentally made everyone sob on the patio.

“I just…” she hiccupped, forehead pressed to Ice’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I get to marry her. Like, I knew I loved her, but now it’s just—it’s more. Like my whole bloodstream is just Paige now.”

“Okay, Shakespeare,” Ica said, blowing her nose with a towel. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, but also, ew.”

The weekend was perfect.

And Azzi couldn’t wait to tell Paige all about it.

Big Bear – Paige’s Descent Into Group Text Hell

It started with optimism. Paige, KK, and a group of old high school and college friends who promised a lowkey weekend of hiking, fishing, and chill firepit hangs.

By hour three, the Airbnb had no hot water, the heat didn’t work, and someone (KK) tried to cook frozen pizza directly on the oven rack without a tray.

They drank whiskey to survive. Paige wasn’t a whiskey girl.

At one point, someone suggested a game of “Never Have I Ever,” which spiraled into an argument about the ethics of fantasy football and who cheated in intramurals sophomore year.

By night two, Paige had retreated to the deck with a hoodie pulled over her head, voice noting Azzi:

“Babe. I miss you. I miss Birdie. I miss my bed. I just want to talk about color palettes and eat cake samples. Why am I here.”

She meant it to be light. Funny.

But the next message came out quieter:

“This doesn’t feel like me.”

She didn’t send that one.

She just stared at the firepit, flames licking the edge of soggy firewood, and wondered how Azzi’s weekend was going.

The Return – Home, Tired, and Two Very Different Vibes

Azzi was glowing. Literally sun-kissed. She came home with a tan line from her sunglasses and a new robe that said “Mrs. Fudd” in glittery script. She flopped into the bed with a sigh of pure satisfaction.

Paige sat at the end of the mattress, duffel still zipped.

“You okay?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige didn’t answer right away.

“Talk to me.”

Paige looked up, eyes tired. “Your weekend looked fun.”

“It was.”

Paige nodded, trying not to sound short. “Mine was… less so.”

Azzi crawled across the comforter until she was right in front of her, arms looping around her waist. “Tell me.”

Paige’s shoulders slumped. “It just didn’t feel like us. Or me. I felt like I was playing a part. Like, ‘Oh, cool, let’s do shots and watch bad standup and pretend this is how I want to spend my last free weekend before I commit to someone for life.’ But I already feel committed. This just made me feel… out of place.”

Azzi leaned into her. “You’re not out of place. You’re just better with me.”

Paige huffed a breath of laughter, forehead to Azzi’s.

“I’m sorry yours sucked,” Azzi whispered.

“I’m not,” Paige said. “Because it reminded me why I said yes in the first place.”

Azzi tilted her head. “To suffer through lukewarm pizza and fantasy football with a bunch of dudes?”

“No.” Paige pulled her in, voice low. “To come home to you.”

Azzi kissed her then — slow, soft, grateful.

They stayed like that for a long time. The laughter from Palm Springs, the firepit smoke from Big Bear — it all blurred in the quiet hum of being back in each other’s arms.

“I vote we do a joint honeymoon,” Paige whispered. “Forever.”

Azzi smiled against her neck. “I thought that’s what marriage was.”

—-

They had agreed on it weeks ago.

One night apart. Just one.

Not because they needed the distance, but because they wanted to remember what it felt like to miss each other — to carry that ache into the aisle, to look up and see each other not just as a continuation of every day before, but as the beginning of something new.

No waking up tangled in sheets and lazy arms. No coffee already made and mugs passed wordlessly over morning yawns. Just space. Sacred space.

Azzi stayed at a small inn up the road, tucked behind a stretch of wildflowers and hummingbird feeders, her mom and Ice in the room next door. Paige stayed in a guesthouse at the venue, her dad and brother keeping her company for most of the evening before disappearing with a knowing look and a joking “Don’t stay up all night rewriting your vows again.”

They were both, secretly, wide awake.

Azzi – 10:24 p.m.

The room smelled like fresh eucalyptus and lemon balm — a calming spray Ice had insisted on spritzing three times since sunset.

Azzi sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot, knees tucked to her chest. Her vow journal was open beside her, filled with crossed-out lines and coffee-ring smudges. She stared at the latest draft.

The words were all there.

They just didn’t feel big enough.

How do you fit someone like Paige into a few pages?

How do you capture every version of love she’s given you — the kind that shows up at your games, in your inbox, in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep? The kind that stands up for you even when it’s inconvenient. The kind that softens when you’re scared and sharpens when you’re disrespected. The kind that tells you it’s okay to want more, and then helps you build it.

“I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,” Ice whispered, slipping into the room in her robe and sitting beside her.

Azzi smiled without turning her head. “I can. I’ve believed it for a long time.”

Ice nudged her shoulder. “You’re not nervous?”

Azzi’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the mattress. “Not about marrying her. That part’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“What part are you nervous about?”

Azzi hesitated. “That I won’t say it right. That I won’t make her feel how big this is for me. How much she’s changed me. How much she healed me.”

Ice reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’ve been showing her that for awhile now. All you have to do tomorrow is say it out loud.”

Paige – 11:47 p.m.

The stars looked fake from where Paige stood. Too many. Too bright. Like someone turned the sharpness up on the world and forgot to dial it back down.

She paced the porch of the guesthouse barefoot, hoodie tugged over her head, her vow journal clutched to her chest. She hadn’t shown it to anyone. Not even KK. Not even her dad.

Inside were words that felt too raw to read twice.

The wind picked up. She pulled her hood tighter.

The truth was, she was scared.

Not of Azzi — never of Azzi.

But of the weight of the moment. Of what it meant to promise forever in front of everyone who ever mattered. Of standing there and somehow missing the mark.

Because Paige didn’t do romantic. Not really.

She did grocery runs and forehead kisses and building Ikea furniture without the directions. She did squeezing Azzi’s hand under the table when she was about to spiral and leaving the last bite of the thing she liked most on the plate without mentioning it.

But poetry?

That was Azzi’s thing.

She sat down on the porch steps, flipping to the last page of the journal, and stared at the line she hadn’t been able to write all week:

“You are…”

Nothing felt right after that.

You are my light. Too cheesy.

You are my home. Too vague.

You are everything. Too much.

She was still thinking when her phone lit up.

Azzi 🏀

“Can’t sleep. You?”

Paige smiled.

Paige ⛳️

“Nope. Thought you’d be passed out after that ‘bridal boot camp’ Ice planned.”

Azzi: 🏀

“I did 45 minutes of yoga and got emotionally bullied into lemon water.”

Paige ⛳️

“And tomorrow, we get married. Weird.”

Azzi 🏀

“The best kind of weird.”

“Hey… even if you trip walking down the aisle or I ugly cry the entire time…”

“I already won.”

Paige blinked.

Then typed:

Paige ⛳️

“You are the best thing I’ve ever been brave enough to choose.”

Azzi sent a red heart. Paige stared at the blinking cursor, then slowly flipped to that last page again and finally wrote it:

You are the best thing I’ve ever been brave enough to choose.

The Morning Of

They didn’t see each other. That was the deal.

Azzi had her room. Paige had hers. Their teams were in place — Ice running point on Azzi’s side, KK overseeing Paige’s last-minute wardrobe checks with military precision.

Everything was a blur. Hair. Makeup. Texts. Flowers. People crying before the ceremony even started. Paige’s dad trying not to tear up as he tied her tie. Azzi’s mom fastening a bracelet onto her daughter’s wrist with trembling fingers.

And Birdie? Birdie wore a bowtie.

Outside, guests were beginning to gather under twinkle lights and eucalyptus garlands, the air warm but just shy of summer heat. Inside, tucked away behind the venue’s old greenhouse, Paige stood facing the ivy-covered wall, hands clenched and heart racing.

KK had walked her over and left with a wink and a whispered, “Take your time.”

Now, it was quiet — the kind of quiet that wrapped around you, that made you feel the weight of things in your bones. Paige wasn’t ready. Or maybe she was too ready. She kept trying to slow her breath, to center herself. But then—

Soft footsteps crunched across the gravel path behind her.

She didn’t turn.

Not yet.

Her body knew who it was. Every inch of her buzzed.

Azzi let out a slow breath. “You ready?”

Paige nodded, still facing away. “You?”

Azzi didn’t answer with words.

She reached forward gently and tapped Paige’s elbow, and when Paige turned, it hit her like a wave.

She hadn’t been ready.

Not for this.

Not for the sight of Azzi standing there in a delicate, modern gown that hugged in all the right places, soft ivory against her skin, curls pinned half-up with pearl pins catching the light like something holy. Her eyes were wide and glossy, like she was trying her best not to ruin her makeup.

But Paige didn’t have the same restraint.

“Holy shit,” Paige whispered, voice catching in her throat.

She stepped back slightly, hand over her heart, because she could feel it — the cracking open, the swell of emotion threatening to take her under.

Azzi’s eyes softened. “Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry, and then we’re both gonna be walking down the aisle looking like raccoons.”

Paige laughed wetly. “You’re unreal. Like actually unreal.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, P,” Azzi teased, her voice trembling around the smile.

They stepped closer in unison, like gravity was pulling them together. When Paige finally reached out and touched her — a soft hand at Azzi’s waist, a thumb brushing her cheekbone — it was like the world steadied.

“This is happening,” Azzi murmured.

Paige nodded, forehead leaning into hers. “We’re really doing it.”

“Still time to run,” Azzi whispered, grinning.

“I’d chase you,” Paige replied.

That made Azzi break — a tear slipped down her cheek and Paige caught it with her thumb.

“I was nervous all morning,” Azzi admitted, voice low, “but now? Just being here. With you. I feel like I can breathe.”

Paige pulled her into a hug — not careful, not delicate, just tight and real and full of everything they’d been holding.

“I needed this,” Paige whispered into her shoulder. “I needed you before all of it starts.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Azzi said, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes again.

They stood like that for a beat — forehead to forehead, breaths syncing, hands clasped between them.

And in that tiny pocket of time, hidden from the guests and the music and the cameras and the chaos — it was just them.

Azzi and Paige.

The quiet before forever.

“Let’s go get married,” Paige finally said.

Azzi smiled. “Hell yeah.”

—-

The aisle wasn’t long, but standing at the end of it, Paige felt like it stretched for miles.

Her palms were slightly damp. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears louder than the soft instrumental music floating on the warm breeze. She adjusted her stance — suit crisp, jaw clenched — but nothing could brace her for the weight of this moment.

Not even a decade of tournaments won.

The crowd had hushed to a murmur, a sea of familiar faces bathed in golden hour light. Friends. Family. Teammates. Somehow the chairs were full and yet, Paige only saw one person.

Azzi.

When the doors opened and she appeared, everything else blurred.

Her gown shimmered with movement, catching light in the softest way. Her curls were still perfectly pinned, even though Paige had already half-ruined her makeup in the greenhouse. Her hand was looped through her father’s arm, bouquet clutched in the other.

She was smiling — not nervous, not stiff. Just pure. Grounded.

And then Paige completely lost it.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Her chest shook.

KK, standing just off to the side, reached out and touched her elbow in quiet support. But Paige barely felt it. She could only focus on Azzi walking toward her. Closer. Closer.

When they finally reached her, Azzi’s father gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then turned toward Paige.

“She’s my world,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “But she’s yours now, too.”

Paige blinked fast, eyes swimming. “I know,” she managed. “I promise I know.”

Azzi turned to her dad, kissed his cheek, and then slipped her hand into Paige’s like it was always meant to be there.

They stepped together, standing in front of everyone — but still, somehow, in their own little orbit.

The officiant welcomed the guests, spoke a few words. There were laughs. Sniffles. Paige barely heard any of it.

And then it was time.

“Paige,” the officiant said, nodding gently. “Your vows?”

Paige took a breath.

Then another.

And then she turned fully toward Azzi, squeezing her hand once before beginning.

“Okay, I had a plan,” she started, voice already trembling with emotion. “I wrote something really polished. Real poetic. And then I looked at you walking down that aisle and forgot every single word.”

Azzi smiled, blinking back tears.

“So… here’s what I do remember. I remember the first time we met, you were wearing these ridiculous sunglasses and I thought — damn, she’s trouble. And I was right. You are trouble.”

Laughter rippled softly through the crowd.

“But you’re also… the calm. The safe. The wild and the wonder. You’re the person who showed me how to stop running. How to let someone in. How to be better — not for the camera or the box score or the legacy — but just… for me.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop.

“You’ve loved every version of me. The one who was hesitant to let someone in. The one who asked for patience to guide us through a journey of finding out what’s real. The one who finally opened up and when I did you didn’t see me as any less. You never asked me to be anything but honest. You never left. You showed up. Always. Even when we didn’t know how to ask.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmered, lips pressed tight against a quiver.

“I promise to keep showing up, too. Even when we’re tired. Even when there’s cake drama or guest list meltdowns or I put something stupid in the group chat.”

More laughter.

“I promise to listen. To grow. To protect what we’ve built — not just with love, but with intention. Every single day.”

Paige paused, then grinned. “Also, I promise to never, ever tell anyone how many tissues you went through watching that one dog commercial.”

Azzi laughed through her tears.

“I love you. And I am so proud to be yours.”

The officiant gave her a gentle nod.

“Azzi, your turn.”

Azzi took a breath and leaned in, still holding Paige’s hand like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.

“I’m gonna try not to cry the whole way through this,” she began, already watery.

Paige smiled. “You’re already crying.”

“Shh,” Azzi laughed, dabbing under her eye. “Okay. So. Paige. When we met, I didn’t know what I was walking into. You were taller than me, moodier than me, and somehow still had the softest eyes I’d ever seen.”

Another round of laughs from the guests. Paige tilted her head, clearly biting back a grin.

“I told myself you were gonna be a fun story. Something temporary. But what I didn’t expect was that you’d become the story I never wanted to stop writing.”

Azzi’s voice softened.

“You have this way of loving that’s quiet, but fierce. You remember the small things. You show up when no one’s looking. You leave voice notes when I’m anxious and stick notes in my bag when you’re gone.”

She exhaled slowly.

“You taught me that love isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about the boring stuff. The grocery lists. The laundry arguments. The 1am In-N-Out runs. It’s about staying — not just when it’s good, but when it’s hard.”

Her fingers tightened around Paige’s.

“I promise to stay, too. To root for you louder than anyone else. To hold you accountable when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass. And to never let the world make you feel like you’re too much or not enough.”

A pause. Then a small smile.

“I also promise to let you hog the remote… even though you pick the worst documentaries.”

Soft laughter again.

“I love you, Paige. More than I ever thought possible. And I am so, so glad we didn’t let the injuries — time zones differences — get in the way of forever.”

The moment stretched, full and thick with emotion.

The officiant looked between them and smiled.

“By the power vested in me… I now pronounce you married.”

Cheers began to rise even before the final words.

“You may kiss—”

But Paige was already moving.

Already pulling Azzi in.

Already kissing her with the kind of certainty that said: This is it. This is everything.

The crowd erupted.

But in the space between their lips, it was still just them.

Always had been.

Always would be.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 18

paige x azzi

a/n: lots of fluff and all that cute wedding planning I promised... and contains some sexual content.

word count: 7.2k

"Names, Games, and Seating Chart Blames"

The next morning, the world looked the same — the same streets, the same sunrise, the same little bark from Birdie when the mail truck rumbled by — but something had shifted.

Azzi could feel it in the curve of Paige’s smile when she poured coffee into her favorite mug. In the way their pinkies brushed as they passed each other in the hallway. In the way neither of them could stop glancing down at their hands — not to hide the new jewelry, but to admire the quiet promise it held.

They were engaged. And for now, the only people who knew were the ones who mattered most.

“I kinda like it being just ours for a bit,” Azzi murmured as she nestled into Paige’s side on the couch, Birdie tucked between them like a sleepy barrier.

“Me too,” Paige said, resting her chin on top of Azzi’s head. “Feels like a secret superpower.”

Azzi smiled into her sweatshirt. “So when do we go public? Should we drop it with a soft launch? A hard launch? A… launch that includes Birdie in a matching outfit?”

Paige laughed. “You want to do coordinated outfits for our engagement post?”

“I’m just saying,” Azzi replied, turning to look at her with that mischievous glint Paige loved. “We’re gay. There are rules.”

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree.

A couple weeks had passed since the blimp. Since the rooftop kisses and the surprise second proposal and the most joyful party either of them had ever lived through. And still, the world around them moved as usual — deadlines, workouts, dog walks — but everything felt colored in a new kind of light. Softer. Sharper. Like the air around them sparkled just a little differently.

They hadn’t told the internet yet.

Their closest circle knew. That had been enough. There was something sacred about holding it close. Letting the news live in the quiet corners of their daily lives instead of a perfectly timed caption.

But then that morning, while Paige was on the putting green and Azzi was sitting on the porch in one of Paige’s hoodies, a little box arrived with the new batch of film photos from the party. Azzi tore into it like it was Christmas morning. She flipped through them with a kind of reverence — KK laughing mid-toast, Paige’s dad clinking his glass with her brother, Paige and Azzi tangled in the center of the dance floor like nobody else existed.

And then, tucked near the bottom, a photo Azzi hadn’t seen before — the two of them mid-laugh, forehead to forehead, hands clasped tight, Azzi’s ring sparkling between their fingers.

She didn’t even realize she’d taken a picture of it with her phone until Paige appeared behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“That one’s magic,” Paige said softly.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

They were quiet a beat.

“Think it’s time?” Azzi asked.

Paige didn’t answer right away. She leaned down and kissed the top of Azzi’s head, then whispered, “Yeah. I think it is.”

So that afternoon, barefoot in their living room, Paige cracked her knuckles dramatically like she was about to enter a coding competition and opened Instagram. Azzi lay upside down on the couch, legs hooked over the backrest, phone aimed toward Paige’s face with a grin.

“Are we doing a collab post?” Paige asked, typing slowly.

“Obviously. We’re unifying the brand.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away.

They debated captions for almost an hour.

“‘We’re getting married,’” Paige suggested, holding up her phone.

Azzi squinted. “Sweet. Simple. Maybe too simple?”

“Okay. What about ‘She made me a fiancée and a believer in happily ever after’?”

Azzi groaned. “You’re not allowed to be that smooth this early in the day.”

They tried a few others — funny, serious, punny — until Azzi finally looked over and said, “How about just… ‘We said yes to forever’?”

Paige paused. Looked at her. “That’s it.”

They picked two photos — the laughing one from a batch of Polaroids and a quiet shot from the end of the night, Paige’s head resting on Azzi’s shoulder as the lights of the party glowed behind them. No big production. No matching outfits. Just them. Just right.

Azzi clicked “Post” and waited.

The phones buzzed instantly.

A few teammates and caddies who had clearly been stalking. KK’s comment came first: “Finally. Was wondering how long y’all could keep it off the grid. CONGRATS MY BABIES 🥹❤️”

There were messages from their college coaches. Former teammates. Reporters. Fans. Paige’s little brother sent a string of emojis that made no real sense except the very clear excitement behind them.

Azzi looked over at Paige, whose expression was a mix of amused disbelief and genuine warmth. “Think we broke the internet?”

Paige shook her head. “No. But we might’ve just made it a little gayer.”

“Even better.”

They set their phones down after a while, letting the love soak in, letting the world react without needing to perform for it. They were still just Paige and Azzi. Still arguing over who refilled the Brita last. Still trying to train Birdie not to bark at the blender. Still planning what kind of pizza to order on Friday night.

But now, the world knew what they already did.

Forever had started. And it looked really damn good on them.

Let me know if you want to build this moment out even more or pivot into the next part of the outline with wedding planning and the lead-up to Azzi’s return to the court.

—-

They were in their usual spot—sprawled on the couch, surrounded by wedding magazines, their laptops open to a Pinterest board titled “Big Gay Wedding But Make It Elegant,” and Birdie half-buried under a plush blanket at their feet. The vibe was peak planning mode.

Azzi was scrolling through her phone when she suddenly gasped. “Okay. I’ve found it.”

Paige glanced over, half-interested. “Found what? The perfect cake? A venue with fairy lights and live peacocks?”

“No,” Azzi said, spinning her phone around with a grin. “A neon sign.”

Paige blinked at the screen. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Azzi tapped the image. “Picture it behind us at the reception. Warm white light. Slightly cursive but not too cursive. It says…” she paused dramatically, “The Bueckers’.”

Paige’s expression stalled. Something subtle, but noticeable if you knew her well—and Azzi did.

Azzi tilted her head. “Too millennial?”

Paige took a second. “No, it’s not the sign. I mean—maybe a little. But that’s not what’s throwing me.”

Azzi sat up. “Then what?”

Paige set her laptop aside. “The name.”

Azzi blinked. “My name?”

“No.” Paige gave a small smile, a little sheepish now. “Mine.”

It took Azzi a beat. “You don’t want to put your name on the sign?”

“I don’t want it to be your name on my sign,” Paige clarified softly. “Because I don’t think it should say ‘The Bueckers’.”

Azzi’s forehead creased, confused but curious. “So… what should it say?”

Paige took a slow breath. “If it’s okay with you… I want to take your last name.”

The room went still.

Azzi opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her heart was doing something stupid in her chest—some cartwheel of disbelief and awe and something almost like grief for the version of her who never thought she’d get to feel this loved.

“I—Paige, are you serious?”

“Completely.”

Azzi blinked fast. “But… you’re you. You’re the name. You’re the headline. You’ve got trophies with your name etched into them.”

“And I’m proud of all that,” Paige said, her voice soft but sure. “But it’s not who I am anymore. Not the whole picture, anyway. The name on a trophy is fine. But the name I want on the mailbox? The Christmas cards? The wedding invites?”

Her eyes met Azzi’s. “I want to be a Fudd.”

Azzi bit her bottom lip, her throat already tight. “You’d really do that?”

“I want to,” Paige repeated. “Your family… they welcomed me like I was theirs from the start. Your mom called me to ask what size sweater I wear for Christmas, Azzi. Your brothers text me just to check in. You’re a Fudd. And that name—your name—is home.”

Azzi blinked, her voice catching. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Paige leaned in, forehead brushing hers. “Too late.”

Azzi let out a watery laugh. “I always assumed we’d go with yours.”

Paige grinned. “Most people do. But also? Yours is better.”

Azzi pulled back, brow raised. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not. Fudd sounds iconic. Bueckers is like… the name of a stern librarian. Fudd is fun. It’s punchy.”

“It’s also literally a cartoon duck.”

“And yet somehow,” Paige said, kissing her knuckles, “still better.”

Azzi wiped at her eyes. “God, I love you.”

“I know.”

They both laughed. And then they sat in it—this soft, unfolding moment neither of them had expected when the conversation started with neon signs and Pinterest fonts.

Paige tucked a piece of hair behind Azzi’s ear. “Is that okay, though? Me taking your name?”

Azzi didn’t even hesitate. “More than okay. It means everything.”

A silence passed—comfortable now, warm with promise.

Then Paige broke it, deadpan: “Still not doing a neon sign, though.”

Azzi groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“Do you want a wife with good taste or not?”

Azzi tackled her with a pillow. “I’m marrying you despite your neon aversion.”

“You say that now—wait until you see my proposal to get a chocolate fountain and a build-your-own nacho bar.”

Azzi paused mid-wrestle. “…Okay, that actually slaps.”

“I know,” Paige beamed.

And just like that, they were back in their rhythm—teasing and plotting and planning a life made not of perfection, but of choice. Paige choosing Azzi’s name wasn’t about compromise. It was a declaration. One rooted in gratitude, and softness, and the deep knowledge that names meant something—but they meant more when shared.

That night, long after Birdie had snored herself into a different dimension and their phones had died with Pinterest boards half-loaded, Azzi whispered into the quiet,

“Paige Fudd.”

Paige, nearly asleep, smiled without opening her eyes. “Yeah?”

“I like the sound of that.”

Paige squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

And they fell asleep not as The Bueckers, or even just Paige and Azzi—but as something new. Something quietly forming, slowly building, name by name, dream by dream.

—-

But wedding planning didn’t stop the world from spinning.

The WNBA season had already tipped off, and Azzi hadn’t played a single minute yet.

She was close — cleared for contact, fully immersed in practice — but the final green light still sat just out of reach. Each game that passed without her suiting up made the dull ache in her chest throb a little deeper. It wasn’t just the minutes she was missing. It was the rhythm. The routine. The way the ball felt when it left her hands in front of a crowd. The way her teammates looked to her during tight stretches. She hadn’t realized how much of herself lived in those moments until they were temporarily out of reach.

And Paige? She noticed. Of course she did.

Paige always noticed.

Even mid-tournament, with her schedule packed and adrenaline still bleeding from her post-match interviews, she’d send voice notes between gates. Always voice notes — never texts. Paige wanted her to hear the tone in her voice. The warmth behind the words.

“Hey baby… I just landed. I miss you so much. You’re on my mind constantly. And I know it’s hard right now — sitting out when you’re ready. But you’re still leading, Az. You’re still showing up. Don’t ever think for a second that anyone’s forgotten who the hell you are. Least of all me. I love you.”

Azzi would listen to them before bed, curled under one of Paige’s hoodies, Birdie nestled at her feet. Some nights she’d replay them just to hear Paige’s voice again.

She sent love back in her own way. A sticky note tucked into Paige’s duffel bag: “Win this one for me.” Another slipped between socks: “I miss your pre-game scowl.” And once, folded into Paige’s toiletry kit, a crudely drawn sketch of her, Birdie, and Paige in their wedding fits — Birdie, of course, in a tiny tux with a tennis ball in place of a boutonniere.

They found ways to be present even when miles apart.

Azzi made herself useful around the house. She spent hours on Pinterest boards — wedding arches, string lights, seating chart hacks. She researched the pros and cons of outdoor venues versus indoor ones. She drafted guest lists. She ranked cake flavors. And when her knee throbbed too much to focus on logistics, she’d lie flat on the floor with Birdie and practice her breathing, willing the fear to pass.

Because the truth was: she was scared.

Not of marriage. Not of Paige. But of coming back and not being the same. Of playing again and discovering that the game had moved on without her.

The night before the team’s fourth game of the season — another she’d watch in sweats instead of a jersey — she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her curls out with more force than necessary. The reflection staring back didn’t look unsure. It looked determined. But inside, she felt like she was drowning in slow motion.

Paige FaceTimed her right before bed, fresh off a well played opening round, her hair still damp from the shower, face flushed with satisfaction.

“You looked beautiful on the sidelines,” Paige said. “Did I tell you that already?”

Azzi snorted. “You say that every time I wear black.”

“That’s because you look good every time you wear black.”

Azzi shook her head but smiled softly. “You tired?”

“Exhausted,” Paige admitted. “But I needed to see you first.”

They talked until their screens dimmed with inactivity and then lit back up again when Paige whispered, “Hey… you’re not behind, okay? You’re just… in a different lane for a minute.”

Azzi closed her eyes, the words washing over her.

—-

The hotel room was still dim when Paige cracked her eyes open, the early morning light just beginning to seep in through the blackout curtains. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but something had stirred her—maybe nerves, maybe the aching pull of knowing Azzi wasn’t beside her.

She reached for her phone with the kind of muscle memory born from too many mornings like this. Tournaments. Hotel beds. Silence.

But this morning was different.

The screen lit up with a notification—1 new email—forwarded Team Medical.

Her breath caught. She tapped in, eyes scanning quickly.

Subject: Clearance Confirmation — Fudd, Azzi

She sat upright, the sheet falling off her shoulders. “No way,” she whispered, blinking hard.

Without even thinking, Paige hit FaceTime. She barely waited for the first ring.

Azzi picked up instantly, her face close to the screen, her curls messy and eyes wide.

“You saw it?” she asked, breathless.

“I just did,” Paige said, voice thick with sleep but heart racing. “Az, you’re—?”

“Cleared. Officially. Fully.”

Paige’s hand covered her mouth. Her eyes shone in the morning light.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Azzi nodded, but she wasn’t smiling—not fully. Not yet.

“I wish you were here.”

The words dropped like a stone between them. Paige closed her eyes, her chest tight.

“I know. I do too.”

For a second, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was full—of longing, of sacrifice, of the thousands of hours they’d poured into getting here.

“She told me last week it would probably be this week,” Azzi said, quietly. “But I didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“I would’ve flown back in a second if I could’ve,” Paige said, curling forward in the bed. “You know that.”

“I do,” Azzi said softly. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”

Paige let out a breath. “I fucking hate this part.”

“Which part?”

“The part where I’m not with you for this.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just stared at the screen, her throat working as she tried to swallow the lump forming there.

“You were there for every hard part,” she said eventually. “So I can handle this one.”

“I’ll be watching,” Paige promised. “I tee off early today, so I’ll be done before you even check in. I’ll be back in the room with my laptop, your jersey on, I’ll be screaming so loud the next hotel over’s gonna call the front desk.”

Azzi smiled, but it was wobbly.

“You’re the only person who could make me feel more nervous from 400 miles away.”

“I’ll be there in spirit,” Paige said, voice low. “Swear.”

A silence settled again, but this time it didn’t hurt.

It just held them.

“I love you,” Azzi said.

“I love you more,” Paige replied.

Azzi shook her head. “Not possible.”

Paige smiled. “I don’t know. I’m pretty competitive.”

Azzi wiped at her eyes. “You better win today.”

“You better light that court on fire, baby.”

—-

The call ended, and the hotel room went still.

Paige didn’t move.

Her phone rested face-down on the crisp white comforter, screen black, still warm from the FaceTime. But she sat frozen at the edge of the bed — not from fatigue, not from nerves, but from the ache. The sharp, sinking ache of absence. The ache of not being there.

The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, faint and mechanical, but it couldn’t mask the thundering in her chest.

Azzi had been cleared.

Cleared to play. Cleared to be back. Cleared to return to the place her body had ached for and her soul had missed.

And Paige?

She was four hundred miles north, stuck in a generic hotel suite with neutral-toned curtains and the faint smell of industrial cleaner, prepping for round three of a tournament she couldn’t afford to drop out of.

Her fingers twitched toward her phone again, flipping it over. She didn’t need to open anything to know what she wanted. Her mind was already moving — fast, frantic, focused. Her tee time was just after sunrise. If she played fast and stayed under par, she’d be done by early afternoon.

She opened her messages.

Paige ⛳️

How long til tip-off?

It only took a moment.

Azzi 🏀

7:30. Why?

Paige didn’t type a reply.

Instead, she stood and grabbed the hotel phone, punching in her manager’s extension with fingers that suddenly felt like live wires.

He answered on the fourth ring, voice raspy with sleep. “This better be good.”

“I need a flight to L.A. after my round.”

A beat. Then a groan. “Paige—”

“I’ll need a driver to the airport. Maybe chartered. Or—no. Find me a driver straight to L.A. I don’t care what it costs.”

“You’re serious.”

“I need to be there. I have to be there when she walks onto that court.”

There was a long pause. The kind that meant his brain was calculating every logistical nightmare she was throwing at him. And then—

“I’ll make it happen.”

Crypto.com Arena – 7:18 PM

The arena was alive.

It always buzzed before tip-off — but tonight, the energy was different. Louder. Brighter. Hopeful. The kind of hope that blooms from waiting. From silence. From the return of something that mattered.

Azzi Fudd hadn’t played in almost a year. Her name had trended during the injury. Disappeared in the silence. Whispered about in recovery. But tonight — her name was back on the speakers, back on the backs of fans’ jerseys, back on the hardwood where it belonged.

She sat in the locker room, headphones on but no music playing. Just the rise and fall of her own breath. Her socks were already pulled high. Her shoes tied tighter than necessary — and then retied three times just to calm her nerves.

She didn’t feel scared.

Just electric.

“Five minutes,” one of the assistants called out.

Azzi gave a silent nod and rose to her feet. She flexed her hands, shook out her arms, and walked toward the tunnel.

The moment she stepped into the light, she felt it — the buzz, the heat, the roar of thousands waiting.

And then she froze.

Dead center in the front row, wearing the same outfit she’d teed off in that morning — was Paige.

Paige. Hair pulled into a ponytail. Slides instead of golf shoes. Hat tugged low. Legs crossed like she belonged there. One hand resting against her chin.

Cool. Collected.

But her eyes? They were glassy. Wide. Barely holding together.

Azzi’s steps stuttered.

Paige smiled.

Believe it, she mouthed.

Azzi blinked — and then laughed. Or maybe cried. She wasn’t sure. Her chest tightened, and for a second she forgot what direction she was supposed to run.

Then the whistle blew, and she jogged onto the court.

First Half

The first few possessions were rough.

Azzi’s passes were a split-second late. Her feet weren’t quite under her. A missed floater. A hesitation pull-up that clanked off the back iron.

The crowd was supportive — but tentative.

Paige, though?

Paige didn’t flinch.

Every time Azzi looked her way — during breaks, during subs, during brief moments when she caught her breath — Paige was standing. Clapping. Cheering. Believing.

And then — late in the second quarter — it happened.

Azzi backdoored her defender and caught a clean pass, laying it in with soft fingertips and perfect glass. It wasn’t a highlight. But it was hers.

Paige rose from her seat like it was a buzzer-beater.

Azzi jogged back on defense, a breath catching in her throat.

She was back.

Halftime

In the tunnel, she leaned against a wall, head tipped back. Her jersey stuck to her skin. Her chest heaved. But her mind was sharper now.

She thought of Paige.

How she’d gotten there. What she’d sacrificed.

She believes in me. Now it’s my turn.

Second Half

The third quarter began with a defensive stop and a rebound from Azzi. She pushed in transition, didn’t overthink, didn’t force.

She let the game come to her.

And when she stepped into a catch-and-shoot three just before the shot clock expired — it splashed.

The arena roared.

Paige stood again, two hands over her mouth like she might scream from joy or cry or both.

Azzi grinned — that full, bright, radiant grin Paige hadn’t seen in months.

From there, it snowballed.

A steal. Another jumper. A pump fake, a drive, a dish.

By the time the fourth quarter came around, Azzi was in rhythm. Moving like she’d never left. Flying into screens, locking down her matchup, crashing the boards.

And when she hit her second three — deeper, cleaner, louder — the building nearly exploded.

Paige’s hands were pressed to her heart now. Her mouth was trembling.

She wasn’t just watching.

She was witnessing a resurrection.

Final Buzzer – 84-75, Sparks Win

Azzi finished with 20 points. Twelve of them in the final quarter.

The moment the clock hit zero, she spun toward the sideline — and Paige was already moving. Through trainers, through staff, through barriers.

Azzi ran.

They collided near the scorer’s table, arms thrown around each other like magnets finding their match after too long apart.

“You’re here,” Azzi gasped, gripping Paige’s face like she didn’t believe it. “You really came.”

“I played my round, skipped everything else, flew down, hired a driver—”

“You’re insane.”

“Insanely in love with you.”

Azzi laughed through a sob and kissed her — in front of everyone, cameras, lights, the whole world.

It was the kind of kiss that said we’re back.

Tunnel – 9:04 PM

They ducked into the shadows, fingers laced.

Paige’s ride was waiting. She only had a few minutes.

“You really have to go?”

Paige sighed, pressing their foreheads together. “First tee time’s early. And I still have to win it.”

Azzi’s lip wobbled. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

Paige tucked a curl behind her ear, slow and gentle. “But tonight… I got to see you come back. That’s everything.”

“You never gave up on me.”

“Never will.”

They kissed again — this time slow, this time like a promise.

Then Paige backed away, eyes lingering, and walked into the night.

11:47 PM – Somewhere on the 5 North

Paige didn’t sleep.

She curled up in the backseat of the black SUV, watching the highway blur past, earbuds in but no music playing.

All she saw were Azzi’s eyes.

All she heard was the sound of the net, the crowd, that laugh she’d missed.

Her chest ached. Her throat was tight.

But her heart?

Her heart was flying.

6:15 AM – NorCal Tournament Grounds

The driver pulled into the player’s entrance just as dawn broke.

Paige stepped out in yesterday’s clothes, hair a mess, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. But she moved like she’d already won.

She hit the range for a few swings, then made her way to the tee box.

Final Round

Birdie on the first.

Birdie on the third.

By the time she made the turn, she was six-under and alone at the top of the leaderboard.

The crowd said she was locked in.

The analysts said she was laser-focused.

But the truth?

She wasn’t just playing for a title.

She was playing for Azzi.

For the girl who’d fought her way back. For the future they were building. For the kind of love that makes you drive 400 miles through the night just to say I see you. I’m here.

Final Putt – 18th Green

The last putt rolled true.

The gallery erupted.

Paige didn’t raise her arms. Didn’t bow.

She just reached for her phone, breath catching when she saw the screen light up.

Azzi 🏀

I saw. You did it. You’re unbelievable.

She grinned, thumbs flying.

Paige ⛳️

So did you.

She kissed the trophy — not for herself, but for them.

Because love hadn’t distracted her.

It made her unstoppable.

—-

The front door creaked open just past sunset.

Paige stepped inside slowly, bags slung over both shoulders, her muscles aching in ways that had nothing to do with golf. It had been a whirlwind—multiple days of focused play, three flights, one sleepless overnight drive—and yet she didn’t feel tired, not in the usual way. Her body hurt, sure. But her chest?

Her chest was full.

The lights were low inside the house. Candles flickered on the kitchen island. Soft music drifted from the speaker tucked by the bookshelf — that moody playlist Azzi always put on when she was trying to unwind, or seduce Paige, or both.

