Where kk doesnt take well to people flirting with her girlfriend.
°•○☆○•°
You weren’t supposed to be in the live like this.
You’re sitting sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under you, half-listening as Sarah holds her phone up, already mid-laugh at something in the comments. Ice is stretched out beside her, occasionally leaning in just to read things out loud and make it worse.
KK is next to you. Close. Too close if anyone was paying attention, but no one ever really does.
Her knee keeps brushing yours every time she shifts, her shoulder warm against your arm, and it’s subtle enough to pass as nothing, but you feel every second of it.
“Come here,” Sarah suddenly says, reaching over and grabbing your arm.
You barely get a chance to react before she’s pulling you forward into frame.
“Wait, no, I’m fine right here”
Too late.
Now you’re right there, squeezed between them, your face suddenly on screen, and the second you glance at the phone, you already know.
The comments are insane.
“WHO IS THAT”
“She’s so pretty”
“Tell her I said hi”
“Drop the @”
“I’m in love”
“Oh my god,” you laugh, immediately ducking your head. “No, I hate this.”
Sarah just grins wider. “They love you.”
“Yeah, they really do,” Ice adds, leaning closer to read more. “Wait! ‘ask if she’s single’—oh they’re serious.”
You groan, covering your face for a second. “Stop reading them.”
But you’re smiling, you can’t help it, even if your face is definitely warm now.
Next to you, KK goes quiet.
Not in a normal way.
You don’t look at her right away, but you feel it. The shift in her posture, the way her leg presses a little more firmly against yours, the way she’s not laughing anymore.
More comments flood in.
“KK move I need her”
“I’ll treat her right”
“She mine idc”
“ASK HER IF SHE GOT A GF”
Ice actually sits up at that. “Oh wait, that’s a good one—do you?”
You freeze for a split second.
It’s tiny, but it’s enough.
KK notices.
Sarah notices too, but she just watches, amused, like she already knows how this is about to go.
You open your mouth, about to say something vague, something safe, but then–
“She’s taken.”
KK doesn’t even hesitate.
Her voice cuts clean through everything, calm but firm enough that it lands.
The room goes quiet for half a second.
“OH???”
“BY WHO”
“WAIT WHAT”
“EXCUSE MEEE”
“KK KNOWS SOMETHING”
You turn to her so fast your shoulder bumps hers. “Seriously?”
She finally looks at you, and there’s something in her eyes that makes your stomach flip.
“What?” she shrugs. “They were doing too much.”
Sarah lets out a laugh. “You’re so obvious.”
“I’m not,” KK shoots back, but she’s already looking away again.
Ice grins. “Nah, you definitely are.”
The comments keep going, faster now, more curious, more chaotic, but KK doesn’t say anything else.
She doesn’t need to.
The rest of the live kind of drifts after that. Sarah keeps talking, Ice keeps joking, you try to act normal, but you’re hyper-aware of everything now.
Of her.
Of how close she is.
Of how she still hasn’t looked at you again.
And then finally, it ends.
Sarah drops her phone onto the couch, still laughing. “That was actually insane.”
You reach for her wrist, quick and quiet. “Come here.”
Sarah notices, of course she does, but she just smirks and looks away like she didn’t.
KK lets you pull her down the hallway without a word.
The second you’re in your room, the door clicks shut behind you, and you turn around to face her.
“What was that?” you ask, your voice lower now, but not angry. Just… a lot.
She leans back against the door like she owns the space, like she’s completely unbothered.
“They were annoying.”
“That’s not—KK.”
You step closer, crossing your arms like that’s going to help you stay composed.
“You just told everyone I’m taken.”
“You are.”
The way she says it makes your chest tighten.
You exhale, shaking your head a little. “Yeah, but you didn’t say by who.”
Her eyes flick up to yours again, sharper now.
“I didn’t need to.”
There’s a pause.
The air shifts.
You can feel it building again, that same tension from earlier, but stronger now without the camera, without the noise.
“You got jealous,” you say quietly.
Her jaw tightens just a little.
“They were talking about you like—” she stops, exhales, then looks back at you. “I didn’t like it.”
You step closer without thinking.
“You don’t like people flirting with me?”
“No.”
It’s immediate.
Honest.
Your heart stutters a little at that.
“KK…”
She pushes off the door, closing the distance completely now, her hand finding your wrist again, then sliding up your arm slower this time, like she’s not rushing anymore.
“I don’t like them acting like you’re free,” she says, voice lower now. “Like you’re not already mine ”
“Yours?” you ask softly.
Her eyes flicker.
“Yeah.”
You don’t realize how close you are until your breath mixes with hers.
“You could’ve just said it,” you murmur.
“No,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “This isn’t for them.”
Your chest tightens at that.
“For me?”
Her hand comes up to your jaw, fingers warm, steady.
“For me,” she repeats.
And then she kisses you.
It’s immediate, like she’s been holding back the entire time and finally doesn’t have to. Her hand stays at your jaw, guiding you closer, while your hands grab onto her hoodie, pulling her in like you need her just as much.
It’s not rushed, but it’s intense, every second deliberate, like she’s making a point without saying a word.
You melt into it, stepping forward until she has to adjust, one hand sliding to your waist to keep you there.
