notes. was supposed to cram multiple chapters for my lit class but wrote this instead :P consider it an early valentine's gift. also this is set in the summertime bc i am so over this dreadful ass weather.
words. 2.30k
paige plops down beside you on the sofa with a tired little grunt. it’s natural, instinctual even, the way your body immediately seeks hers, wrapping your arms around and curling into her, and exhaling contently when she returns the hug, lips pressing to your temple lovingly.
it’s been a long, long day, with you and paige finally moving into your new apartment downtown. between going back and forth to transport boxes from your old place on the other side of the city and unpacking, you didn’t have much time for each other all day. it’s like heaven when her lips finally press to yours, moving together languidly as one of her hands splay across the small of your back, bringing you closer.
this place is nicer than the complex you moved into right after the draft last year. it’s a sleek, shiny high–rise building, located right in the heart of the dallas. the view of the city from your unit on the eleventh floor is breathtaking— but still, it’s nothing compared to the sight of paige right in front of you.
in the heat of hauling things in earlier, she’d taken off her shirt, leaving her clad in just her basketball shorts and nike sports bra, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. warmth radiates from her body to yours, her sunkissed skin smooth and firm. you let your hand wander, feeling up her abdomen, abs flexing under your touch. the kiss breaks when smile at her, “finally done.”
“yeah, no thanks to you,” your girlfriend snorts as she nuzzles into your neck, nose brushing against a ticklish spot, making you giggle.
although you did try to convince her to just hire professionals to move your belongs, paige insisted on doing it all herself. she didn’t see the point in paying someone else to do something she was fully capable of, she explained, despite having beyond enough to afford the help. in other words, your girlfriend is ridiculously stubborn.
“my job was to provide moral support,” you defend yourself, voice going a bit breathy as paige starts to kiss on your neck. you carried a few boxes from the foyer to the living room, handed paige things whenever she needed them, went out and grabbed chicken nuggets and milkshakes from the nearest chick–fil–a for you both— a+ girlfriend behavior, in your humble opinion.
paige hums, raising her head to look at you, a smirk already playing at her perfect pink lips. “you could provide some oral support,” she quips, and it’s extremely corny, but her voice is so low and gruff and stupidly attractive. it sends heat straight to your core, regardless. “least you could do, since i already did all the work today.” you roll your eyes and smack her on the shoulder.
“oh, really?” you say.
“mhm,” she nods, eyes fixated on your lips. “want that pretty mouth all over me.” then, she pulls you into her lap and kisses you again, hands immediately claiming their place on your ass as her tongue pushes its way into your mouth.
you can’t help but arch into her, moaning into the kiss. admittedly, you did find it sexy, watching her carry in all those heavy boxes from your seat at the kitchen island, her skin shiny with sweat. she’s so strong, so hard hardworking. thinking about it makes fire coil in your gut, heat rushing to the same place between your legs.
paige’s hands grip your body tighter, grinding your hips down against her. you break the kiss to plant your lips to her jaw, kissing down to her neck, sucking where you know she’s most sensitive. you’re satisfied with the soft noise paige makes in response, head lolling back to give you more access.
you mark her throat twice more, then lean back, hands smoothing down her shoulders, until they find the hem of her sports bra. paige helps you pull it off of her, flinging it across the room, neither of you caring where it lands. then, she pulls your shirt over your head, helping you get out of your bra. you’re both eager to get out of your bottoms, paige shimmying out of her shorts and boxers while you unbutton your cut–offs, slipping them down your legs and kicking them aside.
moments later you’re on the floor, kneeling between her legs, face–to–face with her bare cunt. paige is relaxed into the couch, one arm stretched along the back of it, while her other hands comes down to cup your face. it always gets her so turned on, seeing you on your knees for her, all obedient.
“my good girl, hm?” she hums. you shiver at the pet name and nod, leaning in to press kisses to the insides of her muscular thighs. “so pretty… prettiest in the fuckin’ world,” she praises, thumb stroking over your cheekbone gently.
you feel your own cunt pulse at the sound of her voice. eager to please, you dive in, licking a stripe up her pussy, watching for a reaction. she manages to hold the eye contact as you drag your tongue from her entrance to her clit over and over again, thighs tensing and sucking in a sharp breath. then, coming up, you close your lips around her clit, sucking on the swollen bundle of nerves, and release it with a soft pop! “shit,” she hisses, eyes fluttering shut, then gasps when you kiss her there.
“tastes so fucking good, baby,” you moan, moving your tongue in circles. your words have even more slick dripping out of her, and you slurp it up, as if you’re starving.
she groans softly, hand moving to the back of your head, tangling into your hair as she rocks her hips up against your mouth. “yeah, you like that? want my cum in your mouth?” she asks breathily, staring down at you, mesmerized by the sight of you lapping at her pussy.
you nod eagerly, spurred on by the thought of her finishing for you, wanting so badly to hear her cry out and see her face twist with pleasure. you quicken your pace, flattening your tongue against her and shaking your head, then sliding into her entrance. her cunt flutters, thighs twitching around your face, the grip on your hair getting tighter.
“k–keep doing that—” she cuts herself off with a pretty moan, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “fuck, i’ll give you whatever you want.”
you thrust your tongue in and out as fast as you can manage, despite the way your jaw starts to hurt, because every sound paige makes, every twitch in her abdomen, every roll of her hips makes it worth it. it gets you that much worked up, the fabric of your panties stuck to your skin with how wet you are, clit brushing against the thin lace and throbbing.
you can tell paige is getting close before she says so. her breathing is ragged, head thrown back, free hand now gripping onto one of the throw pillows. “gonna cum. fuck, don’t stop.” she pants, eyes rolling back. you add your fingers to the mix, rubbing fervently at her clit while you fuck her with your tongue, wanting to get her there.
and then the evidence of her orgasm is spilling into your mouth, droplets slipping past your lips and running down your chin, dripping onto the sofa. you don’t stop with your ministrations— not until you’re certain she’s finished and you’ve swallowed all that you can.
you sit back on your heels afterward, resting a hand on paige’s knee and catching your breath. paige also has to take a breather, eyes shut, body having gone slack against the couch.
when she blinks her eyes open, it’s like her strength is renewed by the near sight of you. as if you weigh nothing at all, she reaches forward, lifting you off of the ground and laying you down on the ouch, climbing over you to slam your lips together in a searing kiss. she wastes no time, tearing your panties off of you.
you feel your cheeks flame as the cool air hits your skin. you’re soaked, clit pink and puffy, aching to be touched. it’d probably be embarrassing if it was for anyone else, but paige just groans at the sight of your drenched cunt, dragging her middle and ring fingers through your slick folds, massaging your clit. then, without warning, she pushes them into you.
instantly, you’re hit with a towering wave of pleasure, washing over you so suddenly it catches you off guard. “oh, my god—” you gasp as paige starts to thrust, her fingers feeling like heaven as they drag against your slick walls. “yes, baby, that’s so good.”
your spine curves deeply, lifting above the cushion, moaning loudly each time plunges into you. her thrusts are erratic, fucking into you messily, curling and scissoring her fingers, stretching you out. you grab onto her arm, nails digging into her bicep, hips bucking in an attempt to match her unsteady pace. you need this, faster and harder and deeper. “please,” you mewl.
before you can even really get into it, that familiar tightness only just appearing in the pit of your stomach, she’s suddenly retracting her fingers from your body. you’re left layering there confused, betrayed, the ache returning to your core in seconds, clenching desperately around nothing.
your mouth opens, but she speaks before you can complain. “i’ll be right back, don’t move.” she orders, before disappearing into your new shared bedroom.
thankfully, she isn’t gone too long. you barely have enough time to catch your breath and steady yourself before she returns, moments later, with the strap secured to her hips, the only thing she has on other than socks.
she joins you on the couch again, settling between your legs, knees planting into the cushions. she grabs you by the hips and pulls you close, then takes the toy into her hand by the base, slapping it against your clit a few times. you choke on air, reaching out to grab onto her waist. “paige,” you whine.
“shh, i got you,” she tells you, sliding the tip up and down your slit teasingly. “gonna make you feel so good, babe. have you creaming all over my dick.”
you’re almost relieved to hear that. “please,” you beg, legs wrapping around her hips, trying to bring her closer. “i need you.”
the stretch is delicious, burning in the best possible way. “fuck,” you cry, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
paige holds you down with a firm hand on your hip, watching the toy disappear inside you, inch by inch. “so fucking tight,” she mutters, slowly pulling back out, the silicone dragging along your walls. “swear i can feel you squeezing me, baby.” you whimper at that, spine arching, nails digging into her sides.
she lets you adjust, starting off slow and careful, searching your face for any signs of discomfort as she gently fucks you. right now, you just look fucked out, lips parted as you breath laboriously and eyes shut, but still begging for it like whore. paige thrusts with a little more vigor this time, driving the strap into you.
you moan, loud and unbidden, head pushing back into the throw pillow. she’s so big, filling you completely, just the way you need it. she leans forward, body hovering over yours now with her forearm braced just above your head, fucking you deeper, tip brushing against that gummy spot deep inside every time she plunges back in.
if your new neighors are home, you’re pretty sure they can hear everything. hell, the whole floor probably knows what’s going on in your unit. the sounds filling your apartment are filthy— the obscenties leave your mouth, your pussy squelching, skin slapping against skin in a steady rhythm. your hands slide up to paige’s back, clinging to her, hips rolling to meet her thrusts.
paige tilts her head down, pressing her mouth to yours at the same time as she reaches down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit easily, stroking rapidly with her middle and ring fingers. you instantly know you aren’t going to last much longer, feeling the tightness reappear in the pit of your stomach, boiling hotly. your lips leave paige as a loud moan forces its way out of your throat, cunt fluttering around the strap.
“yeah, that’s it,” paige encourages you, slamming into you, fingers working you past the edge. “go ahead and cum on my cock. know you can do it, just gotta let go for me.”
with a broken, high–pitched moan, you cum hard, feeling it ebb through you. paige fucks you throat it, continuing to thrust as your body shakes, nails dragging down her skin, leaving pink welts in their wake. you can barely hear her cursing at the stinging pain, ears ringing and vision blurring.
your body goes limp against the couch, attempting to catch your breath. paige pulls out and collapses beside you, also panting. you can’t help but laugh weakly when your eyes meet, feeling completely spent.
“it’s officially our place, now,” paige comments, and you snort.
you glace around at the living room, noting the assortment of boxes and things that still need to be unpacked. “not until we get all this shit put away,” you reply.
“yeah, that can wait until tomorrow,” then, paige reaches over and her thumb is suddenly on your clit again, rubbing you in light circles. your eyes flit to hers, gaze inquiring, though you can’t help the soft moan that tumbles past your lips. “think you can give me another?” she asks, smirking— though, it’s not even really a question. you will, before the night is over.
you just laugh breathily. “our neighbors are going to hate us.”
contains: stepmom!pazzi. smut (porn with plot). slight age gap (p is mid twenties, a is early thirties) mommy kink. praise kink. service top!p. strap. a man getting his hoe snatched by his daughter.
word count: 6k
niyah speaks: merry christmas my freaks and geeks! this is actually insane lol. proofread (not really). love ya, enjoyyyy
it was a stupid gift, truly. it was a gift that paige had thought about and schemed and stalked to get— but it was stupid, nonetheless.
she and azzi had only fucked, and they’d only done it once but paige knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
she’d reached a level of infatuation that had her concerned with herself. she thought about azzi the second she woke up after fucking her. she thought about azzi on the flight home, during the two games she played before christmas and during every single one of her finals.
the woman was burned into her brain. the sound of her voice, the way she tasted, the pressure of her legs around paige’s head, the pressure of her pussy around paige’s fingers. she’d never forget it.
not that she wanted to. before she even made it back to connecticut, paige decided she was gonna have azzi again. that she’d do whatever to ensure that she’d always have azzi.
she'd talked herself down from corny grand gestures and settled on a christmas gift. not one azzi would have to pretend to like, or one she'd never be able to use in public. she wanted to get something that azzi would never forget, but would never have to explain. simple but useful and noticeable.
how she got to louboutins— paige didn't know. it was supposed to be simple, but she had to verify the purchase before she could actually buy the shoes and she had to pay extra to ensure that the gift box wouldn't be destroyed by the plane.
when she got home, she saw azzi and her father on opposite ends if the couch, watching a cop show. they both whipped their heads around when she opened the front door, but paige only looked at azzi.
azzi with her ocean of curls and her strong collarbones and braless chest. she smiled her real smile and said hello and paige nodded because she couldn't breathe enough to speak. she thought she remembered everything about azzi, but standing in that doorway felt like she'd forgotten just how damn beautiful the woman was.
she practically shoved her own self down the hall and into her bedroom, throwing her duffel onto her bed and flopping down on her ottoman— the same ottoman that azzi had left that gift bag that started paige's… whatever you'd call the thing paige had for her.
something in paige felt gross while blaming her feelings on azzi. she was acting like a guy. pretending that a woman was to blame for someone else attraction to her, was a definable man-ish trait. but maybe that was paige's form of toxic masculinity.
she shook her head, like someone could see her rejecting her own inner monologue.
this wasn't azzi's fault— it was no one's fault. the sex was too good to be considered a fault (as was the conversation and the cuddling after, but paige was mainly focused on the memory of azzi's breasts in her mouth in that moment.)
she reached behind her and grabbed the duffel bag. carefully, she pulled out the box that held azzi's shoes. she looked at the fancy wrapping that she paid to have put over the box and realized that this was an insanely stupid gift.
who the fuck bought christian fucking louboutins for a woman they'd only fucked once?
apparently, paige did.
she debated not giving azzi the shoes, but then remembered that these shoes costed a thousand and forty-five dollars. so she she decided she'd wait. because shoes like these deserved more than a rushed passing of hands and whispered thank you. shoes like these deserved A Moment.
she nearly exploded with want in the few days it took to get azzi alone. she co-existed with her father and azzi as if the proximity was comfortable.
for two days, paige watched azzi move throughout the house noticing every minuscule thing she did, and watched it as if it was a major event happening before her eyes. she clenched around nothing when azzi bent over to fluff the throw pillows. her stomach tightened at the sight of azzi in the same nightgown from fourth of july. she felt a violent jealousy when her father said anything that drew even the smallest giggle from azzi's perfect mouth.
none of this meant anything— at least not to a normal person. but paige had grown to accept the fact that she was not normal about azzi. she tried to be. she tried not to talk to her— to continue treating her father's current girlfriend the way she'd treated all of them.
she did her best not to speak to her, but sometimes she forgot. at least, she told herself that she forgot, rather than admitting that she made the conscious choice to talk to azzi for a stupid reason like wanting azzi's attention on her. it was always something small— asking azzi to pass her something, or saying "excuse me" when accidentally bumping into her when there was plenty of empty space for paige to walk through.
that was all paige allowed herself, though. and it was enough for those two days. the memory of azzi's skin brushing her as she passed the salt, and the sound of her sharp inhale to the feeling of paige's body pressing into hers was enough to hold paige over until she was able to get her alone. she patient and observant, the way she'd learned to be after years on the court.
her Moment came when bob announced to the whole house that he had to go to work, as if the only other two people in the house weren't sitting in the living room with him when his phone rang.
everytime bob spoke to azzi, paige felt a slight surge of guilt. because she didn't particularly like her father, but she didn't hate him. and he'd kept azzi this long which meant he had to like her.
but then paige looked at azzi and remembered that azzi wasn't someone who deserved to be liked. she remembered that azzi deserved to be craved and learned and ravished. she'd think about how something as simple as liking wasn't worthy of being in the same sentence as azzi fudd, and then she'd feel better about fucking her dad's girlfriend.
paige felt her body spark at the sight of him walking out of the house, but she waited until she heard his car leave the driveway to say acknowledge the fact that she and azzi were finally— finally— alone.
she moved from the loveseat she was on to the couch where azzi was wrapped in the throw blanket. she smiled at azzi. "hi."
"she speaks." azzi snarked, but it had no merit based on the way the apples of her cheeks swelled from her smile.
still, paige's face dropped. every joke had truth to it, and she didn't want azzi to think paige didn't want to talk to her. she didn't want azzi to think paige wanted anything but her.
"i've spoken to you." azzi arched a brow at her and tilted her head as if to say really? like a dog with it's tail between it's legs, paige course corrected. "kinda."
"hm." azzi looked pleased with herself, which wasn't the plan. she was supposed to be pleased with paige— she was supposed to be pleased by paige.
"i'm sorry." paige shook head, scooting closer to the woman that had consumed her every waking thought for the past seven months. "i just didn't wanna fuck anything up. was trynna act like i always do so my dad wouldn't peep anything."
azzi rolled her eyes, and moved her hand like she was pushing the thought away. she smacked her lips and smirked at paige. "your father doesn't notice anything besides his food being over salted. you'd have been fine."
then why are you with him? paige wanted to ask.
she had a million question for azzi, actually. all of which revolved around that one central annoyance. paige didn't see a point in asking it, though. she knew it would only hurt her. she knew that knowing what azzi saw in bob would be be detrimental to her overall sanity, so she bit her tongue and remembered her mission.
"i got you something." she watched azzi bring a hand to her chest and rub her thumb over the pink diamond that laid perfectly on her chest.
paige felt great pride for being the one to give azzi her emotional support necklace.
she grinned softly before speaking even softer. "again?"