Paige dropped her bags in the foyer and slipped off her shoes. Her eyes swept the room — the dog bed empty, the couch fluffed, Birdie nowhere in sight.

And then she heard it.

The creak of the backyard door sliding open.

She followed the sound like it was instinct, stepping out into the dim, golden evening. The sky was a cotton candy blur. The air still held a bit of the day’s warmth. And there, barefoot on the grass in a worn Sparks hoodie, was Azzi — arms crossed, hair down, beer in hand, waiting like she knew this was exactly where Paige would go.

“You made it back before dark.”

“I drove ninety miles an hour and ignored three calls from KK.”

“She’s going to kill you.”

“Worth it.”

Azzi pushed off the railing and crossed the lawn slowly. “I thought you’d pass out the second you got home.”

Paige shrugged. “Figured I’d pass out after I kissed my fiancée like I missed her for five days straight.”

Azzi stepped into her arms like she was always meant to be there. “Only five?”

Paige tilted her chin. “Every hour felt like a month.”

Azzi smiled against her lips. “Okay, Shakespeare.”

They kissed like they had all the time in the world now — slow, steady, familiar. Paige’s hands curled around Azzi’s waist. Azzi melted into her like gravity finally made sense again.

When they broke apart, Paige rested her forehead against hers.

“You looked so good out there,” she murmured. “Like you never left.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose. “It didn’t feel like that at first.”

“I know.”

“But by the third quarter… something clicked. It wasn’t just that I remembered how to play. It was that I remembered how to love it.”

Paige nodded slowly.

“And you being there…” Azzi swallowed. “That was everything.”

Paige smiled, pulling her in closer. “You think I’d miss that? Your first game back? I don’t care how many tournaments I have to win to make it happen.”

Azzi rested her cheek against Paige’s shoulder. “You were in the stands like a damn proud girlfriend stereotype.”

“Loud and unbothered. Also it’s proud fiancée…”

“Right my apologies. I loved it tho.”

They stood there a long time. Until the sky faded deeper. Until Birdie pushed open the sliding door with her nose and bolted out to greet them, tail wagging like she hadn’t just seen Paige in her dreams the night before.

Eventually, they wandered inside.

Paige showered, threw on sweats, and returned to find Azzi on the floor with a picnic-style dinner already laid out — sandwiches, fruit, wine, and a giant chocolate chip cookie with “Welcome Back Champ” written in icing.

Paige dropped to the floor with a soft laugh. “You know me too well.”

“I watched you win a tournament on what zero hours of sleep and a granola bar. You deserve a cookie.”

They ate with their knees knocking, Birdie curled at their feet, music still humming in the background.

Azzi was the first to break the quiet lull.

“I really missed this,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Paige looked at her.

“Not just basketball. But this — being in the swing of things. The routine. The team. The noise. The quiet after.”

“You’re back now.”

“I know. And I’m different. But… I think I’m better for it.”

Paige nodded, setting her wine glass down. “I was thinking about that on the drive. How we both kind of got broken a little this past year. Physically, emotionally. But somehow we kept showing up.”

Azzi leaned into her shoulder. “And kept loving each other through it.”

Paige’s voice dropped. “That’s the part I’ll never get over.”

They sat in the soft silence that came with knowing you were exactly where you belonged.

Azzi picked at the corner of the cookie and smiled.

“Do you think it’ll ever stop feeling like a miracle? That we get to do this life together?”

“I hope not,” Paige whispered. “I want it to feel like this forever.”

Azzi reached down and gently traced her fingers along Paige’s ring. “Can I confess something?”

Paige raised an eyebrow.

“I knew you were coming.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Well, I hoped. But… when I looked up from the tunnel and saw you courtside? Something in me just said, Of course she’s here.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You didn’t. You never do.”

They kissed again, slower this time, soft and lazy, the way people kissed when they weren’t in a rush to get anywhere else.

Later, they moved to the couch.

Curled up under a throw blanket, Birdie sprawled across their feet, Paige resting her head in Azzi’s lap.

They watched old game highlights — Azzi’s return game, Paige’s final-round birdie putt. Every time a commentator said their names, they’d nudge each other.

“Think we’ll ever get used to seeing ourselves like this?” Azzi asked.

“Nope.”

“Good.”

By the time the credits on the Sparks game replay rolled, the sky was black and their wine glasses were empty.

The room was quiet.

Just the hum of the city through the windows and the soft weight of night settling around them. Paige lay curled against Azzi, her cheek resting over Azzi’s heartbeat, the two of them tangled beneath the blanket like they hadn’t stopped touching since she got home.

Azzi’s fingers traced slow lines across Paige’s shoulder, pausing every few moments like she was memorizing the feel of her.

Paige tilted her head up from where she was sprawled across Azzi’s stomach, cheek pressed to warm skin, still catching her breath from laughing too hard a minute ago. “You’ve got that look again.”

Azzi combed her fingers through Paige’s hair. “What look?”

“The one that says I’m about to get ruined or proposed to again. Possibly both.”

Azzi smirked. “I only get to propose once. You already stole my thunder with that second ring.”

Paige lifted her hand, letting the diamond catch the dim light. “To be fair, I am an overachiever.”

Azzi leaned down, kissing her ring finger. “You’re my overachiever.”

Paige grinned. “You’re so corny.”

“And you said yes anyway.”

“I did,” Paige said, tugging her closer by the waistband of her shorts. “Engaged to a cornball menace with a God complex.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You weren’t complaining when this ‘God complex’ had you shaking last weekend.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining now either,” Paige said, flipping them effortlessly. “Just stating the facts.”

Azzi let out a pleased little gasp as her back hit the mattress, Paige straddling her. “Okay, fiancée. What exactly do you plan on doing with all that confidence?”

“Ruining you,” Paige said. “Duh.”

They kissed like the rest of the world didn’t matter — like this bed, this room, this love was the only place they’d ever need to be. Azzi’s hoodie came off next, her shorts soon after, then Paige’s tank top, slow and teasing. They touched each other with practiced hunger, with the kind of reverent mischief that only comes from a year of learning each other by heart.

Azzi’s hand slipped between Paige’s legs and moaned. “Already wet for me.”

Paige bit her lip. “I was thinking about you on the plane.”

Azzi’s smile was sinful. “What were you thinking?”

Paige pressed a kiss to the edge of her jaw. “That I want us both to come at the same time.”

Azzi blinked, breath catching. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, voice low. “You in me. Me in you. Just… together. All the way.”

Azzi groaned, rolling her hips up into her. “You are so lucky I put a ring on you.”

“Please,” Paige said, already sliding her hand down Azzi’s stomach. “You’re the lucky one.”

They shifted, legs tangled, fingers finding familiar places, stroking in sync — Paige inside Azzi as Azzi filled her right back, hips moving like they’d been choreographed. It wasn’t frantic. It was perfect. Their breaths synced, whimpers escaping between half-kisses and bitten lips, bodies pressed so close it felt like they could melt into one.

“Don’t stop,” Azzi gasped.

“Not going anywhere,” Paige murmured, forehead pressed to hers. “Not ever.”

Pleasure coiled, tight and electric, their moans building together, louder, rougher.

“Now,” Paige said, voice cracking. “Come with me.”

And they did — Azzi first, with a sharp cry and trembling thighs, Paige just a breath behind, jaw slack, hands gripping tight as the world dropped out from under them. They came together, messy and loud and utterly theirs.

When the aftershocks faded, they collapsed into each other, sweat-slicked and breathless, laughter bubbling up before they could stop it.

Azzi tucked her face into Paige’s neck. “We’re disgusting.”

“We’re engaged,” Paige corrected. “This is expected.”

Azzi laughed, kissed her jaw. “If this is what forever looks like, I’m good.”

Paige grinned, brushing her fingers through Azzi’s curls. “Same time tomorrow?”

Azzi hummed. “Every night, Paige Fudd.”

Paige’s heart stuttered at the name — not new anymore, but still brand new every time she heard it.

She kissed Azzi’s shoulder, pulled her close, and whispered, “You make forever sound easy.”

Azzi smiled, already halfway to sleep. “With you? It is.”

—-

Time had a funny way of folding in on itself. One moment, they were floating above the city in a blimp, rings tucked into palms like promises. The next, they were deep in the thick of the season—Azzi back in full swing with the Sparks, her minutes ramping up as she found her rhythm again, and Paige on the road every other week, balancing coaching and qualifying tournaments with the same grit she once brought to the court. They were thriving, both of them. Busy, fulfilled, doing what they loved. But with the wedding slowly inching closer on the calendar, another layer of pressure had begun to creep in. Between travel, media days, game tape, and strength training, they were suddenly trying to plan a wedding on the margins—through voice notes, red-eye flights, and shared Google Docs that looked more like battlefield strategy than celebration. Love was not the problem. Time and patience, however, was another story.

The morning started with good intentions.

Paige had cleared her schedule. Azzi had charged both laptops. Birdie had been walked, fed, and thoroughly bribed with peanut butter to keep her from photobombing their Zoom meetings. They were armed with iced lattes, a color-coded wedding spreadsheet, and what Paige called “an aggressively optimistic attitude.”

By noon, that optimism was on life support.

“Why are there 212 people on this list?” Paige asked, squinting at the shared doc like it had personally betrayed her.

Azzi didn’t look up from her screen. “Because we have a lot of people who love us?”

Paige blinked. “Your third cousin from Georgia who you haven’t seen since high school does not fall into that category.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Debatable. She sends me an Instagram DM every year on my birthday.”

Paige slowly lowered her laptop. “And that means she gets to eat our $94-a-plate chicken?”

Azzi bit back a smile. “Paige—”

“We said we wanted small. Intimate. I thought intimate meant like, 80 people. Not… the entirety of the Sparks organization and two-thirds of UConn alumni.”

“Well,” Azzi said, trying for diplomacy, “we’re not exactly nobodies. People are going to feel some kind of way if we don’t invite them.”

“So let them feel it,” Paige muttered, scrolling. “Is this list double-sided?!”

It was.

The conversation spiraled from there. Azzi wanted to invite her former trainers, her mom’s book club, and a few of her favorite baristas from back home. Paige wanted to keep it to family, teammates-turned-family, and “people who wouldn’t have to check my Wikipedia page to remember who I am.”

“Okay, so if we’re cutting people who don’t know you personally,” Azzi said, tapping a line on the spreadsheet, “why is the head of the LPGA on here?”

“Because she’s officiating the damn wedding,” Paige said, exasperated.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Azzi paused. “Okay. I can cut my middle school math teacher.”

“Why was she even on here?!”

“She sent a really thoughtful card when I tore my ACL.”

Birdie sneezed. Paige dropped her head into her hands.

By the time they made it to the cake tasting, the tension was buried under passive-aggressive frosting choices.

“This is fine,” Azzi said, trying a bite of the almond raspberry.

Paige frowned. “Fine?”

“It’s good.”

“You said ‘fine.’”

Azzi shrugged. “I just… I’m not blown away?”

“I thought this was the one you said you wanted last week.”

“Yeah, but that was before I tried the coconut. The coconut is—”

“Too sweet,” Paige cut in. “You didn’t like it last week.”

“Well, maybe my taste buds evolved.”

“Azzi—”

“Why does it matter so much? It’s just cake.”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “It’s not just cake. It’s the cake. People take pictures of the cake. It’s part of the memory.”

Azzi leaned back. “You said you didn’t even want a cake. You wanted a cookie table.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Clearly.”

The baker—an older woman with a serene smile that screamed “I’ve seen worse”—excused herself with the grace of someone who had witnessed this exact scenario forty-seven times before.

The moment she left, the silence that fell between them was sharp.

Paige crossed her arms. “I just want something that feels like us.”

Azzi’s voice softened. “So do I. But we’re not going to get there if we keep assuming the other one is trying to sabotage the reception.”

Paige exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. And I hate how many opinions everyone suddenly has.”

Azzi reached for her hand. “I know. Me too. But… maybe we can be the ones who make it less stressful for each other. Even when it’s cake.”

The final straw came three days later.

They were in the middle of reviewing the photographer’s contract when Azzi’s phone lit up with a notification.

“Did you see this?” she asked, holding it up.

Paige glanced. “What is that?”

“It’s the florist. She just posted that she’s doing the Jenkins-Klein wedding on our same weekend.”

Paige blinked. “But she said she wasn’t double-booking.”

“She did.”

“And she made us pay a rush deposit.”

“She did.”

Paige stared. “I’m going to kill her.”

Azzi rubbed her temples. “I think I’m just going to cry.”

They sat in silence for a few beats.

And then, at the exact same moment, they both burst into laughter.

It wasn’t pretty laughter. It was the kind that came from a place of chaos and caffeine withdrawal and low-level existential dread. Paige nearly choked on her La Croix. Azzi wheezed so hard she startled Birdie.

When they calmed down, they were collapsed side by side on the living room floor, documents and sticky notes scattered around them like wedding-themed confetti.

“We’re such a mess,” Azzi said.

Paige grinned. “No. The wedding is a mess. We’re the only thing that makes sense right now.”

Azzi turned her head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Paige rolled to her side, propping herself up on her elbow. “I know we keep snapping and spiraling and yelling about cake like it’s a national emergency, but I’d still rather do all of this with you than have a Pinterest-perfect wedding with anyone else.”

Azzi smiled. “Same.”

They sat there a moment longer before Azzi nudged Paige with her toe. “Okay. Here’s what I propose.”

“Do I need to get the second ring out again?”

“Ha ha. No. I propose we make a rule.”

“I’m listening.”

“If we start spiraling about the guest list, or the vendors, or cake flavors again… we pause.”

Paige nodded slowly. “And?”

“And we remind each other: we’re not doing this to impress anyone. We’re doing this because we’re building a forever.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her forehead. “That’s why I’m taking your last name.”

Azzi grinned. “And that’s why I’m letting you pick the cake.”

Paige blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, stretching out. “Because I’d rather be married to you than be right about lemon raspberry.”

“You’re gonna regret that when our guests post about the icing.”

“I’m counting on it.”

That night, they curled up in bed with Birdie sandwiched between them and no wedding spreadsheets in sight. No guest list. No contracts. Just them. Hands intertwined.

And for the first time in weeks, it felt simple again.

Not because the chaos was over.

But because they remembered why it was worth walking through together.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 17

paige x azzi

a/n: full disclosure thought I had hit post on this earlier my bad... but enjoy and let me know what you thought <3

word count: 3.4k

"This is really happening?"

Ten minutes later, Paige was dressed in an oversized olive green leather jacket layered over a buttoned plaid shirt. The shirt peeked out just enough to keep the look grounded, while her light-washed jeans hung relaxed over crisp white sneakers. Her long blonde hair was left loose and wavy, and despite the oversized fit, she somehow looked both cozy and editorial—as if she’d walked straight out of a GQ shoot without trying too hard. Something that made her feel like her. She stepped outside to find a sleek black car waiting at the curb, Birdie already buckled into the backseat, tail wagging like she was in on the secret.

The driver nodded politely. “Miss Bueckers?”

She slid in with a cautious smile. “That’s me.”

The drive wasn’t long. They curved off the freeway and into a side road Paige had never noticed before. The car slowed and pulled into a wide, cracked lot beside what looked like a massive, graffitied warehouse. One of those forgotten structures that time forgot, all gray metal and shadowed corners.

The car stopped.

Paige blinked. “Um…”

Before she could question it further, the back door swung open, and Birdie jumped out like she’d just found a dog park made of steak.

Azzi stood a few yards away, hands in the pockets of her tailored beige vest set—buttoned up and paired with matching pleated trousers that cinched perfectly at the waist. A cropped black jacket rested over her shoulders, structured but effortless, the kind that said she knew exactly how to blend softness with edge. Her natural curls framed her face, and a pair of sunglasses perched casually on top of her head added just the right amount of cool-girl energy.

“You planning to murder me in an abandoned warehouse?” Paige called.

Azzi laughed and waved her over. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Paige shut the door behind her and jogged over, heart already skipping for reasons that had nothing to do with cardio. “Seriously, what is going on?”

Azzi nodded toward the structure. “Just… follow me.”

Paige eyed her suspiciously. “Always.”

They walked in. The air was cool and echoing, their footsteps ricocheting against steel walls and empty space. It looked like the kind of place someone might shoot a low-budget indie film or store very illegal things.

Paige was just about to ask again what the hell was going on when Azzi pushed open a side door and led her out the other side.

Paige froze.

She blinked. Then again.

A wide, open clearing stretched out before her, bathed in fading sunset light. And sitting in the middle of it—so massive, so ridiculously real—was the unmistakable shape of the Goodyear blimp.

Her jaw dropped.

“No freaking way,” she said. “Are you serious?”

Azzi, cheeks glowing with excitement, nodded. “Dead serious.”

Paige laughed, disbelieving. “I was joking! This was a joke dream! I didn’t even think people could do this.”

Azzi shrugged, that grin still tugging at her lips. “Well… you make my dreams come true every single day. Big, small, silly, serious. All of it. So now… it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

Paige turned to her, speechless.

“And besides,” Azzi added, tugging gently on her hand, “you put it on the board. ‘Ride the Goodyear blimp.’ Underlined. Twice.”

A pilot approached, all friendly and professional, holding out a hand. “You two ready to see LA from the sky?”

Paige laughed again, a little breathless. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

They followed the pilot toward the lift platform. Birdie, unfortunately, had to stay with the ground crew—Paige gave her a dramatic goodbye kiss and promised to bring her a cloud.

As they climbed into the gondola, Azzi turned and caught Paige’s hand, squeezing tight.

Paige looked at her, blue eyes wide and glassy.

“Do you know how much I love you?” she asked, voice soft.

Azzi leaned in. “I’m hoping to show you.”

And as the blimp lifted into the golden California sky, Paige grinned like a kid who just got everything she ever wanted—because maybe, just maybe, she had.

—-

The city stretched beneath them in soft blushes of orange and lavender, the glow of sunset casting long shadows across the hills and glass buildings. The blimp drifted slowly, the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional crackle from the pilot’s radio the only interruptions to the stillness inside.

Paige was seated by the wide observation window, knees drawn up, jacket sleeves pushed to her elbows. She looked absolutely undone by joy—bright-eyed, flushed from laughter, her blonde hair wind-swept from the walk across the airfield, her heart still playing catch-up with the moment.

Azzi had been pointing out landmarks the entire ride, narrating like a tour guide with too many inside jokes and just enough nostalgia to make it all feel like magic.

“Okay, you see that?” she said, pointing. “That’s the observatory. Where you tried to impress me with your very scientific explanation of the stars.”

“I did impress you,” Paige replied.

“You called Orion’s Belt ‘the one with the sparkly three-dot drip.’”

“And you still kissed me.”

Azzi grinned, her eyes warm as she looked out over the skyline. “Over there—that rooftop bar we had our first real date at. You wore that ridiculously cool leather jacket that made me question every single one of my fashion choices.”

“You’re welcome,” Paige murmured, leaning into her just enough to feel the hum of her body.

“And that—” Azzi pointed again. “That’s the sandwich shop on Franklin. With the busted chairs and the world’s most criminally underrated turkey melt.”

“You brought me soup from there when I was sick,” Paige said quietly. “You didn’t even know me that well yet. But you still came.”

Azzi shrugged, but there was tenderness in her smile. “You sounded miserable. I couldn’t not.”

And then the blimp turned slightly. The light shifted. Below them, bathed in amber and gold, was the course.

The one where it all began.

Paige sat forward, breath catching.

Hole 9.

Azzi didn’t say a word at first. She just reached for Paige’s hand, her grip steady.

“I asked the pilot to hover here for a bit,” she said softly. “Because this is where everything changed.”

Paige turned to her slowly, her eyes glassy. “This is really happening?”

Azzi nodded. Her nerves were starting to show now—in the way she adjusted her stance, the way her free hand kept brushing the side of her pants. But her gaze was unwavering.

The city lights of Los Angeles flickered beneath them like a living constellation, but Paige could barely see them. Not because they weren’t breathtaking—but because the view sitting across from her was.

Azzi.

Backlit by the cabin’s warm interior glow, eyes soft but steady, nervous fingers fiddling with something in the pocket of her coat. She looked breathtaking and vulnerable all at once, and Paige felt her heart stutter like it had the very first time they stood face-to-face on a golf course, a one-night history between them and a future neither of them were ready to admit was waiting.

And then Azzi stood.

She took a slow breath, glanced out the window at the skyline and then back to Paige—who was still sitting frozen on the little cushioned bench, knuckles white where they gripped the edge.

“I know this probably looks ridiculous,” Azzi said, gesturing around them at the blimp cabin, the sky, the absurdity of floating thousands of feet in the air in what looked like a glorified hot dog.

Paige huffed a breath, a laugh on the edge of disbelief. “Only a little.”

Azzi smiled. Then it faded into something softer. Deeper.

“But you… you made me want to dream again,” she said. “Not the dreams they hand us when we’re kids. Not the ones with trophies and lights and crowds.”

Paige’s eyes widened slightly.

Azzi kept going. Her voice was steady but tender, like she’d practiced this—not for perfection, but because these were words she needed Paige to hear.

“You gave me the kind that live in quiet mornings and forehead kisses. In late-night grocery runs and standing ovations we only give each other in the kitchen. You made me want this.” She gestured to the bench, the blimp, the night around them. “A life. Not a highlight reel.”

Paige blinked rapidly. Her lips parted, like she wanted to respond—but something about the weight in Azzi’s voice rooted her still.

“I didn’t know how to let someone love me until you,” Azzi continued, softer now. “And I didn’t know how to keep love—really keep it—until you showed me how to show up. How to fight for softness. How to rest in it.”

A pause.

Paige’s throat worked around the words she couldn’t quite say.

Azzi took a single step closer, not crowding her, but closing the distance the way she always had—with grace, and heart, and intention.

“You held space for every version of me,” she whispered. “Through surgeries, silence, bad days, all of it. Even when I couldn’t show up for myself, you did. You were there. You always are.”

Her voice cracked, and this time she didn’t fight it. She smiled through it instead, watery but unshaken. “And every time I doubted myself—every time I didn’t know who I was anymore—you reminded me. You never tried to fix me. You just loved me through it.”

Paige had stopped breathing.

Azzi reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Her hands trembled as she turned it in her palm.

“You’re my calm,” she said. “My chaos. My person. You are the steady hands on the back of my swing. The laugh in my lungs when I forget how to breathe. You’re home.”

And then—she dropped to one knee. Not because the space demanded it, but because she did.

Paige let out the faintest sound—a broken sob choked behind a gasp.

“Paige,” Azzi said, voice clear now despite the tears slipping down her cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

Silence. Not of uncertainty, but of absolute, seismic awe.

Paige didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped to her knees too—so fast Azzi barely had time to protect the ring box from tumbling to the cabin floor.

She framed Azzi’s face in her hands, breath trembling. “You’re serious?”

Azzi laughed, teary and breathless. “More serious than I’ve ever been.”

And then Paige kissed her. Fierce, full-bodied, breathless. Like they’d never kissed before and somehow had always been kissing.

“Yes,” she whispered against Azzi’s lips. “Yes. Yes. Of course yes.”

Azzi blinked through a fresh wave of tears, and Paige pressed their foreheads together, laughing now, full and giddy and completely undone.

“You’re insane,” she murmured. “And you’re perfect. And I love you more than anything in this whole damn sky.”

Azzi let out a soft noise, half-laugh, half-sob, and finally opened the ring box between them.

The diamond wasn’t massive. It wasn’t flashy. But the band was engraved with coordinates—Paige could see it even in the dim cabin light.

She squinted. “Are those…?”

Azzi nodded. “The coordinates of the course where we met. Now we have matching pieces so we can carry us everywhere we go…”

Paige let out a choked laugh. “You’re going to kill me. I’m going to actually die right now.”

“I’m planning a long engagement,” Azzi teased, slipping the ring gently onto her finger. “So don’t go anywhere.”

Paige looked down at the ring, then back up at Azzi—who had crawled up beside her now, both of them sitting on the floor of a blimp like two idiots in love and too happy to care.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Paige asked softly.

Azzi cocked her head. “Surprised the hell out of you?”

“Yeah,” Paige laughed. “And you gave me everything.”

They stayed like that—tangled up on the floor, kissing between whispered promises and lingering touches.

Later, as the blimp hovered gently over the twinkling LA skyline, the pilot gave them space, pretending not to notice the muffled laughter or the occasional unspoken moment when they simply held each other and watched the city below.

Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder and pointed out the places they’d been.

“That’s where we got tacos after your first tournament win I witnessed.”

“That’s the bench we sat on when we almost talked about moving in together but didn’t yet.”

“There’s our favorite bookstore.”

And finally—

“There,” she whispered. “There’s the course again. The one where we collided like an accident we both wanted to happen.”

They stared down at it—now small, dark, quiet.

And yet… everything started there.

Paige turned to her, voice thick with love. “I was going to propose, you know.”

Azzi grinned. “I know. That’s why I had to beat you to it.”

Paige rested her hand over Azzi’s heart. “You didn’t just beat me to it. You wrecked me in the best way.”

Azzi turned and kissed her slow, sweet, and certain.

This was their beginning again. Only this time, they were flying.

Outside the window, the world drifted quietly beneath them. And above it all, they held each other like there was nothing else. Just two women, one impossible love, and a sky big enough to carry every version of their future.

Together.

—-

The second Paige’s feet hit solid ground, she had to blink twice to make sure she wasn’t still floating.

They’d just stepped out of the Goodyear blimp. The air was cool, the sky already bruising with sunset, and Paige’s hand was still firmly in Azzi’s. Everything around them felt dreamlike — and then it got even more surreal.

Because as the pilot tipped his cap and the blimp rose again into the lavender sky, Paige turned to find the once-abandoned warehouse they’d parked next to now softly glowing from within.

Twinkle lights framed the windows, and faint music trickled out, growing louder as they approached. Paige’s brows knit.

“What is this…?” she asked under her breath.

Azzi only squeezed her hand and grinned. “Come see.”

Inside, it was unrecognizable. The cracked concrete floor had been covered with layered rugs and soft uplighting. Plants hung from the exposed rafters like green chandeliers. Long tables were draped in warm linen and mismatched candles. In one corner, a makeshift bar had been assembled with handwritten menus and bottles of champagne chilling in metal tubs. In the other, a live band was warming up, tuning a guitar.

And then came the cheers.

“Surprise!”

Paige’s eyes widened as friends and family began to appear from the shadows—people from every corner of their lives. Teammates. Coaches. Childhood friends. College roommates. KK with a party hat already crooked on her head. Azzi’s mom and dad beaming with pride. Paige’s little sister Lauren holding a glitter sign that read She Said Yes. Even her mom — Amy — was there. And smiling.

“What—how did you—” Paige turned to Azzi, stunned.

Azzi shrugged like it was no big deal, even as her eyes sparkled with held-back tears. “You’re not the only one who can pull off surprises, P.”

The music kicked in. Birdie came bounding across the room in her bowtie, also arriving with Azzi’s cousin. Champagne was poured. Someone passed Paige a flute with a strawberry in it, and the night bloomed around them like a sunrise in reverse—bright and warm, slowly softening into something golden and unforgettable.

The hugs were endless. People grabbed them every few steps—laughing, crying, toasting, dancing. Paige’s dad gave her a full-on bear hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, kid,” and Paige nearly lost it right then. Drew made a playlist just for the night. Azzi’s grandmother insisted on kissing Paige’s cheeks before slipping her a small envelope with “Welcome to the family” written on it in pen.

They danced. They slow danced, they fast danced, they danced with their friends and their cousins and each other until Paige’s feet were sore and her face hurt from smiling.

But the moment that settled into Paige’s heart forever came just after the cake had been cut and Birdie had, somehow, stolen a bite of frosting.

Azzi clinked her glass.

“Hi,” she said, cheeks flushed and eyes glowing. “Sorry to interrupt the chaos, but I just wanted to say something.”

Everyone turned to look at her.

She glanced down at Paige and smiled.

“This night… this entire season of our lives… I don’t even have the words. I’m still trying to catch up to how grateful I feel.”

She looked around the room.

“To all of you who came, who traveled, who’ve stood by us — thank you. You’ve been part of this story. You’ve helped us write the chapters we didn’t think we’d survive. And now you’re here for the good part. For the love story that kept going due to the strength in what it feels like to be real and to always show up.”

Paige squeezed her hand, already glassy-eyed.

Azzi took a breath. “And to you—” she turned to her, “—Paige. I meant every word I said up there. You are my favorite place to land. You taught me how to stay. How to laugh in the hard parts and believe in the soft ones. I am yours. Always.”

Applause broke out. Paige wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, laughing as she did.

But she wasn’t done.

She stood up.

“Okay. My turn.”

Azzi blinked. “Wait, I didn’t know you were—”

“Did you think I was gonna let you have the last word on our own proposal night?” Paige teased, lifting her glass.

The room laughed.

She turned serious, though. Just enough.

“I didn’t know what to say when we landed tonight,” she began. “I was in awe. In love. And a little panicked, honestly — because I had something to tell you too. Something I’ve been carrying for a while now.”

Azzi tilted her head, curious.

Paige glanced down at her own hand, reaching into the pocket of her blazer.

“Funny thing is… I had a plan too. I’ve been waiting for the right time. The perfect moment. I carried this with me for months,” she said, revealing a small velvet box.

Gasps rippled across the room.

Azzi’s mouth fell open. “No way…”

Paige grinned. “I’ve almost proposed in, like, seven different places. The rooftop where we had our first date. The beach after we got Birdie. The night you shot again for the first time after surgery. But nothing ever felt… right. Nothing ever felt like enough.”

She opened the box slowly, revealing a stunning, simple gold ring with a marquise diamond and soft, hand-etched vines around the band.

“Because you deserve more than perfect. You deserve real.”

Azzi was fully crying now, one hand over her mouth.

“So tonight,” Paige said, stepping closer, “in front of everyone who matters. After you already did the thing I’ve been dreaming of… I want to give you something back.”

She didn’t kneel. She just looked into Azzi’s eyes, unwavering.

“I want to promise you the same things. That I’ll be here. For all of it. The easy, the hard, the messy. The canceled flights. The weird dinners. The injuries and the wins and the quiet nights we don’t post about. I want to carry the weight with you. The love. The life. The name, even, if you’ll let me.”

Azzi laughed through her tears.

“So, Azzi Fudd,” Paige said, her voice thick with feeling. “Will you marry me too?”

Azzi didn’t answer.

She just threw her arms around Paige and kissed her breathless, the cheers exploding around them, the band striking up some version of a classic love song.

“Yes,” she whispered against her lips. “God, yes.”

They stayed like that for a long beat. Arms wrapped tight. The ring now on Azzi’s hand. Two fiancées. One love.

Later that night, the candles burned low and the music softened into background noise. People danced barefoot. Birdie had passed out in a pile of coats. Paige and Azzi slow danced near the edge of the room, heads tucked into each other’s necks.

“We’re really doing this,” Azzi murmured.

“We already did,” Paige whispered back.

Azzi smiled. “You think we’ll ever top this?”

“Nope,” Paige said. “But I’m willing to try.”

They danced until the room was nearly empty. Until the last hugs were given. Until the night faded into the promise of everything still to come.

And when they finally slipped out the back door, hand in hand, the city blinking around them like it was in on the secret—

They knew.

This was only the beginning.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 16

paige x azzi

a/n: do not come for me and the ending I have the next part planned but not written just trust it's worth the wait... contains sexual content minors DNI this one was for the anon who asked for a little more dom Paige

word count: 4.8k

"What Haven't You Done?"

It started with a whiteboard.

A massive, ridiculous whiteboard that Paige had dragged in from the garage, propped against the kitchen wall like it belonged there. It all started with one of those late-night, slightly drowsy, deeply honest conversations on the floor, tangled in blankets and limbs, where dreams felt both too heavy and too far away. Azzi had listened, really listened, and then decided to make those dreams lighter. Tangible. Visual. Even silly.

The board was now filled with goals in different colored markers: some serious, some downright absurd.

Run a basketball camp for girls in underserved communities was right above Eat a mango in every tropical country.

Rebuild trust with family.

Get Paige to do karaoke sober.

Take a pasta-making class.

And that was where they started.

The studio was tucked on a quiet street in Silver Lake, all reclaimed wood and Edison bulbs and the faint, buttery scent of fresh dough in the air. Paige had found the class online and booked it before she could second-guess herself. Azzi had been stunned when she found out where they were going.

“Wait… we’re cooking?”

Paige gave her a look as they parked. “We are crafting, chef. From flour and eggs like our ancestors.”

“We’re not Italian.”

“Still counts.”

Inside, they were given matching aprons, red and navy. Azzi tied hers with unnecessary flourish, already throwing side-eyes at Paige as they took their spot at the table covered in flour, eggs, water bowls, and rolling pins.

“You’re gonna get competitive, aren’t you?”

“Don’t act like you’re not already plotting how to beat me at tagliatelle.”

Azzi laughed, nudging her with a hip. “Okay, yeah. I absolutely am.”

They cracked eggs into flour wells and mixed with their hands, messier than they needed to be, on purpose. Paige tried to be neat. Azzi flicked flour onto her nose the second she got too precise.

“You look like a stressed-out baker from a holiday rom-com,” Azzi said.

“You look like a chaotic contestant on The Great British Bake-Off,” Paige shot back.

“Flour me once, shame on you. Flour me twice—”

Paige reached over and swiped her cheek. “Then you get kissed.”

And she did. A soft, flour-smudged kiss that had the instructor sighing dramatically from the other side of the room.

“Young love,” he muttered. “They’ll burn the ravioli.”

Two hours in, they had somehow made fettuccine, ravioli (Paige’s looked like tiny sandbags, Azzi’s were pristine), and a decent red sauce. The class ended with everyone sharing a meal, wine poured generously, candles flickering.

Azzi fed Paige a bite of her ravioli and grinned. “I didn’t think I could love you more than I did yesterday, and yet here we are.”

Paige leaned back in her chair, watching her like she was sunlight. “That line was smoother than this pasta.”

“You’re welcome.”

They lingered at the table long after the others left, fingers laced on the table, trading little stories and laughing until the staff gently herded them out.

—-

The next morning, Azzi stood at the whiteboard in her pajama shorts and one of Paige’s crewnecks, uncapping a marker with the kind of ceremony that made Paige raise an eyebrow.

She carefully checked off “Take a pasta-making class” with a dramatic flourish, then added a smiley face beside it.

“Okay,” Azzi announced, turning toward the kitchen where Paige stood with coffee in hand. “Your turn. Something new. My pick.”

Paige leaned against the counter, still in sleep-mussed hair and one sock, sipping from a mug that said Coach Mode: Activated. “Define new.”

Azzi tapped the cap of the marker against her chin. “Let’s find out. Have you ever gone skydiving?”

“No,” Paige said easily. “Absolutely not.”

“Flown first class?”

“Yes. Once. College booster thing.”

“Snuck into a movie?”

Paige shrugged. “More than once. You gotta do what you gotta do when you’re broke in high school.”

“Gone skinny-dipping?”

A pause. Then a smirk. “Is that your way of asking to?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Noted for later. But yes or no?”

“Yes,” Paige replied. “At a lake in Minnesota. It was freezing. Regret is eternal.”

Azzi grinned, getting into it now. “Stolen something?”

“Technically, yes. I stole a plastic spoon from Menchie’s once because it was pink and I liked the shape.”

“That is… adorable. Okay, next—have you ever been to a sex shop?”

The mug paused halfway to Paige’s lips. Her entire face twitched like her software was buffering.

“Excuse me?”

Azzi tilted her head. “A real one. In person. Not just ordering online with discreet packaging and fake names.”

“That is… very specific.”

“So that’s a no?”

Paige shifted on her heel, visibly uncomfortable but trying to play it cool. “I mean… no. I haven’t. But not because I’m scared or anything.”

Azzi crossed her arms. “Oh? Then what’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know,” Paige muttered. “What if someone sees us?”

Azzi broke into a slow grin. “Then they’ll know we have excellent taste and a thriving relationship.”

“Azzi.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared. I’m just… selective about public exposure.”

Azzi took a slow, deliberate step forward. “Paige Bueckers,” she said, mock-serious. “Are you telling me you’ve faced down championship pressure, Golf Channel mics in your face, and twelve-foot putts for birdie with the whole crowd holding their breath— but a neon-lit boutique of vibrators and flavored lube rattles you?”

Paige groaned into her coffee. “God help me.”

Azzi beamed, victorious. “I’m dragging you by your hoodie if I have to.”

Paige sighed but couldn’t stop the tiny smile breaking through. “This is what I get for letting you add ‘silly dreams’ to the whiteboard.”

Azzi came closer, kissing the tip of her nose. “And yet… you love me.”

Paige’s grin widened, warm and full of something quieter. “I do.”

This was their life now. Silly questions. New memories. Each other—always.

Cue the reluctant girlfriend montage.

Paige had faced down major tournament pressure, post-round interviews under the blazing sun. But apparently, nothing could prepare her for this.

“This is… a lot of neon,” Paige muttered as she hesitated outside the glass door of the sex shop, arms crossed over her chest, hat pulled low over her eyes like she was a D-list celebrity trying to avoid paparazzi.

Azzi, on the other hand, looked like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. “Neon, toys, empowerment, education—this is our Disneyland, babe.”

