warnings: aubrey being a softie. your sand-castle almost fell over.
kassii’s diary: you and aubs go to the beach with your little sister and yall make sand castles
letters from the sandy beach: 🌴🌺 .
aubrey griffin x fem!reader (gxg)
summer fluff • your name is ami (amelia) • STUD X FEM
it was way too hot outside for anybody to be functioning.
you were halfway through making your sister her fourth snack of the morning—cutting strawberries like you were on chopped—when she popped into the kitchen like she’d just had the best idea known to man.
“can we go to the beach?” she asked, already holding her towel like she manifested it.
“i literally just gave you a popsicle,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “and now you wanna go touch sand?”
“yes. and bring aubrey. she’s cool.”
you paused. then shrugged. “‘kay. call her.”
fast forward thirty minutes and y’all were pulling up to the beach with your sister in the backseat singing bruno mars like it was her personal concert. aubrey was in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, baseball cap flipped backwards, legs up on the dash like she’d been born for summer.
“she’s been talking about this all morning,” aubrey laughed, glancing back at your sister, who was still vibing way too hard for 11 a.m.
“i’m only here ‘cause she said she’d cry if we didn’t go.”
“she told me she’d punch me in the throat if i said no.”
aubrey laughed. “she’s feral. i respect it.”
the beach was warm and breezy, the kind of day that made you forget you were supposed to be responsible. your sister dragged both of you straight to the sand like a drill sergeant, commanding, “i want a castle. like a good one. not a weak one.”
“yes ma’am,” aubrey saluted.
you and aubrey sat cross-legged in the sand, trying to build something worthy of the royal standards being forced on y’all. aubrey’s hands were covered in wet sand, and you were pretty sure she was just winging it—but somehow it was turning out cute. she leaned over and whispered, “is she always this bossy?”
you nodded. “she’s the president of my life.”
aubrey smiled at that. “i’d vote for her.”
you rolled your eyes, but your heart did a little flip. she always had that effect on you—casual, warm, effortless.
when the sandcastle was finally done, your sister stood back and nodded like she was judging it for an award.
“this is nice. i’m putting seaweed on it though. it needs, like, a garden.”
you let her do her thing, flopping onto your towel. aubrey lay next to you, brushing sand off her arms.
“you’re good with her,” she said, glancing at you.
“she’s small. and scary. i have no choice.”
aubrey smiled, turning her head to look at you. “nah. you’re just sweet.”
you looked over at her, sunlight catching on her cheekbone, lips curved.
“don’t say that,” you whispered. “you’ll ruin my image.”
“you don’t have an image, ami.”
“rude.”
she bumped her shoulder against yours. “nah. just true.”
you grinned. “you’re lucky i like you.”
“i know,” she said, and leaned in just enough for your sunglasses to knock a little. “you should kiss me about it.”
you did.
your sister yelled from the sandcastle, “NO KISSING NEAR MY KINGDOM!”
aubrey laughed against your mouth. “my bad, your majesty.”
“we’ll make it up to her with popsicles,” you muttered, brushing sand off your legs.
“and more seaweed,” aubrey added.
you held her hand under the towel.
summer had never felt better.
TAG LIST
@mrsarnold , @chloenextdoorr , @americasfavoritelesbian , @2prettyyjayahhh , @24hrssofnea
shoutout to @archivessofkassidee because y’all be sleeping on her fr 🎀 she might not post every five seconds but when she do?? it’s fire. like be serious. she a baddie, she funny, she got taste. support her now before she deletes and goes ghost again 😞 give her a follow 🫀 .
literally don’t even look over here . i’m not here for aesthetics or deep posts or whatever y’all be doin on main . i’m kassidee but call me kassi , and this is just my lil corner for stalking uconn blogs & shamelessly reposting fics like my life depends on it 😭 . but pls follow !!