"yeah." paige's eyes stayed on the hand on azzi's chest. "again."
she almost dug her teeth into her lip at the dip in of azzi's collarbones. she almost pounced at the sight of the veins and tendons in azzi's hand. she almost came at the idea of that thumb swiping cross her clit while azzi—
she popped onto her feet, causing azzi to gasp a little bit. paige couldn't bring herself to feel bad about scaring her with the sudden movement, because she was too focused on not fucking her before she gave her the shoes.
Mission. she had a damn Mission.
without a single word, she walked to her bedroom and retrieved the box. before she walked back out, paige stared at herself in the mirror. she took in her pink cheeks and her booming heart. she tried to tell herself to calm down— to play this cool because azzi was older and paige was acting like two-month-old golden retriever.
she was so fucking desperate and it should have been humiliating. but it wasn't. she'd scream from every rooftop that she got to be desperate for azzi. that it was allowed of her to want this woman because the woman wanted her too. she was wanted by the most enamoring person she'd ever met so no— she wasn't humiliated by her desperation.
back in the living room, she stood infront of azzi, who was still wrapped in the blanket on the couch.
"it's a um—" she shoved the box in azzi's face. "it's a christmas gift. but i want you to have it before christmas in case you wan—" she shook her head, embarrassed of this stupid fucking gift. "just open it."
azzi took the box, but made no move to open it. she just looked up at paige with those eyes, but they were big— wide with something that looked like uncertainty.
she looked down at the box in her lap, then up at paige again.paige nudged her head at the box, a silent plea for azzi to open the fucking box. she didn't. she kept looking up at paige.
paige sighed and furrowed her brow. she wanted to cry from anxiety. her leg shook like she was a child having a tantrum.
she held azzi's eye contact, but tried to silently communicate that she was about to lose it. she moved her mouth, but nothing besides a weak whine came out.
please she mouthed.
still gazing up, azzi ripped the black wrapping paper. paige didn't give a single damn about the fact that she'd paid for that. she was booming inside, too worried that she'd royally fucked up.
azzi ran her hand over the shoe box and looked down. her mouth dropped open when she saw the label. she said paige's name. paige said nothing. when azzi removed the lid from the box and saw the glossy black heels, she snapped her head up.
"paige." she sounded stern and paige was going to throw up.
"what?" she asked. "you don't like it? is it the wrong size? because i checked the family group chat from when taylor asked if she could borrow your clogs for her lab or whatever but i got a size up because i didn't want them to hurt your feet and—"
she was cut off by azzi waving her hands and saying her name yet a-fucking-gain.
she shut her eyes and took a breath before pressing her lips together. "i really need you to say something other than my name."
azzi looked up from the box of shoes with an offended look on her face. "you don't like when i say your name?"
she was flirting. thank freaking god.
paige huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh, but sounded more like an exhale of relief and shook her head. "not like that." her blonde hair swished in her face and paige smiled at the feeling of it brushing against her nose.
she'd worn it down this entire trip, remembering that when she came the second time, azzi pulled her hair. she didn't care about that, it was more so about paige wanting the full feeling of azzi's hand in her scalp, rather than the feeling of her bun being tugged.
"how would you like me to say it, p?"
mirages of "you can taste, p" and “paigepaigepaigepaigepai—SHIT” flashed before the her eyes.
she snapped out of it when she felt azzi's hand clasp hers and tug her onto the couch. she climbed into paige's lap, and suddenly, anxiety was a thing of the past. paige held her, bringing her hands so they were interlocked at the small of her back.
azzi rested her arms on paige's shoulders, twirling the hairs on the back of her neck as she spoke. "i love the shoes. i was just surprised, okay? i mean they— they're literally red bottoms."
paige grinned like world peace had been achieved. "you like them?"
that's all she wanted. she wanted azzi to like it. she wanted to see her smile the way she had when she saw the necklace.
"i said i love them, sweetheart." azzi slid a thumb over paige's cheek. "they're gonna be so cute with my dress for the pictures tomorrow."
paige was too busy trying not to focus on how perfect azzi felt in her lap to process anything azzi had said. her fingers felt so good wrapped around paige's jaw and her breath felt so cool against paige's face.
"that's good." she responded, non-committal. "i'm glad"
"you wanna see?" paige's eyes dropped to azzi's chest, braless, but covered by a navy blue tee. azzi followed her line of sight and swatted at paige's shoulders. "my dress. do you wanna see my dress?"
she laughed while she nodded. "yeah, of course."
azzi chewed on her bottom lip, looking paige over. then, she dropped a single peck against the girls lips and climbed off her.
"okay, be right back!" she cheered, like she hadn't just kissed paige for the first time in a month. like she hadn't tilted paige's world even further off it's axis with something a slight as a peck.
as she watched azzi run down the hallway with her shoe box in hand, paige deflated into the couch. she let out a huge puff of air and wiped her sweaty palms down her spread thighs.
she'd known for a while that her relationship— whatever you'd call it— with azzi could never be casual. she'd known that before they fucked. but while azzi changed into her dress, paige thought about how much she'd wanted that moment since she got home.
she weighed the ache of wanting more— wanting it all— against the security of what she already had.
she pictured the reality of what her life would be if she asked for it— for azzi to be hers and for them to be together outside of their secret gifts and the rare moments that they had alone. she imagined azzi sleeping in her bed and meeting azzi's friends. she tried to think of what it would feel like to be in azzi's pink room. to touch all of her knick-knacks and fuck azzi on every surface in her house.
she mulled over very interaction between them, from their first conversation until when azzi was just in her lap. she thought about how every hidden second felt to her and she chose to have restraint.
she chose not to press for commitments or clarity or anything more than she already had and she told herself that asking for it all would only ruin everything.
was azzi just going to leave rich and successful (boring) bob, who lived close and wasn't desperate?
no. no she wasn't.
and paige knew that she'd treat azzi they way she deserved. she'd spend the rest of her life on her knees for azzi if it was possible.
but it wasn't possible, and paige knew that, too. so she packed up all her wants into a corner of her brain that she tried not to think about and began convincing herself that this would be enough. torturous eye contact and days of waiting to be alone would be enough.
she heard the clacking of azzi's new shoes come down the hallway and wiped a hand down her face just to make sure she hadn't started crying.
she turned her head to see azzi strutting like she'd been meant to walk down the hallway of paige's childhood home in the thousand dollar shoes that paige had bought for her.
her dress was black with fur trim and it looked expensive and so azzi that paige didn't even wonder of it was meant to be worn for the holidays. if azzi was wearing it, it was meant for whatever she was wearing it to.
"so," azzi twirled, "do we like it?"
her grin was so tight that paige could see the dimple in her cheek, and paige's body began to vibrate. azzi's face was always so loud about everything she felt. paige could look at her and tell when she was annoyed, or when she wanted to say something and right now she could tell that azzi was over the fucking moon.
her gift made azzi happy. she'd done good.
"we do." paige nodded. "we really do."
and then azzi was walking towards paige with a warmth in her eyes that made paige want to jump out of her body.
she hiked her dress up a little and climbed back into paige's lap and paige hoped to everything holy that azzi was thinking the same thing she was.
azzi pecked paige's lips again, cradling the girls jaw in both hands. "i'm gonna curl my hair for the pictures tomorrow." she kissed her again, longer this time. "it's gonna be in a ponytail with a red ribbon."
this time, she sucked paige's bottom lip into her mouth. "they'll match the bottoms of my shoes."
paige brought her hands to the bottoms of azzi's thighs and slid them under her dress so she could cup her ass. azzi wasn't wearing panties.
she tilted up and took azzi's mouth, before leaning back so her head rested on the back of the couch. azzi leaned with her, pressing weight over paige's chest.
they kissed like that— kissing and sucking and licking until paige's hair was mousy and azzi was panting into her mouth. paige let her pull away for air and went to her neck, sucking on the same spot that turned her to putty the last time.
azzi moaned and squeezed the back of paige's neck and paige felt like a literal caged animal, trying her absolute hardest to treat azzi with the softness she deserved. but then azzi started grinding down onto paige's lap and she could feel the warmth of azzi's pussy through her sweats.
she tightened her hand around the meat of azzi's ass and breathed her name out like it was oxygen itself.
azzi bent her neck so her mouth was right by paige's ear said, "feels so good."
paige pushed up hard off of sheer natural instinct and azzi whined like she felt everything but pain.
her hips stuttered in paige's lap and paige squeezed again, "please keep going," she begged. "keep riding me."
azzi kept going, fucking her hips into paige's with her neck bent so that paige could do whatever to the skin there and along her collarbones.
paige did her damnedest to stay still so that azzi could take what she needed, but still, azzi pulled a hand from under dress and dragged it between her legs.
"need your hand— put your hand on me," she whimpered and paige let wrist be guided beneath the black fabric.
"azzi," she rubbed two fingers over azzi's pussy, taking in the heat and the slickness and the overall perfection of her current situation. "you're so wet."
azzi nodded and twisted her face in pleasure as paige flattened her palm against her. azzi grinded again, sliding herself across paige's hand. she pushed the heel of her palm up and azzi let her head drop onto her shoulder.
"i made you happy?" she asked because she needed ot hear it. her eyes rolled back when azzi bit at the muscle between her neck and shoulder. "oh my fucking god,"
"you make me so fucking happy." azzi moaned. "i feel so pretty— yes— so pretty in my new shoes."
"you look so good in them," paige praised, pulling azzi so she could look at her pretty fucking face.
"we're gonna match," azzi locked in on paige's eyes, still fucking against her palm. "you're gonna look so sexy in the clothes i bought you."
you deserve it.
paige used her hand on azzi's ass to guide her faster. she kissed azzi again, sucking at her tongue and nipping at her lip when she leaned back again.
"you feel so good, p" paige started moving her palm with azzi's rhythm and azzi threw her head back and cursed. "right there— yes, sweetheart."
she fell apart on top of paige, riding her orgasm out while paige watched, wet with a sense of depravity.
when she was done, azzi slouched into paige's chest. she looked up to see paige bring her palm to her mouth and lick the mess off of it.
she was hungry, nothing on her mind but tasting azzi from the source.
"lemme take you to the bed."
──
paige set azzi down on the bed without breaking their kiss. she bent over and tongued at azzi's mouth, one hand on the mattress and one holding azzi's leg around her waist so she could keep feeling her heel digging into her back.
azzi's hands were everywhere. from paige's hair to her back to her ass to her biceps— she ran her hands wherever she could get them. paige loved that. she liked feeling azzi everywhere on her because it made feeling azzi everywhere within her, that much stronger.
azzi pulled so that paige had her pancaked onto the mattress, and wrapped both legs around her in a full body hug. without permission, paige bucked her hips down and azzi gasped into her mouth while pullig paige impossibly further into her.
if they stayed like that forever, it would have been okay with paige. bumping and grinding into each other while as close as humanly possible was like heaven to her, but she also was greedy and was going to take what she could get.
azzi had the same thought, it seemed, because she used her hips to roll them over so she was on top of paige again. she stopped kissing her. stopped running her hands over paige's body. stopped grinding into her.
she just sat there, looking at paige.
"what's wrong?" paige asked, breathing heavy with her hands in the air like she'd done something wrong.
azzi shook her head, and brushed a finger down the length of paige's nose. "you're so pretty,"
like she was offended, paige scrunched her nose. "pretty?"
"pretty." azzi nodded, pulling paige's hand so they laid above her head. she moved her hands from her wrists to her forearms all the way down to her biceps and squeezed the muscle there. "beautiful."
she looked transfixed and sounded like she was in utter awe, and for once, paige didn't worry if someone was calling her pretty as a microaggression.
azzi bent down and kissed both of paige's biceps. she pushed her shirt up and kissed the lines framing paige's hips. she kissed at paige's ribcage and when she'd pushed paige's sports bra up, she kissed her nipples.
she was touching so much of paige's body, treating her like they had all the time in the world, and she'd go as long as it took for her point to be proven.
only when paige could feel her heartbeat in her pussy, did azzi climb off of her. paige watched her take her dress off and didn't care to hide the fact that she was breathing so hard that her stomach was sinking into her with every exhale.
she took in azzi once again. the last time they did this, it was night and the lights were off and paige couldn't full see the details of azzi's naked body. but now, in the light, paige could see the faint lines of azzi's own abs. she could see the dimples in her hips and freckles on her chest.
she never bent down to unstrap her shoes. she'd kept the heels on.
paige didn't know how she went a month without this, and she was worried that this would be the only time she'd have it until easter.
she ripped her own shirt and bra all the way off and threw them , and let azzi pull her bottoms off with same urgency.
now, they were both bare and staring at each other. paige was ready for whatever azzi was planning, but she wouldn't rush. she'd let azzi stand there staring at her for as long as she liked, no matter how frantic she was beginning to feel.
thankfully, azzi stepped closer and put her hands on paige's knees.
"scoot up for me." paige moved so she was sitting up with her back on her headboard. azzi nodded, getting on the bed. "good."
paige brought her legs together and squeezed at the praise and she nearly passed out watching azzi's tits bounce as she scooted on her knees. when she got to paige, she spread her legs and sat on her haunches between them.
slowly, she leaned forward placing a confusingly chaste kiss on paige's lips. paige had no clue was was going on, but she was so wet and so needy and she wanted azzi so bad that she wouldn't interrupt by asking questions.
azzi kissed her again, deeper this time and slid her hand between paige's legs.
"azzi," paige pleaded, trying to chase her tantalizing, soft touch.
"paige." azzi responded, still not applying the pressure needed for relief.
paige wanted to cry. she was clenching around nothing and her pride was practically leaking out of her pussy. "please."
"i just want you to know," azzi bent down and licked at paige's nipple. "that you are so pretty i just wanna fucking eat you." she sucked paige's other nipple into her mouth, before pulling away and looking in her in the eyes. "can i make you cum?"
paige would have let azzi decapitate her in that moment. she wasn't used to this— to someone taking their time with getting her off, and she wasn't quite sure how to do bottom and be vulnerable, but she was more than willing to learn.
she nodded feeling like the equivalent of a limp spaghetti noddle. "okay."
azzi looked up at her and smirked. "okay?"
"yes." paige corrected. and azzi hadn't really done anything yet, but still paige added, "thank you."
azzi smiled. "you're welcome, sweetheart."
paige whined when azzi pulled her hand away, but it got stuck in her throat when azzi arched her back on her way down. she laid on her stomach with her feet in the air and paige stopped looking at her ass, so she could look at the red bottoms of azzi's shoes.
azzi kept her feet in the air when she pushed paige's knees up so they were pressed against her chest. she kept her feet in the air when she kissed paige's thighs. she kept them in the air when she licked paige's pussy and moaned.
paige's whole body clenched at the feeling of azzi's tongue on her, but everything in her loosened when azzi sucked her clit into her mouth.
paige let her head fall onto her knee and she dug her nails into the back of her thighs as azzi ate her. her tongue moved slow over paige's clit as she sucked and moaned and paige couldn't do anything but let her.
"oh my—" her head fell against the headboard and squeezed her eyes so hard she saw shapes. "fuck me,"
azzi kept going as she was, and paige could feel herself dripping. she was so wet she could literally feel it on her ass, and she needed more.
"god," she whined. "please fuck me, mommy."
she felt azzi grin into her before she felt a finger— a thumb— slip inside of her pussy.
perfect. the stretch, the pressure against her spot, the heat of azzi's mouth— it was perfect.
she felt like her bones had slipped out of her body. she was wet and languid and happy to be being fucked by this perfect woman.
"thank you," she cried, and she felt everything wash out of her as she came. "ohmygodthankyou."
the red of azzi's shoes blurred back into paige's vision as her legs dropped from her chest and slammed onto the mattress. azzi brought her head up and wiped the corners of her mouth with the cutest look on her face.
her brown skin was flushed and despite her efforts, she still had paige's cum on her chin. it was wonderful.
she settled into paige's lap and paige felt her slick against her stomach. she pulled paige in by the jaw and kissed her with so much tongue that paige tasted herself.
when she felt herself getting ready to go again, she put her hands on azzi's shoulders and said, "i wanna fuck you,"
azzi nodded quickly spread her legs a little, but paige shook her head.
"no like, i brought a strap." she chuckled, suddenly nervous. "from connecticut. i bought a new one. for you."
she looked into azzi's eyes, searching for any disapproval or upset, but instead, azzi raised her brows and smirked.
"oh?" her smile wrapped around word and paige knew that she was about to get what she wanted.
still, she had to make sure. she had to hear the yes.
"yeah," she smiled, leaning up and kissing azzi. "so can— can i? please?"
"yes, sweetheart." azzi nodded. she sounded so fucking sweet. "you can fuck me with your strap."
paige smiled and kissed azzi as she rolled off of her lap. she went to her closet, where her duffel bag was and made quick work of putting on the harness and attaching the dildo. she tugged at it to make sure it was secure in its place and then stepped out to find azzi playing with herself.
"hey," paige said, mildly offended.
azzi kept rubbing herself as paige walked towards the bed, "i'm just getting ready."
paige furrowed her brows. "you don't think i'd do that?"
had she not given the impression that she'd take care of her? did azzi think that she was just gonna shove into her and—
"no, sweetheart i just—" azzi moved her hand and folded them on her belly.