“I don’t think Disneyland sells vibrating anything.”

Azzi smirked, pulled the door open with a dramatic flourish, and gave Paige a pointed look. “In we go.”

The little bell above the door chimed as they stepped inside. Paige stayed glued to the front corner of the store, hovering awkwardly near the lube samples, pretending to read the back of a bottle like it was a golf playbook.

Azzi wandered in deeper, greeting the flirty, pierced staff member at the counter like she was catching up with an old friend.

The staffer did a double take. “Wait… you’re Azzi Fudd, right? From the Sparks?”

Azzi grinned. “Guilty.”

Paige whipped around so fast she nearly knocked over a rotating display. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink so deep it could rival the fuchsia latex bodysuit hanging behind her.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, tugging her hoodie up like it could make her invisible.

The staffer laughed gently. “Don’t worry, this place is basically Vegas rules. What happens here, stays here.”

Azzi turned toward Paige, eyes twinkling. “Baby, you okay over there? Wanna try a flavored one?”

“I’m reading ingredients,” Paige said, absolutely not reading ingredients.

“Oh, I’m sure. Just making sure it’s USDA approved and everything.”

Paige gave her a glare that had no heat, cheeks still flushed. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

Azzi drifted back over, sliding her hand into Paige’s and tugging her gently toward the toy wall. “C’mon. You made me try homemade pasta. This is only fair.”

“Those are not the same,” Paige hissed under her breath, glancing around like another fan might leap out from behind the restraints aisle.

“But they’re both forms of art.”

Paige groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re into it.”

Azzi pulled her in closer, arms wrapping around her from behind as they stood in front of a rainbow display of vibrators. “Okay, serious question,” she whispered into Paige’s ear. “What color screams ‘golf pro exploring her soft dom era’?”

Paige choked on her laugh, head dropping forward in defeat. “Why are you like this?”

Azzi just kissed the back of her neck. “Because you love me.”

Eventually, Paige relaxed. Or at least loosened up enough to laugh as Azzi picked up a feather tickler and dramatically fanned her like royalty. They played with silk blindfolds. Paige actually asked a question about one of the toys—her voice so low it barely counted as audible—but Azzi caught it and beamed at her like she’d just won gold.

They made it to checkout with a few items in a discreet brown paper bag, giggling like teens who had just snuck out past curfew.

Outside, Paige yanked her hoodie tighter around her and made a mad dash to the car.

“Don’t run!” Azzi shouted between fits of laughter, jogging after her. “You’re only drawing more attention!”

“I cannot believe we got recognized in there.”

“I can. You’re hot. And flustered. And people love hot, flustered women.”

Paige buckled her seatbelt and threw her head back on the headrest with a dramatic sigh. “I’m never recovering from this.”

Azzi reached across the console, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “You were perfect.”

Paige turned her head, eyes meeting hers. Still flushed. Still smiling. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it.”

That night, with laughter still bubbling between them, a brown paper bag waiting on the dresser, and their legs tangled under the covers, Paige leaned over and whispered, “Maybe next time, we go to your Disneyland again.”

Azzi grinned, eyes already dark with knowing. “Oh, we will. But don’t think I’ve forgotten—you still blushed harder than I’ve ever seen.”

“And you still kissed me like it was your favorite color.”

Azzi’s smile was slow, lazy, already darkened with want. But there was no surprise in her voice—just certainty. Just hunger.

“I want you to use what we bought.”

Paige’s breath hitched, and she knew Azzi felt it. She always felt it. Still, Paige tilted her head, arching a brow. “Yeah?”

Azzi’s fingers ghosted over the top of Paige’s thigh beneath the covers, teasing but insistent. “I want you to tell me what to do. Take your time with me. Be in control tonight.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her. And Azzi looked right back—unflinching, unwavering, lit up from the inside out with trust and anticipation.

It wasn’t about surprise anymore. Azzi had seen this version of her before.

But this time… she wanted more of her.

“You sure?” Paige asked, low and steady.

Azzi’s voice was a whisper, but her eyes were on fire. “So fucking sure.”

Paige kissed her—softly, then not so softly—and murmured against her lips, “Then get the candles. And bring the bag.”

Azzi grinned, eyes sparkling like she’d just been handed her favorite kind of dare. She slid out of bed completely bare beneath the hoodie and padded across the room, lighting candles one by one until the space glowed with flickering warmth. Paige sat up against the headboard, muscles taut, gaze fixed like she was already undressing her with her eyes.

Azzi returned, handing her the brown paper bag, the weight of it familiar now, and somehow still thrilling.

Paige opened it slowly. Pulled out the harness. The double-ended toy. The lube. The cuffs Azzi had tossed in at the last second weeks ago with a sly grin and a “just in case.”

Tonight was the case.

“Strip,” Paige said, voice sharper now, more sure of itself.

Azzi obeyed instantly, the hoodie hitting the floor.

Paige’s eyes moved over her with intention. Like Azzi was hers. Like she’d earned this moment, this control, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

As Paige fastened the straps low around her hips, Azzi stepped closer, biting back a smirk. “You’re really committing to the role tonight.”

Paige didn’t look up. “Keep running your mouth and I’ll have you gagged before you even get a taste.”

Azzi moaned—loud and unfiltered. “Jesus, okay. Don’t not threaten me like that.”

“I’m not threatening,” Paige said, rising to full height, now in the harness, the toy sleek and already slick. “I’m promising.”

Azzi was grinning, cheeks flushed, practically vibrating with anticipation as Paige nudged her toward the bed.

“Hands above your head.”

Azzi crawled onto the mattress, stretched out, offering her wrists like a gift. Paige clicked the cuffs into place, one side then the other, locking her in. Azzi tested them once, just enough to feel the give—and the thrill of the lack of it.

“You look so fucking good like this,” Paige said, climbing over her slowly. “Laid out. Open. Waiting for me.”

Azzi tilted her chin. “Took you long enough.”

“Oh, baby,” Paige cooed, lining herself up with a firm hand on Azzi’s thigh. “You’re gonna regret that.”

The first thrust was slow—teasing—just the tip.

The second? Deeper. Fuller.

Azzi gasped. “Oh my—fuck.”

Paige sank in inch by inch, the inner shaft pressing into her own core with delicious tension. Both of them moaned, heads tipping back at the same time.

Paige stilled when she bottomed out.

“Look at you,” she whispered. “Taking it so well. Like you were made for it.”

Azzi writhed, hips bucking. “Please move. Please—fuck—I need—”

“You’ll get it,” Paige said, beginning to move. “But you’re gonna work for it.”

She set a pace—slow, grinding thrusts that dragged against all the right spots, her hands gripping Azzi’s thighs tight, forcing her open.

Azzi’s wrists strained in the cuffs, her moans already breathy and broken. “You feel so good—fuck, Paige—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

Paige reached down, fingers finding Azzi’s clit, rubbing in firm, steady circles that matched her thrusts. The toy inside them both vibrated on low, creating a perfect storm of sensation—pressure and pleasure and heat blooming fast.

Azzi was shaking now, toes curling, moans rising with every grind of Paige’s hips.

“Come for me,” Paige whispered, voice fierce and reverent all at once.

Azzi shattered—eyes wide and wild, mouth open in a silent scream, body clenching around the toy as the orgasm ripped through her like it had been waiting all damn day.

Paige didn’t stop.

She slowed, softened, let her ride it out—then pulled out gently, toy glistening, her thighs already slick and aching.

Azzi was wrecked. Beautiful and breathless and still cuffed to the bed, her eyes dazed but hungry.

“You good?” Paige asked.

Azzi blinked up at her. “So good. But—your turn.”

Paige exhaled, chest rising, need written all over her face.

“Think you can handle that mouth?”

Azzi smirked. “Test me.”

Paige removed the harness, climbed up, straddled her chest slowly. Azzi didn’t even flinch—just opened her mouth, tongue out, wrists still bound.

Paige lowered herself, a groan catching in her throat when Azzi’s tongue met her, confident and greedy.

She rocked her hips with purpose, grinding slow against Azzi’s face, gripping the headboard for balance. Her moans filled the space, raw and unraveling.

“You’re so fucking good,” she panted. “God, Azzi—don’t stop—fuck—right there—”

She came hard, thighs trembling around Azzi’s face, crying out as her orgasm took over—full-bodied, messy, grounding.

She collapsed forward, pressing kisses to Azzi’s mouth, her cheeks, her collarbone, as she unlocked the cuffs one at a time.

Azzi pulled her in, lips bruised, voice rough. “I need you to know something.”

Paige looked at her, still catching her breath. “What?”

“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. Ever.”

Paige laughed, breathless and flushed. “You didn’t make it easy.”

Azzi smirked. “Didn’t plan to. But I’d let you wreck me like that again. Anytime.”

Paige kissed her—slow and deep, all tongue and affection. “Yeah?”

Azzi hummed, still a little drunk on the high of it. “You have no idea what that did to me. Seeing you take control like that.”

Paige rested her forehead against hers, voice softer now. “I meant every second of it.”

Azzi grinned. “I know. That’s what made it so good.”

They laid there tangled up, skin on skin, candlelight flickering around them. The cuffs lay discarded on the nightstand, the toy long forgotten under the sheets.

Paige traced circles along Azzi’s arm. “Might not be my usual lane… but for you?”

Azzi didn’t even hesitate. “Baby, stay in that lane.”

They both laughed, and kissed again, sweeter now—less heat, more everything else.

And as the silence stretched out, warm and close and full of something that felt like forever, neither of them moved to end it.

—-

Morning came slow.

Soft light spilled through the curtains, warming the messy sheets tangled around them. Birdie was sprawled across the foot of the bed, one ear flopped over her eyes, totally unaware—or maybe politely ignoring—whatever had happened between her moms the night before.

Paige blinked awake to the weight of Azzi half on top of her, an arm slung over her waist and a thigh wedged possessively between hers. Her face was buried in Paige’s neck, her curls wild and her breath warm.

Paige smiled to herself, then ran her fingers lightly down Azzi’s spine. “You alive, or did I kill you?”

Azzi groaned into her skin. “I’m alive. Barely. My legs don’t work and I think I had a dream about you bossing me around in a grocery store.”

Paige grinned. “Was I still wearing the harness?”

Azzi tilted her head just enough to smirk. “You were, actually. You made me beg for oat milk.”

Paige burst out laughing. “I mean, to be fair, that’s pretty on brand.”

Azzi shifted, lifting herself up just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. Her voice softened, teasing giving way to something real. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You were amazing last night,” Azzi said, brushing her fingers across Paige’s cheek. “Like… hot and thoughtful and confident and still so you.”

Paige’s cheeks flushed. “It was a little new. But I liked it. You made it easy.”

Azzi smiled. “You make me feel safe. That’s why it worked.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel it settle between them.

Then Paige grinned again, eyes flicking down Azzi’s bare body. “Still safe if I say I kinda want a round-two remix this morning?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Remix, huh? What’s the vibe? Acoustic? Slow jam? Or like, club remix with eye contact and emotional damage?”

Paige laughed into her shoulder. “Definitely the last one.”

Azzi shifted her weight, sliding a thigh between Paige’s legs. “Okay, but if we go again, you’re making breakfast after.”

Paige sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only if you admit I rocked your world last night.”

Azzi leaned in close, lips brushing hers. “You did.”

Their kiss was slow. Familiar. The kind you sink into like a favorite hoodie and a playlist you never skip. Paige’s hand drifted to Azzi’s waist, pulling her in tighter, and Azzi melted into her, smiling against her mouth.

No rush.

No noise.

Just them.

Softer, but somehow even more in love than before.

—-

The next few days passed like sunlight through half-drawn curtains—slow and warm, filled with small, golden things. Mornings tangled in each other’s arms. Shared playlists over morning coffee. Birdie curling between them during movie nights. Groceries done hand-in-hand, fingers laced down every aisle.

The sex had been incredible.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

The emotions had started to settle in—not heavy, but rooted. Love didn’t feel like something either of them was falling into anymore. It felt like something built. Layered. Lived in.

And Azzi felt it in everything.

The way Paige pulled her hoodie tighter around Azzi’s shoulders when she wasn’t looking. The way she always remembered exactly how much oat milk to leave in her espresso. The way she’d reach for Azzi’s pinky under the table during meetings, just to keep her grounded.

They hadn’t said anything about the future. Not directly. But it was everywhere. In the way they rearranged their space now. In the way Paige had started saving Pinterest boards titled things like ‘Dog Corner Upgrade’ and ‘Backyard But Make It Queer. In the way she’d gone oddly quiet while holding a tiny box at the vintage jewelry stand last weekend before putting it back like it burned her hand.

Azzi was no fool.

She knew what this was.

She could feel it coming.

She’s planning something, Azzi thought as she lay in bed the next morning, watching Paige sleep. I know it.

Paige stirred and mumbled something incoherent about cold feet and leftover risotto. Azzi smiled, brushed a curl off her cheek, and slipped quietly out of bed.

In the kitchen, while the kettle heated and Birdie clumsily headbutted her leg for breakfast, Azzi opened the Notes app on her phone and created a new entry.

Title: Operation Beat Paige to the Proposal

She stared at it for a moment, then added:

Ring (not too flashy. but her)

Location (somewhere quiet. somewhere us)

When she’s least expecting it

No backup plan. Go with gut.

Say it the way you always mean it: like a promise, not a performance

A playful grin spread across her face.

She was in.

Let Paige plan.

Azzi was going to win this.

And if it meant spending every second paying attention to the little things Paige loved—just so she could catch her off-guard in the exact right moment?

Even better.

Game on.

—-

The shop didn’t have a name out front—just a sun-bleached curtain in the window and a faint chime when Azzi pushed the door open. It smelled like sandalwood, cedar, and old books, and the walls were lined with tiny glass cases, each one holding less bling and more story.

It felt like the kind of place you found by accident. Or fate. Or brunch gossip whispered over mimosas.

Azzi lingered by a tray of bands etched with constellations when the woman behind the counter finally looked up.

She was older—silver hair twisted into a low bun, glasses on a chain around her neck, a nose ring glinting in the light. Her voice was low and kind when she said, “You’re not looking for big. You’re looking for right.”

Azzi swallowed. “Exactly.”

The woman nodded, then pulled open a velvet drawer with practiced care.

Inside: a small collection. All unique. All imperfect in the best ways. Azzi scanned them—and then she saw it.

It wasn’t flashy. No diamond. Just a slim gold band, softly hammered and uneven, like it had been worn through generations. A single tiny sapphire sat slightly off-center—barely noticeable until the light hit it.

Azzi’s breath caught. She leaned forward, heart stammering.

“That one.”

The woman didn’t even look up. “She’s gonna say yes.”

Azzi smiled, lips trembling just a little. “Yeah. I know.”

She didn’t ask for a box. Just had it wrapped in a soft cloth, slid it into her pocket like it was something sacred. Her hand stayed there the whole walk back to the car, like she was afraid it might vanish if she let go.

She drove home slow. Both hands on the wheel. One prayer looping in her chest the whole way:

Let me get this right.

—-

Paige was in the bedroom, folding laundry the way she always did—badly. Sleeves twisted, socks balled with unmatched chaos, humming under her breath and halfway distracted when Azzi walked in.

Birdie trotted in beside her, leash still dragging from their walk. Azzi had the small white ring cloth still tucked in her palm, but the second she bent to unclip Birdie’s collar, it slipped into view.

“Hey babe, can you grab—” Paige turned. Froze. “What’s that?”

Azzi blinked.

Shit.

The cloth was small. Square. Suspiciously ring box-shaped.

“Oh—uh—lip balm?” she said too quickly.

Paige squinted. “That is the most aggressively square lip balm I’ve ever seen.”

Azzi laughed too loud and tossed it straight into the junk drawer. “It’s new! Influencer brand. Minimalist. Don’t worry about it.”

Paige narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

Azzi crossed the room and kissed her fast. “And you love it.”

Paige sighed, folding a hoodie with absolutely no technique. “Unfortunately.”

—-

It started slow—just notes on her phone at first. A sentence here, a line there. Things she didn’t want to forget.

She puts her cold hands on my back when we sleep but pretends it’s not on purpose.

I’d marry her just to hear her laugh at her own bad jokes forever.

She’s not home. She is home.

Then came the notebook—the one Azzi hadn’t touched in months. She wrote in it late at night, sometimes with music low and Birdie snoring by her feet. Sometimes with the door cracked and Paige laughing to herself in the other room, unknowingly giving her more material.

One evening, Paige caught her scribbling on the balcony, curled into a blanket with her brow furrowed.

“Poetry again?” Paige asked from behind the sliding door, wine glass in hand.

Azzi tucked the page against her chest. “Maybe.”

Paige smiled. “You better be writing about me.”

Azzi looked at her, soft. “Always.”

—-

They were in a little vintage store downtown, the kind of place that smelled like old leather and dried lavender. Paige was wandering the back section, running her fingers along the spines of worn paperbacks, while Azzi froze in front of a cracked wooden sign leaning against a dusty credenza.

It read:

Tell me when you know, and I’ll say yes before you finish the question.

Her breath caught. Her heart thudded. It felt like a message made for them.

She reached for her phone—just to capture it. A reminder.

And that’s exactly when Paige came around the corner.

“What’s that?”

Azzi flinched. “Nothing!” She turned her screen face-down, fumbling. “Just texting KK.”

Paige crossed her arms. “You are always ‘just texting KK’ lately. You two starting a secret podcast or something?”

Azzi smiled, too wide. “She’s emotionally clingy.”

Paige laughed and kept walking.

Azzi exhaled, quietly dying inside.

That night, Paige stood barefoot in the kitchen, rinsing out their coffee mugs, hair piled messily on top of her head. She looked up and found Azzi leaning in the doorway, quiet. Watching.

Her arms were folded. Her expression unreadable.

“You okay?” Paige asked, flicking water off her fingers.

Azzi blinked, like she hadn’t realized she was staring. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Paige dried her hands slowly. “About?”

Azzi shrugged. “Nothing bad.”

But Paige felt the tug in her chest—gentle, but insistent.

Azzi had been softer lately. Thoughtful. Distracted in this strange, glowing way. She wasn’t pulling away—but something was brewing.

Paige didn’t know what it was.

But it made her stomach flip.

—-

It was a Tuesday night. Paige got home from swing practice a little later than usual, keys jangling as she kicked off her shoes by the door.

The house was dim.

Soft jazz played low from the speaker.

And Birdie… was wearing a bowtie.

Paige stood still, one brow raised.

“Azzi?”

No answer.

She glanced toward the kitchen.

There, on the counter, was a handwritten note in Azzi’s familiar scrawl.

Be ready in ten. Wear something that makes you feel like you.

Paige stared at it.

Her pulse jumped.

She looked down at her own phone still in hand—the tab open to her Notes app. A half-written entry stared back at her:

Proposal Ideas (Don’t Open, Fudd!!!)

Her eyes darted back to the note. Then the hallway.

Her mouth parted.

“Wait,” she whispered. “No way.”

And then—

She smiled.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 15

paige x azzi

a/n: I know this is shorter than most of other parts but at least it's not a cliffhanger ;) sorry about that again

word count: 3.8k

"Not Waiting Anymore"

The knock still echoed in the back of Paige’s mind, even as the silence swallowed it whole.

Azzi sat up fully now, hoodie half-zipped, eyes searching Paige’s. “Wait… what did you just say?”

Paige blinked, still staring at the door. “My mom. It’s my mom.”

Azzi climbed to her feet, pausing only to straighten her clothes and scoop Birdie up into her arms, cradling her like a fidgety pillow. The dog squirmed with excitement, tail wagging violently at the prospect of a new human.

Paige hadn’t moved.

“P,” Azzi said gently, stepping closer.

Amy stood there, purse slung over her shoulder, a travel-sized suitcase beside her. Her hair was neatly done. Her eyes a little tired. But her smile? It was carefully constructed, like a house of cards that might tumble if you looked at it too hard.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said.

Paige didn’t answer at first. Her grip on the door tightened. Her body stayed angled, halfway between letting her in and blocking her entirely.

Azzi stayed just out of view, Birdie tucked in her arms, observing the way Paige’s whole posture shifted—upright, tense, bracing.

“What are you doing here?” Paige finally asked.

Amy’s smile twitched. “I—I was in town. Visiting a friend. And I thought maybe I could… I don’t know. See you. Talk. I should have called.”

Paige stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her just enough to mute everything inside. “Yeah. You should have.”

There was a long pause.

“You look good,” Amy said quietly.

Paige didn’t answer.

From inside, Azzi gently lowered Birdie to the floor and approached the door. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she didn’t want Paige to feel alone either.

She opened it slowly, peeking out.

Paige glanced back at her.

Their eyes met. A small flicker of something passed between them—a tether.

Azzi stepped out.

Amy’s expression faltered for a moment, like she hadn’t expected to see her there.

“Hi, Azzi,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”

Azzi gave her a polite nod. “You too.”

The silence was heavier now. Birdie let out a little bark from inside, pawing at the door.

“Look,” Paige said finally, voice low. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of this, but you can’t just show up and expect everything to be different.”

“I know,” Amy said, quickly. “I’m not asking for everything to change. I just… I’ve been thinking. About the holidays. And how that went. And how much I regret how I handled it.”

Azzi stayed quiet, arms crossed now.

Paige’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “That’s a big statement. Took you weeks to make it.”

“I’m not perfect. You know that,” Amy replied. “But I’m trying. That’s why I’m here.”

Paige looked away, jaw tight.

Azzi gently touched her elbow. “You don’t have to figure this out right now,” she murmured. “But maybe… maybe you don’t have to shut the door, either.”

Paige looked at her, eyes softening. Then back at her mom.

“One night,” Paige said flatly. “You can stay one night. Guest room.”

Amy looked surprised. Relieved. “Thank you.”

Paige didn’t respond.

She stepped aside.

Amy picked up her suitcase and crossed the threshold.

Azzi reached down and picked up Birdie, whispering something soft to her as she wriggled in excitement.

Paige watched her mom move through the space like it was foreign. Which, in some ways, it was. Paige had built this home on her own terms. With Azzi. With love.

Now the past stood in her hallway, wearing perfume and holding apologies.

The door clicked shut behind them.

—-

The silence stretched long after the front door shut behind Amy. She’d barely said more than a quick, “I won’t stay long,” before disappearing down the hallway with her small roller bag, her heels clicking like punctuation marks against the hardwood.

Paige stood frozen for a beat, one hand still braced against the doorframe. Azzi rose slowly from the blankets, pulling the hem of her hoodie down, face still flushed from moments ago—but not from lust anymore. From confusion. Concern.

“Want me to get rid of her?” Azzi asked softly, voice low.

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her jaw clenched. Her breath came tight through her nose. Finally, she shook her head. “Let’s just… see what she says.”

Azzi nodded, crossing the room to stand beside her. “I’ve got you.”

They waited until the sound of the suitcase zipping echoed faintly from the guest room, followed by the bathroom door clicking shut and water running.

Paige exhaled. “Of course she showed up on the one night we were actually relaxed.”

Azzi gave a dry laugh. “She does have a flair for timing.”

When Amy finally emerged again, her makeup washed off, dressed in a pristine white sweater set and tailored slacks like she was still holding court at a country club holiday party, she stopped short in the doorway—like she hadn’t expected to find them both there, waiting.

Paige was curled in the corner of the couch, one ankle slung over her knee, arms crossed. Azzi sat beside her, legs stretched out, Birdie snoozing between them with one paw flopped over Azzi’s thigh like a buffer.

Amy gave a tight smile. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You did,” Paige replied evenly. “So let’s skip the niceties. Why are you here?”

Amy blinked, as if surprised by the directness. “Well… I was in town for a fundraiser.”

“Amy, no one flies into LA unannounced just for a fundraiser and shows up at their daughter’s doorstep at nine o’clock at night,” Paige said. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it was sharp. Steady. The kind of sharp honed from years of conversations just like this one.

Amy looked from Paige to Azzi, and for a moment, her lips pressed together. “You never answered my text,” she said finally.

Paige’s brow furrowed. “What text?”

“I sent one. Last week. After Christmas. You didn’t reply.”

Paige laughed once, humorless. “So you flew across the country because I didn’t respond to a single text?”

Azzi stayed quiet, her hand now resting lightly on Paige’s thigh, grounding.

“I didn’t know how else to reach you,” Amy said. “Things ended poorly. I thought… maybe it was time to fix that.”

Paige stared at her. “Now?”

Amy’s voice softened just slightly. “You’ve been so distant. And I know I didn’t handle things perfectly over the holidays—”

“You introduced my girlfriend as a friend,” Paige cut in.

“I panicked,” Amy snapped back, her composure slipping for the first time. “I didn’t think it through, and I was trying to keep the party… manageable.”

Paige scoffed. “Manageable?”

Amy straightened. “You don’t understand the circles I run in. People talk. People judge.”

“Well, congratulations,” Paige said coldly. “You just barged into the home of the daughter you once erased to protect your image. Guess what? She’s still here. And she’s doing just fine without your approval.”

Amy looked genuinely wounded by that, but she didn’t backpedal. Not exactly. She sat in the armchair across from them, smoothing her pant leg with a trembling hand. “I didn’t come to fight.”

“Then what did you come for?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now. Worn.

Amy swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe to see for myself. To try again.”

Paige didn’t respond right away. Her fingers tightened around Azzi’s knee, and Azzi covered them with her own.

“You don’t get to just walk in and decide to ‘try again,’” Paige said. “That’s not how this works. Not after everything.”

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” Amy said, and it sounded like it nearly choked her to admit. “I was hard on you. And I’ve spent a long time pretending that didn’t hurt you as much as it clearly did. But I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot about things. About family. And the fact that I might not have many more chances to get this right.”

There it was. Not an apology. Not quite. But maybe the closest Paige had ever heard from her mother.

The room felt fragile. Like one wrong word would tip the whole thing over.

Paige didn’t move. Her face was unreadable. “You’re not staying long?”

Amy shook her head. “Just the night. My flight’s tomorrow.”

Paige nodded once, slowly. “Okay.”

Another silence stretched between them.

Azzi squeezed her hand. “We’re gonna head to bed.”

Paige turned to her, softened in an instant. “I’ll be in soon.”

Azzi stood and gave Amy a polite nod as she passed. “Goodnight.”

Amy offered a stiff smile in return. “Goodnight, Azzi.”

The door to the bedroom clicked shut behind her, and the quiet returned.

Paige leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling again, exhaling hard. “This isn’t real life.”

Amy stood, walked over to the bookshelf, and scanned the photos there—the one of Paige and Azzi on the golf course, Birdie as a puppy, a framed selfie from New Year’s at Paige’s dad’s place.

“You’ve made a beautiful life for yourself,” Amy said.

Paige didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Because for the first time, Amy could finally see it for herself.

Paige stayed seated on the couch, her arms now resting across her knees, fingers laced tightly—like her whole body was coiled, holding back things she’d spent years trying not to say.

Amy lingered by the bookshelf, half-turned toward her, but not quite meeting her eyes.

“You know, Mom,” Paige said quietly, her voice low and steady, “there’s a lot of things I wished you told me growing up. But you didn’t.” She let that sit a beat. “And there’s a lot of things I wish you hadn’t said. But you did. And we can’t change that now.”

Amy flinched, just barely.

Paige straightened up, the words coming clearer now, like they’d been waiting their turn. “So I really need to know what this is. What this sudden change is supposed to be. Because I don’t need to hear the things I used to hope you’d say anymore.”

Amy looked confused, maybe even hurt, but Paige pressed on.

“Azzi’s said them. I’ve said them to myself. I’ve already learned how to be proud of me. How to believe in who I am without you in the room clapping.”

Amy opened her mouth, but Paige cut her off with a hand raised, not angry—just done.

“If this is you trying to play some kind of hero moment, I don’t need it. And more importantly, I don’t want it. I’m tired of hoping for you to just be proud of me, or happy for me, when it’s convenient for you.”

The words landed heavy. Amy’s face tightened—not in defense, but in the kind of silent reckoning that came when the truth was undeniable.

She didn’t speak right away. Her eyes drifted to the framed photo of Paige, arms slung around her little brother and sister at a tournament three years back. One of the rare moments Amy wasn’t in the stands.

Paige watched her, the silence growing thicker. And still—she wasn’t surprised when her mom didn’t immediately know how to respond.

She’d spent years rehearsing silence. This was just another verse.

But then, Amy cleared her throat. Her voice cracked slightly when she finally spoke. “It’s your siblings.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“They’re the reason I’m trying to be… different,” Amy said, like the words had been lodged in her ribs all evening and only now found their way out.

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

Amy let out a breath, slow and fraying. “They won’t shut up about you.”

That pulled Paige up short.

Amy continued, quieter now. “Every day. Every week. Your name’s always in their mouths. They watch your old game footage, they ask when you’re coming to visit, they talk about you like—like you hung the moon. And every time they do… I have to sit there and realize they’re looking up to someone I’ve spent years trying to diminish or hide. I can’t spin it anymore. They make me see what I pushed away.”

Paige swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

Amy’s voice wobbled again. “I don’t want them growing up thinking love comes with conditions. Or that support has an expiration date. I already made that mistake once.”

Paige didn’t say anything. She just stared, heart pounding, unsure if it was anger or ache behind it.

“I didn’t come here to fix everything,” Amy said. “I know I can’t. I just… I thought maybe I could start by showing up. Even if it’s late.”

The weight of that landed somewhere deep in Paige’s chest—between the part of her that still craved her mother’s approval and the stronger, louder part that had stopped waiting for it long ago.

She let it hang there, not rescuing Amy from the silence.

And Amy didn’t try to fill it either.

It was the closest thing to honesty they’d had in years.

Finally, Paige stood. Walked to the kitchen. Poured a glass of water. She stood there for a minute, her back to her mother, just breathing.

Then—without turning around—she said, “You’re in the guest room. You leave in the morning. But I’m not going to pretend like this didn’t happen. And I’m not going to pretend to forget.”

Amy nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Paige turned her head just slightly. “You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it for them.”

Amy looked down. “I know.”

“Then don’t screw it up.”

And with that, Paige walked back toward the hallway, past the flickering candle, past the snoring dog, back into the room where Azzi waited—her heart still racing, but her voice finally calm.

—-

The door clicked shut behind Paige with a gentle finality, cutting off the last of her conversation with her mom. The air in the hallway still felt thick, like it hadn’t quite caught up to what had just happened. But the moment Paige stepped back into the bedroom, it shifted—softer, slower.

Azzi was already curled up on her side of the bed, lamp still on, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Her face was unreadable at first—somewhere between concern and patience—but when Paige crossed the room and wordlessly climbed in beside her, she shifted to make room without hesitation.

They didn’t say anything at first. Paige laid on her back, one arm behind her head, the other resting lightly on the blanket between them. Azzi studied her in the golden light for a beat longer before gently reaching for that hand, threading their fingers together under the covers.

“You okay?” she asked finally.

Paige let out a soft breath. “Define okay.”

Azzi squeezed her hand once. “Breathing’s a good start.”

Paige gave a small laugh—more of an exhale with humor attached to it. “Then yeah. Breathing.”

Silence settled between them again, this time not uncomfortable. Just… there.

Azzi turned on her side, leaning her head against Paige’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to come out while you were talking. But I heard some of it.”

“I figured,” Paige murmured. “She’s in the guest room. Leaving in the morning.”

Azzi nodded, cheek still pressed to her shoulder. “How are you really?”

Paige was quiet for a moment. Then: “It was like talking to a ghost. Like all the words I used to wish she’d say were just echoes now. They don’t land anymore.”

Azzi hummed softly, rubbing her thumb in slow circles against Paige’s hand. “That makes sense.”

“She said she was trying to be better. For the kids.”

Azzi lifted her head just enough to meet her eyes. “Not for you?”

“She admitted that, at least,” Paige said, then shrugged. “It’s probably the most honest thing she’s said to me in years.”

Azzi didn’t push more. She just rested her chin gently against Paige’s shoulder again.

A beat passed.

Then: “We really did go from almost-hooking-up-on-the-living-room-floor to full-blown mother-daughter trauma hour real fast, huh?” Azzi murmured, voice teasing but careful.

That pulled an actual laugh from Paige, her chest shaking under Azzi’s cheek. “So fast. Whiplash.”

Azzi smiled against her. “You think Birdie was scarred?”

“She’s probably journaling about it right now in her sleep.”

Azzi chuckled. “Do you wanna… pick up where we left off?”

Paige turned to look at her, eyes soft but tired. “Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Azzi said immediately. No pressure. Just acceptance.

“But maybe…” Paige trailed off, then gently tugged Azzi over until they were tangled up again, this time under the covers. “Maybe just this. For now.”

Azzi shifted, settling against her with a quiet contentment. “This is good.”

They lay like that for a while—Paige tracing absentminded shapes along Azzi’s arm, Azzi matching her breathing to the steady rhythm of Paige’s chest.

After a while, Paige whispered, “Thank you for not asking me to be okay.”

“You don’t have to be anything for me,” Azzi replied, sleep already starting to tug at her voice. “I just want to be where you are.”

A pause.

Then Paige smirked, barely audible in the dark. “Even when that place is emotionally wrecked and smelling like dog paws?”

Azzi groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Devastatingly.”

“Don’t push it.”

But she smiled. Paige felt it in the way her body softened again. In the way she tucked her head just a little closer to her chest.

They didn’t speak much more after that.

Just held each other.

Not for comfort, not for healing—just because they could.

And that, for now, was everything.

—-

The next morning broke quietly, filtered through the gauzy curtains of the living room where Amy had spent the night. The guest room clock ticked low and steady, and for once, there wasn’t the usual rush of schedules or alarms. Just Birdie’s slow tail thumps against the floor as the first sign of life.

Paige had already been up for twenty minutes. She wasn’t sure why—maybe her mind hadn’t quite settled from the night before, or maybe she’d just sensed the quiet as something she didn’t want to miss. She padded around the kitchen barefoot, hair tied messily on top of her head, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows as she made coffee. Two mugs. Out of habit.

Amy entered the room a few minutes later, dressed in travel clothes—simple and neat, like she didn’t want to take up too much space. She lingered by the doorway for a second, clearly unsure whether to sit, speak, or vanish.

“You can come in, you know,” Paige said without turning around. “Not haunted in here or anything.”

Amy let out a breath of what could’ve been a laugh. She moved slowly toward the counter.

“Coffee?” Paige offered, sliding one of the mugs in her direction.

Amy accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.”

They stood in silence for a beat, the clink of a spoon against ceramic the only sound.

“You sleep okay?” Paige finally asked.

“As well as I could,” Amy said. “It’s a nice place.”

Paige nodded. “We like it.”

Another pause.

Azzi hadn’t come out yet, likely giving them space—probably curled up in bed with Birdie keeping her hostage under the blankets. Paige didn’t mind. She needed a little of this moment to herself.

Amy sat on one of the barstools, both hands cradling the mug now. “I didn’t come here to start something.”

“I know,” Paige said. “You made that pretty clear.”

Amy looked down at her coffee. “I meant what I said. I don’t expect anything. I know I’m… late. To all of this.”

Paige leaned against the counter, arms folded lightly across her chest. Her expression wasn’t hard. Not warm exactly, but no longer guarded.

“I’m not expecting anything either,” Paige said. “Not promises. Not sudden change.”

Amy looked up.

Paige took a breath. “You said it’s about the kids. That they ask about me all the time. That they make you notice what you pushed away. That’s… okay. I’m not angry that it’s not about me. I get it. Honestly, it probably makes more sense that way.”

Amy opened her mouth like she wanted to object, but Paige held up a hand.

“I just need you to know something,” Paige continued, voice calm, even. “I spent a long time wanting to hear certain things from you. To feel like I was enough—not when it was easy or convenient, but when it was hard. I don’t need those things from you anymore, Mom. Azzi gave them to me. And I’ve given them to myself. So if this is you showing up to try, that’s fine. But I don’t need a redo of everything I didn’t get. I’m not holding out for that anymore.”

Amy blinked a few times. Her throat bobbed like she was swallowing something back. “That’s fair.”

Paige set her mug down and leaned on the counter. “But… I’m open. If the kids love you the way I remember loving you when I was their age… I’m open to seeing if something new can exist between us. I’m not expecting it to be perfect.”

“I’m not sure I know how to be perfect anymore,” Amy said quietly.

“Good,” Paige said with the first small smile of the morning. “Because neither do I.”

Amy looked at her daughter, something in her gaze shifting—like the reflection of someone she used to know finally sharpening back into view.

“Thank you,” she said, voice thin with emotion. “For giving me a chance.”

Paige gave a soft shrug. “It’s what you do for family, right?”

Amy nodded slowly. “Right.”

Just then, the quiet patter of paws sounded from down the hall, followed by Azzi’s voice muffled through the door: “Birdie, if you jump on her lap during coffee, I swear—”

Birdie trotted in, tail wagging, and made a beeline straight for Paige before promptly nudging Amy’s shin like she was already part of the pack.

Amy bent down to scratch behind her ears. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s a menace,” Paige said, but her voice was fond.

Azzi appeared next, hoodie-draped and sleepy-eyed. “Did we survive the great mother-daughter summit of 2025?”

Paige reached out to pull her into a side hug. “We did.”

Amy stood. “I should head out soon. Early flight.”

Paige nodded. “Let me walk you out.”