When you finally pull back, it’s only for a second, your forehead resting against hers, both of you breathing a little heavier.
“Still think I was doing too much?” she murmurs.
You let out a small laugh, even though your heart’s still racing. “Yeah. A little.”
She smiles, just barely.
But her grip on you tightens.
“Don’t care.”
And then she kisses you again, slower this time, but just as sure, like she’s not proving anything anymore.
Summary: Paige Bueckers has been your best friend for years always there, always close, always quietly watching you give yourself to a man who didn’t know what to do with a body like yours.
Warnings: SMUT. Fingering, oral (f receiving), toy use (vibrator), squirting, power dynamics, possessiveness, light choking/restraint, recorded consented sexual content, aftercare,
It’s 1:38 a.m. when you call her. You don’t even say hi.
“…he couldn’t even find it.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then Paige sighs. “I told you.”
You let the phone fall back against the pillow as you groan, frustration raw in your throat. “No, you don’t get to ‘I told you’ me right now, Paige. I let him try. I tried. And he still—God, he said, ‘is this it?’ Is this it, Paige.”
You hear a shuffle, like she’s already getting up. “I’m on my way.”
She’s in your bed twenty-five minutes later. Hoodie, sweats, lips pressed together like she’s doing everything in her power not to laugh in your face.
“You know I’m not gonna say I told you so, right?”
“You literally already did.”
“Okay, but I didn’t say it like this,” she teases, flopping down beside you. Her thigh brushes yours under the blanket. “I just… don’t understand how a man could be that proud and that uncoordinated at the same time. Like pick a struggle.”
You groan again, but this time she pulls you in close, arm around your shoulder, chin nudging your temple.
“I mean… we could always make him a video.”
You freeze. “…what?”
“A tutorial,” Paige says casually, like she’s suggesting a YouTube skincare haul. “You lay back, I show him what you like, and then he doesn’t have to embarrass himself again. You win, he learns, everybody’s happy.”
You turn to stare at her. Her face is neutral. Too neutral.
“You’ve never touched me like that.”
She shrugs. “Don’t need to.”
Your mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”
Her smirk creeps in, slow and dangerous. “You forget who taught you how to kiss? Who talked you through your first orgasm over FaceTime? Baby, I know you better than you know you.”
Your legs clench on instinct. Paige doesn’t miss it. She leans in, voice low.
“He was licking you like an ice cream cone, huh? That slow, nervous shit like he’s scared of it.”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. She nods knowingly. “You like pressure. Tongue flat. You need rhythm, not flicks. And you hate when people ignore your clit to ‘explore.’ You want eye contact. Hair pulled. You want someone who’s not afraid to hold you open and make a mess.”
You swallow hard. “How the fuck do you know that?”
Paige just grins. “Because I know you.”
Later That Week
You hear from someone else first. Your boyfriend’s in the locker room talking big loud and confident, claiming he had you “screaming.” Word gets back to Paige in minutes.
She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t get loud. She just walks up to him after your game, chewing gum real slow. One hand in her pocket, chin tilted up.
“She told me what happened,” she says, eyes locked on him. “And whatever you think you did? You didn’t.”
He stammers. “You….you weren’t there.”
“I didn’t have to be,” she says, smirking. “She calls me after. Every time. Gives me play-by-plays. Like a coach.” His face goes pale.
“I could show you,” Paige offers, voice like syrup. “It’s easier than you think.”
She pats him on the chest, leans in, and whispers, “But you’ll never do it like me.”
That Night
You let him explain. You give him grace. You pretend like your best friend didn’t verbally gut him in public. But you’re lying in bed with your phone when Paige texts you:
He still doesn’t get it. I could teach him.
Or you could just let me show you.
It’s what you’ve always wanted, anyway.
You stare at the screen for a minute. Then you type.
Come over.
10:07 p.m.
Your apartment smells like vanilla. You’ve been pacing since she sent that text: “be there in 10.”
When you open the door, Paige is already smirking. Not the usual lazy, cocky thing she throws around when she’s being cute. This one’s different. Meaner. Hungrier. She’s in a black tee, hair in a bun, lips glossed. And when she steps in, she doesn’t hug you. Doesn’t say hi.
Just closes the door with her foot, eyes running over your body.
“So.” Her voice is low. Controlled. “You ready for your lesson?”
You scoff, turning to walk toward the couch, trying to play it off—trying.
“Thought it was a lesson for him.”
She follows close behind, and you feel her hands brush your waist as she leans in.
“Nah,” she whispers, her breath warm on your neck. “I lied.”
You freeze. Paige’s fingers slip under your shirt like she’s done it a thousand times. “This one’s for me.”
It doesn’t take long before you’re on your back, legs spread, shirt somewhere behind the couch. You expected teasing. A slow buildup. Maybe even some nerves.
But no. Paige is starving.
She kisses down your chest like she knows what she’s doing because she does. Licks that little spot under your left breast that always makes you gasp. She grins when you do, like she’s ticking boxes on a list she made years ago.
“You’re wet already,” she hums, dragging two fingers down the center of your panties. “You been thinking about this, huh?”