"let me do it, please," paige hopped on the bed and grabbed azzi's ankles. she rubbed over the skin there, appreciating the coolness of the straps of her shoes. "i've wanted to eat your pussy since i got here."
azzi giggled and settled her head against the pillows. her hair surrounded her head in a frizzy jumble of brown curls and her lips were kiss swollen. paige cataloged this moment in her mind, and brought azzi's legs up in the air.
she pressed her ankles beside each other and kissed the bottoms of her shoes. "i'm glad you like your gift."
"thank you for them." azzi cooed. "you didn't have to get me something."
paige kissed her ankles. "i'd give you anything."
i'd give you everything.
azzi smiled, as she watched paige leave open mouthed kissed down her legs. she moved down until she got to her thighs, and then she spread azzi's legs so they made a v around her head. then, she put them over her shoulders so she could feel the heels again, and dove in.
she ate azzi's pussy the same way she had the first time. with everything she had. like it was all she wanted to do forever. she moaned into azzi at the feeling of her hair being tugged and she took that as sign to keep going. she didn't stop until she heard, fuck i'm ready.
paige pulled away, ignoring the string of spit connecting her to azzi. "you sure?"
azzi sighed yes and paige moved so they were in missionary. azzi spread her legs and welcomed paige. she held paige by the biceps as she looked up at her with those huge brown eyes. her pupils were blow to shit, almost completely taken over her irises and paige almost completely lost her mind.
she dipped her head, resting her weight on her forearmand her kness and she kissed azzi before sliding in.
azzi tipped her head back and moaned out oh paige and like she could actually feel it, paige groaned too.
she kissed whatever skin she could get to and started rolling her hips. she sped up as she went until she'd reached a rhythm that had azzi clawing at her back. the sting of her nails paired with the sting of the heel in her back had paige thinking she might seriously be into pain.
she loved this. watching azzi's face twist in pleasure. she loved making that happen. she'd do this forever. and she kept that in mind as she stroked in and out. she wanted to always be the one making azzi feel the best she ever did.
she wanted azzi to feel this for days. she wanted azzi to think of it every time she wore her heels.
"it's good?" she asked, still watching azzi's screwed up face.
"it's so deep—holy shit," azzi gasped and looked down between them.
"i been thinking about this since i left." paige admitted. "being in you. making you cum again."
azzi brought her eyes up and paige could see something in them that made her want to melt. azzi looked like she was in total bliss. like she wasn't— couldn't— think about anything. that was what paige wanted. she just wanted azzi to feel. to feel her and to feel good.
"you look so pretty when you cum." she continued. "look so pretty when you're full."
"paige,"
paige knew she couldn't cum again, but her mind swirled with satisfaction. satisfaction with herself, with the look on azzi's face, with the rasp of azzi crying out her name.
"love when you say my name." she powered through everything going on in her head. she felt so weak, but so proud of what she was doing. "when you call me sweetheart and when you touch me."
azzi's mouth dropped open and her eyes almost fluttered shut, but she blinked them open. "you're gonna make me cum,"
her hands came up to paige's face, and she cradled it while sliding a thumb into her mouth. paige closed her lips around it and sucked as she kept fucking her. azzi's face twisted again at the sight as she let out an air holy shit.
"don't stop," azzi shook her head and threw it back. "you're so good."
paige moaned around her thumb and brought her free hand down to swipe across azzi's clit.
she pushed the finger out of her mouth and kissed azzi's lips. and like a secret, she whispered in her ear, "please, mommy. cum in the shoes i bought you."
she sucked at the spot on azzi's neck and brushed over her clit and fucked into her pussy and she kept going until azzi's whole body locked up and she shook under her.
"oh fuucckkkkk" she screamed before slapping a hand over her mouth and muffling herself.
paige watched the veins in azzi's neck pop out, she watched a flush take over her chest, she watch her hand tremble over her mouth— she watch it all and knew that she'd done what she was supposed to do. she'd made azzi happy.
pairing: uconn!gf!paige bueckers x uconn!gf!reader
setting: uconn wbb, 2023–24 season
summary: You and Paige have known each other since freshman year, dated for almost three, and somehow she still looks at you like she cannot believe she got lucky enough to keep you. Everyone at UConn knows Paige talks back to everybody, argues with anybody, and competes with literally everything. Everyone also knows that when it comes to you, Paige Bueckers folds in record time. She carries your bag, remembers your matcha order, saves your seat, follows you around, and listens the second you say her name. It’s normal. At least, it’s normal to you. But when your childhood friend visits Storrs and sees Paige orbiting you in real time, he starts noticing what you and Paige barely clock anymore: Paige is absolutely, embarrassingly, permanently down bad.
warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, private relationship, soft jealousy, childhood friend visit, paige being down bad, golden retriever paige, teasing, flirty banter, uconn 2023–24 timeline
word count: 10.8k
You had stopped being surprised by Paige Bueckers a long time ago.
Not because she was predictable. Paige was one of the least predictable people you had ever met. She could wake up calm and decide by breakfast that she was going to argue with somebody about a card game from two weeks ago. She could limp into practice after a long lift, sore and quiet, then spend the next hour talking like she had personally invented basketball. She could be sweet for exactly three minutes before saying something so obnoxious that Nika threatened to throw a towel at her head. She could make a room louder by walking into it and softer by looking at you across it.
So no, Paige herself was not predictable.
But the way she loved you was.
That had become one of the steady things in your life. As regular as the squeak of sneakers on hardwood. As familiar as the cold Connecticut mornings that made you pull your sleeves over your hands on the walk to practice. As known as the little rhythm your day had fallen into after almost four years at UConn and almost three years of Paige being yours in every way that mattered.
She texted you at 8:03.
outside.
Not good morning. Not come out. Not hurry up because we’re gonna be late, even though both of you knew she was thinking it.
Just outside.
You were sitting on the edge of your bed with one shoe on and one shoe still somewhere under your desk, hair half-fixed, hoodie bunched around your waist because you had gotten distracted looking for your charger. Your practice bag sat open on the floor, one side sagging with a pair of slides, tape, an extra shirt, and the water bottle you swore you had filled last night but had probably left empty because you were you.
You glanced at the text and smiled before you could help it.
She did this every morning she could.
Sometimes it was before class. Sometimes before breakfast. Sometimes before practice. Sometimes after a lift if your schedules split weird and she had ten minutes to spare. Same building, same athlete housing, same familiar path between your doors, close enough that Paige had turned walking you places into a habit so deeply carved into her routine that neither of you really talked about it anymore.
You found your other shoe under a sweatshirt, shoved your foot into it, and opened your door.
Paige was leaning against the wall outside, hood up, one foot crossed over the other. In one hand, she held her own drink. In the other, she held yours.
Iced matcha. Oat milk. Light ice. The sweetness level you liked. The one you had mentioned, casually, once, freshman year, before either of you had gotten together, before Paige had started looking at you like you were something she was trying not to want too obviously.
She had remembered it anyway.
She looked up when your door opened, and the lazy little grin that slid onto her face was so familiar it made your chest warm in that quiet, annoying way she always managed to pull out of you.
“You look late,” she said. She lifted your drink slightly, but when you reached for it, she pulled it back just enough to make you look at her.
You paused. “Seriously?”
Paige’s grin spread slowly. “Delivery fee.”
You stared at her.
She stared back, completely unbothered.
There were people who thought Paige had no shame, and they were mostly right, but this was different. With everyone else, Paige’s confidence was loud. With you, it was softer, still cocky but warmer, like she had learned exactly how far she could push before you rolled your eyes and gave her what she wanted anyway.
“You’re charging me now?” you asked.
“Inflation.”
“For a drink you chose to buy?”
“Service industry is hard.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet.” She leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping into something sweet enough to make your stomach do that stupid little flip it still did even after all this time. “You want your matcha or not?”
You tried to hold your stare.
You lasted maybe two seconds.
Then you leaned in and kissed her.
It was meant to be quick. A small morning peck, soft and familiar, the kind you had given her a thousand times in hallways and elevators and outside locker rooms when nobody important was looking too closely. But Paige smiled against your mouth like she had won something, and that made you laugh, which made her chase the kiss for one extra second before letting you pull away.
Her eyes were still on your mouth when she handed you the cup.
“Pleasure doing business,” she murmured.
You took the matcha and gave her a look over the lid. “You’re annoying.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling, and Paige saw it. She always saw it. Her whole face shifted for half a second before she hid it by reaching for your bag.
You already had the strap over your shoulder, secure and settled, but Paige’s hand went to it without hesitation. Gentle. Automatic. Her fingers hooked under the strap near your collarbone, careful not to tug your hoodie too hard, and she lifted it slightly like she was asking without asking.
You barely paused. Just tilted your shoulder toward her so she could slide it off.
That was how normal it was.
You turned back toward your room to grab your keys, but Paige was already reaching around the doorframe, plucking them off the small hook beside your closet where you always forgot them. She held them up between two fingers, shaking them once.
“You were gonna forget.”
“I was not.”
“You literally turned around without them.”
“I was testing you.”
“I passed.”
“Barely.”
Paige made an offended sound, like the idea of barely passing anything in relation to you physically pained her. “Do not disrespect my job.”
“Your job?”
“Yeah.” She stepped back so you could lock your door, shifting your bag higher on her shoulder without thinking. “Making sure you don’t walk around this campus helpless.”
“I am not helpless.”
“You’d lose your keys in your own hand.”
“And yet I somehow survived before you.”
Paige looked at you like that was the most insulting thing you had ever said to her. “Barely.”
You laughed, and that was the thing: Paige heard it. She always heard it. Her whole face changed for half a second, pleased and soft before she covered it with attitude again, like she had not just lit up because of one small laugh in a hallway she had walked through a thousand times.
She fell into step beside you as you started down the hall.
You did not ask for your bag.
She did not offer it back.
That was just how it went.
By the time you reached the elevator, she had already pressed the button, already tugged gently at the back of your hoodie because the tag was flipped, already nudged you away from the corner where the floor was still wet from someone’s spilled water bottle.
You barely noticed any of it.
Paige noticed everything.
That was another thing people did not always understand about her. They saw the loudness first. The talking. The smirking. The ridiculous confidence that came out every time someone challenged her to anything, even if the challenge was stupid. Paige Bueckers would compete with a wall if the wall looked at her wrong. She argued calls. She argued card games. She argued rankings, music, cereal, whether or not Nika had traveled during a drill three months ago, and once, for twenty minutes, whether soup counted as a meal or a warm beverage with responsibilities.
She had opinions about everything.
Except when it came to you.
With you, she still had opinions. She just delivered them softer. Or swallowed them entirely if you gave her that look. The one she pretended did not work on her even though everybody with eyes knew it did.
The elevator doors slid open.
KK was inside, backpack hanging off one shoulder, scrolling on her phone. She looked up, eyes flicking from your drink to Paige’s hand on your bag to Paige standing half a step behind you like a bodyguard who had forgotten she was not actually employed.
KK’s mouth twitched.
“Morning,” you said.
“Morning,” KK replied, still looking at Paige. “Dang. She pick you up every day?”
Paige frowned. “Why you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you got commentary.”
KK lifted both hands. “I’m observing.”
“You’re always observing too much.”
“I’m learning the ecosystem.”
You snorted into your drink.
Paige immediately looked at you, smiling because you smiled, then caught herself and turned back to KK with a scowl that had no heat behind it. “Don’t start.”
KK looked delighted. “Oh, I’m definitely learning.”
“You’re learning how to run today,” Paige said.
“You gonna make me?”
Paige opened her mouth.
You took a sip of your matcha and said casually, “Paige, don’t bully the freshman before breakfast.”
Paige stopped.
Just like that.
Her mouth closed. Her shoulders dropped. She leaned back against the elevator wall, grumbling softly, “Wasn’t bullying.”
KK stared.
You didn’t notice, or maybe you did and chose not to say anything. That was the problem with you. You had gotten so used to Paige folding around you that half the time you treated it like weather. Like of course Paige stopped arguing when you told her to. Of course Paige carried your bag. Of course Paige slowed down if you slowed down. Of course Paige’s attention snapped to you the second you said her name.
KK, however, had not been at UConn long enough to fully absorb the sight without reacting. She looked between you and Paige.
Then she pointed at Paige’s chest.
“You just sat down.”
Paige’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
“She said don’t bully me and you just sat down.”
“I was already leaning.”
“No, you got domesticated in real time.”
You choked slightly on your matcha.
Paige stepped forward. “Bro,”
You put one hand lightly on Paige’s forearm. “P.”
Paige stopped again.
KK’s mouth fell open.
The elevator dinged.
You walked out like nothing had happened.
Paige followed immediately.
Behind you, KK whispered loudly, “This is crazy.”
Paige threw a look over her shoulder. “I heard that.”
“I wanted you to.”
You laughed again, and Paige’s irritation lasted exactly half a second before it softened at the edges.
It was not that Paige did not realize how she was with you. She knew she loved you. She knew she liked being near you. She knew she got this ridiculous, embarrassing pull in her chest when you looked at her like she was your favorite person in the room. She knew she felt calmer when she had your bag on her shoulder, your drink in her hand, your knee pressed against hers under a table, your voice cutting through noise and landing directly in the part of her brain that cared about nothing else once you called for her.
She just did not think of it as unusual.
To Paige, loving you had always been active. It was doing things. Watching things. Remembering things. Carrying what you forgot. Giving you the better seat. Taking the outside of the sidewalk. Handing you your water before you asked because you always forgot to drink when you were locked in. Knowing when you were tired from the set of your mouth. Knowing when you were annoyed by the way you got quiet instead of loud. Knowing when you needed space and when you only said you needed space because you did not want to be a burden.
She had spent almost three years being your girlfriend and nearly four years knowing you, and she still felt like she was learning you.
Still felt lucky every time you let her.
Breakfast was loud, the way breakfast with the team usually was. Nika was already at a table with Azzi and Ice, talking with her hands and accusing somebody of lying about something you had missed. Aaliyah was scrolling through her phone, occasionally looking up to make a comment sharp enough to make everyone laugh. Ashlynn and KK were arguing about music. Someone had stolen someone else’s seat. Someone was definitely going to claim it was their seat even though there were no assigned seats and everyone knew it.
Paige guided you toward the table without touching your back, just hovering close enough that you could feel her. you slid into the seat you usually took, and Paige put your bag down beside your chair before sitting next to you.
Nobody acted like Paige carrying your things was breaking news.
That was just Paige with you.
Still, when Paige pushed the small container of fruit toward you before you reached for it, Nika’s eyes flicked up. When Paige took the napkin dispenser from the middle of the table and set one beside your plate, Azzi’s mouth curved like she was trying not to smile. When you got distracted answering Ice’s question and Paige quietly unwrapped your straw for you because your hands were full, KK looked at Azzi again.
Paige, for her part, seemed completely unaware she was doing anything worth noticing. She was busy talking about the shooting drill from yesterday, arguing lightly with Nika over whether or not Nika had counted one of her own makes after the buzzer.
“I’m just saying,” Paige said, leaning back in her chair with the kind of confidence that made people want to argue with her even when she was right, “if the ball’s still in your hand when the time’s done, that’s not a make.”
Nika stared at her. “It left my hand.”
“After.”
“During.”
“After.”
“You were not even looking.”
“I felt it.”
“You felt it?”
“Yeah. Spiritually.”
Nika blinked. “You are so annoying.”
“You’re mad because I’m right.”
“You are loud because you are wrong.”
Paige grinned. “I’m loud because I got a voice.”
You reached across Paige for the honey packet near her tray, and before your fingers even touched it, Paige picked it up and handed it to you.
Still arguing. Still looking at Nika. Still mid-sentence. But the honey packet was in your hand.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
Paige’s voice dropped out for half a beat. She turned toward you, expression easing. “Yeah.”
Nika stopped talking. Only for a second. Then she looked at Azzi with a flat expression.
Azzi pressed her lips together.
“What?” Paige asked, noticing too late.
“Nothing,” Nika said.
“Your face says something.”
“My face says I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired when you’re losing.”
Nika shook her head, but she was smiling now. “Eat your breakfast, Paige.”
Paige looked like she might push back, so you bumped your knee lightly against hers under the table.
Paige sat back.
Picked up her fork.
Started eating.
Nika’s eyes dropped to the movement.
KK saw it too.
The table went silent for half a beat.
Then KK nearly lost it.
“Oh my god,” she said. “No way.”
Paige pointed her fork at her. “You want attention so bad.”
KK shook her head, eyes bright. “Nah, this is educational. I’ve never seen somebody go from talking crazy to trained that fast.”
“I’m not trained.”
Nika made a face. “Mmm.”
You glanced at Paige, amused. “You’re not.”
Paige immediately relaxed, like your words had settled something in her. “Thank you.”
You took another sip of matcha. “You just listen well.”
Nika gagged.
“Actually disgusting,” she said.
Paige smiled down at her plate, trying and failing not to look pleased.
That was the thing that got her teased the most. Not that she listened to you. Not even that she was softer with you. It was that she liked it. Paige, who had a comeback for every person at every table, got visibly happy when you praised her for something as simple as bringing the right drink or remembering your slides or waiting by the door.
You could ruin her with a soft “thank you.”
You never abused it. That was why it worked.