Azzi waved, mouthing Call me with a teasing smile, and Amy actually smiled back before grabbing her bag.

At the door, Amy hesitated.

“I’m not going to promise to be someone else overnight,” she said.

“Good,” Paige replied. “I’m not someone who waits anymore.”

Amy let that settle before stepping forward, pressing a quick kiss to her daughter’s temple—hesitant, but real.

“Tell the kids I said hi,” Paige added.

“I will. They’ll be thrilled.”

As the door closed behind her, Paige stood there for a long moment, her hand still on the knob. Then she turned and walked back toward the kitchen—toward Azzi, still barefoot and sleepy and pretending she wasn’t listening the whole time.

“So,” Azzi said with a yawn, “do we get to resume last night’s programming or…?”

Paige smirked. “You’ve got about twenty minutes before I get in my own head again.”

Azzi grinned. “Plenty of time.”

And the morning, despite everything, felt a little bit new.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 14

paige x azzi

a/n: mostly fluff as usual

word count: 5k

"What We Built Together"

The front door creaked open just past 8 PM, letting in a rush of cool night air and the familiar shuffle of tired feet.

Paige barely got two steps into the house before—

“Don’t move.”

Azzi’s voice rang out from the hallway, sharp and giddy.

Paige froze mid-step, suitcase half-dragged behind her, eyebrows lifting. “Is this a hold-up?”

A blur of hoodie and bare legs came flying down the hallway before she could get a proper answer. Azzi launched herself forward, arms wide, feet off the floor, and tackled her like she was taking a charge in the paint.

Paige let out a “hnngh—!” as the air whooshed from her lungs and she stumbled backward, laughing, barely managing to catch both Azzi and her balance. “Jesus—welcome home to me?”

“You deserved that,” Azzi mumbled into her neck, clinging to her like a starfish. “That was for leaving me here for two weeks with nothing but sad TV shows and your crusty pillow.”

“My pillow is not crusty,” Paige protested, nose wrinkling as she dropped her suitcase and wrapped both arms tightly around Azzi’s waist. “It’s scented with love. And also a little sweat. But mostly love.”

Azzi didn’t move. Just stayed plastered to her, face buried against Paige’s collarbone, legs still tangled around her hips. Her voice dropped, quieter now. “You were gone too long.”

That pulled something deep from Paige’s chest. She tightened her arms just a little more. “I know, baby. I missed you too.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, like she’d been holding it in for days. “I hated the way the house sounded without you in it. Every noise felt wrong. Even the ice maker had attitude.”

Paige laughed into her curls. “What’d the ice maker do?”

“Judged me every time I poured one glass of wine too many.”

“Rude,” Paige said, leaning her face into Azzi’s neck. “Want me to fight it?”

“Already unplugged it. We’re at war now.”

They stood there like that for a minute. No shoes off. No bags unpacked. Just held. Azzi in nothing but one of Paige’s old hoodies, Paige still in her travel joggers and wrinkled t-shirt, the kind of hug that lasted longer than it needed to, because both of them knew it hadn’t been long enough.

Paige finally pulled back just enough to look at her. “Let me see you.”

Azzi leaned back in her arms, her hands still hooked around Paige’s neck. “I look exactly the same. Just grumpier.”

“No,” Paige said softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “You look like home.”

Azzi made a face like she wanted to roll her eyes, but it didn’t land. The blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

“Shut up,” she whispered.

“You missed me so bad,” Paige teased.

“You missed me worse.”

Paige cocked her head. “Yeah? Prove it.”

Azzi smirked, eyes lighting up with mischief. “Gladly.”

She leaned in and kissed her—slow at first, then deep. Not hungry, not yet. Just full. The kind of kiss that said I thought about this too much and I needed this too badly. Her fingers slid into Paige’s hair, tugging gently, the press of their mouths already melting something inside both of them.

When they finally pulled back, Paige’s voice was husky. “Okay. You win.”

“I always do,” Azzi murmured, grinning.

They finally made it past the entryway and into the living room, still tangled at the hip. Paige dropped onto the couch, tugging Azzi down with her, until she was sprawled on top, hoodie riding up, her legs slotting between Paige’s without hesitation.

“You smell like airport,” Azzi mumbled, nose buried in her shirt.

“I smell like victory and overpriced terminal snacks.”

“You smell like your luggage lost a fight with a bag of cheddar popcorn.”

Paige gasped. “Disrespect.”

Azzi just grinned into her shoulder. “You love it.”

“I do,” Paige admitted, her hands skimming down Azzi’s back. “God, I missed this. Missed you.”

Azzi’s voice went smaller again. “I didn’t sleep much while you were gone.”

“Same,” Paige said. “Hotel pillows suck. And I kept reaching for you in the middle of the night like a dummy.”

“I did that too,” Azzi admitted. “Even when I fell asleep in your hoodie. Still woke up pissed.”

They were quiet for a moment. The kind of quiet that doesn’t feel empty — just full of things already understood.

Paige kissed her temple. “We’re okay now. I’m here.”

Azzi nodded, squeezing tighter. “I know. Just… don’t leave for that long again.”

Paige hummed. “What if I had a really good reason?”

“Like what?”

“Like… I had to go adopt us a baby goat.”

Azzi looked up. “You’re not bringing livestock into this house.”

“Not yet,” Paige winked. “But I do have another idea.”

Azzi raised a brow. “What kind of idea?”

Paige hesitated, teasing. “The kind that starts with four legs and ends with fur.”

Azzi sat up slightly, heart already thudding. “Wait—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Only if you’re ready,” Paige said, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s jaw. “You’ve been doing so good lately. Coming back to yourself. Letting people in again. And… I just figured—maybe it’s time.”

Azzi blinked at her. “Time for what?”

“For us to have a dog,” Paige said, voice soft but certain. “Something that’s ours. That keeps the house loud when I’m gone. That gives us a reason to fight over who’s the better cuddler.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. Just stared at her with those big, overwhelmed eyes.

Then: “I’m gonna cry.”

Paige grinned. “I’d prefer a yes.”

“Yes,” Azzi whispered. “God, yes.”

Paige wrapped her up again, this time tighter, this time with a quiet laugh in her chest that sounded suspiciously like relief. “Good. Then we start looking tomorrow.”

Azzi sighed into her. “You coming home like this? Kinda makes it worth the wait.”

“Still never leaving you that long again,” Paige said. “Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“No,” Paige agreed, kissing her neck. “But I’m yours.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Tangled up. Sinking into the kind of quiet only two people who missed each other could make feel sacred. There would be late-night laughs and scrolling through shelter sites. There would be stupid dog name debates and fights over leash duty and too many pictures on Azzi’s phone.

But for now, there was this.

A couch. A hoodie. A home full of love.

And the sound of someone finally, finally coming back.

—-

The hum of the city outside their window had faded into something familiar again—not background noise exactly, more like a rhythm they had learned to live in. Paige was back. Azzi was home. The holiday chaos was a warm memory now, one stitched between tougher days and softer nights, tucked inside a December that somehow changed them both.

Their first morning back started slow. Sunlight filtered in through the linen curtains, catching the edges of Paige’s blonde hair as she tied it back with a lazy hand. Azzi was still in bed, sprawled across their comforter with a gangly golden retriever mix who now took up just as much space as either of them.

But before this pup found her way into their bed and their lives, there was a day neither of them had expected—a day that started with Paige acting entirely too suspicious.

It had begun with Paige scribbling something in her notes app over breakfast, glancing up at Azzi with the kind of mischievous glint that usually meant trouble.

“What’s with the sneaky smile?” Azzi asked, squinting at her over the rim of her orange juice.

“No sneaky smile,” Paige replied far too quickly, tucking her phone away. “Just jotting down a few errands for today.”

“Errands, huh?” Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Is this gonna turn into another one of your elaborate detour days where we somehow end up at a flea market or deep in a YouTube rabbit hole about giraffe sleep patterns?”

“Excuse me,” Paige said, clutching her imaginary pearls. “That giraffe documentary was enlightening.”

Azzi just gave her a look. “So what’s the plan, trouble?”

“Just… wear something comfy. And maybe bring a hoodie.”

Azzi sighed, leaning back in her chair. “If this ends with me doing drills in a parking lot again, I’m breaking up with you on principle.”

“Noted.”

They pulled into the shelter lot just after lunch, the midday sun casting sharp shadows across the pavement. Azzi took one look at the big painted paw print on the sign and groaned.

“Paige.”

“Yes?”

“This is a trap.”

“It’s an opportunity.”

“You are a menace.”

Paige just grinned. “You love it.”

They walked into the building, greeted by the unmistakable scent of sanitizer, cedar chips, and a low hum of barking in the background. A volunteer at the front desk, a woman in her late sixties wearing a UCLA hoodie and a sparkly cat pin, perked up as they approached.

“First time visiting?” she asked cheerfully.

“First time considering adoption,” Paige said, nudging Azzi in the ribs.

Azzi was already trying not to make eye contact with the wall of puppy photos behind them. “Just looking,” she mumbled.

The volunteer handed them a clipboard with a short questionnaire. “Take your time. If there’s a vibe, you’ll know.”

They wandered past rows of kennels, each one labeled with a small sign: “Max – 3 y/o, shy but sweet,” “Riley – big fan of tennis balls,” “Luna – recovering drama queen.” Azzi was already doomed.

They stopped in front of a pen toward the back—quiet, tucked away, as if whoever was inside needed the extra distance. A lanky golden retriever mix sat awkwardly in the corner, one ear flopped over, her fur slightly scruffy but her eyes big and curious.

“That’s Marigold,” a volunteer offered as she walked by. “Been here a few months. Nervous at first, but she’s a lovebug once she feels safe.”

Paige glanced over at Azzi, who hadn’t moved. Her gaze was locked on the pup.

Azzi slowly crouched down, resting her hands on her knees. “Hi,” she said softly.

The dog tilted her head, then stood up—cautiously, carefully—and padded over. She pressed her nose against Azzi’s knee.

Azzi stilled, visibly melting. “Okay,” she whispered. “We’re in trouble.”

They spent nearly an hour with her in the little meet-and-greet space. The pup was awkward, endearing, full of cautious energy—like she wanted to trust them but was still waiting to be sure.

Paige sat cross-legged while Azzi sprawled out on the floor, letting the dog nudge into her lap one minute and wander to sniff Paige’s shoelaces the next.

“She’s got a weird stride,” Paige noted affectionately.

“She’s got personality,” Azzi corrected, scratching behind the pup’s ear.

“She tripped over her own tail just now.”

“Again, personality.”

The dog curled up suddenly beside Azzi with a huff, resting her chin on Azzi’s foot. Azzi looked up, eyes already glassy.

“I don’t think I can leave her.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Paige said softly.

The adoption process felt more like signing for a lease than taking home a dog. Paige filled out the paperwork with her signature efficiency while Azzi paced with the leash in one hand and a new tennis ball in the other.

“You sure about this?” Paige asked one last time, looking up from the form.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “Are you kidding? I’m already attached. We can’t leave now. She needs us.”

“She does,” Paige agreed. “But you need her, too.”

Azzi looked at her, eyes wide and open. “Yeah. I think I really do.”

They walked out of the shelter with the gangly retriever wobbling between them, still uncertain on the slick tile floor but happy to be outside. She sniffed everything—curbs, tires, Paige’s shoelaces—before hopping into the backseat like she’d done it a hundred times.

Azzi rode half-turned the entire way home, hand on the pup’s chest, smiling more than she had in weeks.

The first hour at home was chaos.

She knocked over a chair, got tangled in the blinds, chased her tail into a table leg, and barked at her reflection in the mirror like it owed her money.

“She’s an agent of chaos,” Paige muttered, watching her leap off the couch, wipe out mid-air, and land belly-first on the rug.

“She’s perfect,” Azzi said, laughing.

Paige blinked. “We’re definitely not ready for this, are we?”

Azzi shrugged. “Probably not. But she is.”

They gave her a bath, which turned into a full-blown water fight in the shower. Paige came out soaked to the waist. Azzi looked like she’d gone three rounds with a pressure hose. The dog was thrilled.

“She loves water,” Paige said, wringing out her ponytail.

“She’s part retriever,” Azzi replied, toweling off. “She probably dreams of lakes and mud puddles.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You dream of mud puddles,” Paige said, completely serious.

“Only when I’m chasing you through them.”

Dinner was cereal for them, gourmet kibble for her, and a full house of laughter. They took turns tossing a squeaky toy across the room while the dog skidded after it like it owed her rent money.

They tried to get her to sleep in the cute new bed Paige had picked out—fluffy, donut-shaped, already sprinkled with treats—but sometime around 11:30, she padded into their room and jumped straight onto the bed.

She landed on Paige’s stomach, then flopped sideways over Azzi’s legs, effectively pinning them both.

“I can’t feel my toes,” Paige whispered.

“She’s cuddling,” Azzi said dreamily.

“She’s smothering us.”

“She’s thriving.”

Paige huffed, shifting just enough to drape an arm across Azzi. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“You love both of us,” Azzi murmured sleepily, scratching behind the dog’s ear.

Paige kissed her shoulder. “Yeah. I really do.”

Outside, the city softened into the quiet hours. Inside, their little home was full—of fur, of chaos, of something brand new. They hadn’t expected to find this much comfort in a pair of floppy ears and a tail that wagged like a metronome set to joy.

And they still hadn’t even given her a name.

Not yet.

They woke the next morning to a wet nose pressed between their cheeks and a full-blown tail slap to the face.

Azzi groaned. “She has no concept of boundaries.”

“She fits right in,” Paige mumbled, pulling the blanket over her head.

Then the dog barked—loudly—and that was it. No going back.

Fifteen minutes later they were both barefoot in the kitchen, Paige scooping kibble into a ceramic bowl with a sleepy grin while Azzi scrolled through her phone looking up collar options.

“Still can’t believe we have a dog,” Azzi said.

Paige yawned. “She already runs the house.”

“I think she imprinted on me,” Azzi said dramatically, scratching Birdie behind the ears. “I’m her mother now.”

“We’re her moms,” Paige corrected. “We should probably give her a real name though. ‘Marigold’ doesn’t really scream apex athlete.”

Azzi tilted her head. “True… she needs something with energy. Spirit. Swagger.”

“What about… Birdie?”

Azzi blinked. “Birdie?”

Paige shrugged. “Like a golf birdie.”

Azzi raised a brow. “I know what a birdie is.”

“Right, just making sure. It’s a subtle flex.”

Azzi considered it. “Okay, but also… Sue Bird.”

Paige grinned. “The crossover of our dreams.”

“That’s actually kind of perfect.”

Birdie barked again and ran a wide circle around the kitchen island, skidding on the tile and nearly wiping out.

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, she’s definitely a Birdie.”

“Birdie Bueckers-Fudd,” Paige said proudly, pouring herself coffee. “Hyphenated because she’s spoiled.”

Birdie sneezed, as if in approval.

Azzi laughed. “You’re not even denying it?”

“Not even a little.”

They clinked their mugs together—coffee for them, chaos for Birdie—and somehow it already felt like she’d been part of their story all along.

—-

It wasn’t long before Azzi found herself stepping back into familiar territory.

The hardwood gym floor. The echo of basketballs hitting the ground in uneven rhythms. The squeak of sneakers pivoting sharp against the glossy court. The smell—a mix of sweat, dust, and history—hit her like muscle memory.

It was just a casual shootaround. Nothing formal, nothing expected. But the moment her shoes touched the sideline, her breath caught in her chest like she was walking into tryouts all over again.

She’d texted Ice the night before, her message sounding breezier than she felt:

“Y’all getting some shots up tomorrow? Might pull up if the vibe’s chill.”

She’d stared at the screen for twenty minutes before sending it. Deleted and retyped it at least three times. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want fanfare. She just wanted to move again. Feel again. Be surrounded by her people—even if her place among them didn’t feel fully real anymore.

The gym door creaked open as she pushed it, the soft whistle of the AC cutting through her nerves. She hesitated just inside the entrance, fingers wrapped tight around the strap of her duffle. There was a moment—brief but heavy—where she considered turning around.

But then she heard it.

“Look who finally decided to show up!”

Ice’s voice boomed from across the court. Within seconds, Azzi was ambushed in a tackle-hug so strong it nearly knocked her off her feet.

She laughed against Ice’s shoulder, relief hitting her harder than she expected. “You act like I’ve been gone for years.”

“Girl, you basically have,” Ice replied, pulling back to look at her. “But you still got the same ugly shoes, so maybe all is right with the world.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

The others were there too—scattered across the court, stretching, laughing, passing the ball in lazy arcs. A few cheered, some clapped when they saw her, and someone yelled “AYYYY #35 IN THE BUILDING!”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this—being seen, being welcomed back without question. She waved, bashful at the attention, but her heart felt lighter with every step she took toward the baseline.

“You didn’t forget how to shoot, did you?” Ice teased, handing her a ball.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, catching it. “You forget who I am?”

She dribbled once. Twice. Spun the ball in her hands like it was a sacred thing. Her feet found the rhythm of a spot-up shot without her even thinking.

The first shot clanged loudly off the rim.

Groans and laughter echoed.

“Wow,” someone shouted. “We got a long road ahead!”

Azzi cracked her neck and narrowed her eyes. “That was a warm-up.”

Her second shot arced high—clean, beautiful—and sank straight through the net.

The gym erupted in cheers, sarcastic applause, dramatic kneeling bows.

“She’s back, baby!”

“Okay, okay! Let her cook!”

Azzi grinned, her shoulders dropping an inch, the ball already in her hands again for another try. She moved through the motions slowly, letting the muscle memory settle into her body like a second skin. Her form wasn’t perfect—her legs still protested some movements—but the rhythm returned with each flick of her wrist.

Teammates trickled over, forming loose circles as they passed, rebounded, and lightly scrimmaged. The energy stayed loose. There was teasing, of course—someone called her “soft” for being in her “love bubble” too long, and another joked about her “new job as a golf wife”—but it wasn’t mean-spirited.

It was love. It was familiar. It was hers.

She laughed with them. Joked back. Called someone out for bricking three straight shots, then promptly missed her next two, to everyone’s amusement.

“I’m just rusty,” she said, hands on her hips.

“You’re just in love,” Ice corrected with a smirk. “Makes the knees weak.”

Azzi mock-gasped. “My knees are elite, thank you very much.”

She was still catching her breath, a sheen of sweat collecting on her brow, when she sat against the wall mid-way through. Her heart was racing, but not just from the movement—it was something deeper. Something that pulsed in her chest with quiet reassurance.

She wasn’t all the way back yet. But she was here. She was standing on this court again. Laughing with the people who knew her before all the recovery setbacks, before the media distractions, before the spiraling doubt.

She didn’t need to be in uniform. She didn’t need to make every shot. She only needed this reminder: she still belonged here.

As the team moved into cooldown stretches, Ice walked over and plopped down beside her.

“You good?”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Actually… yeah.”

“Thought you might be,” Ice said. Then after a pause: “We missed you, Z. Not just the buckets. You.”

Azzi’s throat tightened unexpectedly. She nudged Ice with her shoulder. “Missed y’all too.”

They sat like that for a beat—quiet, content. The echo of bouncing balls replaced by the softer thuds of shoes being slipped off and bags being zipped up. Teammates filed out in pairs and trios, calling over their shoulders to say they’d better see her again next weekend.

She promised she’d be back.

This time, she meant it.

—-

That same week, Paige hosted a post-tournament dinner for her coaching staff.

They’d just come off a narrow win—one of those tense final rounds where every putt felt like a test of nerve and every club decision could make or break the leaderboard. The kind of day where Paige had paced the back nine like a woman possessed, muttering yardages under her breath and white-knuckling her clipboard. She came home after the final scorecard was signed, a mix of relief and adrenaline still pulsing through her. Clutching a takeout bag, she’d texted Azzi something dramatic like, “I aged five years on that back nine, but I’ll age another five if I don’t get tacos in me within the hour.”

It was a Friday night, and their place was already prepped. Paige had lit candles—mostly for the vibe, not the scent—and set up a buffet-style lineup in the kitchen with a little help from her assistant coach. The wine was uncorked, the music on low, and Birdie had already been bribed into calmness with a bully stick.

Azzi had planned to be home in time to help set up, but a late PT session followed by gridlocked 405 traffic had other plans. By the time she slipped inside, her hoodie was zipped halfway up and her hair still damp from a rushed post-therapy shower. The apartment was already alive with the sound of overlapping conversations and silverware clinking against ceramic plates. The laughter was the kind that came easy after a win—relief and joy baked into every word.

Azzi stood at the entry for a second, one hand still on the doorknob, taking it all in. Birdie was sprawled belly-up on the floor, her head flopped across KK’s thigh like they’d been best friends since birth. Someone had draped a napkin over her paw like she was a dinner guest. The sight made Azzi smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said sheepishly, slipping out of her sneakers.

Heads turned. A few cheers rose up as glasses were lifted in mock toasts.

“Finally,” KK said dramatically. “The real MVP has arrived.”

“You’re not wrong,” someone else chimed in. “We were about to send Birdie out to go fetch you.”

Paige crossed the room in a few easy strides and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Her hand lingered at the small of her back like she wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“You made it. That’s all that matters,” Paige said, her voice quiet amid the chatter.

Azzi exhaled and smiled up at her. “You sure? Looks like Birdie already picked a new favorite.”

“She’s easily bribed by rotisserie chicken,” Paige whispered, leaning in closer.

Azzi grinned and made her way to the couch, pulling Birdie into her lap as she sank into the cushions. Birdie let out a dramatic sigh and flopped all her weight against Azzi, tail thumping once before she settled.

Conversation swirled around them—half coaching stories, half nonsense. Someone was animatedly reenacting Paige’s reactions on the 18th hole, voice pitching up in faux panic.

“She looked like she was about to grab a putter and finish the round herself,” one of the assistants said.

“She almost did,” KK added. “I saw her pull off her hat like she was about to sub in.”

Paige threw a tortilla chip at her. “I was being passionate.”

“You were being unhinged,” Azzi teased, joining the chorus of laughter.

“Okay but tell me it didn’t work. Our golfer sank a 20-footer right after that glare I gave her.”

“Because you threatened to make the whole team warm up to Enya next week,” KK said. “Said it was ‘mental clarity through music.’”

Paige shrugged with mock innocence. “Don’t test me.”

Azzi leaned back, one hand absentmindedly scratching Birdie behind the ears. Her shoulders eased as the minutes passed, her body slowly syncing into the soft, lived-in rhythm of the night. It felt… simple. In the best way. Like a piece of normal she didn’t know she needed.

The banter eventually turned toward playlists, which Azzi quickly learned had become a point of debate among the coaching staff. Apparently, Paige had played ABBA during putting drills that week, and the team hadn’t stopped talking about it since.

“She had our caddy staff doing karaoke from the bunker,” KK said. “Like full-on mic-in-hand vibes.”

“‘Winner Takes It All,’” Paige deadpanned, raising her glass.

There was a collective groan, followed by laughter.

Azzi laughed until her sides hurt, until the ache in her legs from PT was nothing compared to the ache in her cheeks from smiling.

Later, when plates had been pushed aside and the wine was nearly gone, Paige leaned over and kissed her temple. “You okay?”

Azzi nodded, eyes a little glossy. “I’m good. This is… really good.”

And it was. Somehow, amidst the chaos of recovery and coaching and life, they had landed here—on a couch, with their dog asleep across their laps, surrounded by people who felt more like chosen family than coworkers.

It hit Azzi then—this version of their life. The one with coaching dinners and inside jokes and a sleepy dog who snored like she paid rent. It was domestic in a way she never imagined she’d crave.

But here she was. Deep in it. Happy.

—-

A few nights later, it was quiet. No match. No practice. No schedules. Just them and Birdie and the soft hum of their life.

They lay on the living room floor, tangled up in a mess of throw blankets and old game-day hoodies, Birdie sprawled across both their legs like a fluffy bridge. The lamp in the corner glowed low and golden. A candle flickered on the coffee table, half-burned down.

Paige had her head propped on her hand, gaze fixed on the ceiling like it might offer something profound.

“Do you ever think about how weird this all is?” she asked.

Azzi turned to look at her. “Weird how?”

“That this… us… is what we come home to now. Like, months ago we were circling each other, and now you’re wearing my hoodies and we’re googling the best dog food brands at midnight. And there’s fur on our couch and a leash hanging by the door.”

Azzi smiled softly. “We built this, though. Together.”

Paige nodded. “I know. It just… it feels too good sometimes. Like maybe I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Azzi nudged her with her foot. “I used to feel that way too. Still do, some days.”

“What changed?”

“You,” Azzi said simply. “You let me stay.”

That unraveled something in Paige’s chest. She reached for Azzi’s hand, threading their fingers through Birdie’s fur, quiet for a beat.

“I never knew what home felt like until you,” she murmured. “Not really.”

Azzi leaned in, kissing her slow—soft at first, then deeper. Her hand came up to cup Paige’s jaw, her thumb stroking the skin there with quiet intention.

“This is ours now,” she whispered between kisses. “Messy, boring, chaotic. Home.”

They stayed like that, mouths brushing, breath mingling in the hush between words. The room faded around them. Even Birdie, blissfully snoring, seemed to disappear.

Paige shifted first, her hand sliding beneath Azzi’s hoodie, fingers grazing warm skin.

Azzi caught her gaze—steadfast, a little hungry. “Here?”

“Why not?” Paige whispered. “It’s our home, right?”

She rolled over, settling between Azzi’s thighs, her hand moving slow beneath her waistband, teasing. Azzi’s breath caught, lips parting around a sigh.

“You always start like this,” Azzi said, voice low.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to worship me.”

Paige’s smile turned mischievous. “Maybe I am.”

She kissed her way down, slow and reverent—across her stomach, over her hip, dragging her tongue along the edge of Azzi’s waistband before slipping her hand lower, pressing her palm over the heat already pooling between her thighs.

Azzi gasped, hips tilting into the touch.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispered. “Let me.”

Azzi nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

Paige didn’t rush. She touched her like she was learning her all over again, mapping out a territory that already felt like home but still made her breathless. Azzi’s thighs parted wider, her fingers curling into the blanket beneath them, her back arching with every slow, purposeful stroke.

Then—

A sharp knock echoed at the front door.

They both froze.

Birdie barked once, then again, springing upright with an excited wag of her tail.

Azzi blinked. “Are you kidding?”

Paige groaned, forehead dropping to her stomach. “I swear to God, if it’s a neighbor asking if Birdie wants to join their dog yoga class again—”

The knock came again. Louder this time.

Birdie whined, pawing at the blanket, clearly ready to greet whoever it was.

Paige looked up at Azzi, eyes still dark with heat. “We are not done here.”

Azzi smirked, flushed and breathless. “You’d better not be.”

Paige pulled herself up, tugging her hoodie down just enough to look semi-decent and trudged toward the door, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “Pause us.”

Azzi laughed, breath still uneven. “Paused. Barely.”

Another knock.

Paige’s hand hovered over the doorknob.

And then—

“Hey, sorry to show up unannounced—”

A familiar voice filtered through the door.

Paige froze.

Her body went still.

Azzi sat up fast, brows drawn. “Who is it?”

Paige turned, her expression unreadable.

“My mom.”

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 13

paige x azzi

a/n: Sooo sorry this took a bit longer to upload but I hope the end makes up for it... Contains some sexual content.

word count: 6.1k

"BRB: Winning, Missing, Wanting"

They’d been back for a week. The pine-scented candle was still burning low on the counter, but the holidays already felt like a distant dream — all sugar cookies and snowflake filters and layered goodbyes. Life had quietly tiptoed back into routine.

Paige was out on the backyard putting green that morning, barefoot on the turf, hoodie sleeves bunched at her elbows as she practiced short rolls. Her AirPods were in, but she wasn’t listening to music — just ambient crowd noise from past tournaments. Something about it made the silence feel earned.

Azzi sat poolside, lounging across the wide chaise with her PT app paused mid-set. She was supposed to be finishing her quad activations, but instead, her eyes had drifted — not to the screen, but to Paige.

She loved watching her when she was in the zone. The slow, purposeful movements. The way her eyes narrowed, just slightly, before a stroke. The soft exhale every time the ball dropped into the cup like it belonged there.

It was beautiful. And painful.

Azzi didn’t say anything, but Paige had already noticed.

She always noticed.

They didn’t talk about it — not the way Azzi had been hovering near the half-court more lately, or how she stood by the fence every time Paige rebounded her own shots and said nothing. She hadn’t touched a basketball in months. Not since the fall. Not since everything changed.

But Paige could see it written in the way Azzi looked at her hands lately — like she didn’t trust them anymore.

So that morning, Paige disappeared inside for a few minutes. When she came back out, she had something tucked under her arm, wrapped in a brown Trader Joe’s bag like a secret.

Azzi raised an eyebrow from her chair. “What’s that?”

“Nothing important,” Paige said breezily. “Just… thought of you.”

She set the bag down beside Azzi and went back to putting. No announcement. No pressure.

It sat there for a while — until curiosity finally got the better of her. Azzi peeled the paper of the bag open.

Inside: a brand-new basketball. Official size. Perfect grip. Softly broken in. And across the panel in Paige’s handwriting:

Just in case you forget what it feels like to hold the world.

Azzi didn’t say anything. But her hands tightened around the ball like it might vanish.

Paige rolled another putt, eyes locked on the hole. “You don’t have to shoot it.”

Azzi glanced over.

“You don’t have to stand. Or jump. Or do anything,” Paige added. “Just… hold it.”

Azzi let out a breath. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Paige looked up at her. “You love me for it.”

Azzi cracked the smallest smile.

They sat in the quiet for a few more minutes — the kind of quiet only two people who loved each other could keep: soft, slow, earned.

Eventually, Azzi stood, steady but cautious, the ball cradled in her arms like muscle memory. She made her way toward the half-court tucked in the corner of the yard.

Paige followed, letting her walk ahead.

“You rebound,” Azzi said as they reached the free throw line. “But no commentary.”

Paige threw her hands up. “Scout’s honor.”

Azzi took a breath. She didn’t step behind the line. Just stood near the paint. Bent her knees slightly. Flicked her wrist.

The ball kissed the rim, rolled, and dropped through.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was hers.

Paige watched silently from the baseline.

Azzi shot again. And again. Ten soft, quiet shots, each one a little smoother than the last.

After the eleventh, she caught her own rebound and held the ball against her chest.

“I forgot what this felt like,” she said, voice raw.

Paige walked over. Tucked a curl behind Azzi’s ear. Pressed their foreheads together.

“You never really forgot,” she whispered. “You just needed time.”

Azzi closed her eyes. “I’m still scared.”

“I know.”

“But I want it again.”

“You will.”

They stood there for a long time, ball resting between them like a heartbeat — steady and familiar.

And when the sun finally crested over the house and warmed the court, Paige stepped back with a smile.

“Just so you know,” she said, playful now, “you’ve got the highest field goal percentage on this team.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You are the team.”

“And you just made a comeback.”

The night was still. Los Angeles had its way of humming even after sunset, but here in their little backyard corner of the world, it felt almost silent. The pool light flickered gently beneath the surface, and overhead, a few stars managed to peek through the haze.

Azzi sat curled on the outdoor couch, wrapped in a light knit blanket, her knee propped up with an ice pack. Paige had disappeared inside for a few minutes, returning with two mugs of peppermint tea—because apparently, that was what healing women drink after low-key emotional basketball breakthroughs.

Paige handed her a mug and sat cross-legged beside her. “Feeling famous again yet?”

Azzi huffed out a small laugh. “Not even close. But… it felt good.”

She stared down into the steam rising from her cup. “Actually, it felt better than good. It felt like me. Which made everything else… harder?”

Paige leaned her shoulder gently against hers. “How so?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She looked up at the dark sky, eyes darting to follow a blinking plane far overhead.

“It’s like—I remember how badly I want this,” she said quietly. “To come back. To play again. To feel strong in my body, in my rhythm. But the second I feel it, really feel it, I get scared it’ll be taken away again. Or that I’ll never actually reach where I was.”

She swallowed, her voice thinning.

“And then I think about how much time it takes to get back. All the hours. The pain. The not-knowing. And part of me wonders if I’m too tired for all of it.”

Paige set her mug down on the table beside them and turned her full body toward her.

“Az.”

Azzi didn’t look at her yet.

“You are allowed to feel that way,” Paige said softly. “You are allowed to be scared and brave at the same time. You’re allowed to want it and still feel the weight of what it takes to get there.”

Azzi blinked fast. “Sometimes it just feels too big to hold.”

Paige reached over and laced their fingers together.

“Then maybe we don’t hold just one big thing. Maybe we collect a bunch of little ones too. Give our hands more to reach for, so that one dream doesn’t have to carry all the pressure.”

Azzi tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Paige grinned. “I mean… career dreams are beautiful, and powerful, and they matter. But they shouldn’t be the only dreams we give ourselves permission to chase.”

She leaned in conspiratorially.

“For example… one of my dreams? Ride in the Goodyear Blimp.”

Azzi burst out laughing. “The Goodyear Blimp? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Paige said proudly. “I think it’s the peak of aerial luxury. Just floating over a stadium like a VIP jellybean? Elite.”

Azzi wheezed, wiping a tear. “That’s the most random thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Exactly! It’s stupid and small and entirely unnecessary, and that’s why it matters. Because it’s just for me. Not for a title. Not for a brand. Not for anyone else’s idea of who I’m supposed to be.”

Azzi’s smile lingered, soft around the edges. “So what, we start building a dream list?”

“Only if yours includes something equally ridiculous.”

Azzi sipped her tea and thought for a moment. “Okay. I want to learn how to make my own pasta. Like… from scratch. Rolling pin, flour in my hair, grandma apron energy.”

Paige looked impressed. “That’s shockingly wholesome.”

Azzi shrugged. “I contain multitudes.”

Paige leaned her head on Azzi’s shoulder. “Good. Then maybe we start dreaming with all of them. The basketball star. The tired human. The pasta chef. The Blimp passenger.”

They sat like that for a long while—two mugs slowly cooling, a sky slowly darkening, and a sense that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Because dreams don’t have to be heavy.

Sometimes, they’re just soft enough to keep you afloat.

—-

The next morning light bled through the windows in soft gold, slipping between the cracks in the curtains. The house smelled faintly of coffee, vanilla, and something almost suspiciously like dry erase markers.

Azzi stirred slowly, the warm imprint of last night’s emotional reflection still lingering in her chest. When she finally padded out of the bedroom in one of Paige’s hoodies, yawning as she rubbed her eyes, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“What the hell…”

The kitchen had transformed overnight.

A giant whiteboard—like, classroom sized—stood proudly against the far wall, covered in multicolored headers and marker streaks. The dining table was scattered with sticky notes, pens, snacks, and what looked like a dollar-store glitter crown placed ceremoniously on the chair at the head.

And Paige?

Paige was standing on a step stool in her sweats, proudly scribbling something under a section titled “Bucket List – Silly as Hell” with a determined expression.

“Is that… a new section?” Azzi asked, blinking.

Paige spun around, practically glowing. “Welcome to the Dream Making Station™. I woke up at like 6 AM and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Figured if we’re gonna dream outside of basketball, we might as well go hard.”

Azzi blinked at her, still stunned. “Is that… my apron from the kitchen with a marker badge clipped to it?”

“Yep,” Paige said, stepping down and motioning to it like a proud display. “You are now Co-Chief Dream Architect. Congratulations. Would you like to see our categories?”

Azzi couldn’t stop smiling. She walked forward, rubbing her eyes again as if this might all still be a dream. “This is… honestly, incredible.”

There were headers like:

“Things That Feel Like Summer”

“Weirdly Specific Goals”

“Let’s Be Those People Who…”

“If We Had a Farm”

“Kid Sh*t We Wanna Give Our Future Kids”

“Retirement But Make It Dramatic”

“Goofy Travel Goals”

“Why is there a ‘Things That Feel Like Summer’ category?” Azzi laughed, already loving every second.

“Because,” Paige said, handing her a marker, “sometimes the dream is just about a feeling. Popsicles. Road trips. Matching swimsuits. Sunburns that don’t ruin your day.”

Azzi sat down and grabbed a sticky note. “Okay, first entry—drive up the coast in a convertible, only stopping at fruit stands and beaches.”

“Elite,” Paige said, writing it down under Summer.

Hours passed like minutes. They sprawled on the floor, perched on stools, danced around the kitchen. Sticky notes piled up. Tea went cold. They argued over whether having “a duck as a pet” was feasible (Paige was pro-duck), and cried a little while scribbling “make our house feel like safety to someone else one day.”

Some dreams were silly—

“Go to a Renaissance Fair in full costume.”

“Crash a wedding but only to bring a gift.”

Some were soft—

“Adopt a dog named after an old man.”

“Have a garden we actually keep alive.”

And some were so real it made them pause—

“Build a family in whatever way feels right.”

“Show our kids what showing up looks like.”

“Stay soft. Even when life isn’t.”

Azzi stared at the whiteboard, eyes roaming the dozens of entries. “You think we can really do all this?”

Paige came up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist. “No question. Might take ten years, or thirty. But with you?” She kissed Azzi’s temple. “I believe in every single one.”

Azzi turned to face her, eyes glassy but happy. “This is the best thing I’ve ever walked into half-asleep.”

Paige smiled. “Dreams don’t have to start big. They just have to start.”