i do not write . i do post . i do speak . i scroll , read , reblog , repeat . if it got “paige x reader” in the title ? reblogged . “kayla williams being fine for 3k words” ? reblogged . “azzi fudd slow burn where reader has a secret” ? REBLOGGED . y’all write like it’s fanfiction olympics and i’m just here eatin it up like a broke high school senior ( ya girl got bandz to )
i’ll like a post and dip . maybe tag it “screaming crying throwing up” if i’m feelin extra . but that’s it . follow me for content , i am the content collector . the fic hoarder . the quiet cousin of this fandom who’s read everything twice and got favorites bookmarked like a librarian .
uconn blogs i see y’all , i love y’all , i worship y’all . i’m just too shy to interact 😭
requests are open !! if i even choose to write it’ll probably only be kayla williams and rian forestier . i’ll post some dumps here n there , like of me n my friends .
synopsis: tess and paige predict each other's win records leading up to the first sparks-wings match up of the season. tess wins, she collects her reward, and realizes that she and paige are honestly kind of whipped.
notes: for the anon who requested something in honor of the wings' first win, for the anon who wanted tess doing paige's makeup, and for the anon who asked if the day was rainy enough (it was not raining in florida but i just seem to have a problem saying no). also yes this is an old header, no i didnt want to make a new one, no. i dont care. i wrote this instead of watching a lecture video so now i have to learn about thermodynamics at 8:30 tomorrow morning. yes this is me begging for attention. no i am not ashamed. not proofread at all. hope y'all enjoy 🫶
For as long as Tess and Paige have known each other, have loved each other, you would expect for them to come to the realization that there’s just no clear winner with each other. Yes, Paige beat Tess in the natty – frankly, they annihilated South Carolina, although that’s neither here nor there – but to see Paige so happy, so deserving of the win, Tess isn’t sure if she could ever consider that a full loss. Tess has a few victories of her own – Fortnite wins, petty arguments about pineapple on pizza, and the times they’d played one-on-one together and Tess scraped by with the win. Paige wouldn’t consider those losses, either; she never feels like a loser when Tess is beaming, the glow of adrenaline and success on her cheeks, or even the muted acceptance when she realizes she was being irrational about pizza toppings and presses a quiet kiss to Paige’s cheek in apology for getting heated about their random little arguments.
It’s not an ego thing. It’s not an unsportsmanlike refusal to concede the victory. They know when they lose as much as they win, but sometimes, losses feel like wins with the right person. And sometimes, and if Tess from five years ago heard her say this, she’d probably beat the shit out of her, some losses just don’t matter when you see the bigger picture in front of you. It’s growth, acceptance, learning to be better, and learning to realize what pieces of your life to continue to carry with you.
With that said, the both of them should know by now that there’s never a clear winner between the two of them. The both of them should know that it’s useless to make bets where the losers has to do something or the other, because most of the time, it’s hardly a punishment if they’re together. They’re stupid and in love and kind of gross about it, but neither of them particularly care.
The bet came about one night as they’re on FaceTime. It’s late on Thursday and the both of them have their WNBA debuts on Friday, but neither of them want to hang up. They’d spent the better part of the night talking about any and everything – those well-hidden fears, like Tess’s worry that her body isn’t ready for the physicality of the league and Paige questioning the kind of leader she needs to be the Wings, the kind of player she needs to be. Tess and Paige weren’t trying to fix anything about each other. There wasn’t much more Paige could have told Tess outside of “Trust yourself, you’re ready for this,” to soothe her worries, just as Tess couldn’t have said much more outside of “They drafted you to be Paige Bueckers, you’re enough.” All they needed was for the other to listen.
In between the heavier topics, Paige squeezed in a terrible joke or two, ones that Tess pretended weren’t funny even though her cheeks hurt from smiling. Paige would tell her about how nice her new neighborhood is – if you could call the apartment complex that – and, vulnerably, Tess would admit that part of her wishes the both of them were together for this part of their journey. “What’s four years compared to the rest of our lives?” Paige had said, and that was enough to make Tess tear up again.
There was a lull in conversation when Tess’s eyes started drooping. Selfishly, she hadn’t wanted to give up on the call yet, even though it was nearing midnight in Dallas and she knows that Paige gets cranky if she doesn’t sleep well. So, in an attempt to listen to her girlfriend’s voice for a little longer, Tess murmurs sleepily, “When do you think you’re winning your first game?”