You don’t answer. She laughs, mean and quiet. “Yeah. Thought so.”
Then she’s pulling them off slow enough to watch your face, fast enough to make you squirm.
When she goes down, it’s with purpose. Paige spreads you open with both thumbs like she’s reading a map, tongue already pressed flat and heavy against your clit before you can even brace for it. No warmup. No warming you up. Just hot, slick, pressure. The kind your boyfriend never understood.
“Right here?” she murmurs, tongue circling slow, two fingers keeping you wide. “Yeah… you like that. I know.”
You whimper. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just shifts slightly and locks her arms under your thighs like she’s settling in.
Paige eats you like she’s proving a point groaning into it, tongue dragging, lips wet and greedy. When you try to close your legs, she pushes them back open, firm and calm.
“Nuh uh,” she says, voice muffled. “Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”
And fuck she’s good.
She alternates between fast and slow, teasing and deep, like she’s learning and testing and knowing all at once. And you can’t even think straight. You’re gripping her hair. Breathing too fast. Already damn near there. Then she lifts her head.
“You wanna know what he was doing wrong?”
You groan. “Paige, I—”
She slides two fingers in like it’s nothing. Like she knew you’d be dripping enough.
“Everything.”
Her fingers curl just right, her palm hitting your clit with every thrust. She’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, lip caught in her teeth like she’s studying for a final exam.
You cry out, arching up, chasing that pressure. She leans in close, licking her lips.
“You close already? Damn. Thought you were tougher than that.”
You slap her shoulder weakly. “Fuck you….”
“You’re trying baby.” She grins and twists her wrist. “But your pussy says different.”
You’re about to break literally shaking when she stops. You almost scream. Then she tilts her head.
“Can I record?”
You blink. “What?”
She’s dead serious. “Just for me. Won’t show nobody. I just want to watch you fall apart on my fingers again.” You whimper, pulling her back down by the back of her neck.
“Girl, yeah, whatever just don’t stop.” Her smirk grows wide and feral.
She pulls her phone out with her clean hand, props it low beside your thigh, and goes back in like she’s got something to prove to the camera now too. Fingers deeper. Tongue back on your clit.
This time she moans into you low and guttural. You lose it. Your hips stutter, thighs clench around her head, and you’re crying out her name like it’s always been her. Because it has.
You ride it out on her mouth, fingers buried in her hair, body twitching. She doesn’t stop until you pull her away, gasping. Even then she licks her lips, leans back on her knees, and watches you try to breathe again.
“Lesson one…” she says, still panting slightly. “Let somebody who actually gives a fuck touch you.”
You blink up at her, dazed.
“Lesson Two.”
Your breathing’s just starting to even out when Paige stands. Pulls you gently by the wrist.
“C’mon,” she says, like this is part of the curriculum. Like this is normal. “We’re not done.”
You follow, legs unsteady, mind still gooey from the first round. She’s shirtless now, hair wild, and walking you across the room toward your vanity.
The second you realize what she’s doing, your stomach flips.
“Paige—”
“Shh.” She stops you right in front of the mirror, hands skimming your waist from behind. “You look so fucking good like this.”
You do. Flushed skin, kiss-bruised lips, thighs still trembling. You look wrecked. Paige stands behind you, taller, toned, lips glistening with your slick. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection—hungry.
“Bend over.” You hesitate. Only a second.
She grips your hips and bends you herself, slowly. Hands splayed against the edge of the vanity now, your ass pressed back into her.
“You ever even look at yourself when he touched you?”
You shake your head. She smirks. “Didn’t think so.”
Then her arms slide around your neck. Her chest flush to your back. One arm anchors you across your collarbone, the other slips straight between your thighs.
“You’re gonna watch me make you cum,” she says, low and serious, like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. “Eyes open, baby.”
Two fingers slide in without resistance. You gasp.
She’s deeper than before. Angled perfectly. Her pace is slow at first, deliberate, and you feel every stroke like she’s dragging your soul out one inch at a time.
“Goddamn,” she murmurs into your ear, watching the way your mouth drops in the mirror. “You see how good you look? Look at how you open for me.”
You do. And it’s filthy.
The squelch of your pussy. The shine on her fingers. Your thighs tensing, face scrunched up as she fucks into you with that smug-ass expression, like she’s been waiting years for this moment and she has.
“You like that?” she whispers. “That pressure right here—” Curl. You cry out, hips jolting.
“Ohhh yeah. There she go.”
Her fingers are soaked now. She brings her thumb up to rub slow, tight circles on your clit while still fucking you deep. When you look away, overwhelmed.
“Uh uh.” She grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes up. “Keep watching. Watch what I do to you.”
She’s close now. Practically pressed against you. Her mouth brushes your ear with every breath.
“You think he could ever get you like this? Bent over, begging? Look at how needy you are, baby.”
You moan, body trembling. Your own reflection is ruining you Paige’s fingers moving like they’re guided by god, your face all fucked-out, her body wrapped around you like possession.
Then her pace shifts fast, steady, ruthless. You whine, trying to lift up from the vanity, but she holds you down with her forearm across your chest, lips grazing your jaw.
“Don’t run,” she growls. “This the part where you take it. And you do.