They kissed, slow and lingering, surrounded by color-coded dreams, messy handwriting, and the warmth of a home they’d built together from scratch.

And somewhere between the sticky notes and laughter, they realized—

this wasn’t just some playful morning project.

It was a blueprint for a life that stretched far beyond any court, any record, or any headline.

It was the beginning of everything else.

—-

The whiteboard still stood in the corner of the kitchen, a little chaotic now—some notes curling at the corners, others smudged from where Paige had leaned against it while drinking tea. But it remained, humming with quiet joy.

Paige zipped up the final pocket on her suitcase with a sigh. “Okay. Two tournaments. Fourteen days. Three flights. One red-eye. And only one pair of shoes I’m bringing that’ll give me blisters.”

Azzi watched her from the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. “You’ve got this.”

“I better,” Paige said, flopping down beside her. “Back-to-back events this deep in the season feel like survival missions.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the soft hum of the Sunday evening ticking around them.

Then Azzi admitted it, her voice quiet: “It’s gonna be weird. You being gone that long.”

Paige turned toward her, brushing a piece of hair off her cheek. “I know. First stretch we haven’t been together since… what, late fall?”

Azzi nodded. “I’m not worried or anything. Just—” she paused, chewing her lip, “it’s different now. I got used to waking up with you. Even on the days I was miserable.”

Paige gave a soft smile, eyes crinkling. “You’re stronger than you think, you know.”

Azzi didn’t answer.

“And I’m not saying that in a ‘you don’t need me’ kind of way,” Paige continued, her tone more tender. “I just think… this is a good window. To start dipping your toe back in. With your people.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “My people?”

“Your team,” Paige said. “Text Ice. Hang out. Get the girls together. You don’t need to run suicides or anything. Just be around them again. Let yourself remember what that feels like.”

Azzi was quiet, then said, “I don’t want to show up and be the broken one.”

“You won’t be,” Paige said. “You’ll be the brave one.”

Azzi looked at her like she wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or kiss her. She did both, leaning forward for a kiss and muttering, “You’re annoying when you’re right.”

“Occupational hazard.”

Later that night, after Paige had knocked out early to rest for her morning flight, Azzi sat on the couch with the TV playing in the background and her phone in her hand.

She stared at it for a while before typing:

AZZI 🏀

yo Ice…

what do you think about getting the squad together this weekend?

not a full-on workout, just like…

bonding. night out vibes.

I feel like I need it.

The dots blinked before a reply came in seconds later…

ICE 🥶

girl YES

you tryna rally the crew or you want me to drop the bat signal?

👀💅🏽

AZZI 🏀

I’ll rally.

Just don’t let me back out.

I’m holding myself accountable this time.

ICE 🥶

deal. proud of you. let’s get loud.

Azzi smiled to herself, phone still glowing in her hand.

Paige was leaving in the morning.

And while the ache of missing her had already started to settle somewhere behind her ribs, there was something else blooming too—something that looked suspiciously like readiness.

Not to play yet.

Not to sprint.

But to be seen again.

To reconnect.

To start imagining herself on the court again—not just as a memory of who she used to be, but as someone becoming someone new.

—-

Azzi stood in front of the mirror, her closet looking like a war zone behind her. A few tops lay crumpled on the edge of the bed—nothing felt right. Her hair was halfway done, one hoop earring in, one sitting on the counter like even it wasn’t sure if it wanted to commit.

Her phone sat propped on the bathroom shelf, FaceTime open. Paige was in a hotel room somewhere in Florida, her damp hair wrapped in a towel, face bare, sprawled out on the bed eating cereal straight from the box.

“You look hot,” Paige said around a mouthful. “Why do you keep changing?”

Azzi groaned, tugging at her top. “Because I feel weird. Like… what am I even dressing for? It’s not like I’m running point again. It’s just… dinner.”

Paige tilted her head. “Babe. This isn’t about the outfit. Talk to me.”

Azzi sat on the edge of the tub, exhaling slowly. “What if they don’t really want me there?”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?” Paige said softly.

“I mean it,” Azzi muttered. “What if I took too long to come back? What if they moved on without me, and now I’m just… the injured ex-captain who’s barely been around.”

Paige sat up straighter, cereal forgotten. “Azzi. No one moved on from you.”

Azzi gave a humorless laugh. “You don’t know that. I haven’t been at practice. I haven’t traveled. I’ve been rehabbing and watching games from the bench. That used to be my circle, my place. Now it feels like someone else’s.”

“But it’s still yours,” Paige said, her voice firmer now. “It’s okay to step back when you’re healing. That’s not quitting. That’s surviving. That’s leadership too.”

Azzi chewed her lip. “What if I don’t feel like a leader anymore?”

“You don’t have to feel like one every second to be one,” Paige replied. “And anyone who’s played with you knows that. The ones who matter? They’re not keeping score. They’re waiting for you.”

Azzi looked up into the camera, her voice smaller now. “What if they don’t recognize me?”

Paige softened again, smile curling slow at the edge. “Then reintroduce yourself. As you are now. Not less than, not broken. Just… you. Still the one they looked up to, but maybe a little wiser now. A little softer.”

Azzi’s eyes glistened. “You think so?”

“I know so. And also—please wear that top. Because I’d like to keep my girlfriend’s groupies on alert.”

Azzi finally cracked a laugh, rolling her eyes but standing again to adjust her outfit. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

They held eye contact for a moment, even across the miles.

Then Paige added, “Listen. Walk in there with your chin up. You’ve earned every right to take up that space. You’re still her. Okay?”

Azzi inhaled deeply. Nodded once. “Okay.”

She finished the second earring. Smoothed her shirt. Took one last glance at herself—not quite confident, but willing.

“I’ll call you after,” Azzi said, voice steadier now.

“I’ll be up. Kick ass. Or at least make them laugh.”

Azzi smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

The screen dimmed.

And Azzi, for the first time in a while, walked out the door with a little less fear trailing her.

—-

The hostess led them through a maze of neon lighting, velvet booths, and ambient bass thumping low in the walls. The restaurant was all exposed brick, hanging Edison bulbs, and cocktails served in glassware shaped like animals. Too cool, Azzi thought, suddenly hyper-aware of the brace still hidden under the wide leg of her jeans.

She was the last to arrive—Ice had sent the group text earlier with the reservation, and Paige had hyped her up on FaceTime the whole time Azzi got ready. Hair done. Outfit simple, but bold. Still, as she stepped into the dim glow of the restaurant and spotted her team clustered around a long table near the back, the nerves kicked in.

Ice stood first. “Look who finally showed up. Fashionably late or emotionally avoiding?”

Azzi grinned. “Wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t both.”

Laughter broke the ice. But as she slid into her seat, she felt it—the subtle pause. Glances. A few “How are you holding up?” questions. All kind. All well-meaning. But still laced with that slightly distant caution.

The first round of drinks came. They ordered a spread of shared plates—crispy rice with spicy tuna, truffle fries, some chaotic fusion sushi rolls no one could pronounce but all pretended to understand. Conversation was light, polite. Azzi found herself laughing when expected, nodding when required, but not yet fully in it.

Until someone mentioned a teammate who’d graduated the year before—how she once wore a robe to practice because she overslept and forgot her clothes.

That broke the dam.

“Wait, didn’t she also bring her dog to film review once?” Azzi leaned in, remembering.

“Yo!” Ice cackled. “I knew you’d remember that! You roasted her for weeks!”

“I had material for days,” Azzi said, the laugh coming easier now, her voice natural again.

One story led to another—road trip disasters, inside jokes, sideline banter—and Azzi started to see it: they weren’t trying to ice her out. They were just waiting for her to claim her space again. And she was doing it.

She caught Ice watching her between bites of food. “You’re really back, huh?”

Azzi smirked. “Told you I never left.”

When someone pulled out their phone for a group selfie, they passed it straight to Azzi to take it. She angled it high, flipped it, caught them all mid-laugh, and snapped.

And in that frame—blurry, warm, and full of too many smiles—it looked like home.

By the time the second round of cocktails hit the table—something citrusy with chili salt rims and way too much mezcal—the vibe had shifted entirely.

They were loud now. Laughing loud, talking over each other, fighting for the last shishito pepper like it was a team-building drill.

“Okay, okay,” Mya said, raising a perfectly sculpted brow across the table. “Let’s talk about the real reason we’re here.”

Azzi blinked. “What reason?”

“You,” Mya said, casually popping a fry into her mouth. “You and your little golf girlfriend.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, already smiling. “Here we go.”

“No seriously,” Tiff chimed in. “You ghosted us. One minute you’re on crutches, the next minute we’re seeing Instagram posts of you on a boat with Paige and her perfect backswing and a love caption that had us all single and spiraling.”

“That wasn’t even a boat,” Azzi laughed. “It was a dock. Calm down.”

“Still,” Mya said, leaning in like it was a press conference. “You’ve been locked in. And now you’re glowing. So spill. How’d she pull you?”

Azzi glanced around the table, playful suspicion in her eyes. “Y’all really want the tea?”

“Boiling,” Ice said.

She leaned forward on her elbows, chin in hand. “Fine. Celebrity golf tournament. She was quiet. I was cocky. She pretended not to be into it, but she definitely was.”

Tiff gasped. “You finessed a love story at a golf tournament?!”

“She was wearing a visor,” Azzi added dramatically. “There was no resisting.”

The table burst into laughter. Ice nearly choked on her drink.

“Okay but fr,” Mya cut in, sobering slightly. “You two serious serious?”

Azzi nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah. We are.”

And it was weird—saying it out loud in that way. No press. No post. No performance. Just a table full of teammates, spicy fries, and the quiet weight of something that mattered.

“She got you real soft now,” Ice teased.

Azzi shrugged. “Maybe. But like… in a good way.”

They all melted.

“Ugh,” Tiff said, dramatically clutching her chest. “See, I want a golf girl now.”

“She doesn’t have a sister, that’s old enough for you.” Azzi shot back, grinning. “I checked.”

They all laughed again, the energy buzzing, warm and full.

Later, when dessert hit the table—two molten lava cakes and a surprise birthday plate for no one’s birthday—they were tipsy and happy and sharing food off each other’s forks. Azzi leaned back, eyes scanning the table, and realized she hadn’t thought about her brace or her absence from the court in over an hour.

They hadn’t forgotten her.

And she hadn’t lost them.

—-

The days following after the dinner, were long and lonely.

Azzi was curled on the couch, background noise low. The house felt too still—like everything paused when Paige wasn’t there. She’d tried to fill the silence with a few books, a bad movie, even sorting through old gear, but nothing stuck. Mostly, she just kept checking the time difference and hoping for a text.

Then came a knock.

Not a long one. Just two quick raps, followed by the sound of a box hitting the porch.

Azzi furrowed her brow, padded over in socks, and opened the front door.

There it was: a small package, no return label, just her name written in all caps with a small heart drawn beside it.

She smiled. Paige.

Back inside, she peeled open the tape and unfolded the contents slowly. On top: a neatly folded warm-up hoodie, oversized and soft with a note pinned to it:

“thought you might need something of mine that’s technically yours now. (Also I sweat in it once, so you’re welcome.)”

Underneath the shirt was a framed photo—the two of them at Paige’s last tournament, sun in their eyes, Azzi’s crutch visible, Paige’s arm slung around her shoulder. Someone must’ve captured it candidly. Taped to the back of the frame was a sticky note:

“We make this look easy. Even when it’s hard.”

She wiped at her face, then reached for her phone.

Azzi 🏀

I hate how well you know me.

Azzi 🏀

Actually no I don’t. I love it. And I miss you.

Azzi 🏀

So damn much.

Her phone buzzed a second later.

Paige ⛳️

Check the zipper pocket in the hoodie.

Azzi did. Inside: a Polaroid. Paige in bed, holding a handwritten sign that read:

BRB: Winning this thing so I can come home and kiss you stupid.

Azzi laughed through a sniffle, falling back into the couch with the shirt hugged against her chest.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Come home soon.”

—-

A few hours later.

Azzi couldn’t sit still.

She’d tried reading, but her eyes kept skimming the same paragraph over and over. She wasn’t absorbing a thing.

Even the kitchen didn’t help. She’d made tea she didn’t drink. Opened the fridge three times just to stare at nothing.

Now, she stood in the bedroom doorway, the city outside casting a low gold glow through the window. The room felt too big without Paige’s duffel bag on the floor. Too quiet without her laugh bouncing off the walls.

Azzi exhaled, chewing the inside of her cheek.

The hoodie was still where she left it that afternoon — the one Paige had sent her. She picked it up, brought it to her face, and inhaled.

Still smelled like her. Clean skin. A whisper of vanilla and cedar.

She tugged it on without hesitation.

The sleeves fell past her hands. The hem barely covered the tops of her thighs. But the way it hugged her — familiar, worn — made her heart ache.

She walked over to the bed and sat down slowly, fingers curling around the comforter. It was unmade, the sheets still messy from last night when she’d slept on Paige’s side. Hoping it’d help. It didn’t.

She flopped back with a soft thud, legs splayed, hoodie riding up. The fabric warmed instantly from her skin, and for a moment, she imagined Paige’s weight pressing into the mattress beside her. The way she’d slide a hand between Azzi’s legs without a word — just a smirk and a question in her eyes she already knew the answer to.

Azzi swallowed hard.

She shifted. One thigh brushing the other. Her body already remembering.

Everything inside her felt too full and too empty at once. Like she was wound up with nowhere to put it.

She turned over, pulled Paige’s pillow to her chest, and buried her face in it.

“M’not gonna,” she whispered, muffled and stubborn. “Not without her.”

But the ache didn’t care. The way her skin tingled didn’t care. Her mind was full of Paige — the rasp of her voice, the command in her hands, the softness in her praise when Azzi gave in completely.

The bedroom felt too quiet without Paige.

She flipped her phone over again.

1:14 AM. Still no sleep.

She hit FaceTime.

It rang twice before Paige answered — the screen lighting up with her tired smile and tousled hair pulled back, skin glowing in the muted hotel lamp. A hotel bathrobe slipped off one shoulder, revealing a sliver of collarbone and a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Hey, baby,” Paige rasped.

Azzi melted. “Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

Azzi shook her head. “The bed’s cold. I hate it.”

There was a pause — not awkward, just thick with the kind of ache that bloomed when your body missed someone just as much as your heart did. Azzi shifted, the comforter slipping slightly, revealing a sliver more of her bare thigh.

Paige tilted her head. “Is that my hoodie?”

Azzi tugged on the collar, dramatic. “Obviously.”

“And nothing else?”

A slow smirk crept onto Azzi’s face. “Would that help me sleep?”

Paige’s eyes darkened. “It’d help both of us.”

The silence turned heavier, charged.

Azzi adjusted the phone, laid back against the pillows, and let Paige see more — the rumpled sheets, the hem of the hoodie creeping up her thighs, the heat behind her eyes.

“I miss your hands,” she whispered. “Miss the way you take your time with me. The way you talk to me when I need it most.”

Paige sat up slightly, her robe parting. “Yeah?” Her voice dropped, already dipping into that lower, possessive register.

Azzi nodded. “You always know what I need.”

Paige’s breath hitched. “Then show me, baby. Let me help you.”

Azzi propped the phone against the pillow beside her, angled just right. Her hand slipped under the hoodie, her fingers tracing slow paths down her stomach, goosebumps rising in their wake.

“Start slow,” Paige murmured. “Just tease. Pretend it’s me.”

Azzi brushed over her clit, featherlight. “Not the same…”

“I know.” Paige’s voice was thick now. “But I want you to move like I do. Gentle first. Lazy. Like I’ve got all night to make you fall apart.”

Azzi’s legs drifted wider. Her free hand fisted the sheets. “You’d kiss me here,” she breathed, circling herself slowly, “just soft. Just enough to make me ache.”

Paige exhaled through her teeth. “God, yes. I’d take my time. I’d suck on your thighs first, let you squirm. Then I’d bury my face in you and not come up until you were shaking.”

Azzi moaned, her hips canting toward her own touch. “Fuck…”

“I’d tell you how good you taste,” Paige whispered. “How messy I want you. How perfect you sound when you beg for it.”

Azzi’s voice broke around a whimper. “I’m close already…”

Paige’s tone sharpened. “Stop. Right now.”

Azzi froze, pulling her hand back with a pained gasp. Her breath came fast, chest heaving, but she obeyed.

“Good girl,” Paige purred. “Look at me.”

Azzi turned her head toward the phone, eyes glossy, lips parted.

“You’ll come when I say,” Paige murmured. “And when you do, you’ll say my name like a prayer. Understood?”

Azzi nodded, desperate. “Please…”

“Touch yourself again,” Paige ordered, voice like velvet over steel. “But this time, don’t hold back.”

Azzi obeyed, her fingers slick and sure now, the sounds of her pleasure filling the quiet room. Her moans were low, needy — for Paige, and only her.

“Faster,” Paige urged. “Just like that. Rub your clit the way I do — firm, steady. You know what I like.”

“I—I can’t—” Azzi gasped, her thighs trembling. “I’m gonna—”

“Not yet.” Paige’s voice was unwavering. “Hold it. You can take more. I know you can.”

Azzi’s whole body arched, her knuckles white in the sheets.

“Now,” Paige whispered, her voice the final push. “Come for me.”

Azzi shattered, crying out as her release overtook her — raw and consuming. Her body jerked, Paige’s name falling from her lips again and again like it was the only thing grounding her.

Paige watched, lips parted, her chest rising and falling as if she’d felt every wave herself. “That’s my girl,” she murmured, her voice reverent. “So soo good for me.”

Paige shifted on the hotel bed, tightening her grip on the phone. The robe around her had slipped, forgotten, as she leaned closer to the screen. Azzi filled the frame — flushed, wrecked, trembling, but obedient — and so goddamn beautiful it made something primal rise in Paige’s chest.

She wasn’t done with her yet.

“Don’t move,” Paige said, voice low and steady. “I’m not finished with you.”

Azzi let out a breathless noise, something between a whimper and a yes.

“Pull that hoodie up higher. I want to see all of you.”

Azzi obeyed, dragging the fabric up her stomach, over her chest — slow, exposing inch by inch until she was bare underneath, her nipples stiff from the air and the rush of what they were doing.

Paige’s voice dropped to a growl. “God, look at you. So beautifully ready for me. You know what I’d do if I were there?”

Azzi swallowed. “Tell me.”

“I’d pin your hands above your head,” Paige said. “One hand. That’s all it’d take. And with the other, I’d touch you so slow, you’d beg me to stop teasing.”

Azzi’s legs shifted, thighs pressing together. Paige noticed instantly.

“Don’t you dare close them. Spread them. Wide.”

Azzi moaned but listened, baring herself to the screen.

“That’s it,” Paige praised. “Now take your fingers and dip two inside. I want you to feel how wet you are for me.”

Azzi whimpered as she pushed in, her mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“Yeah?” Paige murmured. “That how I make you feel from a thousand miles away?”

Azzi nodded, her hand moving slow, deliberate.

“Fuck yourself deeper,” Paige commanded. “Curl your fingers like I do. You know the spot. Right there.”

Azzi’s breath caught, her hips lifting. “Oh my god—Paige—”

“That’s it, baby,” she said, eyes fixed on the screen like she could reach through it. “Keep going. Use your other hand and rub your clit at the same time. Fast. Just like that.”

Azzi’s moans were rising now, sharp and breathless, her whole body tensing with effort and need.

“Picture me on top of you,” Paige whispered. “My mouth on your neck, my thigh pressed between yours, grinding against you while I fuck you with my fingers. Can you feel it?”

Azzi choked out a yes, her eyes wild and glassy.

“Good. Because if I were there, I wouldn’t stop. Not until your legs were shaking and you were crying my name.”

“I’m—I’m close again,” Azzi gasped.

Paige grinned darkly. “You don’t come until I say. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Azzi’s voice was high, desperate. “Yes—please—I’ll be good—”

“Then hold it. Stay right there. Let it build.”

Paige leaned back just enough to take her own hand between her legs, biting her bottom lip to stay quiet, even as her body buzzed with the power of it — the way Azzi listened, obeyed, trembled for her.

“Now,” Paige growled. “Let go for me, baby.”

Azzi shattered, her entire body curling off the bed as she came hard, fingers moving frantically, Paige’s name a broken chant in her mouth.

Paige watched, biting back a groan as she reached her own edge. The sound of Azzi’s moans pushed her over, and she let herself feel it — a rush, a collapse, a wave of satisfaction knowing she’d done that with only her voice.

Her chest rose and fell as she steadied her breath.

Azzi was still panting, dazed, a slow smile tugging at her lips.

Paige licked her lips, voice soft now but still firm. “You’re mine, you know that?”

Azzi nodded, whispering, “Always.”

“Good. Because next time, you’re not touching yourself unless it’s my hand guiding yours.”

A sleepy laugh. “That a threat or a promise?”

Paige smirked. “Both.”

Azzi blinked at her through heavy lashes. “Come home.”

“I will,” Paige said, her tone softer now, reverent. “And when I do, I’m gonna ruin you in the best way.”

Azzi hummed, already drifting, her body spent. “Can’t wait.”

Paige watched her until her breathing evened out and her eyes closed, the hoodie still pushed up, the sheets messy, her name still lingering in the air like a vow.

Only then did Paige end the call — her smile slow, proud, and hungry for more.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 12

paige x azzi

a/n: This one was another emotional roller coaster, so sorry in advance. Contains some sexual content. Let me know your reactions and feedback and how many parts do we think this should be lol

word count: 10.4k

"Home for the Holidays (and Everything That Came With It)"

Even without snow, the city buzzed with a low hum of December—storefronts glowing, traffic lights blinking red and green, and the air holding a soft kind of anticipation. Their house smelled faintly of pine and gingerbread from the candle Azzi had insisted on lighting that morning. A box of half-wrapped presents sat open on the coffee table, scraps of festive paper curling at the corners. Christmas jazz hummed from the speaker in the background, and the heat kicked on just as Azzi sank onto the couch beside Paige.

But something in her didn’t settle.

She watched Paige scribble something on a gift tag—To Drew, from both of us—and swallowed hard.

Paige didn’t notice at first. Not until Azzi reached for the tape and missed it completely, fingers fumbling against the edge of the couch cushion like her mind had drifted somewhere far off.

“You good?” Paige asked, quiet, but not casual.

Azzi hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I mean—no. I don’t know.”

That was enough for Paige to turn fully toward her, pen forgotten.

“What’s going on?”

Azzi looked at her for a long moment, expression almost sheepish. “I just realized… I don’t know that much about your family.”

Paige blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re about to go spend the holidays with them, and I know their names, and you’ve told me little stories, but… I don’t really know them. Not the way you know mine.”

Paige softened immediately. “Az…”

“I feel kind of shitty about it,” Azzi admitted. “Like I’ve just been enjoying this version of you that lives here with me and works out with me and makes cinnamon toast on Sundays, but I haven’t asked enough about where you came from. And now we’re heading straight into all of that, and I just—what if I get it wrong?”

Paige reached for her hand, thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s on me.”

Azzi looked skeptical. “How?”

“Because I didn’t offer it up,” Paige said. Her voice was steady, but there was something quieter under it. “I’ve spent a long time keeping all of that… at arm’s length. The mess. The hard stuff.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed.

“My family’s not bad,” Paige continued. “Just complicated. My parents split when I was young. And they didn’t just split—they detonated. Like, courtrooms and custody battles and new marriages within a year kind of detonated.”

Azzi squeezed her hand, staying silent.

“I spent a lot of years trying to be the neutral party. The fixer. The one who kept the peace. I think I got good at pretending none of it hurt. So even now, it’s just… easier not to talk about it.”

Azzi’s heart ached. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Paige gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know. I’m trying. I really am. But don’t beat yourself up for not knowing something I haven’t let anyone close enough to find out.”

“I want to be close enough,” Azzi whispered.

“I know,” Paige said, and this time, she smiled for real. “And you are.”

They sat in the quiet hum of the holidays for a few moments longer, fingers laced, wrapping paper forgotten.

“Okay,” Azzi said finally. “So maybe over the next few days, you tell me a story or two. Anything you want. Good or bad. I’ll take it all.”

Paige nodded. “Deal.”

Then, softly, “And just so you know—you’re gonna be great. My family’s complicated, but you… you’re solid.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing.

“Okay then,” she said. “Let’s go do complicated.”

Paige leaned in, kissed her temple. “Together.”

—-

The rain had started that afternoon—gentle at first, just enough to gloss the windows of the house in a thin, shimmering layer. Now it was a soft backdrop to the evening, a rhythmic hush against the glass as Paige and Azzi sat on the couch, wrapped in the familiar comfort of shared silence.

Azzi’s head rested in Paige’s lap, long legs sprawled out over the cushions, while Paige absentmindedly played with a loose curl. The warmth between them was easy, familiar.

But tonight, something about the way Paige moved—just a little slower, a little more distant in her eyes—made Azzi pause.

“You good?” Azzi asked softly, fingers brushing Paige’s thigh.

Paige hesitated. Just long enough for Azzi to notice.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she admitted. “About… what you said earlier, how little you actually know about my family background.”

Azzi sat up gently, giving her space but staying close. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready for.”

Paige shook her head. “I want to. You deserve to know. I just… I’ve spent so much of my life trying to unlearn it, I think I forgot how to talk about it.”

Azzi waited.

Paige took a deep breath, then let it go slow.

“My mom is… a narcissist,” she said plainly, like it was a fact she’d rehearsed. “It took me a long time to say that out loud. But it’s true. Everything in our house was always about her—her mood, her approval, her disappointment. You learn to shrink around people like that. To contort yourself into what makes them comfortable.”

Azzi reached for her hand, holding it gently between hers.

“I remember once—” Paige’s voice caught, but she kept going. “I got into this big junior tournament. It was the first time a scout was going to come see me play. I was twelve. I was so proud. And all she could say was that I needed to ‘tone it down’ because I looked like I was showing off in the video they filmed. She said, ‘You’ll make people hate you if you’re too good.’ Like she couldn’t stand me being good at something unless it made her look good.”

Azzi didn’t speak, just rubbed her thumb across Paige’s knuckles.

“My dad wasn’t… cruel like her. Just… quiet. Detached. Like he never knew what to do when things got loud or painful. I used to think he didn’t care, but now I know he just didn’t know how to show up. He finally apologized to me, after I moved to LA. Said he was sorry for not being better, for not seeing me.”

Paige paused. “We’re closer now, I guess. But it still feels like something’s unfinished.”

Azzi’s eyes softened. “That’s why you’re so soft with me,” she whispered. “Why you listen so hard. Why you notice the little things.”

Paige nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Because I know what it feels like to grow up in a house where no one sees you clearly. I swore I’d never make someone I love feel that way.”

Azzi leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You don’t. I’ve never felt more seen.”

They sat there a long while—Azzi with her hand on Paige’s knee, Paige with her heart cracked just enough to let more light in.

“I’m still learning how to trust that what we have is real,” Paige admitted quietly. “Some days I catch myself waiting for it to go sideways. But then you do something small—like today, when you remembered my dumb iced coffee order without asking—and it reminds me: not everything has to be hard.”

Azzi smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Paige’s ear. “We’ll keep making it easy. Together.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall, soft and steady like a promise.

And inside, Paige felt—maybe for the first time—like she didn’t have to carry any of it alone.

Paige’s thumb traced idle circles on the hem of the throw blanket draped across her lap. The rain hadn’t let up, but it suited the moment—like the world outside knew it wasn’t meant to interrupt.

Azzi was still curled close, listening with the kind of presence that made Paige feel like every word she spoke landed somewhere safe.

“There was this night,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “I think I was around eleven. My mom and dad had this screaming match in the kitchen—about bills or him getting home late or something. I’d just come home from practice. I remember standing at the front door, frozen, golf bag still on my back.”

Azzi watched her closely, barely breathing.

“I didn’t go in,” Paige continued. “I sat on the porch for three hours. It was freezing, but I didn’t care. I kept thinking: If they can’t get it together, what chance do I have?”

Azzi’s heart ached.

“That night,” Paige said slowly, “I decided I’d never yell in a relationship. That I’d never slam a door. That I’d always make the people I love feel chosen. Not tolerated.”

She blinked hard, like something was clawing its way out from years of being buried.

“I started keeping a journal around then—filled it with all the ways I’d want to be loved one day. Dumb things, like: asks how my day was even if I don’t say anything first, or doesn’t make me beg for attention.”

Azzi reached out and gently laced their fingers together.

“I think I became so soft,” Paige whispered, “because I had to be my own safe place for so long. And now with you… I get to share it.”

Azzi leaned forward, kissing her hand. “You’re still that safe place. But now you don’t have to be it alone.”

There was a pause, one of those full silences.

“Did you ever tell anyone this before?” Azzi asked.

Paige shook her head. “I’ve hinted. KK probably knows more than she lets on. But no, not like this.”

“I’m honored,” Azzi said softly. “I mean that.”

Paige gave a half-smile. “I think part of me was afraid if I said it out loud, it would make it too real. Like I’d have to admit how much of me was shaped by things I never asked for.”

“You didn’t deserve any of it,” Azzi said. “But you still became someone good. That’s not a coincidence.”

Paige turned her head, blinking down at her. “You really think I’m good?”

Azzi’s voice didn’t waver. “I think you’re the best person I know.”

The words landed heavy and warm, the kind of weight that didn’t hurt—but held.

And Paige, who’d spent years quieting herself, felt something shift. Like a knot finally loosening in the center of her chest.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead to Azzi’s.

“I love you,” she said, not like a confession—but like a truth finally safe enough to rest in.

Azzi smiled. “I know. And I love you right back.”

Rain tapped softly on the windows. The blanket settled warmer around them. And Paige, in the quiet of their home, felt something new and unfamiliar.

Peace.

They were still tucked on the couch, Paige’s legs stretched over Azzi’s lap, the city outside their windows a blur of lights behind the rain.

Paige shifted slightly, her fingers picking at a loose thread in the throw pillow beside her. “There’s another one,” she said after a while. “A memory. It’s small, but it kind of… stuck with me.”

Azzi looked up from where she’d been trailing gentle circles on Paige’s shin. “Tell me.”

Paige drew in a breath, eyes going soft with distance. “I had this elementary school awards ceremony—third grade, I think. I was getting something for perfect attendance, or reading… whatever it was, I was proud. And I remember standing on that little stage, looking out into the crowd.”

She paused.

“My mom had forgotten. She was supposed to come, but she didn’t show. My dad picked up a shift. So when they called my name, I walked across that stage to this auditorium of strangers. No clapping from anyone I knew. No pictures.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. “Paige…”

“I didn’t cry or anything. I just smiled for the photo and kept it moving.” She gave a short laugh. “Later that night, I taped the award to the fridge myself.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt—just listened.

“I think… that’s the moment something in me changed. Like, if I ever got the chance to be in someone’s corner, I’d never let them wonder if I was proud. Or if I’d show up.”

Azzi was quiet for a long beat, her eyes holding Paige’s. “And you’ve kept that promise. For everyone. For me.”

“I try,” Paige said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I think it’s why I go so hard for the people I love. I just… remember how it felt when no one showed up. I’d rather overdo it than let someone feel that way.”

Azzi leaned forward and kissed her, slow and certain. “You never have to do that alone again.”

“I know,” Paige whispered against her lips. “But sometimes it still feels like I do. Like I have to earn the good things.”

Azzi touched her cheek gently. “Not with me. You don’t have to earn a damn thing with me.”

They sat in that moment—two hearts, unlearning old survival instincts together. Paige didn’t say anything right away. But her body softened, just a little. Her head dropped to Azzi’s shoulder, and her breath eased out like she was finally setting something down.

A part of her would probably always carry that little girl, standing on a stage with no one in the crowd.

But now… someone was in the crowd. Always. And she was sitting right beside her.

—-

It was late in the evening, the night before their flight, and the house glowed with a gentle kind of stillness. The Christmas tree lights blinked quietly in the corner—soft whites and golds casting a calm warmth across the living room. The suitcase lay open on the rug, half-zipped, surrounded by folded clothes, tangled chargers, and a few scattered gift bags.

Paige sat cross-legged on the floor, tucking a final sweater into the side pocket, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

Behind her, Azzi moved around the space with the easy comfort of someone at home—folding the throw blanket over the back of the couch, checking the thermostat, turning off lights in the kitchen. She returned with quiet footsteps and sat behind Paige, wrapping her arms gently around her waist and resting her chin on Paige’s shoulder.

“You’ve packed this bag like six times,” Azzi murmured with a small smile. “What are we forgetting?”

Paige laughed under her breath. “Nothing, probably. I’m just… I don’t know. Making sure it all feels right.”

She leaned into Azzi’s hold slightly, her hands stilling on the zipper. The weight of anticipation hung in the air, not heavy, but full.

“You sure you still want to do the split?” Paige asked softly, her voice brushing against the quiet. “Christmas with your family, New Year’s with mine?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “That’s what we decided, right?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, nodding slowly. “I just… It’s a lot. My family’s… a lot. I’ve never brought someone into all of it before. And not just for a visit—for a whole thing.”

Azzi shifted beside her, brushing a piece of hair behind Paige’s ear. “It’s not just your family anymore. It’s us, now. Our holidays.”

Paige blinked, her heart catching in her chest at the word our. She smiled faintly, voice quiet. “That sounds really good when you say it like that.”

“It is good,” Azzi said. “It’s what we’ve been building. You don’t have to brace yourself for it alone.”

Paige exhaled, the tension softening in her shoulders just a little. “It’s strange… how easy this has all felt. Us. This place. The rhythms we’ve fallen into. I keep waiting for the shoe to drop.”

Azzi kissed her shoulder. “I think maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Not easy because it’s perfect—but easy because it’s right.”

They were quiet for a beat, both absorbing the stillness before the whirlwind of travel and family noise and overlapping traditions.

Then Paige smiled, just a little. “Okay. Let’s do this. One more check: chargers, pajamas, your grandma’s gift, and… oh, the travel snacks.”

“I already packed them,” Azzi said proudly.

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.”

Paige leaned back into her, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m really glad it’s you.”

Azzi squeezed her waist gently. “It was always going to be me.”

The moment stretched—soft, warm, and real. The tree lights blinked quietly beside them, and outside, the city buzzed in preparation for the holiday rush. But in here, it was still. Steady. Chosen.

Tomorrow would bring airports and family hugs and all the chaos that came with showing someone the people and places that made you who you were.

But tonight… it was just them.

Home, in the truest sense of the word.

—-

Azzi’s family home smelled like cinnamon and butter the second they walked in—someone had clearly been baking for hours, and based on the tray of cookies already sitting on the entryway table, it was only just beginning.

“Backpacks off. Coats off. Mouths open,” Azzi’s aunt called from the kitchen without even turning around. “We’re taste testing batches today.”

Paige laughed, arms still halfway through her coat sleeves. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Azzi grinned. “Auntie Mel is in finals week mode. She’s not playing around.”

Within minutes, Paige had been pulled into the kitchen by two of Azzi’s cousins, offered a spatula covered in frosting, and then interrogated by Azzi’s uncle about how many layers she was packing for the family sledding tournament tomorrow.

“Layers save lives,” he declared solemnly, slapping a hand on her shoulder. “And don’t let Azzi fool you, she cheats. Waxes her sled.”

“I do not!” Azzi shouted from the living room, already helping untangle a string of lights while her grandma shouted commentary from her armchair.

Paige watched the chaos unfold with a soft kind of wonder. It was noisy. Messy. Beautiful. The kind of holiday energy you didn’t just feel—you waded through. And she had been welcomed in like she was already part of it all.

Azzi leaned against the wall beside her, elbow brushing Paige’s. “Overwhelmed yet?”

“A little,” Paige admitted, grinning. “But, like, in a good way. You were not kidding about Christmas being a sport in this house.”

Azzi smirked. “We don’t do casual.”

They spent the next several days tucked into the soft center of every family event imaginable. Cookie decorating turned into competitive snowman-building. They went ice skating and Paige somehow ended up racing Azzi’s younger cousins (and lost). Azzi’s grandma insisted on teaching Paige how to make traditional family recipes—while loudly declaring Paige was “too pretty to not know how to roll dough right.”

At night, Paige and Azzi curled up on the guest bed under a ridiculous holiday quilt, whispering and giggling like kids at a sleepover.

“I haven’t laughed this much in ages,” Paige whispered one night as they lay tangled together, the sound of wind and distant carolers leaking in from the frosty windows.

Azzi smiled sleepily. “They love you, you know.”

“I love them too,” Paige said, voice low. “And I love you.”

Azzi looked over at her, brushing her nose against Paige’s. “Merry almost-Christmas, P.”

“Merry almost-Christmas, Baby” Paige whispered back, heart full in a way she hadn’t even known she needed.

The next morning the house smelled like vanilla and something buttery in the oven. Holiday jazz played low from a speaker in the corner, barely audible over the flurry of voices and laughter filling every room. The fireplace cracked and popped beneath stockings too full to hang properly, and outside, snow blanketed the porch steps, undisturbed but glittering under the pale morning sun.

Paige stood tucked beside Azzi in the living room, mug of hot cocoa in her hands, watching as Azzi’s little cousins tore into wrapping paper like it was a sport. One of them held up a gift and shouted across the room, “Azzi, look what I got!” before immediately turning to Paige with just as much excitement: “Did you see?!”

Paige smiled, lifting her mug in salute. “Elite gift. You crushed it.”