Paige snorts. “Definitely not tomorrow,” she admitted, which made Tess grin. “What about you?”
“Oh, definitely tomorrow,” Tess says confidently. “I’m going to ruin the Valkyries’ entire lineage for waiving Kaitlyn. You know I’m 1-0 in revenge games, baby. I dismantled Iowa for you. Now I’m dismantling the Bay for your teammate. Don’t ever say I don’t love you.”
“Thanks,” Paige laughs. “I think.” Tess clears her throat – loudly, if not a little dramatically, and she can see Paige’s soft grin on the screen. “I love you, too.” Tess smiles, too, her eyes lighting up at Paige’s words. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of hearing them. “So, are you interested in making this fun?”
Tess raises a lazy brow. “...I’m listening.”
“We predict each other’s first wins,” Paige explains. “Winner makes the loser do whatever they want.”
“I don’t think you understand how badly I’m going to destroy the Valks tomorrow, babe,” Tess says. “Like, I just handed you a free win. Your first win, my first loss?”
“You play Minnesota after the Valks,” Paige points out. “If I can’t win against Phee, you can’t, either.”
“Rude,” Tess huffs. “Okay. What about each other’s win record by the first Wings-Sparks game this season?”
Paige pauses to think about it, then nods. “How many games is that? Eight for both of us?” Tess opens the schedule on her phone, humming in affirmation. “I bet you’re going…3-5.”
Tess opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. “Okay. Sure.” She flicks through the schedule, taking note of who the Wings play, and then a guilty smile crosses her face. “You’re gonna hate me, but lowkey…I think you guys are gonna be 1-7.”
“One single win?” Paige echoes in disbelief.
“Hear me out!” Tess cries. “You play Minnesota, like, a million times. I think Atlanta will be close, but c’mon. BG, Rhyne, Allisha? Just greedy. Your team will fumble with Chicago, and I’m not saying that because Kam’s my girl or anything. Your coach reminds me of Voldemort and as a student athlete from the real USC, I don’t think whatever weird ass Trojan school he came from has taught him enough about rotations and how to coach basketball. You’re definitely gonna beat the Sun though. You’re undefeated in Mohegan.”
Paige pauses, her expression softening. “You know that?” she whispers.
Tess laughs gently, sounding more like an amused exhale. “Of course I do. Elite ball knowledge.” That makes Paige roll her eyes, but there’s a light blush that’s settled over her cheeks. Tess swipes off of the game schedule, fullscreening their FaceTime call again, and something settles into place in her chest at the sight of Paige, her face soft, sleepy, slightly determined and illuminated by the dim glow of her screen.
“You’re staring,” Paige points out, her voice impossibly smug, and Tess can’t even find it in herself to be ashamed.
“You’re beautiful,” Tess states gently. “I don’t say it enough. I’m sorry. But, God, Paige, you are.”
Paige’s smile turns a little tender. “You say it in your own way,” she murmurs. “I hear you. I’m listening when you think I’m not.”
“I know,” Tess confesses. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and the two of them fall into a brief silence before Tess breaks it with a yawn. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, baby,” Paige promises, her tone soft. “Just eight games, okay? Then it’s just you and me. You can stay the night after the game and I’ll drop you off at the airport. Get you a coffee and try to convince you to request a trade.”
Tess rolls her eyes a little, but her heart swells. “Haven’t even played a game yet and you’re already trying to trade me,” she mutters.
“You’d look sexy in neon green,” Paige teases.
“No the hell I wouldn’t,” Tess declares. “The fact they got your pale ass in neon green is a crime in so many ways. You’d look good in purple.”
“I look good always.”
“The lack of sleep is making you delusional,” Tess fires back, but the smile on her face betrays her. Then, quietly, she asks, “Will you stay on the phone?”
Paige’s face softens. “Yeah,” she says. “Of course.”