Legs shaking. Mouth open. Crying out her name. She doesn’t let up, doesn’t flinch, just keeps fucking into you like she already knows how many strokes it takes to break you.
You cum hard, body convulsing, knees buckling. She holds you through it, still pumping gently, still whispering in your ear.
“Good girl… There you go. Just like that. Look at you, baby.”
When your body finally gives out, she lifts you like nothing and sets you on the vanity stool. Crouches in front of you. Smiling.
You’re barely breathing when she lifts you onto the vanity stool. Thighs trembling, mouth slick with your own whimpers. She’s still crouched in front of you, chin glistening, fingers dripping, eyes dangerous.
“Too much?” she asks, smiling. You nod.
She tilts her head. “That’s cute. You think I care.”
Then she kisses you. Slow and deep like she’s trying to taste your orgasm still lingering on her lips. Her hands slide up your thighs, and you think she’s just holding you close.
You’re wrong. Because suddenly those fingers slip right back in. Two, maybe three. No warm-up this time. Just a slick, greedy slide that makes your hips jerk and your lips fall open mid-kiss.
“F-fuck, Paige—”
Her grin widens. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then down your jaw. She’s still on her knees, looking up at you with that cocky, knowing expression.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” she whispers. “Every time you came crying about how he didn’t know what he was doing… I’d go home and cum to the thought of this.”
You can barely hold eye contact, your hands gripping her shoulders like lifelines.
“Look at you,” she coos. “Still trying to act like you’re not mine now.”
Then your phone starts buzzing on the vanity. It’s him. You don’t even move, but Paige does. Calm as ever. Fingers still pumping slow and deep, she leans up and answers.
“Hello?”
Your eyes go wide. “Paige—”
She presses her palm to your clit, quieting you instantly with a firm stroke.
“Yeah,” she says into the phone, tone friendly. “She’s a little busy right now.” A pause. You can hear his voice confused, unsure. Asking what’s going on.
Paige looks you dead in the eye and curls her fingers hard. Your head snaps back, mouth open in a silent scream.
She covers the mic and mouths, “Don’t hold back.”
Then back into the phone, “Oh, that noise? That’s her.”
She flicks your clit again, harder this time, until your hips buck. “Yeah,” she breathes, grinning. “I’m showing her how to cum for real. Something you clearly never learned.”
You can hear him trying to talk over her, voice panicked and rising, but Paige is already back on you her tongue on your neck, her hand fucking up into you harder now, faster, trying to rip the sound out of you.
“You wanna say hi?” she teases, moving the phone toward your mouth. “C’mon. Tell him who’s got you like this.”
You moan—high, wrecked, involuntary. She laughs, actually laughs, and talks right over you.
“She’ll call you back when she’s done dripping all over my fucking hand.”
She ends the call. And doubles down. Literally.
Her pace turns filthy, fast, wet, relentless. Her palm slaps against you with every thrust, and her mouth is back on yours, stealing breath and sanity.
You scream into her kiss, clutching her hoodie, cumming harder than before. Paige just keeps going until your thighs are shaking around her wrist.
When you finally collapse into her chest, panting, she strokes your sides like she just gave you a massage.
“Lesson three,” she whispers. “Delete his fucking number.” You nod, boneless. Breathless. Ruined. She grins, kisses your cheek, and says “Now turn around. I’m not done grading you.”
Your body is limp when she finally pulls her fingers out, glistening and smug like she just conquered something and she did.
You’re draped across her, shaking, gasping into her neck, and still… still needing more.
“Paige…” Your voice is barely there. “Please…”
She doesn’t speak right away just runs her hand down your side, trailing between your legs like she’s memorizing every tremble.
Then, gently, she cups your face and makes you look at her.
“You want more?” You nod quickly, almost frantically. She leans in, lips brushing yours like a secret.
“Then you’re gonna let me show you everything.”
You’re not sure when or how you got to the bed. All you know is her voice and her hands guided you. Now you’re spread out again, thighs aching, breath shaky, as she kneels between your legs like she belongs there.
Paige looks too calm like she’s in her element, dark eyes flicking from your face to the drawer next to the bed.
“You still got that purple one?” she asks. You blink.
“Your vibe,” she clarifies, smirking. “You think I didn’t know? Girl, your man couldn’t make you cum. Of course you got backup.”
Heat flares in your chest, between your legs. You nod, wordless.
She reaches over, opens the drawer without asking, and pulls it out like she’s done it before. Her brows lift slightly. “This the one?”
You cover your face for a second, flustered, but nod again. She grins, climbs back between your thighs, and kisses the inside of your knee before switching the toy on. A soft hum. Then louder.
“Sit up,” she says. “I want you to watch.”
You prop up on your elbows just as she presses the vibrator to your clit. Your head drops back with a gasp.
“Nuh uh,” Paige says, not even looking up. “Eyes on me. Watch what I do to you.”
The first pass is light just enough to tease, to make your thighs twitch. But when she adds pressure.
“Fuck,” you breathe, one leg kicking slightly. You reach down and grab behind your own thigh, holding it open.
That makes her smile.
“Yeah,” she says softly.