Across the couch, Azzi’s uncle had fallen asleep halfway through his second cinnamon roll, and her aunt was bustling in and out with trays of food and plates of cookies she kept insisting people “just try one more of.” Wrapping paper littered the rug, and Paige had a fuzzy red bow stuck to the hem of her sweater that Azzi kept pretending not to see.

Azzi’s mom handed Paige a neatly wrapped box with a knowing smile. “For you, sweetie. From all of us.”

Paige blinked. “Wait—me?”

“Of course,” Azzi’s mom said, sliding an arm around her. “You’re family now, aren’t you?”

Paige’s heart skipped. The box felt heavier than it was—sentiment wrapped in ribbon.

Azzi leaned in and kissed the top of Paige’s shoulder. “Open it.”

Inside was a quilt—soft, oversized, clearly handmade. Sewn into the corner was a patch embroidered with a golf ball and a tiny heart. Paige ran her fingers over it like it might disappear if she looked away too long.

“Azzi told us you get cold all the time,” her aunt chimed in from the armchair. “And figured you might want something to keep at your place… or ours.”

It was said so casually. Yours… or ours. Like both belonged to her now.

Paige swallowed against the tightness in her throat, unsure how to respond without crying. “This is… beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re stuck with us now,” Azzi’s brother called from the corner with a wink.

Azzi pulled her close and whispered, “Told you they’d love you.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just leaned into Azzi’s side, tucked under her arm, and let herself be held by a family that made space for her—not just as Azzi’s girlfriend, but as someone who belonged.

Later that night, once the little ones were tucked in Paige caught Azzi in the hallway and whispered, “You still wanna do our gifts just us, right?”

Azzi nodded, a smile tucked behind tired eyes. “Just us.”

The fireplace was low and flickering, casting a golden hue over the living room. Azzi sat cross-legged in front of the tree, still wearing the oversized hoodie Paige had loaned her earlier that morning—her curls up in a messy bun, a little tinsel caught in one strand from helping the younger cousins redecorate after they’d knocked half the ornaments off during a game of tag.

Paige walked in carrying two neatly wrapped boxes and two glasses of red wine. She handed one to Azzi with a wink.

“This is the adult Christmas. Just us.”

Azzi smiled, her free hand brushing against Paige’s as she took the glass. “Finally. I love you, but if I had to watch one more Elf re-run with a six-year-old on my neck—”

Paige chuckled. “You love it.”

Azzi tilted her head. “I love you, being here for it. That’s different.”

Paige set their gifts on the rug between them and sat down, cross-legged, mirroring Azzi.

“Okay,” Paige said, suddenly a little shy. “Which one of us is going first?”

Azzi reached forward and nudged the smaller box toward Paige. “You.”

Paige gave her a look. “You sure?”

Azzi nodded. “I need to see your face when you open it.”

Paige peeled back the paper slowly—deliberately—revealing a black leather photo album with their initials embossed on the cover. Inside were printed photos from the past several months: candids from Azzi’s family lake house, a blurry one from the WNBA homecoming game, tournament selfies, Paige in a golf cart mid-laugh, Azzi icing her knee with a dramatic pout.

And on the final page—a picture of the two of them, curled up on the couch from just a week ago, captioned in Azzi’s handwriting:

“My favorite place to be is wherever you are.”

Paige didn’t say anything for a long moment—just flipped back to the beginning and stared, her fingertips brushing across each image like they were sacred.

When she finally looked up, her voice was thick. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this.”

Azzi shrugged, trying not to get emotional herself. “I just… I wanted us to have something to remember it all. Our first everything. In case one day we forget what the beginning looked like.”

Paige leaned forward and kissed her softly. “I’ll never forget.”

Azzi whispered, “Me either.”

Paige cleared her throat and reached behind her for her own box. “Okay. Your turn.”

Azzi tore the paper with far less grace—grinning as she opened the box to find… another, smaller box inside.

She shot Paige a look. “If this is a prank—”

“It’s not,” Paige promised.

Azzi opened the smaller box and gasped.

Inside was a custom silver pendant necklace—simple, delicate. On the front: the coordinates of where they’d met for the first time at the celebrity golf tournament. On the back, etched so small she had to hold it up to the light to read it:

“The moment I found you.”

Azzi stared at it, completely still.

Paige’s voice was soft. “I wanted to mark the exact place everything changed for me. Because the truth is, Az… I didn’t know what real love was supposed to feel like until I looked at you across that damn green and thought, I hope she talks to me.”

Azzi pressed the pendant to her lips. Her eyes were shimmering now, but she didn’t cry. Not yet.

“You said I gave you a place to belong,” she said quietly. “But you gave me a future I actually want to run toward.”

Paige reached for her hand. “So… this is our beginning. And I hope every Christmas after this one, we get to look back and say, that’s where it all really started.”

Azzi nodded, leaning in.

And this kiss wasn’t about heat, or need, or playfulness.

It was reverent. Soft. The kind of kiss that said: I’ll remember this. All of it. Always.

And when they pulled apart, Azzi looped the necklace around her neck and whispered,

“Now I get to carry you with me, everywhere.”

—-

The drive after landing in Minnesota to her mom’s house was quiet—not tense, just filled with the kind of silence that said this matters. Azzi reached over more than once, squeezing Paige’s thigh, brushing her pinky against Paige’s hand on the gearshift, all quiet reassurances that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

But as they pulled into the familiar driveway, Paige’s stomach twisted like it had when she was seventeen and about to ask for permission to move out.

Azzi noticed. Of course she did.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

Paige stared at the front door. “Yeah. Just… nerves. It’s been a while since I was here.”

“You don’t have to do this for anyone else.”

“I know,” Paige said. “But I want to do it for me.”

She stepped out of the car with resolve, Azzi close behind. As they reached the door, Paige took a breath and raised her hand to knock.

Her mother opened it a beat later, all lip-gloss smiles and over-rehearsed warmth.

“Paige! Finally,” she said, her voice sugary. Her eyes flicked to Azzi. “And you must be Azzi—how lovely to meet you.”

Azzi smiled and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Jones.”

“Oh please, call me Amy,” her mother said, her voice a little too bright. “Come in, come in.”

Paige could feel the shift immediately—the performance, the pleasantries, the way her mom’s eyes skimmed over the subtle closeness between her and Azzi like she was pretending not to see it.

But then her little sister, Lauren, darted out from the hallway, practically launching into Paige’s arms.

“Paaaiiige!” she squealed. “You’re finally here!”

Paige crouched to hug her tight, heart already softening.

“I missed you so much, bug.”

Her younger brother, Ryan, followed with more reserved energy but just as much joy. “Hey, Azzi,” he said, surprising her. “I watched your last game before the injury. You’re a beast.”

Azzi laughed, genuinely. “Thanks, man. I’ve been trying to heal up fast.”

The evening settled into a soft rhythm. Dinner was calm. Lauren wouldn’t leave Azzi’s side, showing her drawings and asking about basketball. Ryan asked Paige about golf. For a moment, it all felt… okay.

Then came the party.

Amy’s holiday parties weren’t warm. They were curated. Everything from the wine selection to the jazz playing quietly through the sound system felt like it had been chosen to impress, not embrace. The guest list was a collection of polished people with perfect shoes and polite smiles—coworkers, clients, acquaintances who referred to each other by full names and job titles.

Paige had been to enough of these as a teenager to know how to survive them: smile tight, speak little, and don’t get in Amy’s way. But tonight, she wasn’t alone.

Azzi stood beside her in a cream sweater, her curls swept back, her presence effortlessly grounded in a room full of artifice. Paige hadn’t let go of her hand once—not out of nerves, but because holding it reminded her she didn’t have to shrink herself here anymore. Not tonight.

But then it happened.

They were near the mantel, Paige introducing Azzi to a vaguely familiar finance guy and his wife, when a woman in a sharp red coat turned to Amy with a warm smile and said, “Isn’t it lovely having your daughter home for the holidays?”

Amy smiled—glossy, polished. Too practiced.

“Oh yes,” she said smoothly, setting down her glass of prosecco. “Paige brought her friend Azzi—she’s an athlete too.”

Friend.

The word detonated in Paige’s chest like a slow-burning fuse.

She didn’t react at first—just blinked, like maybe she heard it wrong. But the look on Azzi’s face told her she hadn’t. Her jaw had gone tight, shoulders pulling in slightly. It was the kind of tension Paige had seen on her just before big games—when something unfair had happened and Azzi had to choose whether to react or rise above.

Paige stepped forward.

“Actually,” she said, steady but pointed, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

The conversation around them didn’t stop, but it might as well have.

“We’ve been together almost a year now,” Paige added, her voice ringing just loud enough.

The woman in red blinked, surprised but polite. “Oh! That’s lovely.”

Amy didn’t speak. But her smile faltered, her fingers tightening slightly around the stem of her glass. Her expression was unreadable, but Paige recognized the flicker behind her eyes: disapproval dressed up in restraint.

As the woman moved on to greet someone else, Amy turned toward Paige with a practiced smile stretched too thin.

“Could you not make a scene?” she hissed, voice low but biting. “This isn’t the time.”

Paige stared at her. “You mean it’s not the time to acknowledge who I love?”

Amy’s mouth flattened. “I didn’t want to have to explain your situation to every guest—”

“My situation?” Paige’s voice cut through, sharp now. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

Amy glanced around, eyes scanning the room like she was afraid someone might be watching.

“This is my home,” she said, voice tight.

“And this is my life,” Paige snapped. “Azzi is not a phase or a detail you get to rewrite. You don’t get to parade me around like some polished success story and then strip away the parts that don’t fit your image.”

Amy’s jaw clenched. “Paige—please don’t make this difficult.”

“I’m not,” Paige said, voice trembling with restraint. “You are. And you don’t have to like every part of who I am, but you will respect the person I love.”

A beat passed.

Then Azzi appeared, her presence grounding the tension instantly. She placed a gentle hand at the small of Paige’s back, looking between them.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, already knowing it wasn’t.

Amy opened her mouth, but Paige was faster. “We were just clarifying something,” she said, turning toward Azzi. “That my life—and the person I choose—isn’t up for debate.”

Amy didn’t reply. Her silence—so often a tool of power—felt like an admission this time.

Paige turned to Azzi, nodding toward the back of the house. “Let’s go sit with Lauren and Ryan.”

Azzi nodded, slipping her hand into Paige’s as they walked away. Her touch was steady. Unwavering.

Later that night, in the quiet of the guest room with only the soft hum of wind outside the window, Paige lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Azzi was curled into her side, warm and quiet.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then Azzi said, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Paige swallowed. “Neither did you.”

Azzi shifted, brushing her thumb over Paige’s hand. “You don’t always have to shield me, you know.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “But when she tries to make me smaller… it’s you that reminds me I don’t have to be.”

Azzi kissed her temple. “I’ve got you. All of you.”

And this time, Paige didn’t argue. She just held on tighter.

Because maybe this wasn’t the home that held her best—but wrapped in Azzi’s arms, she had never felt more claimed. More chosen.

More seen.

The following morning sun spilled through gauzy curtains, but there was no warmth in the kitchen.

Paige sat stiffly at the breakfast bar, stirring her coffee long after the cream had settled. Azzi stood nearby, leaning silently against the counter, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, watching Paige like she might shatter.

Across from them, Amy moved around the kitchen with a kind of deliberate efficiency, pulling plates from the cabinets, buttering toast, as if nothing had happened the night before.

As if she hadn’t called her daughter’s relationship a situation.

As if her silence hadn’t said everything.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Amy finally said, breaking the quiet.

Paige set her mug down with a soft clink. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“Well, good,” Amy said too quickly. “Because I think it’s unfair of you to expect me to change who I am just to accommodate—”

“To accommodate the fact that I’m in love with someone?” Paige cut in, voice low but firm.

Amy didn’t meet her eyes. “To accommodate the way you push everything into the spotlight.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“You introduced my girlfriend as my friend,” Paige said, not angrily—but with a cool, sad finality. “You erased her in a room full of people who claim to know me. And you’ve been doing it for years in your own quiet way.”

Amy turned, arms folded. “This is my house.”

“Exactly,” Paige said. “It’s your house. It’s never been mine.”

Azzi flinched, just barely, at the quiet devastation in her voice.

Paige stood up, hands steady now.

“We’ll leave after breakfast,” she said, not as a threat—but a boundary drawn in permanent marker. “You don’t want us here. That’s clear. So we won’t stay where we’re not welcome.”

Just then, Lauren peeked around the corner, rubbing her eyes, Ryan trailing behind.

Paige’s heart cracked on sight.

She crouched low as they came into the room, gathering both into a hug, her voice soft but weighted.

“Hey. We’re gonna leave after breakfast, okay? But it’s not because of you.”

“But we just started hanging out,” Lauren pouted, burying her face into Paige’s hoodie.

“I know,” Paige said, brushing a curl from her sister’s cheek. “But we’ll see each other again later today, just… not here.”

Ryan frowned. “Is Mom mad?”

Paige hesitated. “Sometimes grown-ups don’t agree on things. But that has nothing to do with how much I love you both, okay? And I want you to always feel safe asking questions. Even the hard ones.”

Lauren nodded slowly.

Ryan looked at Azzi. “Can you still come, too?”

Azzi smiled gently. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Paige kissed both their foreheads and stood, turning toward her mom one last time.

“I hope one day you realize what you’re pushing away,” she said.

Amy said nothing.

But Paige didn’t need her to anymore.

She had made her choice.

And when they left that house—hand in hand—Paige didn’t look back.

Because some places weren’t home.

But people could be.

And Azzi was the only home she needed.

The tires hummed softly against the road as the car moved through winding backstreets, no real destination in mind. Just space. Just air.

The sky was heavy with gray-blue dusk, that in-between light where streetlamps flicker to life but the sun hasn’t fully let go. Paige had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh. Azzi’s fingers reached across the console, curled around hers like an anchor.

They hadn’t said much since pulling away from her mom’s house. The kind of silence that wasn’t cold—just full.

Finally, Paige exhaled. “That sucked.”

Azzi turned to look at her. “Yeah. It did.”

“I knew it was gonna be tense, but… I didn’t expect it to hit me like that,” Paige admitted. Her voice was calm, but threaded with something brittle. “It’s not even what she said. It’s what she didn’t say. What she’s always not said.”

Azzi nodded, thumb brushing small circles against Paige’s knuckles. “You held your ground.”

Paige gave a soft, wry smile. “You think?”

“I know.” Azzi shifted slightly in her seat, eyes locked on Paige. “You didn’t shrink yourself for her comfort. You called it out. You made space for the truth. That’s brave as hell.”

Paige let that sit for a moment. Then she laughed under her breath, short and a little tired. “You know what’s wild? I’m actually… proud of myself.”

Azzi’s eyes softened instantly. “Good. You should be.”

She blinked out at the windshield, the faint glow of oncoming headlights sliding across her face. “But it still hurts. Even when you expect it. Even when you’ve built a whole life that has nothing to do with their approval… it still stings.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Of course it does. You deserved better. You deserve better.”

Paige’s jaw tensed, then released. “It’s like… no matter how much success I have, how much love I have in my life now—it’s still not enough for her to see me fully.”

Azzi was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “I see you fully.”

That cracked something open. Not in a painful way—but in the way warmth seeps into frozen places.

Paige looked over, eyes glassy but steady. “Thank you for being there.”

Azzi leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Always.”

They kept driving, slow and aimless, letting the quiet fill back in. Letting the pain ease its grip.

The night was still ahead of them. And despite everything, Paige felt lighter.

Maybe not whole.

But closer.

—-

The neon glow of the arcade blinked in bright blues and reds across Paige’s face as she watched her younger brother lose his mind over the claw machine. Azzi stood a few feet away with Paige’s sister, both of them laughing as they tried—and failed—to beat each other at ski ball.

It was noisy and chaotic and smelled like pizza grease and sour candy. But for once, none of it felt overwhelming. It felt right.

Paige leaned back against the side of the game cabinet, sipping her slushie and watching her siblings light up in a way she hadn’t seen in too long.

“Okay, okay—watch this one,” her brother said, intensely focused, maneuvering the joystick like it held the fate of the world.

“You’ve said that the last three times,” Paige teased.

“Yeah, but this time, I’m actually locked in.”

Azzi walked over with a smug smile. “He’s been locked in for twenty minutes. I’m pretty sure the machine’s just bullying him at this point.”

“I heard that!” he yelled, and they all laughed.

Later, after the games had been played and prize tickets cashed in for candy and slap bracelets and a single bouncy ball that cost 700 points, they all piled into the booth of a nearby ice cream spot—one of those ones with metal chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus.

Paige let her little sister steal some of her whipped cream. Azzi shared her cone with her brother because he needed to try the cotton candy flavor. They were loud and ridiculous and somehow a little family in their own right.

And for a moment, Paige forgot about the tension from the morning. Forgot about the look on her mom’s face when she corrected her. Forgot about all the years she spent trying to earn a kind of love that never came.

Because this—this right here—was love. Uncomplicated, goofy, sticky-fingered love.

“Thanks for today,” her sister said softly, swinging her legs under the table. “It’s been a while since it felt like this.”

Paige blinked, her chest pulling a little. “Like what?”

Her sister shrugged. “Like… you’re really here. Like everything’s okay.”

Paige reached out and gently tugged one of her curls. “I am really here.”

Her brother, mouth full of marshmallow topping, looked up. “You’re gonna come back more, right?”

Azzi stepped in without hesitation. “We both are.”

Paige glanced at her—at the way she didn’t flinch, didn’t wait to be asked. She just showed up. It made her heart do that fluttery, shaky thing it always did when Azzi said we like that.

“Yeah,” Paige echoed, voice softer. “We both are.”

Outside, the sky was streaked with stars. The kind you could barely see through the city’s glow, but they were there. Quiet. Constant.

And Paige, for the first time in a long time, felt like maybe—just maybe—she was starting to feel that way too.

—-

The hotel room was simple—two queen beds, warm lighting, and the faint scent of lemon cleaner still lingering in the air. Paige had kicked off her sneakers the second they got in and collapsed backward onto the bed with a long exhale, her arm draped over her eyes.

Azzi watched her for a moment from across the room, slipping out of her own shoes more slowly. There was something in the way Paige was lying there—not exhausted exactly, but unloaded. Like everything she’d been holding in had finally spilled out, and now there was nothing left but the ache of vulnerability.

Azzi padded over and crawled onto the bed beside her, laying on her side. Paige didn’t move at first, just kept her arm over her face like she wasn’t ready to be seen.

But Azzi reached up and gently pulled it away.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Paige blinked at the ceiling, her mouth twitching. “Hey.”

Azzi studied her face for a moment, then said, “You okay?”

Paige let out a breath through her nose. “I think so. That was just… a lot. I didn’t think seeing them would hit me like that.”

“You were amazing with them,” Azzi said. “The way they lit up around you? You’re their whole world.”

Paige looked over at her, eyes a little glassy. “Sometimes I feel like… I’m trying to stitch together a version of home that never really existed for me.”

Azzi’s chest pulled. She reached out and took Paige’s hand. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s just scary,” Paige admitted. “Letting you see all this. Letting you into all this.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Paige… I’ve been in it. I know it’s messy. I know there are parts of you that still don’t believe you’re allowed to want the kind of love you give everyone else.”

Paige went quiet, her eyes searching Azzi’s like she wasn’t sure what to say.

Azzi leaned closer, her voice low but sure. “But I want you to know—I’m not scared off by any of it. Not your past. Not your mom. Not the years you spent learning how to take care of yourself because no one else did it right.”

She brushed a hand through Paige’s hair, her touch slow and grounding. “You’ve built this life with so much intention. With so much softness, despite everything that tried to harden you.”

A pause.

“I’m falling more in love with you because of it,” Azzi said, her voice catching just slightly. “Not in spite of it. Not around it. Because of it.”

Paige’s eyes welled, but she didn’t look away this time.

Azzi smiled gently. “You’ve been showing up for everyone your whole life. Let me show up for you, okay? Let me keep showing up.”

Paige’s lip trembled, and she nodded once before pulling Azzi into her arms, burying her face in her neck. The hug wasn’t frantic or urgent—it was slow and certain, a deep breath in human form.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For not flinching.”

Azzi kissed her temple. “Never.”

The hotel room was quiet, all the sharpness of the day dulled into a hush. The low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional swoosh of a passing car outside were the only sounds left in the world.

Paige lay on her side, one arm draped across Azzi’s waist, her cheek resting against her shoulder. Their bodies had long since learned each other. They’d touched, gasped, loved in every way before—but something about this moment felt different. Not new. Just… clearer.

Azzi’s fingers idly traced the curve of Paige’s back, slipping beneath the hem of her t-shirt to feel the warm skin there. She wasn’t coaxing anything. Just… there. Present. Intentional.

Eventually, Paige looked up, her eyes soft and steady.

“You okay?” Azzi murmured.

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Just… it feels like I’m finally breathing right.”

Azzi smiled, brushing a thumb across Paige’s cheek. “You are.”

There was a pause, not heavy—just thoughtful.

Then Paige’s gaze shifted, deepened.

“I want to love you tonight,” she said, her voice low but sure. “Not like a release. Not like a distraction. Just… you.”

Azzi didn’t need time to think. She simply nodded, pulling Paige closer until their foreheads touched. “Then love me. We know how.”

They moved together like muscle memory—but slower, more deliberate than before. Clothes were eased off, not in haste but reverence. There was nothing rushed in how Paige kissed down Azzi’s stomach, nothing performative in the way Azzi’s hands slid up her back. They’d done this before. But never like this.

Every kiss was quieter. Every breath was met with one in return. They weren’t chasing anything. They were meeting each other—touch for touch, heart for heart.

Paige laid herself fully over Azzi, fitting into her like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there. Her hand slid down Azzi’s thigh as her lips pressed to her neck, and Azzi tilted her head without thinking, offering the vulnerable space beneath her jaw like a secret.

“God, you feel like home,” Paige whispered, her breath warm against skin. “Like something I didn’t know I could have.”

Azzi pulled her tighter. “You do have it. You have me.”

And Paige showed her just how deeply she believed that.

She moved inside her with a kind of reverence that made Azzi tremble—slow, grounded thrusts that made her body arch and sigh, made her eyes flutter shut and then open again, needing to see Paige.

Their rhythm wasn’t new. But it had never felt this intentional.

Azzi clutched at Paige’s back, her legs tightening around her waist. “You love me different tonight,” she whispered.

Paige pressed their foreheads together. “I love you truer tonight.”

Their mouths met again, messier now—breathless and aching as Azzi’s moans grew quieter, tighter, hips beginning to shake with the buildup she couldn’t hold back.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, “don’t stop—just like that—”

“I’m right here,” Paige murmured, voice hoarse. “I’ve got you. Come for me.”

And Azzi did.

Not with the same wild abandon they sometimes had—but with something quieter. More consuming. Her entire body tensed, then unfurled, her head falling back with a sound she only ever made when she felt safe.

Paige stayed with her through it, kissing her throat, her cheek, her temple—holding her like she was more than a body. Because she was.

When Azzi finally caught her breath, she cradled Paige’s face in her hands and pulled her into a kiss that said everything she didn’t have words for.

And Paige gave it all back.

Not because they hadn’t before—but because tonight, every touch said: I still choose you. I will keep choosing you. I want to grow this thing with you—on purpose.

Later, when the sweat had dried and the room dipped back into stillness, Paige stayed wrapped around her, face tucked into the curve of Azzi’s neck.

She waited until Azzi’s breathing slowed, until her body softened in sleep.

And then, when she thought no one could hear her:

“I’m so, so in love with you,” she whispered. “But someday… I’m gonna marry you. And somehow, someway… I’ll fall even more in love with you than I am now.”

Azzi didn’t stir.

Just breathed slow. Easy.

But when Paige finally slipped into sleep, Azzi shifted—gently curling tighter around her, fitting them together like something practiced and permanent.

She pressed a kiss to Paige’s bare shoulder and whispered into the dark:

“I hope that someday comes soon.”

A promise, not a wish.

And though Paige didn’t respond, a sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

Because maybe, deep down, she heard her after all.

The morning light filtered in slow, pale and golden, pooling across the rumpled hotel sheets and the tangle of limbs between them. Paige stirred first, blinking up at the ceiling like she needed a second to remember where she was.

Then she felt Azzi’s hand resting over her stomach. Their legs were still knotted together, bodies tucked into each other like they’d never moved from where they’d fallen asleep.

And maybe they hadn’t.

Paige turned her head slowly. Azzi was still asleep—or at least, pretending to be, her breath even, her lashes soft against her cheeks. Paige watched her for a long moment, her chest filling with something deep and quiet and certain.

She didn’t say anything this time.

Just leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Azzi smiled, eyes still closed. “Was that a good morning kiss or a you-talk-in-your-sleep-and-I-heard-every-word kiss?”

Paige flushed immediately. “You were awake?”

Azzi opened one eye, grinning. “I might’ve been.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “I’m never talking to you again.”

Azzi just laughed, pulling her closer. “You really want to marry me, huh?”

Paige peeked up at her with an embarrassed smile. “I said someday.”

Azzi kissed her cheek. “Well, I hope someday packs light, because we’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

They got dressed slowly, moving around each other with soft smiles and the kind of ease that only came after nights like that—after honesty like that. Paige packed her bag with a little more care than she had when they’d left her mom’s. Azzi triple-checked the directions.

By the time they were on the road, sun climbing higher in the sky, there was music playing low and Paige’s hand resting on Azzi’s thigh as they drove.

She stared out the window for a while, watching the hills roll by. Then, quietly: “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him. We’ve talked more lately, but… I still don’t know what to expect.”

Azzi reached over and laced their fingers together. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

Paige looked over at her, heart squeezing. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “I’ve got you. Even if it’s awkward. Even if it’s weird. Even if it’s tense dad hugs and sad store-bought cookies weird. We’re good.”

Paige laughed softly. “You’re the best.”

“Tell me that after we survive your childhood bedroom.”

Paige groaned. “God, I bet the walls are still lime green.”

Azzi’s grin widened. “Even better.”

They drove on, the weight of yesterday easing into the open space ahead of them. The air between them was calm now—not because everything was perfect, but because they were moving through it all together.

And whatever was waiting at her dad’s house?

Paige wasn’t facing it alone.

—-

Paige didn’t realize how much tension she was still carrying until it started to melt away the second the front door opened.

“Look who it is,” her dad said with a big grin, pulling Paige into a firm, familiar hug. He smelled like sawdust and peppermint gum—somehow exactly the same and totally different from when she was a kid. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glassy, but his voice stayed steady. “It’s really good to see you, kid.”

“You too,” Paige said, letting herself lean into the warmth of it.

“And this must be Azzi,” he added, turning toward her with the kind of welcome that didn’t feel forced or performative. He offered a hand but then pulled her into a hug before she could even shake it. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Hope you’re ready for chaos.”

Azzi laughed, visibly relieved by the shift in energy. “I was born ready.”

Just then, a blur came flying down the hallway. “PAIGE!”

Her little brother Drew—eleven years old and shooting up like a weed—barreled into her with an enthusiastic hug that nearly knocked her backward.

“Drew, dude,” Paige said, crouching to hug him properly. “You got tall since I saw you last.”

“I got fast too,” he said proudly, grinning wide before turning to Azzi. “You’re Azzi, right? You play basketball. I watched your highlight reel on YouTube.”

Azzi crouched to his level with a smile. “You did, huh? What was your favorite play?”

“The one where you blocked that girl so hard she fell down,” he said with complete seriousness.

“That’s a classic,” she said, winking.

From the kitchen, her step-mom called out, “We’ve got hot cocoa and cinnamon rolls if anyone’s hungry!”

The whole house smelled like cinnamon and comfort. The walls were lined with photos—some old, some new—including a framed one of Paige and Drew at his last school event. Paige didn’t even know that one existed. It sat right next to a holiday card Paige had sent with Azzi earlier in the month.

No performance. No rewriting of history. Just inclusion.

They migrated into the living room, where Paige’s dad handed her a mug with her name on it—clearly homemade by Drew, the letters a little uneven but full of love. The fire crackled in the background, a board game already half set up on the coffee table.

Everything about the space felt… easy.

“So,” Paige’s step-mom said, settling into the armchair with her own cocoa. “We were thinking gingerbread houses tonight, then movie night. Drew insists on Home Alone 2.”

“Because it’s the better one,” Drew added, offended anyone would even question it.

Azzi laughed and pointed at him. “You get it.”

Paige sat back on the couch, her thigh brushing Azzi’s, cocoa warming her hands and heart. She watched her dad joke with Azzi about the chaos of raising a middle-schooler, watched Drew already asking if she could come to one of his games, watched Paige’s step-mom quietly bring over a blanket and drape it over their laps.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was something better: intentional.

When she caught her dad watching her with that same look—regret, maybe, but also effort—he just nodded at her.

We’re trying, it said.

Paige nodded back.

And for the first time in days, the tightness in her chest released.

She reached over and laced her fingers through Azzi’s under the blanket, giving it a squeeze.

Azzi leaned into her and whispered, “This is good.”

Paige smiled. “Yeah. It really is.”

And just like that, they settled into the evening—with laughter, sugary snacks, and the kind of comfort Paige hadn’t realized she missed until it was right in front of her again.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s passed like a gentle snow globe shake—slow, sparkly, filled with little moments that shimmered when you looked close enough.

Azzi fell into rhythm with Paige’s family easily. Not in any grand or performative way, but in the small, sacred things.

One morning, she helped Drew put together a Lego set at the kitchen table, the two of them bent over the instructions like co-pilots on a mission. Paige’s dad watched from the counter, smiling into his coffee like he was seeing something he hadn’t known he’d been waiting for.

Later that afternoon, Azzi stood shoulder to shoulder with Paige’s step-mom as they organized old photo albums in the living room. At one point, Paige’s step-mom flipped to a younger version of Paige—missing her two front teeth, eyes wild with a pre-teen confidence. Azzi traced a finger along the photo.

“She always that fearless?” she asked, half teasing.

Paige’s step-mom smiled. “Even when she wasn’t… she tried to be.”

Paige had walked in just then, caught the look exchanged between them, and shook her head. “Don’t let them start on storytime. I’ll never recover.”

But she smiled anyway, tucked herself under Azzi’s arm, and didn’t let go.

There was a safety in this home that didn’t require apology. Paige still had moments—quiet ones, when she caught herself waiting for the other shoe to drop—but Azzi was always right there. Steady. Present. Not trying to fix anything, just… loving her through it.

New Year’s Eve came cold and clear, the sky painted with navy and stars as they bundled up and made their way to the center of the small town. It was the annual tradition—bonfires in the town square, booths with hot cider and kettle corn, a countdown projected on the side of the old town hall.

It was quaint and a little chaotic. Families mingled, teenagers threw snowballs, and someone’s aunt was already dancing like it was midnight at 9:30 p.m. sharp.

Paige stood near the firepit with Azzi, their hands tucked into one shared pocket, cheeks pink from the cold and cider.

“I feel like I’m in a Hallmark movie,” Azzi said, glancing around with a crooked grin.

Paige laughed. “I know. I keep waiting for someone to challenge me to a snowman contest and teach me the true meaning of Christmas.”

Azzi bumped her hip. “You’d lose.”

“Debatable.”

Drew ran by with a sparkler, and Paige’s step-mom handed them both hot cocoa, whispering something about claiming the perfect spot for the countdown.

Paige looked around the square—the old stone clock tower, the string lights flickering between lampposts, her family standing just a few steps away. It didn’t feel performative like her mom’s. It felt… earned. Real. Like maybe this was a new memory she wouldn’t have to flinch from someday.

Azzi saw it in her face and leaned in closer. “You good?”

Paige nodded slowly. “Better than good.”

When the countdown finally started—10… 9… 8…—they found themselves pulled closer by instinct.

At midnight, surrounded by cheers and sparklers and soft laughter echoing down snowy streets, Paige kissed Azzi.

It wasn’t their first kiss.

But it felt like the first where Paige let herself really feel it—deep and slow and full of every promise they hadn’t said out loud yet and the promises they had said.

When they pulled back, foreheads resting together, Paige whispered, “Thank you for being all in with me.”

Azzi smiled, her breath warm against Paige’s lips. “I couldn’t be anything else.”

They stayed there, tangled in each other while the sky exploded above them—fireworks lighting up the town, the start of a new year unfolding with quiet certainty.

And for the first time in her life, Paige believed this kind of love could be hers. The kind you didn’t have to perform for. The kind you just chose, again and again.

Even when it was messy.

Even when it was hard.

Especially when it was this good.

—-

The morning they were set to fly home was crisp and quiet, the kind of stillness that made goodbyes feel heavier in the air.

The car was packed—suitcases in the trunk, travel pillows tossed into the backseat. Paige lingered by the front steps of her dad’s house, Azzi standing close beside her, both of them bundled up for one last Midwest chill.

Drew was the first to break the silence, launching himself into Paige’s arms with that reckless kind of kid hug that always made her heart squeeze.

“You better FaceTime me the next time you hit a hole-in-one,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

Paige laughed softly, brushing his curls back. “Deal. But only if you promise to send me your next three-pointer, too.”

“You got it.”

When she finally let go, her stepmom, pulled her into a gentler hug—one filled with the kind of understanding Paige never knew how much she needed until recently.

“You’re welcome here anytime,” she whispered. “And that includes both of you.”

Azzi smiled, stepping forward to hug her too, murmuring her own thanks and promises to keep in touch. It wasn’t loud or emotional—it was simple, grounded, real.

And then came her dad.

He didn’t say much at first. Just pulled Paige in, held her for a long time, and when he stepped back, he placed both hands on her shoulders like he was trying to memorize her face.

“You’ve got something really good,” he said, nodding toward Azzi. “And I can see she’s got something good in you, too.”

Paige swallowed hard. “Thanks, Dad.”

“We’ll come visit soon,” he added. “You two show us the LA version of family holidays next time.”

“We’d love that,” Azzi said, looping her arm through Paige’s.

As they climbed into the car and waved one last time from the driveway, Paige felt a quiet ache settle in her chest—not the heavy, complicated kind she’d carried leaving her mom’s house, but something bittersweet. Something soft.

Because this goodbye didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the start of something new.

They drove toward the airport with fingers laced between them on the center console, the landscape rolling by in shades of winter brown and gold.

“You okay?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige nodded, eyes on the horizon. “Yeah. Actually… I think I am.”

“You sure we’re ready to go back?”

A pause. Then a smile.

“I’m ready to go home.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

And just like that, they left behind the towns and tensions and toasts of the past few weeks—carrying only what mattered most: each other.

Los Angeles would be waiting. Their bed. Their mugs. Their playlists. Their routines.

Their home.

The one they were building together.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 11

paige x azzi

a/n: Okay so it's a lil short, sorry part 10 took a lot of brain power I'm not gonna lie lol. I was gonna post an even shorter version of this but woke up with some new inspiration so here it is. It's like 50/50 fluff to smut ratio on this one. Thanks to the anon with the idea hope you enjoy.

word count: 4.6k

"The Rhythm of Us"

It didn’t happen overnight.

There were no big declarations. No packed U-Hauls.

Just one moment at a time.

Day One: Closet Territory

Azzi came home from PT to find Paige elbow-deep in the back of her closet, old hoodies and half-folded gym clothes littered across the bed.

“Are we cleaning out skeletons or…?”

Paige peeked out from behind a row of hangers, flushed and focused. “I’m making space. For your stuff.”

Azzi blinked. “You’re… what?”

“You said your drawer was full. So I’m just—reworking the closet situation.” Paige held up one of her ancient crewnecks. “Like… do I need this vintage intramural bowling team sweatshirt?”

Azzi’s grin grew slow and fond. “You’re letting me take over your closet?”

“I’m making room,” Paige corrected. “You’re not taking over. It’s shared real estate now.”

Azzi walked forward, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You’re dangerously good at this whole girlfriend thing.”

Day Two: Packing the Old Life

On Saturday, Paige pulled into Azzi’s driveway with a trunk full of empty bins, her playlist softly humming a SZA deep cut.

Azzi stared at the bins. “You’re really gonna help me pack?”

Paige gave her a look. “Do you want to spend hours alone deciding which T-shirts are emotional support and which can be donated?”

Azzi laughed. “You’re right. I need emotional backup.”

They spent the afternoon sorting. Paige sat cross-legged on Azzi’s rug while Azzi held up items and told stories: this hoodie from a college championship, that pair of sneakers she wore to her first pro game.

Paige didn’t rush. She didn’t push.

She just kept asking: “Does this feel like something you want to bring into our home?”

And when they reached the kitchen, Paige carefully plucked the photo from the side of Azzi’s fridge—one from the day they met on the golf course candidly laughing together—and the heart magnet that had always kept it there.

She held it up. “This one’s coming too, right?”

Azzi nodded quietly. “Yeah. That one’s never staying behind.”

Day Four: Lowe’s & New Beginnings

It was Monday when Paige drove them to Lowe’s under the guise of “errands.”

Azzi side-eyed her when they bypassed every aisle except the key-cutting kiosk and the seasonal welcome mats.

“Subtle,” Azzi teased. “Really easing me into this domestic fantasy.”

Paige grinned, flipping through the mats. “Okay but hear me out—this one says ‘Welcome-ish. Depends who you are.’ That feels accurate, right?”