Tess falls asleep to the sound of Paige’s breathing, close to her despite the hundreds of miles of distance in between them, already counting down the games until she gets to have Paige in her arms once more.
To no one’s surprise, especially not Tess’s, the Wings finish 1-7 by the time the first Wings-Sparks match up rolls around. Tess doesn’t know a whole lot, but she knows that a WNBA team under Lisa Leslie’s leadership would not be 1-7. Clearly, she’s not a GM, so what does she truly know?
Paige had predicted the Sparks to go into their game with a 3-5 record. The Sparks actually underperformed, locking in with a 2-6 record, and Paige spent almost an hour on FaceTime complaining about the fact that they should have won their second game against the Valkyries. Tess, admittedly, didn’t have a great shooting night, but she tried to salvage what was left of her dignity by arguing that it wasn’t technically a revenge game. She’ll get the next one, though.
On the bright side, Tess won their bet. Which means that Paige has to do whatever Tess wants her to do. Which, the more that Tess thinks about it, probably won’t be anything too crazy considering they’re planning on maximizing their time together after the game.
The Sparks end up taking the win, pushing them to 3-6 on the season and pushing the Wings to a disappointing 1-8. Paige wasn’t angry. She just seemed kind of tired, the kind of exhaustion that lingered in your chest rather than your bones. Paige was carrying a lot for the team and doing a lot for them. She was their point guard, their coach, and everything in between. Tess would never take it for granted that she provided the kind of security that allowed Paige to just be Paige and nothing else.
Cam and Rickea both give Tess a teasing wave as they watch her leave after media, hand in hand with Paige, but Tess just rolls her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Paige’s thumb pressing against the center of her palm.
The ride to Paige’s apartment is quiet. Tess can tell there’s a lot on Paige’s mind and that she’ll talk when she’s ready, but she’s not closed off. Her palm rests gently over Tess’s thigh, fingers brushing gently against her skin, humming along to the song playing over the radio. When she pulls into the lot, she takes both of their bags from the back, pressing a sweeping kiss to Tess’s cheek when she complains because she knows Paige is tired, although she can’t help her smile.
“Can I cash in on my bet winnings tonight?” Tess asks as Paige leads her through her apartment. The lights are dim, but Tess’s eyes sweep across the walls quickly. It’s clear that Paige is still moving in, but her apartment is clearly lived in, as evidenced by the plates left in the drainer and the random pair of shoes left by the couch. The sight makes her grin soften, even when Paige groans dramatically as she flicks on the bedroom light.
Paige deposits their bags carefully on the ground, then she falls back onto her bed, limbs spread in a starfish shape. “Please nothing weird,” Paige begs, eyes blinking open blearily when Tess crawls into bed next to her, slinging a leg over her waist and straddling her. Paige’s hands come up to rest on her thighs, her touch warm and gentle, and Tess brushes her fingers through the loose hair at the top of Paige’s head. “Or freaky. I’ll fall asleep with my hand down your shorts.”
“You’re disgusting,” Tess mumbles, and Paige musters an annoying little grin. “But I saw this TikTok the other day.”
Paige sighs. “That never ends well.”
Ignoring her, Tess continues, her free hand brushing against the exposed skin of Paige’s stomach innocently. “It was of this girl doing her girlfriend’s makeup. It was called ‘turning my masc girlfriend into a fem’ or whatever.”
One of Paige’s eyes blinks open. “You just wanna do my makeup?” she asks, unconvinced. “Like no strings attached?”
“Well,” Tess murmurs, “like…on live?”
Paige pauses, confusion evident in her expression. “You just won a bet where your prize is to get me to do anything you wanted.” Tess nods. “And you want to use that to do my makeup on live?”
Tess wrinkles her nose. “Why do you say it like that?”
“‘Cause if I won I was gonna make you be the big spoon tonight,” Paige admits.
“I can do that anyways,” Tess says with a laugh. “You don’t need a bet for that.”
“And you don’t need a bet to do my makeup on live, baby.”
Tess pauses, and then she sighs forlornly. “We can never just win with each other, can’t we?”
