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speak now

synopsis: wedding bells are ringing, but will both brides make it down the aisle?

tags: pazzi!wedding, angst, suggestive language

part one:

“You ready for this?”

Azzi tries to take a breath deep enough to calm her nerves, but it gets caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. She keeps her eyes on the mirror, pretending to fix a hair that has already been sprayed into submission. Dijonai is scrolling on her phone behind her, oblivious to the small hurricane happening on Azzi’s face. Which is… ideal. If Nai looks up and actually sees her, it’s over. Game film would show full panic: dilated pupils, shallow breathing, hands fidgeting like she’s about to try a trick shot she never actually practiced.

The clock on the wall ticks louder than her heartbeat. Sixty-seven degrees, the thermostat says. Which is interesting, considering Azzi would bet her entire WNBA contract it’s approximately one thousand degrees in the bridal suite.

“Azzi?” Nai repeats when she still doesn’t answer.

“Oh… yeah! Totally. I can’t believe it’s finally here.” She tries to smile, but it’s tight and wobbly and feels more like a grimace dressed up for its wedding day.

Speaking of wedding days…

She should be excited. Paige definitely is. Paige is in another room right now, probably glowing in that fitted white Louis Vuitton suit she picked out months ago. Paige has dreamed about this day for years.

Azzi’s stomach rolls. She tries to picture Paige’s smile and instead gets sucker-punched with guilt. Because Paige is thrilled. And Azzi… is not doing so great.

“I know. So exciting!” Dijonai squeals, a pitch so sharp it snaps Azzi out of her spiraling.

“I can’t believe my little baby is all grown up and getting married,” Nai adds, fanning her face dramatically.

A laugh comes from behind them, dry and fond. “I can’t believe you two even got this far,” Cam says as she turns so Nai can zip up her lavender dress. “I still remember the first time you two met.”

“Don’t.” Azzi groans at the tall blonde and covers her face with her palm. The horror is immediate. The mortification, eternal.

Dijonai gasps, delighted. “Oh, this sounds like a good one!”

Cam doesn’t need more encouragement as she launches into the story…

“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss SLAM Cover.”

Azzi spins around and is immediately blinded by a pair of ocean-blue eyes. They sparkle. Of course they fucking sparkle. Then she realizes who they belong to.

“Can I help you with something?” Azzi asks, annoyed and unwilling to hide it. She’s been bracing herself all night for Paige Bueckers to rub the win in her face. They’d been going at it all camp, both vying to make the U-19 World Cup team. She’s honestly shocked it took this long.

Paige smirks, hands tucked into her pockets like she owns the entire backyard. The one their teammate and Colorado-native had dragged them to for a chance to ‘blow off some steam’ before everyone went their separate ways after camp.

“Nope. Just came to get a drink,” Paige divulges with a tight lipped smile.

“So get it and go,” Azzi fires back. Her buzz is doing nothing for her patience, not that she has much when it comes to the blonde anyway.

“Well, you’re kind of sitting on the cooler, Princess.” Paige gives it a little kick with the toe of her crisp white Nikes.

Azzi’s cheeks heat, but she refuses to let the blonde see it. She stands, gesturing to the cooler with a flourish. “Be my guest.”

Paige cracks open a beer inches from Azzi’s jawline. She looks like she wants to add something—something arrogant, probably—but she just turns to walk away.

Azzi should let her. Should turn around and pretend this interaction never happened. Unfortunately, she’s not built like that. Competitive is an understatement.

“That was a cheap fucking foul.”

Paige whips around so fast beer sloshes out of the can. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Azzi crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “That. Was. A. Cheap. Fucking. Foul,” she says, enunciating every word.

Paige steps closer, eyes narrowing. “Well, the coaches disagreed. No one called it.”

It was definitely a foul. Even though she did get a tiny piece of the ball, Paige knows she nearly dragged Azzi down on a layup. Still, she’ll die before admitting to it.

Azzi steps in too, heat rising between them like static. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t blame me because you played like shit.” Paige’s tone is a dangerous mix of sweet and poisonous. “Maybe look in the mirror if you need someone to blame, sweetheart. Didn’t have your best shooting night, did you?”

Paige moves even closer. No flinch. No space.

It’s infuriating and something in Azzi snaps. Maybe it’s the anger, or maybe the alcohol, or maybe it’s whatever chemical reaction happens when two teenage phenoms square up in some random backyard and can’t handle their alcohol.

With the smuggest grin she can muster, Azzi tips her can and dumps her entire beer over Paige’s head.

Paige gasps, sputtering, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Azzi just lifts her chin, smug and reckless.

Suddenly teammates swarm before things can really escalate. Cam grabs Paige’s shoulders, whispering, “Cool it, P. Let it go,” as she pulls her back. Angel and some other girls grab Azzi’s arms, dragging her back, all while she stares Paige down, chest heaving. Under the anger is something else—a maddening, electric awareness she wants to ignore.

Paige looks like she feels it too.

Finally she breaks eye contact, shrugging Can off and muttering, “She’s not worth my fucking time,” before storming off.

When Cam finishes, the room is chaos. Laughter everywhere. Someone is wheezing. Even Mackenzie is doubled over, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Surprised I never heard that one before,” she laughs, squeezing in next to Azzi at the mirror.

“Oh, it was… unforgettable,” Azzi says, trying to smile.

“And then you two met again at UConn and realized you weren’t so bad,” Nai says cheerfully, gently pinching Azzi’s cheeks. “The rest is history! Funny how things worked out.”

The words feel like a punch. Whatever calm Azzi had is gone as heat floods her again, hands growing clammy, throat dry.

She forces herself up, fanning her face while her vision blurs at the edges.

Nai notices first. “Azzi? Are you okay?”

“I just need some air,” Azzi whispers.

“We’re supposed to stay in here until the ceremony starts,” Nai whispers back, but one look at Azzi’s face ends that argument. She grabs her hand and leads her quickly toward the exit.

They slip out the back door of the bridal suite into the hall. Cool air hits Azzi’s skin, and she pulls in a deep breath but it barely helps. Tears are already threatening.

Nai rubs her arms gently. “Azzi… talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she forces out, but her voice cracks and a tear escapes. She swipes it fast hoping it goes unnoticed.

“Azzi,” Nai says softly. “You can tell me anything.”

And Azzi knows it’s true. When Azzi was drafted to Minnesota her rookie year, Nai was her vet. At Paige’s very clear and very explicit directions that may or may not have involved some thinly veiled threats, she took Azzi under her wing. That meant some tough conversations over the years that fluctuated between basketball and life outside of basketball. Some of which included Paige and her infuriating tendencies.

Still, this is a different beast and Azzi knows she’s on an island here.

“No, Nai.” Azzi shakes her head, backing away. “I can’t do this.” Her voice breaks completely. “I can’t go through with the wedding.”

And before Nai can respond, Azzi turns and bolts, tears spilling freely now as she disappears down the hall.

#pazzi fic #pazzi fics #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic #paige x azzi #speak now