You were not demanding. You were not constantly telling her what to do. If anything, you asked less of Paige than Paige wanted you to. You carried your own weight, on and off the court. You were steady and sharp and calm in ways Paige admired even when she pretended to be too cool to say it out loud. You did not need Paige to take care of you.
That was exactly why she liked doing it.
It felt like being chosen for a job nobody else even knew existed.
By the time practice rolled around, Paige had gone through three different arguments, won two of them by volume alone, and lost the only one that mattered because you had tilted your head and said, “Let it go.”
She let it go.
Nika saw.
Nika suffered.
Practice was the one place where the softness sharpened into something else.
You and Paige had always had chemistry on the court. It was one of the first things people noticed about you as freshmen, before either of you admitted what was happening, before the late-night talks and lingering hallway moments turned into something too obvious to keep pretending around. Back then, it had been basketball first. Timing. Trust. The kind of connection that made passes look cleaner than they were because both of you were already moving before the ball left the other’s hands.
Paige knew where you wanted it.
You knew when Paige was about to cut.
She could throw a pass through traffic without looking and you would be there. You could drift to the corner half a second early and Paige would find you. You screened for her without needing the call. She slipped the ball to you in pockets that made coaches nod and teammates roll their eyes because of course.
Of course it was you two.
Of course Paige could be triple-covered and still somehow locate you.
Of course you could be running full speed and still know exactly where Paige had gone without turning your head.
The team had stopped reacting dramatically because it had been years. But KK still noticed sometimes. The newness had not worn off her yet. She would watch Paige thread a pass to you on the wing, watch you catch in rhythm and knock down the shot, watch Paige point at you with that smug little look like she had personally assisted the sun into rising.
Then KK would look at Azzi like, “Do they always do that?”
And Azzi, who had seen too much, would just nod.
That day, during a half-court drill, Nika was pressing Paige high, talking in her ear the entire time.
“You’re not getting by me.”
Paige dribbled low, grinning. “I’m already by you mentally.”
“You are so annoying.”
“You love guarding me.”
“I love humbling you.”
“You can try.”
Nika bumped her with her chest. Paige laughed, shifted her weight, eyes flicking once to the left.
You saw it.
You cut.
The pass came before Nika could turn her head.
It snapped through a narrow lane, quick and clean, landing in your hands exactly where you liked it. You rose into your shot without thinking. It dropped.
“That is not humbling me. That is flirting with cardio.”
You laughed, jogging back on defense.
Paige looked entirely too proud of herself.
A few possessions later, your shoe came untied.
Later, during a pause in drills, you found yourself holding a ball under one arm, your water bottle tucked awkwardly against your side, and a towel hooked over your fingers when you looked down and realized your lace had come loose.
You made a face.
Paige was several feet away, mid-bicker with Nika again.
“I’m telling you, that was a foul.”
“It was not a foul.”
“You grabbed me.”
“I breathed near you.”
“You wish.”
“You complain so much.”
“You foul so much.”
You shifted the ball against your ribs and called, “Paige?”
Paige stopped mid-sentence.
Not gradually.
Immediately.
Nika’s mouth stayed open around whatever she had been about to say.
Paige turned. “Yeah?”
“Can you help me real quick?” you asked, polite and distracted, glancing down at your shoe. “My hands are full.”
Paige was already moving.
You did not even ask. She crossed the space between you, dropped down to one knee, and tied your shoe like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Because to her, it was.
The gym went weirdly quiet for one second.
Not fully quiet. Balls still bounced. Someone’s sneakers still squeaked. Coaches were still talking. But the pocket around you shifted, just enough for the people closest to notice Paige Bueckers, who had been arguing a foul call like she was preparing a court case, suddenly kneeling in front of you with your shoelace in her hands.
You looked down at her.
She double-knotted it.
“You gotta stop leaving them loose,” she muttered.
“You always say that.”
“Because you always do it.”
“You always fix it.”
Paige glanced up.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
Because you were looking at her with that small, private smile, the one that made her forget there were other people in the room. Her hands paused at your shoe, and for a second she just stared up at you, eyes soft and stupidly fond, like she could not believe this was her life.
Nika made a sound of genuine distress.
“I hate this,” she said.
KK, from somewhere behind her, whispered loudly, “She got on one knee.”
Paige snapped out of it and stood so fast she almost bumped your shoulder.
“It was untied,” she said defensively.
KK’s mouth twitched like she was physically fighting the urge to say something.
Nika made a face over her water bottle, eyes flicking from Paige to you and back again, unimpressed in the way only Nika could pull off without actually being mad.
By the time practice ended, the story had already become bigger than it was. Not because anyone was shocked, exactly, but because KK had narrated it like a sportscaster in the locker room until even Azzi told her to breathe.
“She said, ‘Paige, can you help me real quick?’” KK insisted, sitting on the bench while pulling off her shoes. “Casual. Normal, right? And Paige stopped like somebody hit pause on her whole body.”
Paige, from two lockers over, threw her towel at KK.
KK caught it and kept going. “Then she said her hands were full, pointed at the shoe, and Paige dropped. Dropped. Like we were watching a proposal video.”
“It was a shoe,” Paige said.
“It was history.”
Nika nodded grimly. “Freshman is right.”
Paige looked betrayed. “You’re encouraging her?”
“I am processing trauma.”
You sat at your locker, laughing quietly while you changed into slides. Paige heard it and turned toward you instantly, her annoyed expression easing before she even realized she was doing it.
KK pointed. “There. Again.”
Paige looked back at her. “What?”
“You heard her laugh and forgot you were mad.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You smiled.”
“People smile.”
“Not like that.”
Paige opened her mouth, then seemed to decide there was no way to win without making it worse. She turned back to her locker, mumbling something under her breath.
You leaned closer as she sat beside you to tie her own shoes.
“You’re getting cooked today,” you said softly.
Paige looked at you from under her lashes. “You enjoying it?”
“A little.”
“That’s messed up.”
“You make it easy.”
“I make a lot of things easy for you.”
Her voice dropped just enough that the words slipped under the noise of the locker room, warm and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip even after all this time.
You gave her a look.
Paige smiled.
There she was. Cocky again, but only because she knew she had gotten to you.
“Careful,” you said.
Her smile grew. “Or what?”
You did not answer right away. You just reached over and tugged gently at the front of her hoodie, barely enough to move her. Paige leaned in without hesitation, like her body had accepted your gravity years ago and never bothered resisting after that.
Her knee touched yours.
Her eyes dropped to your mouth.
Then Nika groaned from across the room.
“Not in the locker room.”
Paige did not look away from you. “Nobody told you to watch.”
“You are both in public.”
“You’re just jealous nobody ties your shoes.”
Nika stood up. “I’m transferring.”
Azzi, calm as ever, said, “You said that yesterday.”
“And I meant it yesterday too.”
You laughed again, pushing Paige lightly away before she could get herself in more trouble. She let you, of course. She always let you. But she stayed close enough that her knee remained pressed against yours.
That was how your day was supposed to go.
Practice. Teasing. Food. Maybe film. Maybe homework neither of you wanted to do. Paige pretending she was not going to end up in your room later, sitting on your floor while you studied, claiming she was only there because your Wi-Fi worked better even though you lived in the same building.
You had forgotten, almost completely, that your childhood friend was coming.
Not because you did not care.
Just because Storrs had a way of swallowing everything into its routine. Basketball, classes, lifts, team meals, recovery, sleep, repeat. Outside people became messages you answered late at night and calls you returned walking between buildings. Home existed, but differently. Childhood existed, but in flashes.
Then your phone buzzed while you and Paige were leaving the practice facility.
Eli: just got here
Eli: this campus is confusing as hell btw
Eli: if i go missing it’s uconn’s fault
You stopped walking.
Paige stopped too, because you stopped.
She did not ask why immediately. She just looked at you, then at your phone, reading your face first.
“Oh,” you said. “Eli’s here.”
Paige’s expression did something small.
Not enough for most people to notice.
You noticed.
“Today?” she asked.
“Yeah. I told you he was visiting this weekend.”
“I know.”
“You forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.”
You raised your eyebrows.
Paige shifted your bag on her shoulder. “I remembered conceptually.”
You smiled. “That means you forgot.”
“It means I remembered there was a concept of him arriving.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Yet you keep me.”
She said it lightly, but there was something underneath it. A tiny searching thing she would deny if you called it out.
Eli texted again.
Eli: are you ignoring me already
Eli: fame changed you
You shook your head, typing back quickly.
me: stay where you are. i’ll come get you.
Paige watched you text. She was quiet in a way that was not quite quiet. Paige had many versions of silence. There was tired silence. Thinking silence. Annoyed silence. Film-room silence, rare and usually forced. This one was the kind where she was pretending she was not curious.
You put your phone away. “He’s by the student union.”
Paige nodded.
“You coming?”
Her head snapped toward you.
You almost laughed at how fast it happened.
“You want me to?” she asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
“I mean, yeah.” You adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Unless you had something else.”
“No.” Too fast. “I’m coming.”
You looked at her.
She looked away.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Am I?”
“You are.”
“Maybe you’re cute.”
Paige’s face changed instantly. The attitude vanished so quickly it was almost funny, replaced by that pleased, slightly bashful look she only got when praise came from you. It was not that Paige did not know she was cute. Paige had confidence for days. She knew what she looked like. She knew the effect she had. But compliments from you landed differently. They got under the armor.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay.”
“Yeah, okay?”
“Trying to be humble.”
“You?”
“It’s new. Support me.”
You laughed again, and she smiled like she had earned something.
The walk to meet Eli took longer than it should have because Paige kept slowing whenever you got a notification, kept shifting closer whenever a group passed too near.
By the time you spotted Eli, he was standing with his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around with the slightly overwhelmed expression of someone who did not spend most of his time on a campus where everyone seemed to be either carrying a backpack, wearing athletic gear, or moving like they were late to something.
He saw you and grinned.
“There she is,” he called. “Miss Big East.”
You groaned before you even reached him. “Don’t call me that.”
“What, too humble now?”
“I was always humble.”
Eli laughed and pulled you into a hug.
It was normal.
It was childhood-normal. Easy. Familiar. The kind of hug that belonged to old photos and family barbecues and summers when you had both been shorter, louder, and convinced adulthood would feel more organized than it did. He smelled faintly like airport air and cold wind, and for a second you remembered being thirteen and racing him down a street near your old house, both of you breathless and dramatic over absolutely nothing.
Paige stood beside you, holding your bag.
She did not move. She did not interrupt. She did not look upset, exactly. But her posture shifted.
When you stepped back, you turned immediately. “Paige, this is Eli. Eli, Paige.”
Eli’s eyes moved to Paige.
Recognition hit him quickly, because of course it did. Even people who did not follow women’s basketball closely tended to know Paige, or at least knew enough to do a small double take when they realized she was standing in front of them with your practice bag on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” Eli said, smiling. “I know who Paige is.”
Paige gave him a polite nod. “What’s up?”
Not rude.
Not warm.
Controlled.
You glanced at her.
She glanced back, and her expression softened for you immediately before she looked at Eli again.
Eli noticed.
You didn’t.
Or if you did, you filed it away with all the other Paige things that had become normal over the years.
“Good to finally meet you,” Eli said. “I’ve heard a lot.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You cut in before Paige could decide whether that was a challenge. “He means from me.”
Paige looked at you. “You talk about me?”
The question came out softer than she probably intended.
You stared at her. “Paige.”
“What?”
“You know I talk about you.”
“I mean, I assumed.”
“You assumed?”
“Was hoping.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“But you do?”
Eli looked between you with the growing expression of someone who had just realized he had walked into a conversation with its own private rules.
You shook your head, but you were smiling. “Yes, P. I talk about you.”
Paige nodded, trying to look cool and failing because the corner of her mouth kept betraying her.
“Cool,” she said.
Eli looked like he was fighting a laugh.
Paige watched the two of you go back and forth, and there it was again. That small, quiet pinch in her chest. Not jealousy in the sharp, ugly way. Not distrust. Nothing that made her doubt you.
Just awareness.
Eli knew a rhythm with you that Paige did not.
He knew how to tease you from before. He knew old versions of your expressions. He knew references she had not been there for. He knew the shape of your life before Storrs, before UConn, before Paige had learned your drink order and your favorite practice socks and the exact way your voice changed when you were trying not to laugh.
Paige did not like not knowing things about you.
She especially did not like when somebody else did.
But she stayed quiet, because it was not her place to make that your problem.
That was the thing about Paige’s jealousy. It could be loud in her head, but she had learned where the boundary was. She could be clingy. She could hover. She could make one too many jokes. She could insert herself into plans with embarrassing speed.
But she would not make you smaller to make herself feel bigger.
Eli was your friend. Your childhood friend. He had come to Storrs to see you. Paige understood that.
She just wished understanding made her less annoyed.
You spent the next hour showing Eli around the parts of campus that mattered to you. Not the formal tour version, though he joked that you were a terrible guide because half your descriptions were things like “this is where Nika yelled at someone once” and “that hallway always smells weird after games” and “Paige almost ate it on that patch of ice sophomore year.”
“I did not almost eat it,” Paige said immediately.
You looked at her. “You grabbed my sleeve and screamed.”
“I slipped.”
“You screamed.”
“It was a strategic noise.”
Eli laughed. “Strategic?”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t there.”
“No, but I can picture it.”
“She was very dramatic,” you said.
Paige pointed at you. “You promised not to bring that up.”
“I did not.”
“You did emotionally.”
“That’s not legally binding.”
“It should be.”
Eli grinned. “She always this argumentative?”
You and Paige both answered at the same time.
“Yes,” you said.
“No,” Paige said.
You looked at each other.
Paige sighed.
Eli laughed again.
The thing was, Paige did argue. Constantly. With everybody. With Nika, with KK, with Azzi when Azzi was in the mood to entertain it, with coaches under her breath when she thought they were wrong but knew better than to say too much. She argued because she cared, because she was competitive, because her brain moved fast and her mouth often got there even faster.
But with you, she folded around the edges.
The first time Eli saw it clearly was outside the dining hall.
Nika had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, because Nika had a talent for entering scenes already annoyed.
“There you are,” she said to Paige. “You still owe me.”
Paige frowned. “For what?”
“For lying.”
“I lie about a lot of things. Be specific.”
“For saying you beat me in shooting yesterday.”
“I did beat you.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“You counted one twice.”
“You missed enough that it didn’t matter.”
Nika stepped closer, hands up. “You are so—”
“Paige,” you said, barely looking away from your phone.
Paige stopped arguing.
Again.
Instantly.
She turned toward you. “Yeah?”
You held out your empty matcha cup. “Can you help throw this out?”
Paige took it from your hand before the question fully finished. “Yeah.”
She walked to the trash can.
Eli watched her go.
Nika watched Eli watching her.
Then Nika looked at you, looked at Paige, looked at Eli again, and made a face.
“See?” she said to Eli, despite the fact that nobody had asked her anything. “This is what I deal with.”
Eli blinked. “What?”
Paige returned. “Don’t talk to him.”
Nika ignored her. “All day. She talks crazy to me, then Y/N says one thing and suddenly she’s customer service.”
“I’m helpful,” Paige said.
“You are house-trained.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open. “Bro.”
You coughed around a laugh.
Paige looked at you immediately, then smiled despite herself.
Nika pointed at her own face like she was presenting evidence. “Disgusting.”
Eli was laughing now, eyes bright with the kind of amusement that made Paige want to be annoyed but also weirdly proud. Because yes, fine, maybe she was easy for you. But that was not embarrassing to her in the way everyone seemed to think it should be.
She liked being yours.
She liked when people could tell.
Not too much. Not enough to put words on it that you had not both agreed to share. But enough that people understood there was a line around you, and Paige lived somewhere inside it.
KK joined you near the entrance, looking way too excited for someone who had only caught the tail end of the conversation.
“What happened?”
Nika pointed at Paige. “Same thing that always happens.”
KK’s eyes lit up. “She folded?”
“I did not fold,” Paige said.
You looked at her.
Paige glanced at you and lowered her voice. “I didn’t.”
KK slapped Nika’s arm. “She said that quieter to Y/N.”
Nika nodded. “Different tone.”
“Y’all study me too much,” Paige said.
“You make it easy,” KK replied.
Eli leaned closer to you as Paige got pulled into another bicker with Nika and KK. “Are they always like this?”
“Yes.”
“And Paige is always like…” He trailed off, eyes flicking toward her.
You followed his gaze.
Paige was pointing at Nika, fully animated again. “You literally foul every possession and then act confused.”
Nika fired back instantly. “Because you complain every possession and then act like a victim.”
“I am a victim.”
“You are a problem.”
KK looked thrilled. “This team is so unserious.”
Paige turned toward her. “You’re part of the team.”
“I’m observing as a scholar.”
“You’re observing your way onto the line.”
You smiled, then said, “P, leave the freshman alone.”
Paige stopped. Her hand dropped. “She started it.”
Nika closed her eyes like she was in pain.
KK whispered, “That is insane.”
Eli looked at you.
You looked back at him, confused. “What?”
He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing.”
Because to you, that was just Paige.
Your Paige.
The one who would talk back to the entire world and then hand you obedience like it was the easiest thing she had ever given anybody.
Dinner was not supposed to become a thing.
That was how it happened.