“Nah,” Paige says with a little too much glee. “You get to do your weird makeup stuff. I get to be held tonight. Everyone wins.”
Tess rolls her eyes, but her expression is fond. She slides off of Paige’s lap, not listening to her girlfriend’s complaints about already missing her, and digs through her belongings for her makeup bag. She directs Paige to her desk chair as she takes a seat on the desk itself, and sets up her phone until the both of them are in frame. Satisfied, she clicks the button to go live, and the viewers and commenters begin rolling in. There’s flurries of various greetings and Tess’s eyes catch on one that says “mom and dad are together” with a million crying emojis. She bites back a laugh.
“Hello, TikTokers,” she says plainly, not reacting when Paige’s hand lands on her thigh absently. “Paige has lost a bet–”
“Lost is subjective,” Paige interrupts, and Tess can’t help her stupid little grin.
“Lost is, in fact, subjective,” Tess agrees, a hand reaching up to cup Paige’s jaw. She squeezes gently, her lips puckering out, and Paige rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Look at this face. She’s so excited to be here.” Tess reaches for her makeup bag and starts pulling products out. Paige eyes most of them warily. “So, I will be doing Paige’s makeup. Nothing crazy ‘cause it’s like, 10pm, and I’m gonna have to clean it off anyways, but y’all can ask us questions.”
“Keep it cordial,” Paige cuts in again, a brow raising, and Tess can’t help her giggle.
The chat explodes with questions, but Tess redirects her attention to Paige’s face, squeezing a bit of primer onto her fingers. “You can choose the questions,” Tess tells her, “since I’m about to stick my fingers all over your face.”
“How generous,” Paige mutters dryly, but lets Tess tilt her head to her liking as she carefully rubs the primer into her girlfriend’s skin. Paige hums, clearly enjoying the attention, but snorts before she reads the first question. “‘Did y’all actually think you were being slick when you first started soft launching each other?’”
“Jesus,” Tess mutters, fingers still working. “That was like, two years ago.”
“She thought she was being slick,” Paige declares, and Tess pauses to glance at the camera with a look that clearly says, she is so fucking delusional. “She was adjusting me like we were in a professional photoshoot and not her tryna cop a feel in the trainer’s office.”
“Yeah, and you wanted to kiss me at the airport,” Tess huffs.
Paige grins, all smug. “And here you are two years later, sitting on my desk in my apartment and doing my makeup. All because you love me.” She drags out the word love like she’s six years old and teasing a classmate with the kissing in a tree rhyme.
“Geno was right,” Tess says. “You are delusional.”
Paige glances at the live again, where comments are still rolling in. “Tess loves me, guys,” she says, as if it wasn’t evidently clear that Tess really did. “Trust.” Tess can’t hide her smile as she reaches for the foundation, the spare she keeps in her bag that matches Paige’s skin tone more than it matches hers. She’d started keeping an extra in her bag when they were on their joint world tour before the 2025 college season and now, even hundreds of miles apart, it was a habit that she has yet to break.
“‘How do the both of you manage the distance? My girlfriend just moved away for college and it’s been hard on us,’” Paige reads. Tess softens as she reaches for the brush, beginning to lightly apply the foundation to Paige’s skin. “You first?”
Tess hums as she contemplates her answer. “It’s simple,” she says finally, “but not easy. But it’s all about the intent, effort, patience, and understanding.” She doesn’t say anything for a beat, a wry smile crooking on her lips. “And y’all won’t ever catch me saying this again, but I really do miss Paige when we’re apart. Like, a lot. Believe me when I say that I understand how difficult it can be, but it’s only impossible if you let it be impossible. Be honest. Communicate. If you’re busy, tell them you’re gonna be busy. Make time even when it’s not convenient.”
“Aw,” Paige coos, her cheeks tinging red as a wide smile overtakes her features. “The distance really has made you soft.”
“You’re such a pain in my ass,” Tess mutters. “You wanna add anything or are you gonna be annoying?”