Azzi pointed to one that just said Home Is Wherever I’m With You. “Too on the nose?”

Paige read it twice. Then smiled softly. “Kind of perfect.”

As they waited for the guy to cut a second key, Paige placed the chosen mat under one arm and handed Azzi the freshly made key with a red heart on it.

Azzi turned it over in her hand. “So… this is really happening.”

“It’s already happened,” Paige said. “We’re just catching up.”

By the end of the week, Azzi’s sneakers were stacked next to Paige’s, her cereal box was in the pantry, and the photo and heart magnet were proudly fixed on the fridge like they’d always been there.

And one night, curled up on the couch with Azzi’s head in her lap, Paige watched their new doormat catch the last of the porch light through the open front door.

Home.

Together.

No question about it.

—-

The mornings had started to blur in the best way.

Not in chaos, not in stress — just in routine. Familiarity. A rhythm so smooth they barely had to speak to keep pace with each other.

Azzi was always the first one up. Not because she was a morning person, but because her body still woke her at 7 a.m. sharp whether she liked it or not. These days, she stayed in bed a little longer, scrolling, stretching, listening to the faint sounds of Paige’s breath beside her.

By 7:30, Paige would stir, eyes squinting open, her hand instinctively reaching for Azzi beneath the sheets.

“Coffee?” she’d mumble, already half asleep again.

“Already going,” Azzi would reply, leaning over to kiss her forehead before swinging her legs out of bed.

The kitchen was their shared dance floor.

Azzi moved slower these days, still a bit stiff post-surgery, but she had her groove back enough to putter around in Paige’s — now their — oversized hoodie and slide around in mismatched socks. Paige would join her ten minutes later, sleep-stunned and leaning against the counter like she hadn’t been awake for more than ninety seconds.

They didn’t talk much in the mornings. Just soft clinks of mugs and occasional hums from the playlist Paige always queued up — a rotation of soulful jazz and old-school R&B that made the whole house feel like a dream.

Somehow, without ever agreeing on it, they had their roles.

Azzi ran point on breakfast. Paige handled lunch. Azzi handled laundry. Paige took out the trash. Groceries were a team sport. So were Target runs. So were movie nights. So were late-night cravings for cookies and cereal at 2 a.m.

There was no learning curve. No awkward fights about drawer space or who left the lights on. It was like their lives had been quietly orbiting each other for years and had finally aligned.

And that was the part that scared them both a little — how easy it was.

Azzi leaned back against the counter one morning, sipping her coffee, watching Paige slice a banana to top their yogurt bowls. Her shirt was rumpled, hair a mess, and she was humming off-key to the song playing through the speaker.

Paige glanced up, catching her stare. “What?”

Azzi blinked. “Nothing.”

“You’re doing the staring in love thing again.”

Azzi smiled, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to Paige’s shoulder. “You say that like it’s a crime.”

“I mean,” Paige teased, setting down the banana, “you could at least pretend you’re not obsessed with me.”

“Nope,” Azzi said, smug now. “Fully obsessed. You’re doomed.”

Paige laughed and turned to face her fully. “If this is what doomed feels like, I’ll take it.”

There was a pause. A soft, still moment as they stood there in their kitchen, surrounded by post-it notes on the fridge, two half-full mugs, and a faint scent of cinnamon still lingering from last night’s late-night toast.

And just like that — they went back to breakfast.

Easy.

Uncomplicated.

Like it had always been this way.

—-

The gym was nearly empty, save for the thud of a medicine ball hitting the floor and the low hum of whatever playlist Paige had thrown on shuffle. It was mostly old-school hip hop with just enough bass to keep them moving — and maybe a little showing off.

Paige had arrived straight from her swing session, already warm and riding a high from her coach’s praise. Azzi was mid-rep when she walked in, while she powered through banded hip bridges like she had something to prove.

They exchanged a quick kiss, sweaty foreheads and all, before diving in.

It wasn’t long before the room felt more like their own personal playground.

“Form check,” Paige said from behind Azzi, watching her posture through the mirror as she attempted a modified deadlift with a dumbbell in one hand and a stubborn determination in the other.

Azzi groaned. “You’re obsessed with my form.”

“I’m obsessed with you not hurting yourself again.”

Azzi looked at her in the mirror, smirking. “You just like the view.”

“Not denying it,” Paige muttered, eyes fixed and appreciative.

The hour passed in circuits and teasing — Paige counting reps out loud while purposefully skipping numbers to confuse Azzi, Azzi lightly smacking her with a resistance band in retaliation. But through it all, they stayed in sync. The kind of sync that came from trust. Knowing how the other moved. When to push. When to rest.

Azzi was cooling down, stretching against the wall while Paige finished a final round of incline push-ups, when it hit her.

The clarity was so quiet it almost didn’t register at first. Just the way Paige’s brows furrowed in concentration. The tiny satisfied breath she let out at the end of each set. The casual way she tossed her towel over her shoulder and turned to Azzi with a wink.

There was no performance here. No curated version of love.

It was just them — tired, sore, flushed, and whole.

And suddenly Azzi felt it in her chest like a quiet knock.

This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Not just the love. But the partnership. The steady hum of compatibility that made hard things feel easier. That made sweat and sore muscles feel like a date. That made even the silence between sets feel… full.

Paige walked over and flopped down next to her on the floor, breath heavy, loose hair damp at her temple. “You good?”

Azzi nodded, eyes soft. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” Paige teased, nudging her shoulder.

But Azzi didn’t laugh this time. She leaned in, pressed a kiss to Paige’s temple, and whispered, “You’re it for me, you know that?”

Paige stilled, surprised by the sudden seriousness. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “You make the hard things feel lighter. The ordinary things feel bigger. The quiet things feel safe.”

Paige blinked, caught in the moment. “I didn’t even say anything this time.”

“You didn’t have to,” Azzi said. “You just… showed up.”

Paige smiled, reaching for her hand. “Well, good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat there for a while on the rubber flooring, fingers intertwined, the sweat between them dried and replaced by something weightier — something sweeter.

Not a milestone.

Not a grand gesture.

Just a shared routine that somehow became proof of forever.

—-

They were tangled in bed, limbs wrapped, legs slotted between each other beneath the soft weight of the blanket. The glow of a bedside lamp cast a golden halo across Azzi’s bare shoulder as she lay half on top of Paige, tracing small shapes on her stomach with lazy fingers.

They’d been quiet for a while—quiet in that way only two people could be when the silence was full of safety, not space.

Then Azzi broke it, her voice a little hesitant but laced with curiosity.

“If I was a worm, would you still love me?”

Paige cracked an eye open, brow furrowing. “A worm?”

Azzi nodded seriously, though her lips were twitching. “Like—a little one. Real squiggly.”

Paige groaned, turning her head to bury it into the pillow. “Why are you like this.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“I’d keep you in a compost bin and feed you strawberries,” Paige muttered dramatically. “But yeah, I’d still love you. Even as a worm.”

Azzi grinned. “Okay, good. Now… would you still love me if I was bald?”

That got Paige to look up. “Bald??”

Azzi lifted a brow, feigning seriousness. “Yes. No hair. What if I had a bad haircut and had to shave it all off and start from scratch? What if my edges were gone forever? What then?”

Paige blinked at her. “That’s so random.”

“It’s not! It’s valid!” Azzi argued, trying not to laugh. “I just wanna know if your love is follicle-deep or not.”

Paige propped herself up on an elbow, eyes soft. “Baby… you could be bald, blonde, or blue-haired, and I’d still be in love with you.”

Azzi let her smile bloom fully this time. “Even if I had, like… one of those mullets with lightning bolts shaved into the side?”

“Okay,” Paige said, hand raised. “Let’s not get carried away.”

Azzi snorted, then went quiet for a beat—still drawing patterns absently on Paige’s skin.

Paige noticed the shift. “What?”

Azzi looked up, meeting her eyes. “Nothing.”

“Az.”

Azzi hesitated, then said it—soft and low, almost like she was still testing the words.

“Would you… still love me if I wanted to try something in bed?”

Paige’s expression didn’t falter, but something in her settled. She tucked a strand of Azzi’s hair behind her ear and asked gently, “What kind of something?”

Azzi gave her a look. That mix of shy and bold she wore like no one else.

“It’s not like… weird or anything. I just… I’ve been thinking.”

Azzi hesitated, her eyes fixed on her hand as it lazily circled Paige’s navel. “Have you ever, like… scissored before?”

Paige blinked. Then blinked again.

“…Do I get to plead the fifth?” she said, cheeks already flushing with heat.

Azzi’s grin was immediate. “You totally have.”

Paige groaned, throwing a hand over her face. “It barely counts. It was a disaster. Like—clumsy naked bumper cars with bad steering. We got so frustrated we gave up and ordered Thai food instead.”

Azzi let out a loud laugh. “I can’t believe you just called it that.”

“It’s accurate.”

“Well…” Azzi’s voice dropped an octave, her grin softening into something more curious. “I’ve been thinking about it. Not in like, a porn-y way. Just… being that close. That open. All that skin. It’s kind of hot.”

Paige tilted her head, watching her. “You’ve never tried?”

Azzi shook her head, a blush creeping in. “No. But I want to. With you.”

Something in Paige melted. She cupped the back of Azzi’s neck and pulled her in for a slow kiss—deep, tender, laced with promise.

“Then let’s find out,” she whispered.

Paige shifted onto her back, and Azzi followed, crawling over her, straddling her thigh with a nervous but eager glint in her eyes.

“Like this?” she asked, her slick center barely grazing Paige’s.

“Closer,” Paige murmured, gripping her hips. “I want to feel all of you.”

Azzi adjusted, lowering herself until their cores met—warm and wet and shivery. The contact made both of them gasp.

They started slow. Tentative rolls of the hips. Gentle friction. Azzi’s breath caught as they aligned just right, her clit brushing against Paige’s in a glide that sent a pulse straight through her spine.

Paige groaned, her hands anchoring Azzi tighter. “Oh, fuck. Just like that.”

They rocked together, rhythm syncing, laughter fading into soft moans and breathless gasps. Azzi’s movements grew bolder, more desperate as the friction built—a sweet, aching heat that curled in her belly and stole her breath.

“Oh—Paige—fuck—”

Her head fell back, jaw slack, thighs starting to tremble as pleasure surged higher, hotter, sharper. Paige was watching her like she was witnessing something sacred.

Then Azzi’s whole body arched forward with a strangled cry, her orgasm crashing over her—wetness flooding between them, soaking skin, thighs, the sheets beneath.

She froze.

Paige stared up at her, dazed. “Wait. Did you just—?”

Azzi’s face went crimson. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know I could—oh my God—”

Paige’s hands locked around her hips, holding her there. “Don’t you dare move. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Azzi tried to squirm away. Paige wouldn’t let her.

“Nope. You’re not escaping. Not after that. I need to see it again. Feel it.”

Azzi’s breath stuttered. “What are you—”

Paige was already shifting down, sliding between Azzi’s thighs with purpose.

“I want you to come on my mouth this time.”

Azzi whimpered, her body already oversensitive and desperate. Paige guided her up, positioning her above her face.

Azzi hesitated. “What if I—”

“I want all of it,” Paige growled, voice thick with hunger. “Drip for me, baby.”

The second her mouth met Azzi’s clit, Azzi broke.

Her hips jerked, breath hitched. Paige moaned into her, tongue circling, sucking, devouring her like she was starved. Her hands gripped Azzi’s ass, grounding her, pulling her in deeper.

Azzi was shaking, crying out, hips grinding harder with every pass of Paige’s tongue.

And when Paige sucked just right—deep and slow and greedy—Azzi shattered again.

A tidal wave of release rushed out of her, coating Paige’s mouth, her chin, her throat. Azzi nearly collapsed, limbs giving out as her orgasm rolled through her in tremors.

Paige was wrecked beneath her—lips glossy, face drenched, eyes alight with awe.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered. “I’m in love. And so, so wet.”

Azzi was still panting, dazed, barely able to speak. “You’re… insane.”

Paige grinned, licking her lips. “And you, Azzi, are a work of art.”

Azzi was still catching her breath, sprawled across the sheets with her head resting on Paige’s shoulder. Her body was warm and limp, skin flushed, thighs still twitching occasionally from the aftershocks.

Paige looked equally wrecked—lips swollen, face glistening, hair mussed beyond repair. But her hand hadn’t stopped moving—grazing over Azzi’s hip, then dipping lower to trace along her still-sensitive inner thigh.

Azzi whimpered. “Paige…”

“What?” Paige said, innocent as sin. “I’m just touching.”

“You’re touching like you’re about to start something.”

“I am,” Paige said, voice low, teasing. “You said you’d never done that before. We’re celebrating. Science says repetition improves retention.”

Azzi snorted, even as her breath caught when Paige’s fingers drifted between her legs again. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige turned her head, kissed Azzi’s temple, then her cheek. “Mmhm. And you’re still soaked. You feel that?”

Azzi whimpered again as Paige’s fingers dipped into the wet heat between her legs, slow and lazy. “Paige—”

“You can take one more,” Paige whispered, voice darkening. “Just one more. Let me make it messy.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath. “I’m already—so sensitive—”

“I know,” Paige said, dragging her fingers up to circle her clit in featherlight strokes. “That’s why it’s gonna be so fucking good.”

Azzi tried to resist—tried to stay still—but her hips had a mind of their own, grinding into Paige’s hand with a need that bloomed fast and hot. She bit her lip hard, eyes fluttering shut.

Paige’s touch stayed gentle at first, coaxing her open again, drawing small circles until Azzi was panting into her neck. “That’s it,” Paige murmured, nipping at her ear. “Let me feel you come on my hand.”

She slid two fingers in—slow, deliberate. Azzi arched into her with a gasp, nails digging into Paige’s arm.

Paige curled her fingers just right. “Fuck, yes. That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

Azzi couldn’t answer—her moans were spilling too freely now. Paige worked her open, fingers slick and sure, her thumb rubbing tight, dirty circles over her clit.

“I love how you fall apart for me,” Paige breathed, speeding up just enough to send Azzi spiraling. “So sexy like this, Az. Begging without even realizing it.”

Azzi’s legs started to tremble again, thighs clenching around Paige’s hand. “I’m close—I’m so—oh God—”

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Let go.”

And Azzi did—her third orgasm ripping through her with a strangled cry, her whole body bucking, hips grinding down hard as Paige fucked her through it, relentless and tender all at once.

Azzi collapsed again, completely undone—sweat-slick and gasping, legs twitching, her cheek pressed to Paige’s chest as she tried to breathe through the comedown.

Paige slowly slipped her fingers out, bringing them to her mouth with a hum of satisfaction. “You taste like victory.”

Azzi weakly slapped her side. “You’re the worst.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately,” Azzi mumbled, eyes closed. “You’re never allowed to leave this bed.”

“Deal,” Paige said, curling her arm around her. “But if we’re trapped here, I’m gonna need hydration… and maybe snacks between orgasms.”

Azzi opened one eye. “Between?”

Paige smirked. “We’re only at round three.”

Azzi groaned. “I created a monster.”

Paige kissed her shoulder. “No, baby. You unleashed her.”

And just like that, Azzi was grinning again—even as her thighs ached and her body trembled—because with Paige, even exhaustion came with a promise of more.

And neither of them was close to done.

Paige was lying there smug and satisfied, her arm draped lazily around Azzi’s waist, the scent of sex and sweat thick in the air. Her lips were still wet from Azzi’s last orgasm, and she looked like she could stay in that blissed-out daze forever.

Azzi let her.

For a minute.

Then, slowly, she started tracing a single finger along the slope of Paige’s ribcage, dragging her nails just lightly enough to make Paige twitch.

Paige glanced down. “What are you doing?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She just smiled—mischievous and dangerous—and slipped her thigh between Paige’s legs, nudging gently.

Paige’s breath caught. “Az…”

“You’ve been real generous tonight,” Azzi murmured, kissing her collarbone. “But I want to see you come undone.”

Paige opened her mouth to respond—but whatever she was going to say disappeared when Azzi slid her hand down her stomach and cupped her, fingers pressing into the soft heat between her thighs.

“You’re soaked,” Azzi whispered, lips brushing Paige’s ear. “You’ve been dripping for me this whole time.”

Paige whimpered, her hips shifting instinctively into Azzi’s touch. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I’m not playing at all,” Azzi said, voice low and dangerous.

Before Paige could recover, Azzi slid down her body, kissing her way lower—over her breasts, pausing to take one nipple into her mouth, sucking hard until Paige gasped and arched up into her.

Then lower still.

When she reached Paige’s thighs, Azzi didn’t rush. She kissed the inside of one, then the other, holding Paige open with strong hands and looking up with eyes full of heat.

“I want to ruin you,” Azzi said softly.

Paige groaned, head falling back. “God, please.”

Azzi grinned—and then her mouth was on her.

Hot, wet, relentless.

She licked from bottom to top, flat and slow, before circling Paige’s clit with the tip of her tongue—teasing, maddening. Paige’s hands immediately shot down to Azzi’s hair, hips jerking up as she moaned deep and broken.

Azzi kept going.

Sucking.

Licking.

Fucking her with her tongue.

Paige was panting, her whole body tightening. “Shit—Azzi—don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”

Azzi didn’t. If anything, she doubled down—gripping Paige’s hips, pulling her closer, fucking her deeper with every stroke of her tongue. She moaned into her, letting the vibration reverberate through Paige’s core.

It worked.

Paige was spiraling—hips bucking, thighs clamping around Azzi’s head, words dissolving into helpless cries. Her orgasm slammed into her fast and hard, stealing the air from her lungs.

But Azzi didn’t let up.

She kept going—eating her through it, over it, into it—until Paige was thrashing, another wave already building behind the first.

“Azzi—fuck—I can’t—oh my God—”

“Yes you can,” Azzi growled, voice dark and wrecked, fingers now sliding inside her—deep and slow and intentional. “You’re gonna give me one more. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers while you come on my tongue.”

Paige was gone.

Utterly undone.

Her second orgasm crashed through her with a scream, legs trembling, body thrashing so hard Azzi had to hold her down. She came hard—wet and raw and loud, until she collapsed back into the bed, boneless and dazed.

Azzi finally pulled back, mouth and chin drenched, eyes blazing.

She crawled back up, straddling Paige’s hips, dragging her fingers through the mess between them and bringing them to Paige’s mouth. “Taste how fucking good you are.”

Paige sucked her fingers in with a moan, dazed and glassy-eyed. “You’re a menace.”

Azzi leaned down, kissing her slow and deep, tongue slipping past her lips.

“No,” she whispered against her mouth. “I’m yours.”

Paige shuddered.

And smiled.

“Okay,” she said weakly. “But I need like… eight to twelve business days to recover.”

Azzi laughed, pulling her into her chest. “You’ve got twelve hours. Then I’m going again.”

Paige groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Nah,” Azzi murmured, kissing her hair. “I’m just gonna keep loving you until you can’t see straight.”

—-

The morning sun was already creeping in by the time Paige finally cracked an eye open. Her body ached in that deliciously sore kind of way — muscles used, knees bruised, and thighs definitely still shaking a little. She rolled onto her back with a groan, one arm flopping over her eyes.

From the bathroom, the sound of a toothbrush being halfheartedly wielded echoed out.

“You alive in there?” Paige called hoarsely.

Azzi’s laugh was scratchy. “Barely. My legs are mad at me. You should be arrested.”

“I told you to tap out.”

“You said that after round four!”

“Exactly.”

Azzi emerged a minute later, her curls piled into a loose bun, one of Paige’s oversized tees hanging off her frame. She limped dramatically to the bed, flopping down beside her.

“You owe me breakfast and electrolytes,” she mumbled.

“You said, and I quote, ‘I’m an athlete, I can handle it.’”

“I also said I’d marry you if you hit that one spot again and you did so, like… you’re stuck with me now.”

Paige smirked, turning on her side to nuzzle into Azzi’s shoulder. “Noted.”

They lay there quietly for a while, sore and content, scrolling and occasionally stealing sips from each other’s water bottles.

Then Azzi rolled her head lazily toward her. “You know… if either one of us had a dick, we’d probably be pregnant right now.”

Paige burst out laughing. “Oh my god. Probably.”

“That was a full-blown Olympic marathon. We would’ve made twins.”

“Triplets,” Paige said, grinning. “Our legacy would be secure.”

Azzi snorted. “Not us having a starting five by accident.”

The joke passed between them like warm sunlight.

But Paige didn’t laugh again right away. She stared at the ceiling for a beat, lips pressing into a thoughtful line.

Azzi noticed.

“Hey,” she said softly. “What’s that face?”

Paige hesitated, then turned onto her side again, facing Azzi. Her fingers found the edge of Azzi’s shirt and toyed with it absently.

“I know we joke about it,” she said quietly. “The kids thing. But… I’ve always known that’s something I want. For real.”

Azzi blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden seriousness. Paige’s eyes searched hers.

“I’m not saying tomorrow or anything,” Paige added quickly. “But one day. I want a family. A house with too many shoes by the door. Chaos. Mornings that start early and never go to plan. I want that. And I think… I needed to ask if you want it too.”

Azzi was quiet for a long moment. Not because she was unsure — but because the weight of how much this meant to Paige was written all over her face.

Then, slowly, she reached out and took Paige’s hand.

“I do,” she said softly. “I want that too.”

Paige’s breath hitched.

Azzi squeezed her fingers. “I’ve thought about it. Even before us. I just… never imagined I’d feel safe enough with someone to even say it out loud. But with you? It’s the first time it feels possible. Like it could actually work. Like we’d make it work.”

Paige blinked fast. “You’re sure?”

Azzi smiled. “I’m sure. Though I will need a minimum of three years to mentally recover from last night’s trauma before raising children.”

They both laughed — a mix of nerves and joy and sheer relief — before Paige leaned in and kissed her slow and deep.

When they broke apart, Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s. “You really thought I’d say no?”

Paige nodded a little. “I did. And I would’ve… figured it out. But it would’ve broken my heart.”

“Well,” Azzi whispered, “lucky for you… your heart is very much intact. And definitely overachieving.”

Paige beamed.

“Also,” Azzi added, “we are the hot moms at the school pick-up. It’s kind of a requirement.”

“Oh 100%. PTA moms will hate us. We’ll love that.”

“And our kids will definitely lie and say you used to be in the Olympics.”

Paige laughed into her neck. “I mean… it could still happen.”

Azzi pulled her close again, wrapping both arms around her.

It wasn’t a proposal. It wasn’t a date set. But it was a promise — a shared daydream now fully spoken into existence.

And that was enough. For now.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 10

paige x azzi

a/n: So HUGE shout to the anon with that one idea, I hope I did it justice. Definately recommend everyone listen to the songs I mention to give a full vibe. Anyways please please give me reactions/feedback in my inbox (don't make me beg...) and yeah includes explicit sexual content.

word count: 10.3k

"Fall Apart to Come Together"

Over the next month, Azzi took recovery one stubborn day at a time.

The surgery date loomed in the background like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake, but she tried—through physical therapy appointments, early mornings iced on the couch, and pretending the brace didn’t make her want to scream. Still, she insisted Paige keep her rhythm, keep playing.

“You already missed one tournament for me,” Azzi had said firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. “You can’t miss two.”

So Paige went. But luckily, this time the next one wasn’t across the country—it was in La Quinta, just a couple hours away from LA. Paige had barely finished telling Azzi where the tournament was before Azzi cut her off.

“I’m coming,” she said. “I need a change of view.”

And Paige didn’t question it. She just rearranged the hotel reservation.

The resort was sprawling and sun-soaked, tucked between palm trees and slow, jagged mountains. Paige had tournament prep to do—practice rounds, interviews, early tee times—but between all of that, Azzi got what she needed too.

A new routine. A softer headspace. A place that didn’t look like her living room ceiling or taste like cabin fever.

In the mornings, Paige would leave quietly while Azzi was still curled up in bed, her knee propped on a pillow, the soft hum of hotel room AC buzzing low. Sometimes she’d wake briefly when Paige kissed her forehead before slipping out the door—sometimes not.

By late morning, Azzi would venture to the patio outside their room, crutching her way to a shaded chair where she could sip coffee and people-watch or scroll in peace.

They weren’t doing anything extraordinary, really. But that was kind of the point.

In the evenings, Paige would come back sunburnt and drained, her muscles aching and her cap hair wild. Azzi would tease her for the raccoon tan forming around her sunglasses. Paige would act offended. And then Azzi would reward her with soft fingers massaging her forearms while she debriefed every hole of the day.

The days blurred into something warm. Not perfect—but steady.

And for the first time in weeks, Azzi felt like maybe she wasn’t just waiting around for her body to get fixed. Maybe she was healing a little elsewhere too.

The sky above La Quinta burned gold and pink as the sun dipped behind the mountains, the last light tracing a soft glow over the resort’s quiet terrace.

Paige and Azzi sat tucked into a private corner of the restaurant, a candle flickering between them, shadows dancing gently across their faces. Azzi leaned back against the cushions, her leg stretched out on the seat beside her, the crutches propped against the table. Paige was curled forward, elbows resting near their half-finished plates, looking across at her like no one else in the world existed.

Dinner had been slow and easy. Azzi had barely touched her wine, but Paige had kept the jokes flowing—just enough to keep Azzi smiling without overstepping. Now, with dessert on the table between them—some caramel-drizzled chocolate mousse that Paige insisted they split—there was a lull. A comfortable one.

Paige dipped her spoon in and handed the first bite across the table.

“You’re spoiling me,” Azzi said, accepting the bite with a smirk. “I could get used to this.”

“You already have,” Paige replied, leaning her chin into her hand. “You just won’t admit it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but grinned. “Only a little. Maybe like… eighty-five percent.”

Paige tilted her head. “Only eighty-five? Rude.”

Azzi pretended to ponder. “Eighty-seven. But that’s my final offer.”

Paige snorted, then grew quiet for a beat. She glanced down at her spoon, nudging the mousse around the plate, before finally saying, “Hey… I’ve been thinking.”

Azzi’s brows lifted. “Always a dangerous start.”

“I’m being serious,” Paige said, smiling but soft. “After the surgery, I want to take some time off. Like—really be there. I don’t want to be on a plane the day after you go under, hoping someone else is icing your knee right.”

Azzi blinked, the playful edge in her expression faltering just slightly. “You want to miss tournaments? For me?”

Paige nodded. “Just a couple weeks. I already checked the schedule. I can make it work.”

Azzi looked away for a moment, her jaw working like she wanted to say no, like she should. Instead, she let out a sigh and traced her fingertip along the rim of her water glass.

“I hate how much I want you to,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose focus.”

“You’re not,” Paige said firmly. “You’re the reason I have focus. But you’ve shown up for me in every way that counts—and now it’s my turn. I’ll get back on the course after, I promise.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying her.

“Two weeks. Max,” she said finally. “Then I want you back out there doing what you do. No holding back on my account.”

Paige gave her a playful salute. “Yes, Coach.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Don’t test me. I’ll make you run stairs.”

“I like stairs,” Paige deadpanned.

Azzi cracked a grin. “No, you don’t.”

They shared another laugh, the tension slowly ebbing. Paige reached across the table and took Azzi’s hand in hers, thumb brushing over the soft spot between her knuckles.

“I just want to take care of you for a bit,” she said quietly. “Let me do that.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Okay,” she whispered. “But you better bring snacks. And I’m picking the TV shows.”

Paige leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to the back of Azzi’s hand. “Deal.”

And for the rest of the evening, they didn’t talk about surgery or schedules or time off. Just shared bites of dessert, stolen kisses, and the kind of quiet that only comes when you know, no matter what tomorrow brings, you’re already exactly where you’re meant to be.

—-

The California sun hung high and golden above the palm-lined fairways, the desert air warm but still. Paige stood on the 15th tee, fingers flexing around her driver, her breath even. Focused.

The crowd had grown throughout the weekend—golf fans, locals, and even a few bold Azzi stan accounts that somehow caught wind she was in the area. But Paige barely heard them. Not because she was tuning them out—because all she could hear was her own pulse. Steady. Sure.

She was in it.

Her caddie handed her the club with a nod. “You know where we’re at?”

Paige nodded. “Four strokes ahead. Three holes left.”

“And?”

“And I’m two under the record if I birdie out.”

The caddie gave her a look that was part disbelief, part reverence. “You’ve been unconscious this weekend.”

Paige cracked the smallest grin. “Let’s keep dreaming, then.”

She stepped up to the ball and swung—smooth, clean, easy. It soared.

Gallery applause erupted behind her.

Back at the resort, Azzi was in bed, leg elevated, a plate of untouched room service pancakes at her side and the TV turned up just loud enough for her to hear the commentators try not to lose their minds.

“She’s on pace to absolutely obliterate the tournament record.”

“Hasn’t missed a fairway in 31 holes. I don’t even have the words anymore.”

Azzi just watched in stunned silence, heart thudding.

It wasn’t just pride. It was love. It was awe. It was Paige, dialed in and locked on—playing like she had no fear, like the only thing in her head was the next shot, and maybe, just maybe… the quiet promise that someone was waiting for her at the end of it all.

Azzi snapped a picture of the screen—Paige lining up her next shot, calm as ever—and captioned it on her story:

“In the zone doesn’t even begin to cover it. My girl is making history today. 🏌️‍♀️⛳️💫”

Back on the 17th, Paige sunk a long birdie putt that drew gasps from the crowd before they even remembered to cheer.

She glanced up—no reaction beyond a quiet nod to her caddie. No fist pump. No grin.

But her eyes flickered to the horizon, just for a second.

By the time she stepped up to the 18th tee, Paige was seven shots clear of second place. All she needed was par to not just win—but rewrite the record books.

She took her time.

The wind was still. The sun kissed her shoulders. And somewhere, not too far, she knew Azzi was watching.

She exhaled slowly and swung.

The final putt dropped to thunderous applause and a camera shutter storm. Paige didn’t leap. She didn’t yell.

She just closed her eyes.

And smiled.

Because she felt it—not the pressure. Not the weight.

Just the peace.

—-

MEDIA ROOM – 45 MINUTES POST-ROUND

The press conference backdrop was splashed with logos and tournament sponsors, but all eyes were fixed on one person.

Paige sat behind the mic, still in her tournament polo, hair pulled back, flushed cheeks still cooling down from the heat and the weight of everything she’d just accomplished. Her eyes were sharp but calm, her voice steady.

“—so yeah,” she was saying, trying not to fidget with the bottle of water in front of her, “it was one of those rare days where every shot felt honest. I just trusted my swing.”

“Paige,” a reporter near the front called, “you didn’t just win—you shattered a decade-long record. Did you know what you were doing out there or did it hit you later?”

She gave a modest shrug, lips tugging into the faintest smirk. “I mean, I knew. But I wasn’t thinking about the record. I was just playing my game. One shot at a time.”

A reporter near the front cleared their throat. “What was different this weekend? Your last tournament was a bit of a struggle, and now you’re here rewriting history. Was there something that clicked?”

Paige hesitated for just a beat.

There was something. Or rather, someone—watching from a hotel room, leg propped up, recovering from a torn ACL, but still showing up in every way that mattered.

She smiled softly. “Let’s just say I had some… extra motivation.”

A ripple of interest moved through the room.

“Would that motivation happen to be a certain basketball star who’s been making headlines with you lately?” someone asked.

Paige leaned in, her voice warm but steady. “Even injured, she finds a way to light a fire under me. She couldn’t be out there in the crowd, but knowing she was watching—supporting me from our hotel—it meant everything.”

Another reporter followed up: “So, will we be seeing her with you at your next event?”

“She’s got her own healing to focus on right now,” Paige said, voice a touch more serious. “But even when she’s not next to me… she’s with me.”

BACKSTAGE – 10 MINUTES LATER

The moment she stepped off the podium, her phone buzzed wildly in her pocket. She didn’t even have to check to know who it was.

She opened the message anyway.

AZZI 🏀

Okay poet. I see you on that mic making me cry in my hotel bed 😭

Also you looked fine as hell today I almost passed out at hole 17

Please come back. Immediately.

Paige smiled and typed back:

PAIGE ⛳️

Already packing my trophy and my golf shoes. Yours and yours.

On my way.

—-

The door clicked shut behind Paige as she stepped into the hotel room, still a little stunned from the whirlwind of press and cameras that followed her record-breaking round. Her clubs were slung over her shoulder, her hat in her hand—until she paused mid-step, brow furrowing at the sight in front of her.

There were post-it notes.

Everywhere.

They were scattered across the walls, the lamp, the TV, the dresser—even the mini fridge. Dozens of them, in Azzi’s familiar handwriting, each one holding something sweet or silly or quietly intimate:

“You’re a monster on the green.”

“I’d let you win every argument if you kissed me like that again.”

“You balance me. And your scorecards.”

“Your swing is sexy but not as sexy as the way you looked at me this morning.”

“Proud doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Paige dropped her bag and moved closer, fingers brushing over each note like they were fragile relics. Her throat tightened.

Azzi was curled up on the bed, leg propped up, a half-smile playing on her lips. She was wearing one of Paige’s oversized tees again, champagne resting in the ice bucket beside her, along with two glasses and a CVS bag half-hiding in plain sight.

“I couldn’t exactly decorate with balloons or streamers,” Azzi said shyly, a hand flitting toward her crutches leaned against the nightstand. “So… post-its and delivery champagne it was.”

Paige turned, eyes glassy but smiling. “You did all this?”

Azzi nodded, cheeks pink.

Paige crossed the room slowly, touched each one again. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“You deserve to feel celebrated,” Azzi said gently. “I’ve never seen someone give so much to everything—and still make someone like me feel like I’m their whole world.”

Paige took a breath, like she needed to steady herself from the weight of Azzi’s words. “You are my whole world.”

Azzi’s smile deepened, then turned playful. “Well, then. There’s actually one more post-it note you haven’t read yet.”

Paige blinked, glancing around the room. “Where?”

Azzi gave a wicked little smirk. “Might have to dig a little deeper. Maybe… someone a little deeper.”

Paige tilted her head, grin slowly stretching across her lips. “That so?”

Azzi just looked at her, unbothered and smug in the best way.

Paige stepped forward, hands gentle as she knelt beside the bed. “Permission to explore, Ms. Fudd?”

Azzi hummed. “Granted. Proceed with caution—injured athlete in recovery.”

Paige chuckled low in her throat, lifting the hem of Azzi’s oversized tee with the softest touch, trailing kisses along her abdomen with reverence and delight. Her fingers dipped just beneath the waistband of Azzi’s shorts, and sure enough, a tiny corner of a post-it was peeking out.

She pulled it slowly, laughing under her breath as she read it aloud:

“You may have won the tournament and broken a record… but I won the real prize—getting you.”

Paige looked up, eyes gleaming. “Okay, that’s not fair. You’re actually trying to break me.”

Azzi gave a half-shrug, all innocent. “Blame the CVS post-it aisle. They didn’t carry restraint.”

Paige leaned up, pressing her lips gently to Azzi’s, letting the kiss speak all the thank-yous she didn’t know how to say yet.

When they finally pulled apart, Paige whispered, “You are the best part of every win.”

Azzi ran her fingers along the side of Paige’s face. “You’re my favorite headline.”

They didn’t need confetti. They didn’t need a crowd. Just this—just them.

A love story written in post-it notes, cheeky kisses, and the quiet awe of knowing… they’d both already won.

Paige let the post-it flutter to the floor.

“You know,” she murmured, voice low as her lips brushed Azzi’s collarbone, “for someone on crutches, you’re really out here making power moves.”

Azzi smirked, breath hitching as Paige’s hands moved with deliberate care, palms gliding just above her waistband. “Guess I’ve still got some game left in me.”

Paige chuckled softly against her skin. “Baby, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger without even trying.”

Azzi’s hand threaded into Paige’s hair, tugging gently until their mouths met again—this time hungrier, deeper, with a kind of urgency that had been simmering between them for days. The tension of the week, the win, the distance—all of it collapsed in the space between their lips.

Paige moved slow but sure, easing herself onto the bed, careful to keep pressure off Azzi’s injured leg. Her hands never stopped touching—soft over ribs, thumbs tracing the outline of her waist, lips trailing lower with reverence and need.

Azzi’s breathing grew ragged, one hand clutching Paige’s shoulder, the other fisting into the sheets. “P,” she whispered, voice cracking open like a secret. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Paige cut in, her voice hot and unwavering. “Let me.”

She shifted lower, peppering kisses along Azzi’s inner thigh, her touch featherlight, teasing, like she had all the time in the world to worship every inch of her.

Azzi exhaled a broken sound, caught between a laugh and a moan. “You’re killing me…”

Paige’s eyes flicked up, dark and full of something that made Azzi’s chest ache. “No. I’m showing you.”

“Showing me what?”

“That you’re still the strongest, sexiest woman I’ve ever met. Injury or not. That I missed you in every way. That I plan on making up for lost time… very thoroughly.”

Azzi’s head fell back against the pillows with a groan. “God, I love when you talk like that.”

“Then stay still,” Paige murmured. “And let me love you exactly how you deserve.”

And she did—slow and attentive, patient and thorough. She moved like someone unwrapping a gift, learning her all over again, every gasp and tremble stored in memory like a favorite melody.

Azzi’s body responded with a kind of desperate softness, clinging to Paige, grounding herself in the only thing that made sense through the haze of pain and recovery and quiet fears she hadn’t spoken aloud.