Her eyes stay glued to your pussy the whole time—studying it. Worshipping it. She alternates pressure and rhythm like she’s done this before, like she’s studied you before. And every time your hips jerk or your thighs twitch, she notices.
“Oh, you like that speed?” You nod quickly.
“And this angle, huh?” You moan.
She licks her lips. “Let’s try something.”
And then she leans down. Flicks her tongue around the toy, just teasing the slick edges of your clit while the vibe presses steady into the center.
You nearly scream. Your leg shakes so hard you drop it. She grabs it and throws it over her shoulder with ease.
“Keep still,” she says, licking her lips again.
She eats your pussy around the vibrator. Her mouth catching the mess it makes. Her tongue flat. Her moans soft and greedy like she loves this.
You can’t breathe. Your eyes roll back. You claw the sheets.
“Paige—Paige I—”
“I know,” she purrs, pulling back just long enough to look you in the eye. “Let it happen.”
She pushes the toy slightly lower while her tongue flicks your clit. You break.
Your hips lift. Your moan turns high and choked. Your whole body snaps forward like it’s too much too much pressure, too much sensation, too much her.
And then You squirt. A lot. It hits her hand, her arm, the sheets. She doesn’t care. Just watches it happen like she’s proud of you. Mesmerized. Smiling.
“There she go,” she murmurs, rubbing slow circles again while your thighs twitch. “Been waiting to see that.”
You’re shaking. Crying maybe. Still gasping for air. But she’s not done. She leans back in mouth on your soaked clit, tongue lapping slow and deep and loving every drop.
She finally lets go of the toy, tosses it to the side like it served its purpose. Now it’s just her mouth. She groans into you, eyes fluttering closed, mouth full of you messy and loud and nasty.
You don’t even know if you cum in her mouth or just keep riding the edge, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not coming up for air. She’s been waiting for this. She’s going to take her time.
You’re still trembling when she finally pulls away. Mouth wet. Fingers drenched. Eyes glowing like she just won a championship.
She presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another to your hipbone before crawling up your body, light on her feet, her hoodie half-off and damp at the hem from you.
You feel her hand press gently to your cheek.
“You alive?”
You nod, barely. She chuckles, like you just passed some impossible test. “Good girl.”
Then effortlessly, she lifts you. Carries you to the pillows and lays you on your side like you’re made of glass.
She disappears briefly, and you hear the sink running. A few seconds later, a warm towel presses between your legs, slow and careful, like she knows you’re sensitive now. She cleans you without saying a word no teasing, no smirks just small circles, gentle hands, reverent touch.
When she’s done, she grabs your water bottle off the nightstand and taps it against your lips.
“Drink,” she murmurs, arm sliding under your shoulders to lift you. “You gon’ need it.”
You sip slow, and when she’s satisfied, she eases you down again—this time against her. Hoodie still on. Legs tangled with yours. Your head resting on her chest.
The silence settles in warm.
Her fingers trace slow lines on your back, and her breathing’s steady almost like she didn’t just put you through five orgasms and a clean-up that looked like a post-game locker room mop-up.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Her phone lights up on the nightstand. You both glance at it. It’s him. Name lit up bold. Notifications stacked like a man who knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what.
She reaches for the phone, unlocks it with her thumb, and stares for a second, then hits the little microphone icon and starts a voice note.
“Yo,” she says, calm as ever, voice low and a little raspy from moaning your name all night. “My bad. She’s… out.”
She pans the phone over your sleeping form, gets just enough of your bare shoulder and the edge of her hoodie wrapped around you. Then taps send.
Sets the phone back down. Pulls you in tighter.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers against your hair. “He won’t call again.” You hum, half-asleep already.
She smiles. In the dark, with you curled into her chest, wrecked and warm, she kisses your forehead and says “Told you I’d teach you.”
synopsis… you’re nervous after getting talked into a date with someone else. paige, who’s been in love with you for years, offers to show you how kissing should really feel.
pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader
content warnings. # 6k words. slight angst. slightly suggestive. uconn!paige. best friend!paige. student!reader. college au. friends to lovers. mutual pining. jealousy. first kiss/makeout sesh.
tw: a man makes an appearance for the plot.
a/n: i love bun paige. anyways… first paige fanfic! i hope you all enjoy it :)
͏✶ i figure out you, you figure out me, we both a different breed, i’m followin' your lead, i ask you what you need …
finals were over. finally.
you walked out of that lecture hall feeling every heavy textbook, every sleepless night, every highlighter-stained page you’d read and reread since january falling off your shoulders all at once. the last exam was pretty fucking brutal, a three-hour stretch of silence and anxiety that clung to your skin like sweat, and when you scribbled the final answer in the last minute and handed that packet over, it felt like exhaling after months underwater.
it’s been a while since you’ve gotten relax fully, usually spending the night staring at the soft glow of your laptop at 2 a.m. when your eyes were too tired to focus but your brain refused to quit. you hadn’t gone out, hadn’t let yourself relax, hadn’t even realized how tightly wound you’d become until now as you stepping out into the afternoon sun.
the breeze hit your face, warm and a little humid, and you blinked against the light like you were seeing campus for the first time. everything around you buzzed as you glance over to a group of students laughing way too loud, to someone blasting music from a speaker, to a couple kissing under a tree like they hadn’t just suffered through biochem together, probably.
and then you saw her.
paige was leaning against the railing just outside the building, decked out in her uconn basketball gear like she always was—navy blue nike tech fleece, matching sweats, and her blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun.
she held up a coffee and a small paper bag (probably a sweet little pastry) with both hands, lifting them up as soon as she spotted you.