Paige hums, her palms resting firmly on Tess’s thighs. “Even if you think it’s small, every little moment counts,” she says softly. “Make an effort to keep them a part of your life even if they’re not really there physically. Random life updates about dogs you see on the street or how you’re feeling that day. Don’t let the distance be a reason to stop choosing them.”
“Good answer,” Tess says, brushing a light kiss to Paige’s temple, and the blonde smiles proudly.
Paige checks herself out in the camera, tilting her head and rubbing her hands together. “Serving face and good life advice,” she croons. “The ladies call me Dr. P. Like Dr. Phil.”
“Tell the ladies to stop calling you doctor,” Tess huffs. “Or your lady is gonna give them a reason to actually go to the doctor.”
Paige glances at the screen again, a satisfied little smile tugging at her lips. “You heard her,” she says, far too pleased with herself, and Tess can’t hide the smile on her face. “No more thirsting in my comments. Or my DMs. Or, matter of fact, no more thirsting in Tess’s comments or DMs either.”
“Me?” Tess cries.
“Do we need to talk about your controversially young girlfriend again?”
“Oh, my God.” Tess shakes her head as she reaches for the mascara. “Please read the next question.”
Paige huffs something smart, but doesn’t repeat it when Tess raises a brow. Obediently, she tilts her head back, keeping dangerously still as Tess runs the wand through her lashes. “‘Thoughts on the Sparks having a better record than the Wings?’”
“Go Sparks,” Tess says simply. Paige is silent, but the corner of her lips lift ever so slightly. “P? Any thoughts, baby?”
“I think I’m winning off the court,” Paige admits shamelessly.
“Alright,” Tess states. “No more basketball questions before Paige yaps us into a meeting with our PR teams.”
Paige smirks. “I dunno,” she says, “I think the first meeting with our PR teams went pretty well.”
And at that, Tess can’t help the way her smile grows, thinking about the first time they’d formally met – in a conference room in South Carolina. Tess was one day away from ruining her life completely, and then she and Paige had been pushed together as if a fake relationship could solve both of their problems. In a roundabout way, that fake relationship did solve all of their problems, so maybe their managers were onto something.
The chat explodes, confused about Paige’s casual lore drop, and Tess brushes her thumb across the hinge of Paige’s jaw, her free hand reaching for her lip gloss. Paige’s smile is softer, like she’s thinking about how much they’d been through together to get here, and that thought makes something in Tess’s chest soften.
“One more question,” Tess announces, uncapping the lip gloss. “Make it count.”
Paige leans forward slightly, hands still on Tess’s thighs, and she scans the comments for a good question to ask. Gingerly, Tess applies the gloss to Paige’s bottom lip, tapping on her jaw to get her to rub her lips together. Paige does so without a question before finally settling on her last question. “‘Who’s winning a WNBA championship first?’”
“The better question is who’s winning a regular season game first,” Tess blurts without really thinking, which makes Paige choke on her laughter. Tess regrets her statement immediately, even as the chat lights up with crying emojis and laughing emojis.
“Felt a little targeted,” Paige teases, but there’s no hurt in her expression, only amusement.
“3-6, baby,” Tess boasts proudly. “All I’m saying is that Paige and I win and lose together. Emphasis on the lose together.”
Paige’s expression is far too smug, and that’s when Tess knows it’s time to shut off the live for the night. She and Paige say goodbye to the viewers and she turns off her phone just in time for Paige to grab her gently by the front of her hoodie, pulling her down far enough to brush a kiss to her lips. Paige is a little sticky with gloss but all it does is make Tess grin against her, having missed the feeling of her lips against hers.
“Just so you know, I’m very proud of your one win,” Tess murmurs. “Defending that undefeated streak in Mohegan? Hot.”
“Undefeated in Mohegan,” Paige states. “Undefeated off the court.” Her grin is wide, and she plants another, chaste kiss to Tess’s lips. “That’s what matters.”