Eli, after wandering campus and pretending not to be tired from travel, rubbed a hand over his stomach and said, “I actually haven’t eaten since this morning. You wanna grab something?”
Paige answered too fast.
“We were actually going somewhere.”
You turned your head slowly.
Paige did not look at you immediately.
Eli looked between you. “Oh. My bad. Can I come along?”
There was a pause. Not long enough to be rude. Long enough for Paige’s soul to briefly leave her body.
You could see her processing it. She had inserted herself because she wanted to be included, because you were hers and she was not above being obvious about it, but now Eli had done the reasonable thing and asked to come too. Paige could not say no. It was not her place. He was not her friend, not really, but he was yours. He had come all this way. He was being nice. He had not done anything wrong except exist with childhood memories and apparently no girlfriend, which Paige had already decided was suspicious on principle even though she had not yet confirmed it.
So she swallowed whatever first response had tried to climb out of her mouth.
Then she nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s fine.”
The words were polite.
Her face was not thrilled.
You smiled at her softly.
Paige caught it and looked away, jaw shifting like she was trying not to smile back because she had a reputation to maintain and was currently losing it in front of everyone.
Eli did not ask what that meant.
He was starting to understand.
You ended up at a casual spot not far from campus, the kind of place athletes drifted toward when the dining hall felt too loud or too repetitive and everyone wanted something that did not taste like it had been planned by a nutritionist with a clipboard. The evening had settled cold around Storrs, the sky dark early in that Connecticut way that always made the day feel shorter than it was. Paige walked on the outside of the sidewalk without thinking, switching places with you so smoothly that Eli noticed before you did.
You were talking about something from childhood, hands moving as you explained a story involving a bike, a hill, and Eli apparently making a terrible decision at age twelve.
Paige listened.
Mostly.
She was trying.
But every old story felt like opening a door into a room she had never been inside. You as a kid. You before UConn. You before the girl Paige met freshman year, sharp and pretty and impossible not to look at across a gym. Paige knew that version. She knew who you became under pressure. She knew how you handled bad shooting nights and sore knees and exam weeks. She knew the way you taped your fingers. She knew how you looked when you were locked in during a close game. She knew your coffee order when you were too tired for matcha. She knew your favorite hoodie, the one you denied was hers even though it had started in her closet. She knew what made you laugh now.
Eli knew what made you laugh then. That should not have bothered her.
It did anyway.
Inside the restaurant, you slid into a booth, Eli across from you. Paige sat beside you before anyone could even pretend there was another arrangement. Her thigh pressed against yours under the table. She spread the menu open with one hand, her other resting near her own knee.
You leaned slightly into her without looking, shoulder brushing hers.
She relaxed instantly.
Eli saw that too.
The conversation stayed easy at first. Food orders. Travel complaints. Eli making fun of how cold Storrs was. You telling him he was dramatic because it was not even winter yet. Paige muttering that he would not survive January, which made you laugh.
Then Eli mentioned an old nickname. It slipped out casually, like he had said it a thousand times before.
Paige’s head turned.
You groaned. “Do not call me that.”
Eli grinned. “What? It’s classic.”
“It is not classic. It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s history.”
“It’s banned.”
“You can’t ban history.”
“I can ban you.”
Paige looked at you. “What nickname?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “No?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting. I’m asking.”
“You’re starting by asking.”
“I wanna know.”
Eli smiled like he had just been handed a weapon. “You don’t know?”
Paige’s eyes flicked to him.
There was no heat, not really.
But there was something.
You felt it immediately.
Not jealousy, exactly. Something softer and more sensitive than that. Paige hated being outside of anything involving you. She would never say it that plainly, but you knew. She wanted every version of you she could get. Not to own, not to control, but to understand. To keep safe. To love properly.
You nudged her knee under the table.
She looked at you.
Your hand slipped down, quiet and easy, finding hers under the table.
Paige went still.
Then her fingers wrapped around yours.
Just like that, the sharp thing in her expression eased.
Nobody above the table needed to know.
Eli kept talking, but his gaze dipped once. Maybe he saw the movement. Maybe he only saw how Paige’s shoulders dropped the second your hand touched hers.
Either way, he did not mention it.
Your food came, and Paige immediately pushed the sauce you liked closer to your side before you reached for it. She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and put it beside your plate. When you got distracted answering one of Eli’s questions, she moved your drink away from the edge of the table because you had a habit of gesturing too much and almost knocking things over.
Eli watched all of it.
After a while, he started testing it. Not cruelly. Just curiously.
“You always take care of her like that?” he asked Paige.
You looked up, confused.
Paige did not hesitate. “Yeah.”
Your face warmed.
Eli’s eyebrows lifted, amused by the directness.
Paige shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “She forgets stuff.”
“I do not forget stuff.”
Paige looked at you.
You looked back.
She said nothing.
You frowned. “Okay, I forget some stuff.”
“You forgot your keys this morning.”
“I was testing you.”
“She says that every time,” Paige told Eli.
Eli laughed. “Sounds like her.”
Paige’s smile tightened at the edges.
There it was again.
Sounds like her.
Like he knew. Like he had known longer.
Your thumb moved over Paige’s knuckles under the table.
She inhaled quietly.
You kept talking to Eli, but your hand stayed in hers.
Paige clung to that small contact like it was a lifeline.
The night got warmer after that. Not because Paige stopped feeling strange, but because you kept choosing her in ways that did not interrupt the conversation. Your knee stayed against hers. Your hand returned to hers whenever you could. Once, when Eli was telling a story about some mutual childhood disaster, you leaned sideways and murmured, “You okay?” so softly only Paige heard.
She nodded.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re quiet.”
“Listening.”
“To him?”
“To you.”
You looked at her then, and Paige looked right back, no joke ready, no smirk, just that open fondness she sometimes forgot to hide.
You squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back.
Eli watched you both from across the table and smiled faintly to himself.
Later, when Paige stepped away to take a call from one of the staff members about something schedule-related, Eli waited until she was out of earshot before leaning back in the booth.
“So,” he said.
You looked up from your drink. “What?”
He nodded toward the direction Paige had gone. “That’s Paige.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Obviously.”
“No, I mean…” He smiled. “That’s Paige.”
You looked down, fighting the way your mouth wanted to curve. “Yeah.”
“She’s intense.”
“She’s Paige.”
“She looks at you like you hung the moon.”
You went quiet.
That was not the kind of teasing you could swat away easily.
Eli softened a little, elbows resting on the table. “You happy?”
The question settled between you.
You looked toward the hallway where Paige had disappeared, then back at him.
“Yeah,” you said. “I am.”
He nodded. “Good.”
You stirred your straw through the ice in your cup.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The noise of the restaurant filled the silence: silverware, voices, the low hum of music, someone laughing too loudly near the front. It was strange, having someone from before sit across from you in the life you had built after. Strange, but not bad.
Then Eli asked, quieter, “Who is she to you?”
You did not answer right away.
Not because you did not know.
You knew exactly who Paige was to you.
She was the girl outside your door with matcha. The hand under the table. The pass before you cut. The hoodie on your chair. The person who had learned you in details so small other people would have missed them. She was cocky, impossible, soft where it counted, annoying when she wanted attention, loyal in a way that made your chest ache. She was the person who could make you roll your eyes and feel safe in the same breath.
But the relationship was not only yours to hand out.
Even after almost three years, even when the team knew, even when people close to you could figure it out, you were careful with it. Not ashamed. Never ashamed. Just protective. Paige was not a headline to you. She was not gossip. She was not something you tossed casually onto a table just because someone asked.
You looked toward the hallway again.
Paige was still gone.
Then you smiled faintly.
“She’s important,” you said.
Eli studied you for a second.
Then he nodded, like he understood exactly what you were not saying.
“Yeah,” he said. “I figured.”
You did not deny it.
You did not confirm it either.
You only took a sip of your drink, still smiling down at the table like you could not quite help yourself.
Eli leaned back, satisfied. “For what it’s worth, she seems good for you.”
“She is.”
“She’s also wildly obvious.”
You laughed.
“She is not subtle,” he said.
“No,” you admitted softly. “She’s not.”
“And you don’t notice?”
You frowned. “Notice what?”
Eli stared at you.
Then he started laughing.
“What?”
“You’re kidding.”
“What?”
“She follows you around like you’ve got her on a leash.”
You rolled your eyes, but your face felt warm. “She does not.”
“She absolutely does.”
“That’s just Paige.”
“With you,” Eli said. “I’m getting the sense that is just Paige with you.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it.
Because the easy answer was to deny it. To say Paige was like that with everyone. Helpful. Touchy. Loyal. Big-hearted beneath all the attitude.
But that was not fully true.
Paige cared about her people. She would do anything for her team. She would show up, protect, support, fight, love hard. But with you, there was a softness that had its own shape. A quiet automatic obedience that did not appear anywhere else. Paige could argue with a coach, a teammate, a ref, a wall, and herself.
But you said her name, and she stopped.
You had never really thought about how that looked from the outside.
Before you could answer, Paige came back.
Her eyes moved between you and Eli immediately. “What?”
“Nothing,” you said.
She did not believe you. “Why you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you were talking about me.”
Eli lifted his drink. “We were.”
Paige slid into the booth beside you, suspicious. “What about me?”
You leaned toward her, shoulder brushing hers. “Good things.”
Her suspicion wavered.
“Good things?” she repeated.
You nodded.
Paige tried to hold onto the attitude, but your knee pressed into hers under the table and your fingers found her wrist. Her entire expression softened again, helplessly.
Eli watched it happen.
Then he laughed under his breath.
Paige looked at him. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying nothing.”
“Because it’s nothing.”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “You’re annoying.”
Eli pointed at you. “She used to say that to me all the time.”
Paige’s attention snapped toward you. “Did you?”
You blinked. “Probably.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You had other annoying people before me?”
You smiled. “P, nobody is annoying like you.”
She looked pleased before she could stop herself.
Eli covered his mouth with his hand.
“You’re laughing again,” Paige said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m just seeing the vision.”
“What vision?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Paige looked at you. “I don’t trust him.”
You patted her hand under the table. “Be nice.”
Paige immediately muttered, “I’m being nice.”
Eli whispered, “Leash.”
You kicked him under the table.
He laughed so hard he almost choked on his drink.
Paige looked between you again. “What?”
“Nothing,” you said, but you were laughing now too.
Paige huffed, but she was smiling because you were smiling, and that was usually all it took.
By the time dinner ended, Paige had relaxed more. Not fully. She still watched Eli with that quiet competitive focus whenever he mentioned something from your childhood. She still asked too many casual questions that were not casual at all. She wanted to know how long you had known each other, when you stopped living near each other, whether he visited often, whether you two still talked a lot, whether he had a girlfriend.
That last one came out too smooth.
Too smooth meant dangerous.
“So,” Paige said, pushing fries around her plate like she did not care. “You got a girlfriend or something?”
You turned your head slowly.
Eli blinked, then smiled. “Subtle.”
Paige shrugged. “Just asking.”
“Uh, no. We broke up a few months ago.”
Paige’s hand paused.
You felt it because you were still holding it under the table.
There it was.
The clocking.
The immediate mental file opening in Paige’s head.
Single childhood friend. Knows your old nickname. Makes you laugh. Came to Storrs. Hazard level: annoying.
You squeezed her hand before she could spiral too visibly.
Paige looked at you.
You gave her the smallest smile.
She exhaled through her nose and nodded once, like fine, okay, she would behave.
“Sorry,” you told Eli. “That sucks.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “It was mutual. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Okay, maybe not fully mutual.”
You gave him a sympathetic look.
Paige, to her credit, said nothing mean.
You were proud of her.
So proud, actually, that under the table, you brushed your thumb over the inside of her wrist.
Paige’s posture changed.
A tiny shift. Barely visible.
But you felt it. The way she melted in increments, like you had found the exact place to touch to make the jealousy drain out of her. Her shoulder pressed more firmly into yours, and when you did not move away, she stayed there.
Eli saw that too.
He smiled to himself again, less teasing this time.
Something gentler.
After dinner, the three of you walked back toward campus under streetlights, the air cold enough that your breath showed faintly when you laughed. Eli told more stories. Paige listened more than she spoke, but she was not withdrawn anymore. She made comments. Teased you. Asked questions. Got offended when Eli claimed you used to be faster than you were now.
“She is faster now,” Paige said immediately.
Eli lifted his hands. “I’m just saying, at twelve—”
“At twelve she was racing you on a street. Now she’s training every day.”
You glanced at her, amused. “You sound personally offended.”
“I am.”
“On my behalf?”
“Always.”
The word came out too easy.
You looked at her.
Paige looked back, realizing after the fact what she had said. Her cheeks pinked slightly, though she would blame the cold if anyone asked.
Eli looked away politely.
You let your hand brush hers as you walked.
Paige caught it.
Just for a second, your fingers linked.
Then you let go before it became too obvious to anyone passing by.
Paige did not complain.
She just smiled at the ground.
Eventually, Eli had to head back to where he was staying. He hugged you goodbye, promised he would text in the morning, and told Paige it was good to meet her.
Paige nodded. “You too.”
Then, after a beat, she added, “For real.”
Eli seemed to understand the effort in that.
He smiled. “Take care of her.”
Paige’s expression shifted.
Not defensive.
Certain.
“I do,” she said.
Your heart did something stupid.
Eli glanced at you, then back at Paige. “Yeah. I can tell.”
When he left, the quiet that followed felt bigger than it should have.
You and Paige walked back toward the dorms side by side. For the first minute, neither of you spoke. The cold pressed in around you. Somewhere in the distance, people were laughing. A car passed, headlights sliding over the sidewalk before disappearing around the curve.
Paige had her hands in her hoodie pocket.
You had your arms crossed against the chill.
Normally, she would have said something by now. A joke. A complaint. A dramatic comment about the cold. A question she pretended was casual.
Instead, she stayed quiet.
You glanced at her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“P.”
She looked at you.
You stopped walking.
Because that still worked too.
Paige stopped immediately, turning to face you.
The streetlight caught the side of her face, softening the sharpness of her features. She looked younger like this, hood up, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes searching yours with the kind of openness she rarely gave anyone else.
“You were hovering,” you said.
Paige’s mouth twitched. “Was not.”
You gave her a look.
She held out for maybe two seconds.
Then she folded.
“A little.”
You smiled. “A little?”
“Medium.”
“P.”
She sighed. “Fine. A lot.”
Your smile widened.
She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in it. “Don’t look all happy.”
“I’m not happy.”
“You are.”
“Maybe I think it’s cute.”
Paige looked away quickly.
There it was again. That pleased, shy little crack in her confidence.
“You think everything I do is cute,” she muttered.
“Not everything.”
“Name one thing.”
“When you leave your socks on my floor.”
“You love that.”
“I do not.”
“You love that I’m comfortable.”
“I love you. That is different.”
Paige went quiet.
It still got her sometimes.
Even after almost three years.
Especially after almost three years.
Her eyes came back to yours, softer now. “Yeah?”
You stepped closer. “Yeah.”
The tension in her shoulders dropped.
For all her confidence, for all the attitude and cockiness and noise, Paige still looked at you sometimes like she could not believe she had gotten this. Like there was a part of her still standing in freshman year, watching you across a gym, wondering how someone could be that pretty and that good and that calm under pressure. Like some part of her was still amazed that you had chosen her back.
You reached for her sleeve, tugging her closer.
She came immediately.
Of course she did.
“You know you don’t have to compete with him, right?” you said.
Paige’s eyebrows pulled together. “I wasn’t.”
“P.”
She looked down.
You waited.
The thing about Paige was she could argue with everyone else forever, but with you, silence usually worked better. You did not have to push. You just had to stay.
Finally, she said, “He knows a lot about you.”
“He knew me when we were kids.”
“Yeah.” Paige swallowed. “That’s the part.”
Your chest softened.
There it was.
Not jealousy, not really.
Want.
Paige wanted every version of you. The teammate. The girlfriend. The girl who forgot her keys. The girl who hit corner threes. The girl who got quiet when she was tired. The girl who used to race bikes down hills and apparently had an embarrassing childhood nickname she refused to share.
She wanted all of it.
Not because she felt entitled to it.
Because she loved you so much she hated the idea of missing anything.
You slid your hand down her sleeve until your fingers found hers.
“You can ask me anything, you know.”
Paige looked up. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What was the nickname?”
You groaned immediately. “No.”
“You said anything.”
“I said anything, not that.”
“That is included in anything.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You love me.”
“I do, unfortunately.”
Paige smiled, bright and victorious. “Tell me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
You looked at her.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
The nickname landed soft and low, wrapped in that pleading tone she only used when she wanted something from you and knew she had a decent chance of getting it. Paige could be shameless when she wanted attention. Worse, she knew you liked it.
“Don’t baby me,” you said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Is it working?”
You stared at her.
She smiled.
You sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“But it’s working?”
“Maybe.”
She stepped closer, fingers tightening around yours. “Then tell me.”
You looked around, even though nobody was close enough to hear. “If I tell you, you can’t laugh.”
Paige’s face turned serious immediately. Too serious. Fake serious. “I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
“Not at you.”
“At the nickname.”
“That’s different.”
“Paige.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t laugh.”
You hesitated.
She leaned in slightly, eyes fixed on yours like this mattered more than anything else in her entire night.