“yo, there she is,” she grinned, a silver chain glinting under her hoodie as she tilted her head.
you couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face, breath caught in your throat for a second, then laughed as you shook your head.
“how long have you been waiting?” you asked, walking towards her.
paige pushed off the railing, walking over like she had all the time in the world, one brow raised and mouth tugged into that goofy little smile she always seems to wear.
“just got here,” she teased, handing you the coffee. “how was it? you good?”
you took the cup from her, fingers brushing against hers for just a second too long you—warm skin, calloused in places from years of basketball.
“thanks… it was fine,” you muttered, already feeling the heat seep through your palms. “i’m just glad it’s over. finally.”
paige looked at you for a moment, then licked her bottom lip, eyes scanning your face the way she always did when she thought you weren’t paying attention.
you shook your head again, smiling into the cup as you took a sip, and tried not to notice how good she smelled—like cologne and clean laundry and something that always made your stomach twist just a little.
it was just paige. your best friend.
paige watched you while you weren’t looking.
you didn’t catch it—not fully—but if you had, you would’ve seen the way her smile slipped just a little as her eyes trailed over your face, lingering on the curve of your mouth, the way your lashes fluttered when you blinked down into your coffee, the soft breath of relief you let out like you were finally alive again.
and then, too fast for you to notice, she cleared her throat and looked away, pressing her lips together like they hadn’t just parted like she wanted to say something real.
“aight, come on,” she said, nudging your shoulder lightly with hers before stepping off the curb.
you walked in beside her automatically, like you always did.
“what’s in the bag?” you asked, glancing at it with a curious smile.
paige looked over at you, then back at the bag like she’d forgotten she was even holding it.
“mm,” she hummed, eyes squinting from the sun. “just a lil’ somethin’ sweet.”
you raised a brow, surprised. “is it for me?”
“obviously,” she said simply, flashing a grin. “’cause you don’t ever treat yourself. figured i’d help.”
you laughed under your breath, looking away before she could see the flush rising in your cheeks.
you assumed it was nothing. paige always did little things like this.
the two of you walked like that for a while, side by side, and all the while, the blonde was trying not to look at you the way she actually wanted to.
she’d been in love with you since the first time you met, and it was stupid, really—how fast it hit her. you were pretty. that was the first thing she noticed when she saw you in the gen ed class a couple years ago. gorgeous. soft-spoken. kind. and smart as hell. and you didn’t exactly know her yet. you didn’t really care for sports that much then until you became friends with her. you’d almost never missed a home game when she was playing.
and for paige, since then, she’d been completely, helplessly stuck on you.
but you were focused. you always had your head buried in a book or a study guide, always chasing the next goal. relationships and dates weren’t exactly a priority for you. and paige respected the hell out of that.
maybe that’s why she never said anything. never let it slip how much she thought about you, how your laugh always had the power to make her laugh, how your lip curled when you were deep in your thoughts, how you’d always manage fall asleep on her dorm bed when you guys were supposed to be studying and she’d sit there quietly to watch you with a smile before pulling her blanket over you. she’d make sure to set her alarm clock early enough so you don’t miss your classes.
she’d convinced herself being near you was enough.
and maybe it was.
until it started to feel like it wasn’t.
she was about to say something when you reached the steps outside the student center—nothing big, just ask what you were doing tonight, maybe see if you wanted to chill at her place, lowkey so she could selfishly keep you to herself a little longer—and she’d just opened her mouth when—
“oh my god, there you are!”
you barely had time to turn before riley, a friend of yours, appeared out of nowhere, practically bouncing with energy. her braid whipped behind her as she rushed up and wrapped an arm around your shoulder like she hadn’t just taken her last final an hour ago.
“finals are done!” she shouted like she was announcing it to the whole quad. “you’re coming to the party tonight, right? you’ve got to.”
you blinked, caught off guard.
your eyes flicked to paige instinctively, checking to see if she was gonna say something first. but she froze—her lips pressed tight into thin smile as she looked at riley.
riley grinned between the two of you and bumped your hip.
“c’mon, paige, tell her! she never even goes out. i swear this girl hasn’t left her room to go anywhere else except the library or a basketball game since freshman year.”
paige laughed a little—tight, forced.
“uh… yeah. nah, you guys should celebrate. y’all deserve it.”
she regretted it the second it left her mouth.
her stomach turned because you looked—just for a second—disappointed. like you’d been hoping she’d say something different. something just for you.
you nodded slowly, lips twitching as you were trying to figure out how to react.
“yeah, i’ll… i’ll think about it,” you said.
“yes! i’m texting you later, you better not bail!” riley clapped her hands, oblivious. then she turned to paige with a playful squint, “shouldn’t you be at practice, bueckers?”