And Tess? Silly, enamored, far too in love for her own good Tess can’t help the way she smiles, or the way her heart grows a few sizes too big in her chest. Paige is an idiot. Unbelievably corny, but she’s hers. That means more to her than a win record does. Tess always likes to joke that Paige is lucky that she loves her, but Tess thinks that she’s pretty lucky that Paige loves her, too.
i’m neapolitan ( yes my name is neapolitan now stfu ) —16 (17 on june 30th ), and this is my little corner of the internet. ima be writing mostly about iowa wbb, uconn wbb, and usc wbb . dms and reqs are open !! my most used nicknames by my friends are probably nea, nene, or harpie ( my mothers name was harper ).
yes, i’m pacific american, hawaiian, and black, so you already know the culture’s deep and the vibes are real. i’m also a no label girlie, wlw, and yes, i might steal ya girl (respectfully. or not.).
i have 3 siblings , my dad’s single . well no actually , he has a fiancée. SHES SO NICE TO ME !! my dads fiancée has kids, 2. so in total there’s five kids. i love them all
cabin 4 agriculture , cancer , pjo fanatic , rian forestier’s babygirl ( im being deadass ) . jewell loyds daughter , ( in a different universe ) . people say i look like nick cannon and mariah carey’s secret daughter or whatever , i guess i’ll take it . paige bueckers and azzi fudds niece ( in a different universe ) .
my favorite artists are lana del ray , the weeknd , grouplove , tv girl , current joys , fitz and the tantrum , roar , faye webster , clairo , beebadoobee , pinkpantheress , john + jane q. public , the cranberries , the smiths , the beatles , nirvana , PARTYNEXTDOOR , bryson tiller , brent faiyaz , sza , kendrick lamar , anna wise , mariah the scientist , jhene aiko , etc.
| synopsis: tatum rhodes transfers to uconn for a fresh start. new team, new city, and unexpected challenges. amid the pressure, she’s drawn to her teammate, paige bueckers. but love isn’t part of the game plan—not yet.
| warnings: fluff, explicit content / smut, alcohol use, drug references, injury (on court), lots of basketball, mental health themes, cheating, breakups, heartbreak, toxic relationships, jealousy, communication issues, misunderstandings, verbal arguments / yelling, performance pressure
| tag list?? (comment): none yet
| author’s note: lmao yes i have yet another new series. i started drafting this like a month ago and i’m excited abt this. and yes i have two series rn with the theme of transferring 😭.
I wasn’t oblivious—at least, I liked to think I wasn’t. But when it came to her, I second-guessed everything.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think she liked me. It was just… I wasn’t convinced she liked me.
Not in the way I wanted.
Sure, she was sweet. Sure, she paid attention. Sure, she acted different with me than she did with everyone else. But was it enough to mean what I thought it meant? Or was she just like that with me? I drove myself crazy over it, and every time Morgan or Ice or Sarah tried to tell me otherwise, I found a way to dismiss it.
“You’re actually an idiot,” Morgan had told me once, arms crossed, staring at me like I was the dumbest person alive.
I wasn’t saying she was wrong.
But I needed proof.
⸻
“Yo, come look at this,” Morgan had said one day, phone in hand.
It was a video—of me and Aubrey.
I recognized the moment instantly. It was after practice, when we were all sprawled around, stretching and pretending we weren’t exhausted. Aubrey was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, and I had dropped onto the ground next to her, practically collapsing into her side. She didn’t even react—just adjusted so I was more comfortable.
The video showed the way she barely acknowledged anyone else calling her name. Ice, KK, and Jana had all tried to get her attention at some point, but she didn’t even glance up from her conversation with me. She just kept leaning toward me, talking to me, like no one else existed.
And then—because Morgan was messy—the video zoomed in on the way Aubrey’s hand absentmindedly traced patterns on my arm.
I blinked.
“…Okay?” I said. “She was comfortable.”
Morgan gaped at me. “That’s all you got from that?”
“She was sitting,” I defended. “And I was next to her. It’s not that deep.”
Morgan’s face told me she thought I needed divine intervention.
⸻
But then there was the other video.
This one was from a random night in my dorm, where Aubrey had let me do her hair.
I was standing between her legs, focused on parting her curls, while she leaned into me with her eyes closed.