So you told her.
Quietly.
Paige stared at you.
Her lips pressed together.
“Don’t,” you warned.
Her shoulders shook once.
“Paige.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You are literally laughing.”
“I’m holding it in.”
“P.”
She stopped.
Mostly.
Then she cleared her throat, face red from the effort. “It’s cute.”
“It is not cute.”
“It’s very cute.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“You’re done.”
“No, wait—”
You started walking again.
Paige followed instantly, still holding your hand.
“Baby, wait.”
“No.”
“I’m serious. It’s cute.”
“You’re never allowed to say it.”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
You glanced at her.
She looked sincere for about half a second.
Then she said it under her breath.
You stopped.
Paige immediately tried to run.
You grabbed her sleeve, laughing despite yourself. “Paige!”
She was laughing now too, stumbling backward as you pulled her close. “I had to.”
“You promised!”
“I said it quiet.”
“That does not count.”
“It counts emotionally.”
“You are so annoying.”
“But you love me.”
“Barely.”
Paige gasped. “Barely?”
You tried to pull away, but she caught your waist gently, tugging you back in like it was instinct. Not rough. Never rough. Just enough to make you step into her space, your hands landing against the front of her hoodie.
Her face was close now.
Too close for a public sidewalk, maybe.
But not close enough for either of you to move away.
“You love me barely?” she asked, voice softer.
You looked up at her. “Maybe medium.”
“Medium?”
“Fine. A lot.”
“How much?”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re needy.”
“For you? Yeah.”
That shut you up.
Paige smiled, but it was not cocky this time. It was honest. Warm. A little vulnerable around the edges.
“I am,” she said, like she had decided there was no point pretending otherwise. “I’m real needy for you.”
Your fingers curled in her hoodie.
“Everyone noticed,” you said softly.
“I don’t care.”
“You cared earlier.”
“I cared that he knew stuff I didn’t.” Paige’s thumb moved lightly at your waist. “Not that he noticed I’m obsessed with you.”
Your face warmed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I am.” She leaned closer, nose brushing yours for half a second. “Still got you though.”
You smiled. “Yeah.”
“Still don’t know how.”
Your expression softened.
Paige said it like a joke, but her eyes gave her away.
You lifted one hand to her face, thumb brushing her cheek. She went still under the touch. Completely still. Paige Bueckers, who could not stop moving most days, who bounced and shifted and talked with her whole body, froze like your hand on her face had turned the world quiet.
“You don’t have to know how,” you said. “You just have to stay.”
Her eyes searched yours.
Then she nodded once.
“I can do that.”
“I know.”
“I’m good at that.”
“You are.”
“Best thing I do, probably.”
“You play basketball pretty well too.”
Paige smiled. “Pretty well?”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
You laughed, and Paige kissed you before the sound could fully leave your mouth.
It was quick, soft, familiar. A kiss that belonged to quiet sidewalks and cold nights and the kind of love that had been built over years of mornings, practices, passes, arguments, teasing, and Paige waiting outside your door with your drink in hand.
When she pulled back, she was smiling.
You tapped her chest. “Come on. It’s cold.”
Paige immediately stepped beside you.
Then, after two steps, she gently took your hand again.
You looked at her. “You’re clingy tonight.”
“I’m clingy every night.”
“True.”
“You like it.”
You did not answer.
Paige bumped your shoulder. “You like it.”
“Maybe.”
“You do.”
“P.”
She grinned. “Okay.”
And just like that, she stopped pushing.
The walk back was quiet after that, but not empty. Paige kept your hand in hers until you reached the building. She opened the door for you. Followed you inside. Pressed the elevator button before you could. Stood close enough that your shoulders touched as you waited.
When the doors opened, KK was inside again. Because apparently the universe had a sense of humor. She looked at your joined hands.
Then at Paige.
Then at you.
A slow grin spread across her face.
“Damn,” KK said. “Still on the leash?”
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You got one more time.”
You squeezed Paige’s hand.
Paige shut her mouth.
KK’s grin got huge. “Oh, this is sick.”
You stepped into the elevator, laughing.
Paige followed, muttering, “I hate everybody.”
KK looked at you. “She don’t hate you.”
“No,” you said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side.
Paige looked down at you, all soft again, all helpless again, all hers and yours and gone in that way everyone could see except maybe the two of you.
“No,” Paige said quietly. “I don’t.”
KK made a gagging noise.
Paige ignored her.
You smiled.
And when the elevator doors closed, Paige was still holding your hand, still carrying your bag, still standing close enough to follow wherever you went next.
Like always.
Like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Like she had never once wanted to be anywhere else.
𑣲 pairings : personaltrainer!paige x unhappily married!female!reader
𑣲 warnings : smuttt, cheating, body insecurity, angsty ending, english isnt my first language
𑣲 summary : your husband leaves for another business trip, leaving behind a cold house and a parting comment that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. you show up to your session in the biggest, most stretched-out hoodie you own. but paige has been watching you for weeks, counting the seconds until the heavy tension between you finally snaps. and today, she absolutely refuses to let you stay small.
𑣲 a/n im posting these in order! ill write a serie when i hit 100 followers im at 64 rnnn so drop your recs
wc : 2k
the house is too quiet. it’s always too quiet when he’s away on business, but honestly, it’s not much louder when he’s home. just the heavy, suffocating weight of passive-aggressive remarks and the way his eyes pass right over you like you’re a piece of furniture he’s tired of looking at.
you’re staring at yourself in the mirror of the home gym, wearing the biggest hoodie you own. you feel invisible.
then the front door clicks, and paige walks in.
paige is a storm of energy. she smells like crisp laundry, cool air, and a faint hint of sweet sweat. but today, the air between you feels thicker than usual. there’s been this... thing between you two for weeks. lingering glances in the mirror, hands that stayed on your hips a second too long after a set, the way her voice softened whenever you talked about your life. a heavy, unspoken tension that’s been building with every single session.
she drops her gym bag with a heavy thud, her bright eyes locking onto you instantly, carrying that same electric weight. but then her eyes trail down to your oversized hoodie, and her eyebrows knit together. "okay, what’s with the tent today? we’re doing deadlifts and core, you’re gonna trip over yourself."
"i just... wanted to stay covered today," you mutter, pulling the sleeves over your hands, looking away. "not really feeling great about how i look."
paige stops unpacking her resistance bands. she stands up straight, the casual nonchalant persona dropping completely. the tension that’s been simmering between you for a month suddenly feels like it’s boiling over. she walks over to you, stopping right in your personal space. she’s taller, broader, radiating a steady, athletic heat that makes your chest tight.
"lose the hoodie," she says. it’s not a request. it’s that commanding, low voice that usually makes you complain, but right now, it makes something melt in your stomach.
your hands tremble a little as you grip the hem, pulling the heavy cotton over your head. you’re left in just a sports bra and tight leggings, immediately crossing your arms over your stomach, bracing for the phantom critique of your husband's voice in your head.
paige doesn’t say anything at first. she just steps closer, her hands reaching out to firmly grip your wrists, gently but unyieldingly pulling your arms away from your torso. her palms are warm, slightly calloused from the weights.
"who told you that you needed to hide?" paige asks, her voice dropping an octave. her thumbs brush over the inside of your wrists, her gaze piercing right through you. "because whoever it was is a fucking idiot."
"paige—"
"look at yourself," she orders softly, stepping behind you and forcing you to look at the mirror. she presses her front against your back, her solid, toned chest anchoring you. her large hands slide down to your waist, her fingers digging into your hips. "look at how strong your back is. look at your waist. you’re gorgeous, and you’re letting some blind asshole make you feel small in your own house."
your breath hitches. the sheer contrast of being seen, deeply seen and handled with so much deliberate intent after weeks of wanting her breaks something loose inside you. a quiet, frustrated gasp escapes your throat.
paige freezes. in the mirror, you see her eyes darken. all that built-up tension snaps in an instant. her grip on your hips tightens, pulling you back flush against her thighs.
"oh," paige murmurs, her breath hot against the shell of your ear. "you like how that feels? me touching you like this?"
"yes," you whisper, the honesty tearing out of you because you’re so starved for it.
paige doesn’t hesitate. she turns you around in her grip, her athletic strength making it effortless. before you can think, she has you backed up against the cool glass of the gym mirror, her body pinning yours in place.
"good girl," she roughs out, her mouth dropping down to claim yours. it’s a heavy, possessive kiss that tastes like absolute certainty. she kisses you like she’s been waiting to break you open for weeks.
her hands slide under the hem of your sports bra, lifting it up and discarding it on the floor. before your arms can drop to cover yourself, her hands move down to the waistband of your leggings. with a smooth, firm tug, she slides them down over your hips, taking your underwear with them. she guides your legs out of them, leaving you completely bare against the cool mirror, completely exposed under her intense gaze.
when you try to look down, suddenly self-conscious again, paige grabs your chin, forcing your eyes back up to her.
"don't you dare look away from me," she commands, her voice thick with a sudden, feral heat. "look at what you're doing to me."
she handles you so well, lifting you onto the edge of the workout bench. she positions herself between your thighs, her hands tracing down your legs, parting them wide. every touch is a reclamation.
"he’s a fool," paige growls against your skin, her fingers finding you, slick and completely ready for her. she slides two fingers inside you with a heavy, deliberate push that makes your hips arch off the bench. "you belong right here under me. let me take care of you baby."
she starts a relentless rhythm, her fingers moving inside you with an unmatched stamina that quickly sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. your hands grip the edges of the bench, and her big muscled arms, your knuckles turning white as you try to hold onto reality, but paige is entirely consuming.
"look at yourself," she commands, her voice a low, gravelly rumble against your neck as she hooks one of your knees over her forearm, opening you up even deeper. "watch how beautifully your body takes me. see how much you need this."
you force your eyes open, looking at the glass. you see yourself—flushed, breathless, legs parted wide, and completely unraveled by the woman who has been consuming your thoughts for weeks. paige’s mouth finds yours again, smothering your breathless gasps into a deep, bruising kiss while her thumb works your clit in perfect synchronization with her fingers.
the friction is dizzying, the pace scaling higher and higher until your vision starts to blur at the edges. you’re trembling, completely at her mercy, your hips instinctively rolling into her hand, begging for the release that's coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.
"paige, please—i'm gonna—"
"i've got you. let go for me, baby, right now," she mutters against your lips, pushing her fingers in deeper, her thumb applying a heavy, merciless pressure that shatters your last bit of control.
a loud, undone cry breaks from your throat as your walls clamp down tight around her fingers. your entire body goes taut, waves of intense, pulsing pleasure crashing through you so hard your hips lift entirely off the bench. paige doesn't stop; she holds you through it, her fingers moving steadily through your climax, drawing out every single throb of your release until you're completely spent, sobbing her name against her shoulder as you slowly begin to come down.
by the time your breathing slows, the heavy silence of the house is entirely gone, replaced by the sound of both of your chests heaving in the quiet room.
you’re tangled together on the thick yoga mat on the floor, the oversized hoodie completely forgotten in the corner. paige’s arms are wrapped securely around you from behind, her lips pressing soft, lingering kisses into the valley between your shoulder blades.
"you're not hiding anymore," she whispers into your skin, her hand resting heavy and protective over your stomach. "never again."
but as your breathing finally evens out, your gaze drifts past paige’s shoulder, catching on the small glass dish by the sink where you always leave your wedding ring before a workout.
a sudden, cold jolt of reality hits your chest, making you come completely back to your senses. the heavy silence of the house suddenly feels real again. you look at paige—beautiful, flushed, and completely devoted—and the sudden weight of what you’ve just done, of the husband who is still coming back in two days, crashes down on you all at once. the fog of pleasure evaporates, leaving behind a hollow, aching panic.
paige feels your body go completely rigid against hers. she pulls back slightly, her brow furrowing as she looks at your face, seeing the immediate shift in your eyes. she knows that look. she knows exactly who just walked back into your head.
"hey," she says softly, reaching up to touch your cheek, but you instinctively flinch away, sitting up and pulling the yoga mat over your chest to cover yourself.
the rejection hangs heavy in the air. paige lets her hand drop, a quiet, pained understanding settling over her features. she doesn't push you. she just quietly stands up, pulling her clothes back on with a slow calmness that makes your heart ache.
she packs her gym bag in silence, the zip sounding incredibly loud in the empty room. when she reaches the doorway, she stops, looking back at you one last time. "i'm not going to be the secret you feel guilty about," she says, her voice steady but thick with emotion. "you know where to find me when you're ready to actually leave him."
and then, she’s gone. the front door clicks shut, and the silence of the house rushes back in to swallow you whole.
you sit alone on the floor, staring at the empty doorway, the coldness of reality settling deep into your bones. you look back at the little glass dish on the counter. you’re trapped. no matter how incredible paige made you feel, no matter how much she made you bloom for an hour, the truth settles over you like lead: you are damned to a life you never wanted, bound to a marriage that starves you, and you don't even know if you're brave enough to break the cage.
You wake up feeling like absolute garbage, your head pounding, throat raw and scratchy, every joint screaming in protest. The flu has you in a chokehold this time, turning you from your usual lively self into a shivering, pathetic bundle under the blankets. But Nika hasn’t left your side once. She ditched her meetings without a second thought, told everyone she was taking a personal day and planted herself right here with you. Soup simmering on the stove, fresh tissues stacked on the nightstand, cool washcloths rotated every twenty minutes.
Now it’s evening and the fever’s got you drenched in sweat again, pajamas clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Nika notices the second she walks back into the bedroom with a new glass of electrolytes. She’s in those soft gray sweats that cling to her powerful thighs and a loose black t-shirt that shows off the definition in her arms and shoulders…basketball arms that can bench you without breaking a sweat. Her dark eyes flick over you, assessing, concerned.
“You’re burning up again, ljubavi,” she says softly, setting the glass down. Her Croatian accent wraps around the words like a warm blanket. “Shower time. It’ll break the fever, make you feel human. Come on, I’ve got you.”
You manage a weak nod, too wiped to fight her. She slides an arm around your waist, steady and strong, helping you stand. Your legs wobble but she just pulls you closer, letting you lean your full weight into her side as you shuffle to the bathroom. The moment she cranks the hot water, steam begins seeping out already loosening the congestion in your chest. It smells faintly of her eucalyptus body wash…comforting, familiar.
Nika helps you out of the damp clothes with gentle efficiency, no teasing, no lingering touches…just pure care. She strips quickly after, confident and unselfconscious, then steps in behind you. The spray hits your skin like mercy, hot enough to make you sigh in relief. You sway a little, dizzy, so she wraps one arm around your middle to keep you upright, the other reaching for the shampoo.
Her fingers work through your hair in slow, firm circles, massaging your scalp until your eyes flutter closed. You lean back against her chest, feeling the steady thump of her heartbeat, the rise and fall of her breathing. She rinses, then lathers soap over your shoulders, down your arms, across your back…careful, attentive, completely focused on making you comfortable.
The heat, the steam, her body pressed to yours…it all starts waking something up despite how awful you feel. A low, needy ache pools between your legs. You turn your head just enough to catch her eye over your shoulder.
“You know what would actually help me feel better?” you rasp, voice still hoarse but unmistakably suggestive.
Nika’s hands pause on your hips. One dark brow lifts. “More medicine? A nap?” She’s smirking, but there’s caution in her gaze…she knows exactly where your mind’s going.
You slide a hand back, fingers tracing the hard line of her thigh. “Shower sex.”
She exhales a soft laugh that echoes off the tiles, shaking her head. “No, baby. You’re sick. I’m not risking making this worse. I just want you better.” Her tone is firm, protective, the same voice she uses on the court when she’s locking in. She turns you gently to face her, rinsing the last of the soap from your skin with slow, deliberate sweeps of her hands.
You pout, but the fever’s making you bold, reckless. You press closer, slick bodies sliding together under the water. “Oh, this will definitely make me feel better,” you murmur, letting your fingers drift higher, brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Like, instant cure. Swear.”
Nika’s jaw flexes. She searches your face for a long second…checking for real discomfort, for any sign you’re pushing too hard. Then her eyes darken, pupils blown wide in the steamy light. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, but the fight’s already leaving her voice. Her hands slide to your waist, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just under your ribs. “If this is what my girl needs…”
She kisses you then…slow at first, lips soft and careful under the falling water. But you deepen it fast, hungry, tongue sweeping against hers. You taste mint and the faint salt of her skin. Your hands roam up her sides, thumbs grazing the under of her breasts, feeling her nipples pebble instantly.
Nika groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth. She backs you up until your shoulders hit the cool tile, the temperature shock making you gasp. Her thigh slides between yours without warning…strong, thick, and she presses it firmly against your center.
“Ride it,” she orders quietly, voice rough with want. “If we’re doing this, you’re gonna take what you need. Nice and slow so I can watch you fall apart.”
You whimper, already grinding down instinctively. The pressure is immediate, delicious…her thigh muscle flexing under you as you rock your hips. The water makes everything slippery, hot, obscene. You brace one hand on her shoulder, the other on the wall, and start moving in earnest.
Nika’s eyes never leave your face. She watches every flutter of your lashes, every hitch in your breath. One hand stays braced on the tile beside your head… the other grips your hip, guiding your rhythm without rushing you. “That’s it, baby,” she murmurs, accent thicker now. “Use me. Let me feel how wet you are even when you’re sick.”