“oh shit,” paige muttered, snapping her head down as she fumbled for her phone with one hand, nearly dropping the paper bag in the process. she thumbed the screen awake and squinted at the time. “damn… i was supposed to be there ten minutes ago.”
you looked at her, half-smiling. “go. geno won’t be happy.”
but paige didn’t move.
not right away.
she stayed turned toward you, jaw tight, her hand coming up to scratch the side of her head softly like she was trying to work something out in her head. her eyes found yours again.
she nods her head, finally deciding to follow your orders with a smile.
“yeah,” she said, her voice low—just for you. “okay.”
something in her tone made your breath hitch—not quite flirty, not quite serious, but something in between.
then her phone buzzed in her hand—twice.
probably a teammate. maybe geno.
she cleared her throat, finally stepping back with a quiet groan, dragging her hand down her face.
“aight. i gotta dip,” she said, backing up toward the sidewalk. “but make sure to eat that thing i got you, okay? i’m not tryna hear you skipped lunch again.”
you lifted the paper bag slightly and gave her a soft nod.
“thanks, paige.”
her lips curved into a grin. “anytime, ma.”
then she turned and jogged off, hood slipping back over her curls, her long strides already pulling her into the distance.
͏✶
you ended up going to the party.
you hadn’t planned to.
the party wasn’t really your scene. it never was.
you’d shown up mostly because riley wouldn’t let up, blowing up your phone all evening. so you threw on a simple dress, a little bit of your usual makeup, and told yourself it was just for an hour. two tops.
the party was already packed by the time you showed up. the living room of whoever’s off-campus house this was had been turned into a humid jungle of music and bodies, red solo cups stacked like pyramids on every surface, and someone yelling every ten minutes for no reason.
you stuck close to riley at first, sipping something fruity drink she handed you without asking, trying to find your footing in the crowd.
you weren’t really built for this scene, not in the way riley was.
you ended up near the kitchen, tucked into a quieter corner where the music didn’t shake the floor. that’s when he found you.
matt.
you remembered him from your sociology class last semester—he sat two rows behind you, always had clean notes. nice guy. maybe a little shy, always had a pen tucked behind his ear, and he asked solid questions during lectures.
but riley, standing a couple feet away with her drink in hand, kept giving you that look saying… go on. flirt. say yes.
you roll your eyes playfully.
“hey,” he said, a little surprised but genuinely happy to see you. “i didn’t think you came to stuff like this.”
you shrugged, smiling politely. “i usually don’t.”
“well… glad you did,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside you. “finals were hell, huh?”
you nodded, both of you laughing a little at the shared trauma. it was nice, the way he talked—easy, casual, nothing pushy.
but of course, riley popped up next to you halfway through the conversation.
“nice to see you finally hitting it off with someone,” she said with this knowing smile, eyes bouncing between the two of you.
you shake your head, cheeks warming. “we’re just talking.”
“mmhm,” riley said, bumping her hip into yours. “no, this is good. don’t mind me—just pretend i’m not even here.”
matt chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “uh, yeah. i was just asking her about post finals plans…”
“great question,” riley cut in like she was your hype man. “she has no plans. she’s free. totally available.”
“riley…” you shot her a look, somewhere between please stop and i’m going to kill you, but she just grinned. she meant well—she always did. she just thought you needed a little push.
you turned back to matt, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safer. “uh, anyway… how’d you think you did on that sociology final?”
he answered, and you listened, but the whole time you felt like your thoughts were somewhere else.
somewhere… or with someone.
but when matt, looking a little nervous, said, “so hey, uh… i was thinking—if you’re not too busy now that exams are over… maybe we could go see a movie this friday?”
you froze. not out of fear. just confusion.
your eyes darted to riley. she gave you a thumbs-up like you were about to step onto a stage.
your heart beat once. then twice.
“uh… yeah,” you heard yourself say. “sure. that sounds nice.”
fuck.
his eyebrows raised and he smiled. riley grinned wider than you’d ever seen her grin. and you should’ve felt proud. excited, even.
so why did your chest feel tight?
why did it feel like you’d done something wrong?
͏✶
you didn’t text paige right away when got back to your dorm.
you laid in bed for a while, makeup barely rubbed off, the party still ringing in your ears. your dorm was quiet now—your roommate gone for the weekend, the halls dead silent except for the occasional door shutting or someone’s music humming through the walls.
after a minute, you grabbed your phone, thumb hovering for a second before you gave in and opened the chat.
you: what are you up to?
you stared at the screen, heart already fluttering like you were fourteen again, like you hadn’t just said yes to some guy two hours ago.
the three dots appeared almost instantly.
paige:
just got back from getting crumbl with the team.
coach ran us hard today not even gonna lie
you smiled to yourself.
you:
you tired?
i can let you sleep lol
paige:
nah i’m good.
i’m tired but i like talkin to you.
what’s up
you:
riley dragged me to the party
paige:
wow that’s impressive tbh
soooooo
how was it??
you paused, biting your bottom lip.
should you say it? it wasn’t a big deal. right? best friends tell each other these things.
your fingers hovered. then you typed.
you:
so
matt from my sociology class asked me to go to the movies with him sometime
i said yes
idk i think i just panicked
you waited.
and waited.