The video—courtesy of Morgan, again—caught the way Aubrey’s arms had loosely wrapped around my waist. How she ignored her ringing phone, not even glancing at the screen.
“How do you explain this one?” Morgan had asked, smug.
I had tried to explain.
“She was relaxed, plus I was doing her hair.”
Morgan didn’t even dignify me with a response.
⸻
There were the little things, too.
The way Aubrey always showed up with my favorites—drinks, snacks, honestly anything—without needing to be asked.
The way she always remembered.
The way she always paid attention.
“You ever notice how she never asks you what you want?” KK had pointed out once, after Aubrey had handed me a smoothie, exactly the kind I liked, without me saying a word.
I had noticed.
But that didn’t mean anything.
Right?
⸻
And then there was our handshake.
It had started as something small—something stupid, honestly. A quick routine we made up in between practice drills, when we were goofing off.
But at the end of it—every time—Aubrey kissed my hand.
Soft.
Gentle.
Consistent.
And still, I wasn’t convinced.
⸻
I told myself I wasn’t being dumb.
Aubrey had never said anything. She never made a move.
So how was I supposed to know?
I told myself I was being logical.
But then there was this.
⸻
“Aubrey’s outside your dorm.”
I blinked at my phone.
Morgan.
I frowned, reading the message again. I hadn’t even told Aubrey I was back from my late-night study session.
Still, I got up, slipping into my slides before heading outside.
And there she was.
Sitting on the bench, waiting for me.
She stood as soon as she saw me, pulling something from her bag.
A drink.
My favorite one.
“…You just knew I was back?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Aubrey shrugged. “I figured you’d be tired.”
I took the cup, staring at her.
She stared back, unbothered.
“You do this all the time,” I said. “You always do stuff like this.”
Aubrey nodded. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said, exasperated. “And it’s confusing.”
Aubrey’s brows furrowed. “Confusing how?”
“Like—” I hesitated, gripping the cup. “Like what am I supposed to think?”
Aubrey tilted her head.
I swear she looked amused.
“Tell me what you do think,” she said.
I clenched my jaw. “I think you’re… like this with me.”
Her lips twitched. “Like what?”
“You know what,” I muttered.
Aubrey stepped closer, arms loose at her sides.
“I really don’t.”
I sucked in a breath, heart pounding.
“…Like you like me,” I said finally. “But I don’t know if I’m just seeing what I want to see, or—”
Aubrey cut me off by reaching for my hand.
Not just holding it.
Lifting it to her lips.
And kissing it.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Just like she always did.
I sucked in a breath.
“You are an idiot,” she murmured, lips brushing my skin.
I swallowed hard. “I—”
Aubrey’s other hand tilted my chin up.
My words caught in my throat.
“I do like you,” she said, voice steady. “And you know that. You just don’t believe it.”
I blinked rapidly.
“…Oh.”
Aubrey smiled.
Then—like it was the easiest thing in the world—she leaned in and kissed me.
sixteen . fem . majorette baddie . volleyball girlie . aubrey griffin’s wife ( she jus don’t know dis shii yet ) . geno auriemma’s granddaughter bc yes i was literally born courtside . like i don’t care what ancestry.com say , i’m italian by vibes .
i spin , i serve , i stunt , i scream at the tv when aubrey get subbed out for no reason . i got knee pads in my bag , edge control in my pocket , and a fake marriage license to aubrey in my notes app . wbb whore fr like i’m watchin old uconn vs tennessee highlights at 3am like it’s a religious practice . you see paige ? i see drama . you see juju ? i see greatness . you see aubrey ? i see my future.
i’m loud , i’m extra , and i’m always right . got a lil attitude , a lil rhythm , and a lotta delusion . don’t play w me unless you tryna dance battle , argue about the ncaa , or fight over aubrey griffin’s heart .
majorette captain in my head , second-string setter on the court , and first-round draft pick in the wbb wife league . my tumblr ain’t for the weak . don’t follow me if you ain’t ready to scroll thru gifs of aubrey w heart emojis over them .
geno if you’re reading this , text me back gramps 💐 .