And when it was over—when Paige finally collapsed beside her, kissed-out and glowing, foreheads pressed together and hearts beating wild—they didn’t speak for a long while.

Because they didn’t need to.

Every touch had already said it all.

—-

The patio was dimly lit by the soft glow of string lights Paige had lazily strung up one night, claiming ambiance but secretly loving the way they made everything feel like a safe little world just for the two of them.

Azzi sat with her arms crossed against her chest, her gaze fixed on the basketball hoop in the far corner of the yard. She hadn’t said more than a handful of words since lunch. Paige noticed—of course she noticed—but she hadn’t pushed. Not yet.

Now, with the kitchen quiet and the last of the dishes drying in the rack, Paige stepped out onto the patio. The air was cool, tinged with the faint smell of jasmine from the garden Azzi had once teased her about being “too suburban athlete-core.”

Without a word, Paige leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Azzi’s curls, and slid onto the seat beside her. For a moment, she just sat there, mirroring her posture, letting the silence stretch and settle.

Then, softly: “Is it the surgery… or something else?”

Azzi didn’t blink. Didn’t look at her. Just kept staring out at the hoop like it held all the answers she’d been too afraid to ask.

And then, barely above a whisper, she said, “What if I’m never able to play the same again?”

The words hung there for a beat, suspended in the stillness. And then they broke her.

Her shoulders trembled first, and Paige barely had time to register the shift before Azzi buried her face in her hands, the first sob already shaking loose the carefully built dam she’d been holding for weeks.

All of it—the fear, the anger, the helplessness—rushed out in a raw, quiet wreck of a breakdown. Paige instinctively moved closer, wrapping both arms around her from behind, pulling her in like she could anchor her against the storm.

“It’s okay,” Paige whispered, over and over, pressing her cheek to Azzi’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be strong right now. You don’t.”

Azzi didn’t respond—couldn’t. She just cried, body curling toward Paige’s as the truth she’d been choking on finally spilled free.

When her breaths finally began to even out, when the tears slowed and she was left hollowed and exhausted, Paige turned her gently to face her.

“You’re scared,” Paige said softly. “I get it. You’ve had the world at your fingertips your whole life, and now it feels like it’s slipping through them.”

Azzi nodded, her bottom lip trembling again.

“But Az,” Paige said, brushing her fingers across Azzi’s cheek, “you are not just a basketball player. You’re not just what your body can do. You’re brilliant. You’re resilient. You’re you—and you are the reason people believe. Not just the jump shot. Not just the highlight reels. You.”

Azzi blinked, tears threatening again.

“And look,” Paige continued, voice steadier now, “maybe you come back different. Maybe not everything feels the same right away. But different doesn’t mean worse. And no matter what—no matter what—I’ll be right here. We all will. Fighting with you.”

Azzi looked at her then, really looked at her, eyes glassy but clearer somehow. “I just… I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t,” Paige said without hesitation. “Because you never have.”

She leaned in, kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her lips—slow, soft, grounding.

Azzi exhaled shakily. “I’m still scared.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “But you don’t have to be scared alone.”

And for the first time that night, Azzi let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—that would be enough to carry her through.

Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder again, breathing a little slower now, though her fingers were still curled into the fabric of Paige’s hoodie like she was scared the moment would drift if she didn’t hold on.

“You know,” she said quietly, her voice rasped from crying, “I used to think… that the only way I was worth anything was through the game. Like… people only cared if I was performing. Winning. Contributing.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just listened. Let Azzi unravel it in her own time.

“I know it’s not true. I know that,” Azzi said, as if trying to convince herself. “But now that I’m here—not playing, not practicing, just… stuck—I feel like I don’t know who I am without it.”

Her voice cracked again.

“I hate that I feel like that.”

Paige slowly reached for Azzi’s hand, threading their fingers together.

“You’re not stuck,” she said gently. “You’re healing. That’s still a version of showing up. Just… in a different way.”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel like showing up. It feels like everyone’s still moving and I’m… paused. Watching it all happen without me.”

“I know that feeling,” Paige murmured. “I’ve been there, Az. When I tore my ankle in college, everything stopped for me, too. But everyone else’s lives just kept going. And I felt useless. Disconnected. Like I was falling behind.”

Azzi glanced up at her, surprised. Paige didn’t talk about that time often.

Paige smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I had a lot of the same thoughts you’re having. Like… who am I if I’m not competing? If I’m not producing?”

Azzi gave a quiet nod.

“I hated it,” Paige said, softly. “But the truth is… I learned a lot about myself when I wasn’t on the course. I learned how to rest. How to let people take care of me. I learned how to not measure my worth by my stats.”

She turned, brushing a thumb beneath Azzi’s eye, gently wiping away what was left of her tears.

“And Azzi… you’re not disappointing anyone. You don’t have to hustle through this to prove anything. We love you because you’re you—not because you drop 30 on a random Tuesday.”

Azzi laughed, then hiccuped from the last remnants of her crying. “I mean… the 30 doesn’t hurt though.”

Paige grinned. “No. Definitely not. But I’d still be wildly in love with you even if you missed every shot for the rest of time.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, playful again. “Okay let’s not say things we can’t take back.”

They both laughed, soft and warm, the kind of laugh that only comes after surviving a storm together.

Paige reached over and gently guided Azzi to lie back on the couch, her head in Paige’s lap again.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” Paige said, brushing her hand through her curls again. “I just need you to be real. And here. With me.”

Azzi closed her eyes, exhaling.

“I can do that,” she whispered. “For you, I can do that.”

And that night, under the hush of string lights and the steady heartbeat of reassurance, they didn’t fix the fear. But they made room for it. Together.

—-

The morning light wasn’t as soft as usual. It crept in sharp through the windows, casting long lines across the hardwood as Paige moved through the kitchen, half-dressed and overly focused on her task of packing Azzi’s go-bag. She was on her second triple-check, hands running over the hoodie folded just right, the mini speaker Azzi liked for background noise, the backup charger, the lotion that didn’t smell like a hospital.

“Okay,” Paige muttered mostly to herself. “Snacks. Pillow. Phone cord. Book. Headphones. Socks—the fuzzy ones. Chapstick. The dumb tiny fan you use for no reason—”

Azzi leaned against the doorframe behind her, arms crossed over her chest, a sweatshirt drowning her frame. “P?”

Paige didn’t hear her.

Azzi tried again, a little louder. “Paige.”

Paige spun around, her face alert. “What? Did I forget something? Was it the fan? I knew I forgot the fan—”

Azzi hobbled forward and gently reached for Paige’s hands, stilling them. “Babe.”

The word alone made Paige’s breath hitch.

“You need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Paige replied far too quickly. Her voice pitched a little high. “Totally calm. I’m Zen Master 3000 over here.”

Azzi smiled, slow and knowing. “You’ve folded that same hoodie three times.”

Paige opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked down at the hoodie.

“Oh.”

Azzi squeezed her fingers gently. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

Paige’s jaw clenched slightly as she glanced at the clock. “I just… want to do everything right. I want today to be smooth. And easy. And painless. I want it to be over and you to already be recovering and—”

“Shh.” Azzi reached up and cupped Paige’s cheek, her thumb brushing just under her eye. “I’ve got you.”

Paige let out a breath like she’d been holding it for hours.

“You’re the one having surgery,” she said with a soft laugh. “You’re supposed to be the one getting comforted.”

Azzi grinned. “Yeah, well. You’re not the only one who gets to be the strong one. We take turns, remember?”

Paige melted a little under her touch, eyes softening. “I love you so much it makes me feel crazy.”

Azzi leaned forward and kissed her gently—soft and slow, but steady. “I know,” she whispered against her lips. “I feel the same.”

They stood like that for a beat longer, letting the quiet hold them in place.

“Okay,” Paige finally said, voice low. “If I stop folding things obsessively, will you let me hold your hand all the way to check-in?”

Azzi smiled. “Wasn’t planning on letting go.”

—-

The post-op recovery room smelled like sterile gauze and vanilla lotion. The hum of machines buzzed gently in the background, and Azzi blinked slowly, eyelids heavy but heart finally beginning to settle now that the worst was over. Her knee was wrapped and elevated, the pain managed, the anesthesia still tugging her under in waves.

And then—commotion.

A rustle at the door. Shuffling. Something thudded softly against the frame.

Azzi blinked again, and all she could see were two sneakers… then calves… then the hem of a hoodie she recognized as Paige’s favorite. But the rest? Completely obscured.

Towering teddy bears. A dozen different vases of flowers—sunflowers, dahlias, roses, lilacs. Mylar balloons that said YOU ROCK and SURGERY? NAILED IT. A little unicorn balloon bobbed at the top, its horn tangled in a string of ribbon.

Azzi let out a hoarse laugh, her voice still gravelly from the breathing tube. “Are you delivering for a parade float or…?”

A muffled grunt came from behind the chaos. “These are all strategically important healing materials, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.” Azzi smiled, wider now, sitting up slightly in bed as Paige finally managed to dump everything onto the guest chair and nearby windowsill with a dramatic exhale.

“Okay,” Paige panted. “That was heavier than it looked. Also, I might’ve overdone it with the balloons, but the unicorn felt like a non-negotiable.”

Azzi gave her a long look—tired but completely, blissfully happy to see her. “Come here.”

Paige immediately crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead, then her cheek. She hovered for a beat, eyes scanning Azzi’s face like she was mentally taking stock of every detail.

“You good?” Paige asked, brushing a curl off her forehead.

“I am now,” Azzi murmured, her voice catching slightly. “Surgery sucked. You? Top-tier recovery room material.”

Paige pulled the tiny unicorn balloon off the bundle and tucked it next to Azzi on the bed like it was sacred.

“You get to keep this one bedside,” she whispered. “Emotional support unicorn.”

Azzi laughed again—softer this time—and reached out for her hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For not being normal about this. For being so you. For making even this—” she gestured to the hospital room, “—feel like I’m still winning something.”

Paige sat gently on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her, and kissed her temple. “You did win something. A girlfriend with a balloon addiction and zero chill.”

“And excellent taste in unicorns.”

“That too.”

They stayed like that a while longer, hands clasped, surrounded by chaotic joy and the hum of healing.

—-

Later that week, Paige was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, gently helping Azzi ease her foot into a sneaker with the careful patience of someone trying not to wake a sleeping dragon.

“You sure you’re good with these?” Paige asked, glancing up. “I brought the cloud ones and the ones with the Velcro just in case.”

Azzi smirked, sleepy-eyed but amused. “I’m not eighty, P. I’ll survive laces.”

Paige rolled her eyes but smiled, tugging the shoe gently into place before standing and brushing her hands on her joggers. “Alright,” she said, glancing at the discharge papers, then at Azzi. “Now the big question—do you wanna go back to your place or mine?”

She kept her voice light, casual. She assumed Azzi would want her own space, her own bed, the comfort of her own routines while she healed. Paige would still be there, of course, as often as she could—hovering with ice packs and soup and way too many Netflix suggestions. But she knew there was a difference between visiting and inviting someone in.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her, quiet. Then:

“Yours,” she said softly.

Paige blinked. “Wait—really? I figured you’d want to be somewhere you felt most comfortable.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t waver. “I am.”

Paige tilted her head, confused.

“I mean,” Azzi continued, reaching out to gently take Paige’s hand in hers, “I’m choosing to believe that comfort isn’t about the bed or the bathroom setup or the number of ice packs in the freezer. It’s about you. If you’re there… that’s where I want to be.”

Paige just stared at her for a moment, heart doing that slow, stunned flip it always seemed to do around Azzi. “You really wanna be stuck with me 24/7 while you’re on crutches and cranky and hopped up on Tylenol?”

Azzi squeezed her hand, a tired smile blooming on her face. “I can’t imagine anything better.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her—soft, full of quiet awe—and whispered against her cheek, “Good. Because I already set up a ridiculous snack station and reorganized my whole guest room to make it more ‘injury-chic.’ So.”

Azzi laughed. “You really do love me, huh?”

“I’m afraid it’s terminal,” Paige whispered.

And with that, she helped her girl into the wheelchair and started rolling her toward home. Their home—for now. For however long Azzi needed.

Maybe even longer than that.

The guest room had never looked like this before.

Paige had turned it into a soft fortress of recovery. There were freshly laundered sheets on the bed, an adjustable tray table stocked with snacks, water bottles, tissues, and—yes—a mini bell (which Azzi immediately promised to abuse). A streaming remote rested neatly beside a stack of books and magazines Paige had picked based on Azzi’s taste. Soft lighting pooled from a new lamp she definitely ordered last-minute, and a fuzzy throw blanket with little basketballs woven into the pattern was folded at the foot of the bed.

Azzi slowly looked around from the doorway, crutch under one arm, the other clutching Paige’s hand.

“You did all this?” she asked, voice caught between amused and emotional.

Paige tried to shrug it off, but her ears were already turning pink. “I just wanted you to feel at home. Like… really home. Even if it’s not technically yours.”

Azzi squeezed her hand tighter. “It feels like mine. It does.”

Paige helped her get settled, fluffing the pillows way too many times and rearranging things just so until Azzi told her to sit down before she started stress-decorating.

Later, after Azzi had eaten half a grilled cheese and Paige had curled up in the chair beside the bed with her legs tucked underneath her, they flipped on a movie. Something funny. Something light. Azzi’s foot was propped up on a pillow tower, a heating pad tucked under her good knee. Paige kept glancing over every few minutes like she was trying to memorize how to take care of her even better tomorrow.

As the credits started to roll, Azzi looked toward the door and then at Paige. “Okay. I have to ask. You mentioned surprises. Was the snack cart the surprise? Or… is there more?”

Paige’s eyes glinted. “Oh, I was hoping you’d ask.”

She stood up, disappearing into the hallway, and returned moments later carrying a gift bag and what looked like a… framed print?

Azzi raised a brow. “I swear if you framed that photo of my knee mid-buckle—”

“God, no,” Paige snorted. “I deleted every version of that from my phone. This—” she held it up— “is better.”

She flipped the frame around to show a candid snapshot of the fan poster from Paige’s last tournament. The one with Azzi’s face on it and the message “Go PB. Win it for your girl.” It had been printed, matted, and framed in white wood, with a tiny gold plaque at the bottom that read: “We always show up for each other.”

Azzi’s face crumpled into the softest disbelief. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes watering.

“And this,” Paige said, offering the gift bag next, “is my real surprise. For surgery recovery.”

Inside was a custom-made hoodie. Black, oversized, with a stitched patch over the heart that read: “Property of PB.”

Azzi laughed through her tears. “You’re kidding.”

Paige grinned. “Only half. The other half is just very territorial.”

Azzi didn’t even bother with the hoodie at first—she tugged Paige onto the bed with her instead, careful of her leg, and tucked herself into Paige’s arms like it was second nature.

“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, nose brushing against Paige’s neck.

“And you’re stuck with me,” Paige whispered back, voice brushing against her skin like a promise.

And in that soft cocoon of fleece blankets, framed memories, and a heart still sore but healing, Azzi closed her eyes and thought—this is the kind of peace you don’t give up.

Not now. Not ever.

—-

The sun had started to dip just slightly behind the trees by the time Paige made it back home, paper bag in one hand, her phone still open to Azzi’s text in the other.

Azzi 🏀

“Can you pick it up? I need an hour.”

She hadn’t asked why. She didn’t need to. Sometimes grief came in waves, and Paige had learned to honor the tides.

But when she stepped through the sliding glass door and spotted Azzi lying flat on her back in the middle of the backyard court—still, eyes open, arm across her stomach—it knocked the breath out of her chest. The bag of food hit the patio chair without a second thought.

Paige walked quietly, no questions, no dramatics. Just slow steps across the concrete until she reached her. Without a word, she eased herself down beside Azzi—not too close, not too far—and mirrored her pose, shoulder blades flush to the ground, eyes toward the sky.

A minute passed.

Then five.

Then thirty.

Nothing was said. The silence wasn’t awkward—it just was.

The breeze shifted slightly, tugging at the edge of Paige’s shirt. The sky above them was brilliant blue. Too bright for the heaviness lying between them. Eventually, Paige broke the stillness with a low, dry mutter:

“I don’t mean to break the mood, but I am a very fair-skinned individual and I’m genuinely about ten minutes away from becoming a human sun-dried tomato.”

Azzi let out a sharp, unexpected laugh—short and real. It was enough to make her turn her head and glance sideways at Paige, who was still laying there dramatically squinting into the sky.

“That bad, huh?” Azzi asked, voice raspier than usual.

Paige turned to meet her eyes. “Bad enough I’d risk looking ridiculous if it meant you’d laugh again.”

Azzi’s gaze softened. She sat up slowly, crutches still nearby but not within arm’s reach. Paige followed, brushing dirt from her palms and sitting cross-legged beside her.

“I’m not sad,” Azzi said finally, looking forward, not at Paige. “Not angry. Not scared anymore.”

Paige stayed quiet, waiting.

“I just… feel nothing. Like, I’m watching my own life through a window. Like it’s happening to me, and I’m not really in it.” Azzi’s voice was steady, but the hollowness in it made it hit harder. “That’s scarier than anything I’ve felt since the injury.”

Paige didn’t speak right away. She reached over, gently resting a hand on Azzi’s knee—her good one.

“You don’t have to explain it. I get it. When the noise quiets, and you’re just left alone with it all? That’s when it hits different.” Paige exhaled. “But numb doesn’t mean broken, Az. It just means your brain is trying to give your heart a break. You’ve carried so much.”

Azzi looked at her then. Really looked.

Paige continued, softer, “You don’t owe anyone a perfect bounce back. Not your teammates. Not the press. Not even me. Just… let yourself feel this. Even if it’s nothing. I’ll be right here when it turns into something again.”

Azzi nodded, eyes glassy but not crying.

“Thanks for not trying to fix it,” she whispered.

Paige smirked. “I mean, technically, I did bring food. That counts as a soft attempt.”

Azzi cracked a smile. “I requested that chicken specifically. It better be still warm.”

“I carried it like it was a newborn child,” Paige grinned. “Come on, let’s get you inside before I burst into flames.”

She stood, offering Azzi a hand. Azzi took it—not just for balance, but because she needed to feel something real.

And Paige? She just held her tighter. No pressure. No expectations. Just steady hands, steady heart.

They walked back toward the house, side by side. No rush.

Because healing doesn’t happen in the spotlight—it happens in moments like these.

Quiet. Present. Together.

—-

The days after the court-floor moment passed slower than Azzi was used to—but they were filled with more clarity than before.

Her physical therapy sessions had started again. Still early. Still stiff. But movement, however small, felt like hope. Each time she got her leg just a little straighter, a little stronger, the fire in her chest flickered again.

Paige had done everything she could to stay by her side—meals, mobility help, movie nights—but the calendar was creeping up on the next leg of her tournament season. Three back-to-back weekends across the country.

They both knew it was coming. That didn’t make it easier.

The night before Paige was set to leave, Azzi sat at the kitchen island, watching her fold her final pair of golf pants and tuck them into her suitcase.

“You sure you’re good with this?” Paige asked, for maybe the fourth time that hour.

Azzi nodded. “You’ve been here for everything. I want you to go. You need to go.”

Paige looked unconvinced, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Still feels weird leaving you like this.”

“I’m not being left,” Azzi said firmly. “You’re chasing your dream. And I’ll still be right here. With a front-row livestream seat.”

They smiled. Kissed slow. And promised to call every night, even if it was just for ten minutes.

Two days later, Azzi’s mom, Katie, arrived from Virginia, tote bag in one hand and a Tupperware of homemade stew in the other.

“You’ve lost weight,” she said before anything else, stepping into Paige’s house like it was her own. “And you look tired. But still cute.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing for the first time that day. “Hi to you too, Ma.”

Having her around was like exhaling something Azzi didn’t know she’d been holding in. Her mom had always been her calm during the storm—even when she didn’t want it. She cooked, cleaned, organized Azzi’s pill schedule, and somehow still had energy to learn every lyric of whatever playlist Azzi had looping that week.

But more than that, she made Azzi talk. Really talk.

“You’re scared,” Katie said one night, sitting on the edge of the bed while Azzi iced her knee.

Azzi stared at the TV. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. But that’s okay.”

Azzi swallowed thickly. “I just want to get back. I want to play again. I miss being me.”

Katie reached over, brushed a curl away from her daughter’s face. “You are still you. Even here. Even now. Paige sees it. I see it. You’ll play again—but even if it takes longer than you want, you’ll get there.”

Azzi didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

Her mom being there—cooking, hovering, reminding her that strength wasn’t always physical—was the softest kind of medicine.

Meanwhile, Paige was making her own kind of magic on the road.

First stop: Phoenix.

She birdied the final three holes to finish tied for second. The broadcast flashed to her post-round interview, and she gave the smallest grin.

“Any motivation behind the strong finish today?”

“Yeah,” she said, not even hesitating. “Someone very important is watching.”

Cut to Azzi back home, watching on her laptop in the living room. Her mom threw a pillow at her lovingly.

“That girl loves you,” she said.

Azzi just grinned at the screen and whispered, “I know.”

The next few weeks were a blur of FaceTimes, PT appointments, and short but sweet updates:

Paige sending goofy videos of hotel room dance moves when Azzi had a rough morning.

Azzi sending progress clips from physical therapy—her first stair without crutches, her trainer yelling “LET’S GO!” in the background.

Katie being the constant glue, always making sure her daughter didn’t spiral too far into her own head.

Every night, Paige would call, exhausted but buzzing from the day. And Azzi would prop her phone against her water bottle, listening from bed with her leg still elevated.

“Still us,” Paige would whisper.

“Always,” Azzi would whisper back.

They weren’t in the same city. But they were no longer new to this.

This time, distance didn’t shake the foundation—it reminded them what they’d already built.

And they were just getting started.

—-

It had been twenty-two days, a tournament win, three different cities, and one emotionally loaded FaceTime call since Paige had last seen Azzi in person.

When she finally landed in LA, she didn’t go home to unpack. She went straight to Azzi’s place.

Azzi opened the door with a smile that looked like relief. Her curls were a little wilder, her eyes a little softer. Paige kissed her the moment they were close enough—slow, deep, steady. Like she was trying to make up for every second apart.

“I missed you,” Azzi mumbled, breath ghosting across Paige’s cheek.

Paige smiled into her neck. “I missed you more.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped in easy quiet—Azzi icing her knee while Paige unpacked takeout and stories. They lay side by side on the couch, trading updates, teasing each other about who texted more, and letting the simple joy of being in the same room again settle over them like sunlight.

Later that evening, Ice and KK met them for dinner at a cozy spot in West Hollywood.

It started innocent enough—laughter, inside jokes, Azzi trying to keep her composure every time Paige’s hand found her thigh under the table. But KK noticed it first, nudging Ice and cocking her head at Paige’s expression: composed, charming, but with eyes that said I’m two seconds from dragging her out of here.

Azzi, for her part, wasn’t doing any better. Paige's fingers kept grazing the inside of Azzi’s knee, inching higher with every refill of water, every shared smirk across the table.

KK raised her eyebrows. “Y’all need a minute or what?”

Azzi bit her lip. “Nope. All good here.”

Ice wasn’t convinced. “Pretty sure Paige has been undressing you in her head since the appetizer.”

Paige didn’t deny it—just gave a lazy shrug and a not-so-innocent smile as she reached for her glass. “She started it the second she walked in wearing those tight shorts.”

Azzi choked on her drink. “They’re compression shorts. Medical-grade.”

Paige leaned over, low in her voice. “They’re hot.”

KK groaned. “Okay. Yep. We’re wrapping up. Ice, ask for the check.”

Minutes later, as they all stood outside the restaurant saying goodbye, Paige and Azzi couldn’t keep their hands to themselves—Azzi clutching the lapel of Paige’s shirt collar, Paige pressing a lingering kiss just below Azzi’s ear.

“Okay!” Ice called, mock-covering her eyes. “This is a public sidewalk.”

“Barely,” Paige whispered back, hands slipping to Azzi’s hips. “Let’s go.”

Azzi didn’t argue.

And when Paige opened the passenger door for her, brushing a hand down Azzi’s thigh as she helped her in, Azzi’s breath hitched.

The car pulled away from the curb.

The city lights blurred past in streaks of amber and red, reflections chasing across the windshield like fireflies. Paige’s car moved smoothly through the night, low hum of the engine steady beneath the softer pulse of “Deep In Your Soul” by Alan Vuong vibrating through the speakers. The bass rolled under Azzi’s skin, syncing with her racing pulse, each beat a reminder of the way Paige’s fingers had haunted her thigh under the dinner table all night.

Three weeks apart. Three weeks of press, travel, late nights alone. It had all built to this slow-burning ache, and Paige had spent dinner feeding it—eyes lingering too long, hand inching higher beneath the tablecloth, lips brushing Azzi’s ear during a joke no one else even heard. All while laughing and nodding through stories with Ice and KK like she wasn’t setting Azzi on fire from the inside out.

By the time they pulled away from the restaurant and the city swallowed them whole again, Azzi was vibrating with restraint.

The beat in the car slowed, spacey and seductive. Streetlights painted across the dashboard in waves, gold fading into crimson. Paige’s hand rested innocently on the gearshift, and it was that—that fake innocence—that broke Azzi.

She reached across the center console, her fingers sliding beneath Paige’s wrist, guiding her hand down and over her lap. No hesitation.

Paige glanced sideways, eyes narrowing slightly. “Az…”

“I can’t wait,” Azzi whispered, breath hot and shallow. “You don’t get to tease me like that and expect me to just sit here.”

Paige smirked, eyes flicking between the road and her. “So you want to make a mess in my passenger seat?”

Azzi’s grip tightened. “I need to.”

She pressed Paige’s palm between her thighs, right over the heat building beneath the soft fabric of her shorts. Paige exhaled slowly, letting her fingers move—just enough pressure to make Azzi’s hips twitch, not enough to satisfy.

The song deepened, slow chords swelling like a heartbeat. The city flickered outside—neon signs, traffic lights, windows glowing in passing buildings—all of it washed across Azzi’s face like a dream. But she was too focused on the way Paige’s hand moved now, her fingers rubbing slow circles just where she needed.

“You’re soaked,” Paige said under her breath, the car dark around them, voice turned velvet. “You’ve been wet since the second course, haven’t you?”

Azzi whimpered. “Yes. Please…”

Paige slid her hand beneath the waistband, slipping into the heat with a curse under her breath. Her fingers were inside Azzi a heartbeat later, slow and deep.

Outside, the city kept rushing past them, colors strobing through the windshield like a silent film, like they were speeding through something they couldn’t name. Azzi’s head dropped back against the seat, mouth parted, breath fogging the window.

Paige kept one hand on the wheel, the other buried between Azzi’s legs, fucking her with steady, relentless strokes. The music pulsed around them—dreamy, sensual, echoing in the cabin like a soundtrack to something secret and sacred.

Azzi’s moans were quiet but desperate, her hips rolling up into Paige’s hand with every thrust.

“I missed you so much,” she gasped. “It’s been driving me insane.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “I felt it every night.”

Her fingers curled, hitting the perfect spot, her thumb dragging tight circles over Azzi’s clit until Azzi was trembling beside her, thighs clenched, eyes shut tight.

“Come for me,” Paige said, her voice low, commanding. “Come right here, while I drive you home. Let the whole city see you falling apart for me.”

And Azzi did—a quiet cry breaking in her throat as her body clenched around Paige’s fingers, her orgasm crashing through her in time with the rise of the song, city lights spinning across her skin as if the whole world moved with her.

The car kept moving, slower now, coasting through the streets like nothing had happened—except Azzi sat flushed and panting in the passenger seat, Paige’s fingers slipping slowly from her, wet and glistening in the glow of a passing traffic light.

Paige brought them to her lips, eyes still on the road, and sucked one clean.

Azzi stared at her, ruined and in awe. “You’re a menace.”

Paige just grinned. “You started it the second you walked into dinner looking like that.”

The song faded into something softer, a low instrumental lull. The house was still ten minutes away, but the hard part—the waiting—was over.

And Azzi was already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Drive faster.”

The door had barely clicked shut behind them when Paige pushed Azzi gently against it, hands braced on either side of her head, their bodies colliding like magnets finally given permission.

Azzi’s lips were already parted, breath coming short. “I’m still not over the car.”

Paige’s grin was slow, dangerous. “Then don’t be. I’m not done yet.”

She kissed her—deep, full of tongue and teeth and three weeks of desperate ache. Then she pulled away, just enough to whisper, “Go to the bed. Strip. I’ll be right there.”

Azzi swallowed hard and obeyed, backing toward the bedroom like her body moved on instinct. The room welcomed her with warm shadows and the soft hum of Paige’s surround sound system clicking on.

A moment later, “Darlin’” by Jean Dawson began to pour through the speakers—heavy, distorted, sensual. A heartbeat made of bass. Vocals like a fever dream.

She didn’t have time to catch her breath before Paige appeared in the doorway.

Strap on. No shirt. Just flushed skin, toned arms, and eyes that looked like they could consume her whole.

Azzi sat at the edge of the bed, naked, legs slightly parted, chest rising and falling fast.

Paige’s gaze dropped between her thighs. “Lie back.”

Azzi’s back hit the mattress in seconds, her knees instinctively drawing up.

Paige climbed over her, kneeling between her legs. She leaned down first—kissing her collarbone, her chest, dragging her teeth across a nipple and sucking until Azzi moaned and arched up to meet her.

“Spread wider for me,” Paige said, voice rough with want.

Azzi obeyed. Paige lined up the strap, the silicone pressing hot and slick where Azzi was already soaked.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” Paige murmured. “You, under me. Needing it slow. Needing it deep.”

Azzi whined. “Please.”

Paige pushed in slowly—inch by inch, watching every twitch in Azzi’s face as the toy stretched her open. Azzi’s fingers clenched the sheets. Her lips parted around a gasp as Paige bottomed out and held still, grounding them both in the sensation.

“Oh my God, Paige—”

“I know,” Paige whispered, leaning in to kiss her. “I know, baby. Let me take care of you.”

She began to move, steady and deep, hips rolling with control that made Azzi cry out softly each time she filled her again. The music echoed around them—distorted guitar riffs and moaning vocals syncing with the rhythm of Paige’s thrusts.

Azzi couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Paige’s hands were everywhere—holding her hips, sliding up her ribs, gripping her wrists gently as her pace deepened.

“You feel that?” Paige asked, voice almost reverent. “The way you open for me. The way you need this.”

Azzi nodded, tears threatening behind her eyes from the sheer force of being wanted like this.

“I missed you,” she gasped. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

Paige kissed her like that hurt to hear—urgent and soft and full of love. Then she pulled back again, angling her hips just right. The strap hit deeper now, dragging across the spot that made Azzi’s whole body jolt.

She let out a broken moan.

“There it is,” Paige breathed. “Let me hear it, baby.”

Azzi didn’t hold back. She gave Paige everything—moans, gasps, every twitch and tremble. Her legs locked around Paige’s waist as she fucked her harder now, the music pulsing around them like it was scoring the rise of something holy.

Paige reached between them, her fingers finding Azzi’s clit, rubbing tight circles with the same rhythm of her hips.

“You’re close,” she said, panting. “I can feel it.”

Azzi could only nod, her voice caught in her throat.

“I want you to come with me inside you,” Paige whispered. “So deep you still feel me tomorrow.”

It only took a few more thrusts—Paige hitting that perfect angle, her fingers never relenting—before Azzi came apart beneath her with a cry, her whole body convulsing, back arching into Paige’s chest, thighs shaking around her hips.

Paige slowed, fucking her through it, whispering praises against her temple, kissing her forehead as Azzi clung to her.

They stayed connected, chests heaving together, bodies still trembling from the high.

“Jesus Christ,” Azzi finally whispered.

Paige smiled, brushing damp curls from her face. “You good?”

Azzi laughed weakly. “I’m wrecked.”

“Good.” Paige leaned down, pressed her lips to Azzi’s jaw. “Because next time, I want you riding me.”

Azzi groaned, still catching her breath. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Paige pulled out slowly, with care, then laid beside her and pulled Azzi onto her chest. “Darlin’” was still playing, soft and echoing now, fading into the air like the night was tucking them in.

Azzi closed her eyes against the skin of Paige’s neck. “Don’t make me wait three weeks next time.”

Paige kissed the top of her head. “Never again.”

—-

Morning sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, painting long golden lines across the bed, across skin. Azzi was still sprawled over Paige, one leg thrown across her hips, face nuzzled somewhere in her neck, lips barely brushing the skin there with every exhale.

Paige blinked awake slowly. Her body ached in the best way—sore thighs, used muscles, a delicious throb at the base of her spine that reminded her exactly what they’d gotten up to last night.

Azzi made a small noise and tightened her hold like Paige was a body pillow she refused to let go of.

“You alive?” Paige asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

Azzi mumbled something completely incoherent into her neck.

“Didn’t catch that,” Paige teased, shifting just slightly, trying to sit up.

Azzi groaned and flopped dramatically onto her back. “I said: I can’t feel my legs. And also, I hate you.”

Paige smirked, stretching like a cat. “Mmm, weird. Didn’t sound like hate last night.”

Azzi flung a pillow in her direction without opening her eyes.

Paige caught it with one hand and tossed it right back, letting it land gently on Azzi’s face. “You’re grumpy when you’re ruined.”

Azzi peeled the pillow off with a groan. “Ruined? Ruined? Paige, I’m like… emotionally concussed.”

“Emotionally concussed,” Paige repeated, deadpan. “Do I need to file a report?”

“Yeah. Report this pussy to HR. Because it’s still shaking.”

They both dissolved into laughter, the kind that left Azzi’s stomach sore and Paige clutching her sides.

Eventually, they quieted again. Paige rolled onto her side, brushing Azzi’s curls back from her face.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You really okay?”

Azzi met her eyes. “I’m more than okay.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her gently—no urgency, no heat, just lips meeting in the stillness of morning.

“I mean,” Azzi added after a moment, “you did say you wanted me to ride you to that song next time…”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering now?”

Azzi groaned. “God no. I need three to five business days.”

“Noted. I’ll submit a PTO request on your behalf.”

Azzi snorted, reaching up to pull Paige back into her arms. “You’re annoying.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

They laid there a little longer, tangled and lazy, the kind of quiet that didn’t ask for anything more. Somewhere down the hall, a phone buzzed. The real world was waiting.

But not yet.

Right now, there was only soft kisses, sore bodies, and a shared smile that said last night was everything.

And maybe—just maybe—this was everything too.

They finally made it out of bed just past noon—Azzi in one of Paige’s massive hoodies, her legs bare and warm from the sheets, and Paige in loose black shorts, hair a beautiful disaster, carrying two mugs of coffee like a peace offering.

Azzi was curled into the corner of the couch, blanket draped over her lap, when Paige returned from the kitchen with a plate of cinnamon toast that was technically burned on one side. She dropped it between them proudly.

“Gourmet brunch,” Paige said, clinking their mugs together.

Azzi bit into a corner. “You know, for someone who ran a full game on me last night, this is wildly unimpressive.”

Paige smirked, nudging her shoulder. “I blew your back out and made breakfast. That’s a full-service experience.”

Azzi snorted. “Barely breakfast. These toasts are fighting for their lives.”

They sat in the soft glow of late morning, the apartment still dim except for the light spilling through the blinds, a warm hush hanging between them. Outside, the faint hum of the street drifted in. Familiar. Comfortable.

Azzi let out a sigh. “You know… I don’t really wanna go back to my place later.”

Paige looked over at her. “Then don’t.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You kicking me out in reverse now?”

Paige shook her head. “I’m saying… stay. For the night. The weekend. However long you want.”

Azzi toyed with her mug. “You mean that?”

“I mean,” Paige said slowly, “you’ve got, like, three pairs of your sneakers by the front door, a rotation of hoodies in my closet, and your face wash has permanent residence in my bathroom. At some point, we’ve stopped playing house and started just… living in it.”

Azzi looked around, like she was really seeing the space again. Her jean jacket was hanging on the back of a chair. Her phone charger was already plugged in by Paige’s nightstand. Her favorite cereal was in the cabinet.

“It’s weird,” she said softly. “How at home I feel here. Like my stuff just… made sense here.”

Paige nudged her knee. “It does make sense here.”

Azzi glanced at her. “So you’d want me here? All the time?”

Paige nodded once. “Yeah. I would.”

Azzi hesitated—just for a moment—then smiled. “You sure you can handle that much chaos in your daily routine?”

“I think I already am,” Paige said, grinning. “And I kind of like it.”

There was a pause. Nothing heavy. Just the gentle settling of something new and inevitable.

Azzi tilted her head. “So if I did move in… what’s the first thing you’d let me take over?”

Paige grinned. “Not the thermostat. You run hotter than the sun.”

“Okay, rude. But fair.” Azzi sipped her coffee, then added, “Can I at least reorganize your kitchen? Because whatever’s going on in that spice cabinet is a cry for help.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

Azzi beamed. “I’ll label everything.”

They both laughed, the kind of laugh that made the whole morning feel a little brighter.

No official move-in date. No boxes packed. Just the start of something new, wrapped in cinnamon toast and soft sunlight.

And Paige didn’t say it out loud—but as she watched Azzi curl deeper into the corner of her couch, sipping coffee like it had always been hers too, she knew:

This house wasn’t hers anymore.

It was theirs.

Or… it would be. Soon.