The praise hits you like a spark. You grind harder, clit dragging along the firm ridge of her thigh with every roll of your hips. The steam swirls thicker, the sound of water and your own ragged breathing filling the shower. Your thighs start to tremble, muscles burning in the best way.
“Nik…” you gasp, head tipping back against the tile.
She leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Come on my thigh, ljubavi. Show me how much better this makes you feel.”
That’s all it takes. The coil snaps tight and then shatters. You cry out, hips stuttering as the orgasm crashes through you…sharp, bright, overwhelming. Your nails dig into her shoulder, walls fluttering around nothing as pleasure pulses hot and liquid between your legs. Nika holds you steady, thigh pressed firm so you can ride every last wave, murmuring soft Croatian praises you only half hear through the haze.
When you finally slump forward, panting, she catches you easily, arms wrapping around your waist. She kisses your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth…soft now, reverent.
“Better?” she asks, smirking against your skin.
You laugh weakly, still trembling. “Getting there.”
She chuckles, low and dark. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
She spins you slowly, pressing your chest to the wall. Her hands slide down your sides, possessive, fingertips trailing fire over your wet skin. She nudges your legs apart with her knee, then slips one hand between your thighs from behind. Two fingers tease your entrance first…slow circles around your swollen clit, gathering the slickness that’s already there…before sliding inside you with one smooth, deep push.
You moan loud, the stretch perfect even after coming once. Nika sets a rhythm immediately…hard, controlled. Each curl of her fingers drives them deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. Water pounds down on your back, her front flush to you, one hand braced beside yours on the tile, the other working you relentlessly.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she growls against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Even when you’re sick, you take my fingers like you were made for them. My perfect girl.”
The praise, the angle, the way she’s railing you with just her hand…it builds fast. She adds a third finger, stretching you fuller, her palm grinding against your clit with every thrust. Your second orgasm coils low and tight, then explodes without warning. You come hard, walls clamping down around her fingers, a broken moan of her name echoing off the walls. Nika fucks you through it, pace faltering only when your spasms start to slow, curling her fingers one last time to draw out every aftershock before gently easing them out.
She turns off the shower first, the sudden quiet almost startling after all the water noise. Then she turns you around carefully, cradling your face in both hands to kiss you slow and deep…lazy, lingering, all tongue and soft affection now. When she pulls back, her eyes are soft, searching yours.
“You okay, baby?” she whispers, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “Not too much?”
You shake your head, smiling through the haze. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”
Nika reaches for the big fluffy towel she left on the rack earlier and wraps it around your shoulders first, tucking it snug so you’re cocooned in warmth. She dries herself quickly, then focuses on you…gentle pats over your arms, your back, your legs, making sure every drop is gone so you don’t get chilled. She kneels to dry between your thighs with extra care, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your knee when she’s done.
“Stay right here,” she murmurs, stepping out to grab something from the bedroom. She comes back with one of her sweaters and helps you into it, sleeves swallowing your hands. Then she scoops you up like you weigh nothing, carrying you back to the bedroom despite your weak protest that you can walk.
She settles you against the pillows she’d already arranged earlier, pulls the thick comforter over your legs, and tucks it around you until only your head peeks out. Nika climbs in beside you, pulling you into her chest so your back is flush against her front, her arm draped protectively over your waist. She nuzzles into your damp hair, pressing kisses along your shoulder.
“Rest now, ljubavi,” she whispers, voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you. Fever’s gonna break soon, and you’re gonna wake up feeling brand new. But until then, you’re not lifting a finger.”
You hum contentedly, already sinking into the warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on your stomach through the sweater, grounding you, calming.
“Love you,” you mumble, eyelids heavy.
“Love you more,” she replies, kissing the back of your neck. “Sleep, baby. I’m right here.”
And with her holding you like that…safe, warm, completely taken care of, you finally let yourself drift, the ache in your body replaced by nothing but soft, hazy bliss.
pt. 1 (you're here) - pt. 2 - pt. 3
pairing: paige bueckers x sweet!fem!reader
summary: it started with a pen, a library corner, and a seat saved in the middle of the lecture hall. but when feelings get too real and distance starts to grow, paige needs to know— now that she's going all in, is she still alone falling?
contains/warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst or hurt/comfort?, slightly slow-burn. not proofread! will add warnings along the way as i finish this!
word count: 5.3k (part 1)
a/n: jennie's handlebars has been stuck in my mind and i thought,,,, i need to make a fic about paige bueckers inspired by this song!!!! this is self-indulgent, but it's a bonus if people find it a good read. there'll be more parts, i just have to cut it for now because i literally have exams in the next few days HAHA
disclaimer: i'm not a university student in america, nor do i know uconn as an institution well. the related matters are a product of shallow research (like the library, i just needed one that's 24/7 like ours HAHA) and my imagination! also, i’m a new fan, and just recently hyperfixated on the amazing human that is paige bueckers.
now playing: Handlebars by JENNIE (feat. Dua Lipa)
Paige enters the lecture hall 30 minutes past the time that the Statistics class had started yet again. At this point, it was now a habit that had ingrained itself in her academic routine. She has good reasons– of sorts. For one, professors of large classes such as this barely care anymore when students enter the lecture hall way past the grace period because they were too engaged in their one-sided discussion already. Second, she did not like the way people’s eyes planted on her form whenever she entered the room with the professor still preparing for lecture. This way, she could peacefully sneak towards the corner, at the very last row.
She walks, slightly hunched over in an attempt to make her presence as small as she intends it to be. Yes, she rejoices in her head as soon as she confirms that no one was seated at the very last row. She could probably even squeeze in a nap while there.
Paige settles down, gently dropping her gym bag on the floor, and puts up the hood of her jacket to cover enough of her face. She gets into a position that she hopes would fool the professor into thinking she was actually paying attention, then closes her eyes.
It’s a serene setting, with the discussion serving as white noise for her broken nap. But no matter how hard she tried to relax and just “get in the zone” for resting, she couldn’t. By the time there were only 20 minutes left until they could be dismissed, she had given up trying to nap. She sighs, slouching against her seat and whipping out her iPad. At least she could play something while she passed the rest of the period.
Creak.
She pauses, the very small sound of the door opening catching her attention. She watches as a girl snakes her way through the other students who were late and chose to sit in her row. The girl reaches the seat that was one space from her and settles down the way she did. She looks a bit sheepish– her expressions are truly transparent because Paige could tell that she felt bad for making it to class with barely 15 minutes left until it ended. What an innocent soul, Paige thinks then goes back to minding her business.
She’s so absorbed in the ongoing conversation in their team’s groupchat that when the professor calls out for the class to bring out a pen and paper for a short assessment, she doesn’t react to the newly-arrived classmate nudging her arm.
“Pst…”
Paige finally tears her eyes off the screen and looks at you, eyes wide like she had just been caught bringing illegal items into the dorms. She blinks a few times then asks, “Wha- huh?”
You raise an eyebrow and the side of your mouth quirks up in amusement. “We’re going to have a short quiz.”
She doesn’t know how it was possible, but it seems her eyes widened even more once she heard that. What the hell was she going to answer when she had barely paid attention to any of the lectures in this class? And in her defense, Statistics and the way it was being taught are personally boring.
Nonetheless, she nods in acknowledgment and rummages through her gym bag for any pen and paper.
The thing was… she never bothers to put pen and paper in her gym bag…
Paige is frozen, already panicking on the inside because the professor had just finished flashing the first question. She looks around, quite frankly does not know what the fuck she’s going to do.
Then, a paper shoots into her line of sight. She looks up and realizes you were giving her a piece of paper from your notebook. Paige hurriedly takes it and murmurs a “thank you” before stopping again. Well shit, she doesn’t have a pen either.
“You’re supposed to be a student too if you’re a student-athlete, y’know.”
She whips her head to the side and sees your playful smile again. You’re holding out a pen towards her. With a sheepish look of her own, Paige takes your pen and nods in your direction in gratitude. She’s way too embarrassed to meet your eyes now. How could she, when, one, you’re drop dead gorgeous (how come she’s never seen you before?), and two, she basically made you her personal school supplies store?
Paige shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She has to find a way to put up answers on her pathetic blank sheet before she could start figuring out how to get your number after this.
Whew. You really don’t know how you do it. For some reason, even if you were awfully late to class, and the professor dropped a surprise quiz, you managed to ace the said quiz.
Well, you’re studious. You know that. Sometimes, it’s just hard to believe that efforts pay off.
“y/n!”
Your internal celebration is cut off when you hear your bestfriend’s familiar voice cut through the crowds of that particular Statistics building floor. You turn around and smile because their presence always had that relieving effect on you. You may not have as many friends as you hoped you would make in college, but you had your constants like bff/n. So far, college has been one of the best experiences of your life because of them.
“Right on time,” you tell them as you approach. Bff/n has never failed in fetching you from Stat so that the two of you could go to your shared class in your degree program’s building. “But I’m a bit late, sorry. The prof had a surprise quiz for us at the end of the lecture. I swear I should’ve just skipped this class since I was running too late anyway.”
They roll their eyes then pinch your cheek lightly. “Knowing you, sweet, goody two-shoes? I doubt it.”
You feign an offended gasp, about to quip back, but a tap on your shoulder makes you– and bff/n– pause and look at whoever wants your attention. You’re surprised to see it’s Paige Bueckers, star athlete and your clumsy seatmate in the last lecture. You immediately give her a knowing smile, and she scoffs lightly, but the subtle way her lips curled up assured you that she took no offense.
“Hey, stellar student,” you greet her.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep teasin’ me, won’t you?” she playfully complains, bringing a hand behind her neck.
You chuckle, not used to the sight. Paige Bueckers is basically a celebrity, known for her confidence on and off the court. Seeing this 6-footer act the way she’s acting right now is a rare occurrence. On one hand, you aren’t sure why she’s shy around someone like you, but on the other, it’s endearing, like seeing a child get timid around an adult they admire– or something like that.
“Can I help you, superstar?” you ask, shifting your weight and clasping your hands behind you. You figure your body language could make her a bit more comfortable around you.
She clears her throat, suddenly clutching the strap of her gym bag. “Uh, yeah… was just thinking if i can get your name and your number? You seem nice and I’d need a contact in that big class,” she explains, eyes darting everywhere except on your face.
You decide to stop with the teasing remarks and simply smile at her. “Sure, Paige,” you say, getting your phone out and navigating to your Instagram. You then show your account page to her and watch as she brings her own phone out and jot down your handle. “Name’s y/n. Nice to meet you.”
Your small interaction is interrupted when bff/n clears their throat, glancing down at their wristwatch.
Oh, right. You’re about to run late for your next class too.
You quickly turn back to Paige, who’s tinkering with her phone, probably about to send a follow request. “Hey, we gotta go. If you got any concerns about Stat, just hit me up, yeah?” you say, giving her another reassuring smile. It’s then that she finally looks more relaxed and returns a smile.
“Will definitely hit you up,” she replies. “See you around?”
You nod, slightly amused by how her mood completely changed, though you didn’t understand why. It always just makes you happy when you’re of help to others.
You then walk out of the building and hasten your pace towards your department. It’s 5 minutes until grace period ends, and you did not want to be as late as you were a while ago.
“Yo, what's up with that?” bff/n asked, and you look to see her really curious expression.
“With what?”
Bff/n lets out a ‘psh’ at that. “With you and Paige Bueckers? She doesn’t just get someone’s number in public like that, y’know? And people are looking and following. They’re not really that discreet with their paparazzi behavior.”
It wasn’t even that noticeable to you until they pointed it out. You scan your surroundings to see people around you looking at you and whispering most likely about your encounter with UConn’s star.
You sigh, certain that some people would be blowing up your inbox within the day. You didn’t understand why it has to be a big deal– you’re classmates with Paige Bueckers. There’s bound to be some interaction between the two of you, right?
“Nothing’s up with that. I helped her out in class, and she probably thinks I’m nice and needs someone to stick to to survive Statistics. Isn’t that the average general education subject experience in college?” you reason out, grumbling at the vibration of your phone. You just know the “news” reached the nosy people already.
bff/n raises their hands in surrender. “Sorry, bae. Won’t make it a big deal anymore.”
You give her a relieved smile.
“Even though it totally is…”
“Bff/n!”
Homer Babbidge Library.
You’ve made the 24/7 library your second home now because it had everything you needed– from the open sections for the peer pressure you need for studying, to the secluded areas you went to once in a while if you didn’t want anyone to mind what you were doing. You could live there, and none of the staff would bat an eyelash, partly because you had already established a good rapport with everyone working there.
You’re kinda feeling like you want to be left alone for tonight, so you head straight to the topmost floor and in the cozy corner that no one frequents. Most of them stuck to the lower floors for the sockets and stronger wifi connection. They probably didn’t bother scouting this floor, or else they would’ve seen the lone socket by a comfortable lounging area. Perfect for you– you have your cellular data anyway. You always slept here throughout finals weeks, and you’re glad no one has intruded on it yet.
Until tonight.
You’re in your familiar corner, slaving away at a plate that a professor assigned a while ago in the afternoon, and it’s already 9 in the evening. You bite back a useless complaint directed particularly to no one but yourself because you had spent a few hours procrastinating on TikTok.
9 pm. Just a little under 3 hours until the deadline.
You stretch your arms over your head, leaning hard against the chair and staring up at the ceiling. The usual musings on why you bothered to take up your degree program has officially started as you doubted your capabilities to stay interested in what you’re currently learning. But it isn’t like you could quit now– you had already shifted out and you couldn’t afford to lose any more time.
A sigh escapes your lips, and you sit up straight again, blinking hard at the laptop screen. The words and figures are starting to blur together, and the steady hum of the overhead lights is almost hypnotic. You’re about to give up and rest your eyes for a minute, when you hear footsteps coming from where the staircase is.
The side of your lips turn downward at the sound. No one ever comes up here. The few times people did stumble across your unofficial personal corner, they took a look at the lack of outlets and turned on their heels to head back downstairs.
This time though, whoever it is isn’t leaving.
A shuffle. Then a low exhale. Then a rustle of some fabric as they set something down.
You look away and– Paige Bueckers.
She’s standing a few feet away, hoodie pulled up, her familiar gym bag slung over her shoulder. She looks just as startled as you do.
“Um…”
You blink at each other.
Then, you let out an airy laugh, not believing the circumstances you keep finding yourself in with the girl. But it wasn’t anything bad. It’s just becoming more and more amusing as you keep crossing paths with her in the most unlikely situations.
“I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” you say with a smile, eyeing the things she had placed on the floor. She looks just about ready to lounge around and make her gym bag a makeshift pillow.
She laughs a little, and she rubs the back of her neck, a recognizable gesture of hers from your interaction yesterday. “Yeah, me neither.” She glances towards the couch tucked against the wall— your couch, where the rest of your things sat— and you see her shuffle her weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.
You raise an eyebrow, mouth parting slightly. “…Don’t tell me you live here too,” you joke half-heartedly.
Paige hesitates, looking everywhere else but at you.
You bite your lip, stopping yourself from laughing. “Wait. You do too.”
She exhales. “Not live. I just stay here from time to time,” she says defensively. “…Or a lot.” She tries to shrug it off, like that isn’t kind of hilarious. She sticks her tongue out at you when you laugh a little, “It’s quiet, okay? No one bothers me. I figured you would’ve gotten that.”
You stop laughing, suddenly feeling bad, and offer her a sympathetic smile. “You’re right. Sorry, Paige,” you say. “But… isn’t it cool how we’ve never run into each other before?”
Paige shrugs again, moving the chair across you so she could sit. You don’t say anything. In fact, it feels like you actually welcome her presence. You didn’t mind her being around your safeplace.
“It was bound to happen eventually,” she tells you, smirking a little. She folds her arms and places them on the table, before resting her chin on them to look up at you. “I’m not complaining though. I’m glad it’s you who’s here.”
You smile, somehow agreeing with her.
A short moment passes, and you both have a silent agreement that Paige is going to stay quiet and watch you while you cram the shit out of your plate. You’re surprised because it isn’t awkward or unsettling— which is unusual because you and Paige aren’t really friends. You’re just acquaintances, and she hasn’t even messaged you about anything on Instagram (not that you’re expecting anything so soon).
Nonetheless, you continue to do your work in the comfort of her calming presence. This is different from the peer pressure you need when you study with people around you. Yet, it has the same effect of making you focus on the task at hand.
“Aren’t you going to sleep on the couch?” you ask when you decide to have a short break. You’re on the verge of finishing the damn requirement anyway, so a few minutes of striking up a conversation wouldn’t be too much of a loss.
Paige tilts her head and stares up at you, and you smile a little at how adorable this towering lady currently looks. For someone dominant on the court, she’s quite tame-looking right now.
“I’m good, ma,” she assures. “What about you? How you doin’ there?”
“Pretty much done. Just needs some final editing.”
The girl hums in acknowledgment. “Hard worker, aren’t ya?”
You plant your eyes on the table, feeling glum about that comment. You know you’re a hard worker. You’ve always been a hard worker. But you haven’t exactly come into terms with that certain characteristic of yours because it always shoved in your face that you aren’t the gifted little girl you were back in your younger years anymore. You now have to work twice as hard if you want the same kind of results you used to get so effortlessly as a child.
Paige seems to have sensed the shift in your mood. She’s quick to straighten herself up, and you notice the concern in her face when you didn’t say anything back. You quickly nod in agreement to reassure her and avoid talking more about it.
“You know, I watch your games here sometimes. On my phone,” you confess, hoping she rolls with the change of topic. It looks like it worked anyway because you could see how her breath catches for half a second before she lets out a surprised laugh.
“You do?” she asks, slightly in disbelief, though you don’t really know why. Many UConn students tune in to the team’s games. A smile spreads on her face. “When do you come here again?”
You sink a little in your seat, only feeling shy now. You glance at her over your laptop. “I mean… it’s open 24/7 so… whenever I have free time mostly.”
Paige hums again, studying you for a moment, before she leans back and pulls her hood lower. Despite the effort, you can see a small smile still plastered on her face. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to keep dissecting the things happening between the two of you because no matter what, you’re enjoying Paige Bueckers’ company.
Suddenly, the thought of sharing your space doesn’t seem so bad.
After finding each other in your common little bubble, Paige apparently has taken it upon herself to officially befriend you, starting by daring herself to go down a few and sit beside you in the middle of the lecture hall. It’s bewildering not only to you, but to the rest of the people who are always there to witness the way she finally discards her sanctuary at the back for the spot next to you.
“What happened to staying at the back?” you ask as she plops down like it isn’t a big deal. Like she had always been beside you, ever since the start of the semester. Her gym bag is forgotten as she folds her arms so that she could rest her head on them for a quick power shut-eye before the professor starts.
Paige turns her head a little to the side to face you and gives you a smirk. “You happened. Besides, as long as it isn't in the first three rows, ‘m good.”
“What if I go there?” you test jokingly.
She scoffs. “You’re on your own girl. I hate it there.”
You chuckle a little at her humorous tone, kind of already knowing there isn’t any ill intention behind her words. That’s just how Paige Bueckers speaks and acts.
“Alright, sassy girl,” you quip back. “I’ll stay somewhere you’re comfy with if you’re gonna keep sitting beside me,” you offer, and you see your somehow-friend’s expression brighten at that. She whispers a quick ‘you’re the best’ before proceeding to putting her head back down for that shut-eye.
You couldn’t help but stare at her and her half-open gym bag. It only hit then how much hustle Paige puts into her daily life. Getting to her classes after their morning trainings must take a lot from her– you heard that they wake up way too early for those.
Before you know it, your hand is moving on its own to pat Paige on the head, but thankfully, you immediately become aware that you’re in public and she’s basically a superstar. You retract your arm and clear your throat, subtly looking around to see if anyone noticed what you were about to do. Some heads are turned towards your general direction, but no one seems to be eyeing you both too deeply, so you’re probably in the clear. Phew.
From that day on, it’s just a thing now. Paige Bueckers, former back-row resident, has decided that her new permanent seat is right next to you.
At first, people stare. Like, really stare. Some nudge their friends, whispering about why the Paige Bueckers is sitting there in the middle area voluntarily, and why she has chosen the particular seat right next to you. You pretend that you don’t notice them, and Paige does the same, just stretching out before doing whatever she had in mind.
Then, as the semester stretched on, people didn’t mind it anymore. Actually, no one minded it all how she always drops into the chair with a soft grunt, tossing her gym bag somewhere under the desk carelessly. Most of the time, she barely makes it before the class starts, hair damp from a shower she probably couldn’t properly have. Other days, she’s already there when you arrive, idly scrolling through an app on her phone.
You don’t know why, but it feels comfortable.
Maybe even too comfortable, because today, you’re both whispering to each other and snickering over something dumb you scribbled on your notebook when the professor clears his throat.
“Ladies,” he says pointedly, adjusting his glasses. “If the two of you would like to share your joke with the rest of the class– please, by all means.” His eyebrows are stitched together in annoyance as he challenges the two of you.
You freeze, while Paige stops mid-laugh, turning her head just enough to meet your wide-eyed expression. The both of you are completely stunned. You certainly don’t know how the fuck you’re going to get out of being called out like this because this is the first time you have been caught disrupting class.
A beat of silence passes, and then, Paige leans in and gives your professor a smile. You couldn’t tell if it’s a sarcastic one or not.
“I was just saying,” she starts, trying to look serious, but you aren’t really buying it, “that this lecture is way easier to understand now that I have a tutor.”
You hear some chuckles from your classmates, and you can only look down in embarrassment. There is no way that he is going to buy an excuse like that.
“A tutor?” Mr. Lee repeats, raising an eyebrow at the two of you.
Paige nudges you with her knee under the desk while continuing, “Yeah, y/n. She even promised to sit where I’m comfortable if I keep showing up. Ain’t that nice, sir?”
Another moment of silence passes, and you put your hands underneath the table, squeezing them together. Hopefully, he’s in a pretty good mood to just let this go because there is no way you’re going to incur some kind of disciplinary action for having a fun time with a friend.
And it seems you’re one lucky fuck because the professor just shakes his head with an amused sigh. “Well, if it gets you to sit somewhere other than the back row and stops you from sleeping, I won’t complain.”
This time, more laughter follows as he simply moves on and goes back to what he was discussing. You shoot Paige a look, lightly slapping her arm and whispering, “You’re so annoying.”
She just grins, slumping lower in her seat for the meantime. Probably to avoid getting more attention on the two of you. She knows how much a clean record and high grades means to you.
“But you love me, don’t ya?” she shoots one last time, and your stomach flips at that.
It’s casual… obviously? Just a throwaway comment, right?
But Paige’s grin lingers a second too long, like she’s waiting for a reaction.
You roll your eyes at her, but it’s mostly to keep yourself from smiling too hard.
“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “Shut up and listen to him now.”
She listens, and the not-so-little twerp even has the gall to salute you. And you swear, for the rest of the class, she’s still smirking.
Paige is ecstatic.
She doesn’t remember the last time she’s felt as giddy as she does now, but damn, did having a crush feel great. It’s like everything non-basketball is finally fun. She has the inspiration to go into a class she barely has the willpower to go to, gets to sit with you for one and a half hours twice a week, then, when the timing is right– and she makes sure it’s right– you have more one-on-one time at Homer Babbidge.
She doesn’t know how else it could get any better, other than actually having her feelings returned, of course.
“Dude, you’re so lovesick,” KK’s voice interrupts her daydream, and suddenly, she’s back in reality, hearing Azzi snicker beside her.
Paige doesn’t even try to deny it and lamely pulls out a ‘No, I’m not,’ out of her ass. But these two know her so well. She gets slaps to her arms, with them telling her to stop lying and own up to it already. She doesn’t fight back because she gets it. You’re all she talks about in the dorms or whenever they have a short break in-between drills in training.
Paige sighs, finally getting tired of the beating and walks ahead. She runs a hand down her face, slightly frustrated, but mostly embarrassed. She never thought her teammates would catch her deeply stuck in this state because she never thought she was going to fall this hard for anyone.
“Can you guys, like, shut up about it for five minutes?” she grumbles. KK and Azzi chuckle at that.
“Not when you’re out here being a total simp,” KK says, catching up and latching an arm around her.
“Not a good look on you, but we’re getting used to it,” Azzi adds, going back to scrolling on her phone.
Paige glares at the both of them, but the heat in her eyes disappears at once when she catches a familiar figure at the corner of her eye. She’s quick to turn her head in that direction, eyes drifting to you, where you’re staring in awe at a big ass teddy bear displayed at the front of the store ahead of them. You’re thankfully completely oblivious to the fact that she’s being roasted alive by her bestfriends.
KK follows her gaze and whistles lowly. “You’re down bad.”
Paige scoffs, ignoring them as she walks faster, approaching you without even a second thought. She’s beside you in just a few seconds, asking, “You like that?” She watches as you looks at her in genuine surprise, probably not able to process why and how the fuck she’s there. Nonetheless, she nods toward what you were just staring at a few moments ago.
Your expression morphs into delight. “Yeah! It’s so cute, right?”
Paige doesn’t even look at the thing before she agrees. “Totally.”
Azzi and KK watch from a distance, sharing a knowing look and smiles of endearment. They could agree in their minds that their friend is so obvious that it’s painful.
The older girl suddenly smirks, an idea planting itself in her mind. Azzi grabs KK’s hand and pulls her towards the two, where Paige is so focused on listening to what you’re saying.
“Hey! Y/n, right?” she greets, startling Paige and you. Paige has the look of murder in her eyes, already aware that she’s plotting something. Azzi ignores her and looks at you directly instead. “Wanna come with? We’re planning to go to the ice rink. Just to destress and stuff.”
Your eyes widen. “Uh, I don’t know how to skate. Might be better if you guys go on ahead without me.”
“Nonsense!” KK chirps, looping her arm with yours.
Paige freezes, in shock that KK is able to do something like that with you even before she has. She can only stare longingly at your interlocked arms as the younger one whisks you away to the mall’s exit and to the nearby skating rink. She narrows her eyes at Azzi. “What the fuck?”
Azzi shrugs. “Better move if you don’t want KK to steal yo girl.”
Paige barely reacts when Azzi and KK pair off immediately at the skating rink. She’s too busy watching you tug on your skates with a slight frown, adjusting the laces until they’re “just right.” She can tell you’re buying as much time as you could before trying out the ice.
KK and Azzi make their way towards the two of you when they notice you’re taking too long. The latter nudges her friend. “Dude, do something.”
Paige scowls at Azzi and harshly whispers, “Like what?”
Azzi rolls her eyes. “Like actually making a move, maybe?”
She glares even harder. “I am making moves.”
Her teammates stare at her flatly, obviously not convinced. They simply sigh and skate away, leaving her alone with you once again.
Paige does the same, directing it to herself more than towards her friends, before she looks back down at you, still tugging at the laces. She’s half-amused, half-charmed by the sight of you being pouty and mumbling things about not wanting to skate. She kneels down, making sure you see eye to eye, then pats your head lightly, hoping to reassure you.
“Relax, y/n,” she coaxes. “I got you. And no one’s gonna judge you if you fall. If they do, they’ll get their ass beat by me, ‘kay?”
Paige swears she could melt as she sees your cute, small frown while you stare back at her. Your eyebrows are furrowed slightly, like your pretty little head is also overthinking something that could be eventually enjoyable for you. She already figured out that you had a small fear of trying new things in fear of being judged harshly by those around you. Somewhere along the way, Paige has promised herself to protect you as much as she could and make sure you could thrive and be happy, however way she could.
After a minute of mulling over her words, you finally hesitantly step forward, but the slightest waver in your balance makes you stop at once. She then watches, as if it’s in slow-motion, how you reach out– without thinking, without uncertainty– and grab her hand.
Paige feels like time stops at that exact moment. She relishes how your fingers wrap around hers so easily, so casually, like it’s second nature.
“Okay, okay, don’t let go, P,” you mumble, gripping onto her tighter as you attempt to steady yourself. “I suck at this, so don’t let go, please.”
I wouldn’t even dare.
Paige feels the rush of blood in her ears, but quickly replies, “I got you.” She curses inwardly at how soft her voice came out, but you don’t seem to notice. She subtly exhales in relief at that.
You take another step forward, and your grip on her hands tightens. Paige swallows hard, hyperaware of every single point of contact– the warmth of your palm against hers, the way your fingers curl around just slightly. Her heart is hammering against her ribcage, and she swears it could burst open any moment from now.
“What are the odds of me falling on my ass today?” you ask with a nervous smile, looking up at her.
Paige forces herself to breathe. She smirks, trying to play things off, and tells you, “I’d say… 100%. No cap.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She chuckles but doesn’t let go. If anything, she holds on tighter.
"Don’t worry, though," she adds, voice lower now, just between the two of you. "I’ll catch you."
It’s supposed to be a casual reassurance. Something smooth. Something easy.
But then you look at her—really look at her—and Paige feels like she might actually collapse on the ice before either of you even moves.
And that’s when she realizes—
She’s not just crushing on you.
She’s falling. Hard.
images except the dividers belong to respective creators; found in pinterest. key words used: "paige bueckers girlfriend material" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/wbbupdates/; and https://ph.pinterest.com/Straykids0325/]
hi! i’ve been really wanting this fic for a while but it’s paige x reader where paige is her coach and pushes her really hard and just breaks her so one day reader just breaks down and paige walks in and comforts her and assures her she’s an amazing player and she really likes her and could lead to smut…
:¨ ·.· ¨: 「paige bueckers」
`· . 𐙚why do you hate me?ˎˊ˗
pairing: paige bueckers x reader word count: 0.9k
warnings: fingering (r! receiving)
a/n: its been over three months since I got this req but now this absolute piece of garbage is out everyone CLAP IT UP FOR ME!!
One word to describe your coach?
Harsh.
She pushed you, and pushed you, and pushed you, until you broke.
Yet you stayed quiet, you endured the drills she gave you, the suicides she made you run, you took it all in silence.
Until you couldn’t.
Paige finds you after practice, crying in the locker room alone. You’re still in your sweat stained jersey, your hair’s slick with grease and sweat, and your face is wet with tears.
Paige hesitates, before slowly dropping next to you.
Without a word she wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.
You lean against her as your body racks with sobs, “I’m not good enough, why do you keep me on the team if all you do is tell me to improve?”
Paige freezes, before cracking a sad smile.
“Cause I know you…” she whispers, her hand gently rubbing your back.
“What?” You sob, wiping your tears as you cling to her.
“I know what you’re capable of, I like seeing you push yourself, I like seeing you be the best you you can be.”
“So what- you push me cause it gets you off?” You sniffle, wrapping your arms around her neck as you settle down on her lap, your breathing slowing down.
She laughs humourlessly, rubbing a hand through your greasy sticky hair. “C’mon, you need a shower.”
You grunt as she helps you up, blinking away the tears blurring your vision as you stumble to the showers.
She helps you into the shower stall, before starting to pull the curtain shut.
“Coach, don’t go…” you whisper, your hand gripping hers tightly.
Paige freezes, before sighing and gently prying your hand away.
“I’ll be right outside…” she whispers, her voice reassuring. But not reassuring enough, as you try to pull her in with you.
She laughs softly, resting her forehead against yours as she mumbles something about you being stubborn.
“Arms up.”
You comply without thinking, lifting your arms above your head while looking up at her.
Paige just lets out a half amused half resigned sigh, as she peels your jersey off your sticky skin.
She instinctively reaches around to pull your bra off, before her hands freeze against your back.
“You can leave that on,” she whispers, her hands dropping back to her sides.
You just bring your hands down to pull her shirt off too, and she lets you.
But once it’s off, it suddenly hits you that you’d rather not get your bra wet and soapy. So you reach around your own back to take it off.
Paige stiffens, but doesn’t interfere, wanting you to shower comfortably.
Once you’re both completely naked, Paige starts the water. You tilt your head forwards to wet your hair, but Paige just leans against the stall wall, watching you stand under the shower head letting the water rinse your skin.
“I can’t believe this, what the fuck am I doing…” she whispers, almost in disappointment. This isn’t professional, she’s your coach, but you weren’t well, and you clearly weren’t going anywhere without her, so this is all for good reason.
Right?
Once your hair is significantly wet, you make no effort to move. Standing there with your head down, watching the water drip.
When Paige notices you aren’t going to move, she softly pulls you out from under the water by your shoulders, pushing your wet hair back off your face.
“C’mon, I’m not washing you too…” she whispers, trying to sound playful despite her slight concern.
“…Prove it?” You ask suddenly, your voice meek and nervous.
Paige pauses, tilting her head slightly.
“Prove what?”
“That you- that you don’t hate me, please?”
She just blinks, looking down at you in thought.
That’s when it hits her.
She’s showering with you, naked. She has no modesty left to maintain.
So, lifting your chin, she gently leans in to press a soft kiss against your lips.
You’re frozen for only a second, before you melt against her. The hot water cascading down your bare bodies makes it feel more intimate, less tense.
You stay like that for a while, your bodies pressed together as your lips mold against each others.
Paige pulls away after a minute, her forehead brushes your cheek as she lowers her head, her breath hot and heavy against your neck.
“Touch me…” you whisper desperately, your eyes wide with need.
That’s all it takes before Paige wraps her arms around your waist, pulling your naked body flush against hers softly.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
“Fuck! Paige…” you groan, your nails clawing at her back under the pouring water.
Paige smiles, her fingers knuckle deep inside you.
“Shhh, doing so good for me…” she whispers, kissing your lips softly.
Your nails claw at her back, leaving scratch marks in their wake as you drag them down her skin.
She groans, pressing her body up against yours.
“You like that?” Paige murmurs under her breath, grinning at the shaky sounds that escape you. “Yeah, you like that…”
“Love it…” you babble, your heavy breaths warming the skin on her neck.
“Taking it so pretty mama…” she whispers, speeding up the pace of her fingers.
Your breath hitches, and your grip on her shoulders tightens as you pull in her closer.
“M’close…” you gasp, your walls clenching around her fingers, trying to suck them in.
“Yeah? Let go, it’s okay, you can let go…” Paige reassures you, holding you gently as your orgasm crashes over you.
You both stand there under the pouring water, breathing heavy and faces flushed. Until Paige slowly pulls her fingers out, bringing them to her lips to taste you.
You open your mouth to speak, but Paige beats you to it.