you saw the three dots pop up. your heart skipped. then the dots vanished.
you frowned, shifting in your bed, phone warm in your hand. a few seconds passed. they popped up again.
then, gone.
your stomach twisted.
then finally, they came back again.
paige: oh that’s cool
you stared at the screen.
three little words. dry as hell. no playful joke. no “u better tell him i’ll beat his ass if he messes it up”—none of the usual teasing, none of the softness she always texted you with, even when she was dead tired.
that’s cool.
you blinked, rereading it like maybe it’d change if you looked hard enough. your chest felt weird. not heavy exactly—just… unsettled.
you typed something. deleted it. typed again. deleted again.
you: yeah he seems pretty nice i guess
no reply.
you watched the screen like it owed you something.
and then, after a long pause—
paige: that’s good
nothing else.
why wasn’t she saying anything else? you could tell she was holding back. you could practically feel it through the screen.
and for some reason, that made your throat tighten. because you didn’t want her to be distant. you didn’t want her to just be cool with it.
on the other side of the campus, she wasn’t cool with it at all. not even a little bit.
she was laid out in her bed, one arm slung over her eyes like it could block out the heat crawling down her neck. her phone rested on her chest, screen still lit up with your message.
matt from my sociology class asked me out… i said yes.
“man, what?” she muttered to no one, heart pounding.
she was jealous. of course, she was.
but she should’ve seen it coming. should’ve known somebody else would shoot their shot eventually. you were smart, funny, gorgeous. hell, paige could barely go five minutes around you without wanting to touch your hand or kiss the corner of your mouth just to see how you’d taste when you smiled. honestly, she’s pretty proud of her strength.
so yeah. of course some dude was gonna ask you out.
but fuck, it hurts more than she’d like to admit.
she couldn’t even be mad at the guy. not really. but the thought of him sitting next to you in a dark movie theater, brushing fingers over the popcorn bag, leaning over to whisper something… kissing you—fuck, that made her want to throw her phone across the damn room.
she didn’t know how to say it, though. didn’t know how to tell you it bothered her without sounding upset.
she sat up, rubbed her hand down her face, then grabbed her phone again and stared at the chat.
yeah, he seems nice i guess
her jaw clenched.
she typed a bunch of things before sending a message.
you really like him?
deleted it.
typed again.
he’s not even your type tho.
deleted that too.
she tossed her phone to the side the second she finally sent a message and laid back down, arms crossed over her chest. she’d wanted to ask you to hang out tonight. just the two of you.
jealous was an understatement.
she felt miserable. she wasn’t even mad at you. not even close.
she was mad at herself.
for waiting too long. for playing it cool too well. for pretending she was fine just being your friend when every second spent next to you made her want more.
the idea of anyone else getting to have the version of you paige had been in love with since the moment you said hi to her felt wrong.
you didn’t even know what you were doing to her.
and the worst part?
she couldn’t even say it.
because you were just friends. best friends.
͏✶
it’d been three days.
at first, you didn’t think much of it.
you figured maybe she was just tired. practice, finals, team meetings, whatever. she’d said she was swamped. you told yourself she’d come back.
but then she didn’t.
you didn’t see her the next morning, or the one after that. no lazy walk across campus together like usual before classes, before practice.
just a couple dry texts saying “slept thru my alarm lol” or “coach called an early practice. my bad.”
you wanted to believe it. but it didn’t feel right.
paige wasn’t the type to flake. she’d shown up for you more times than you could count—when you were sick, when you were stressed, even that one time you almost cried in the middle of midterms week and she literally skipped film review to sit with you in the library and make you laugh.
so this felt weird. is it because of matt?
you stared at her last message.
your thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to say what you really wanted to say or just brush it off like she clearly wanted you to.
but the truth was, it was starting to piss you off a little.
because you didn’t do anything wrong.
because it felt like she didn’t care.
or like she did, but chose to hide it from you.
you wanted her to just say whatever was on her mind.
something you thought a best friend would want to know.
you had wanted her to care a little more.
but you weren’t gonna chase someone who didn’t want to talk to you.
you tossed your phone onto your bed and let out a frustrated breath, arms crossed tight over your chest as you sat back in your desk chair, the silence in your dorm suddenly louder than ever.
if she was mad, she should’ve just said it. if she didn’t want to hang out, she should’ve just said that.
because paige always seemed to speak her mind.
now, she wasn’t.
so you decided to go see her.
you didn’t really think it through.
you just stood up, grabbed your hoodie, slipped on your shoes, and walked out. you honestly had no idea what you were even gonna say when you got there.
the walk to the girls’ basketball dorms wasn’t long. you knew the route like the back of your hand by now. you’d been there more times than you could count—movie nights, study sessions, lazy nights where paige would half-doze off on your shoulder while some random netflix show played in the background.
but tonight was different. honestly, you just… missed her. you missed her more than you were upset. and you didn’t know how to say that.
you made it to her floor, knocked softly.
you heard movement inside. muffled voices. the creak of the door.
it opened slowly, and there she was—paige, standing barefoot in sweats and a loose uconn tee, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun on her head like she’d been napping.
she blinked at you, caught completely off guard.
“oh, hey…” she breathed, voice a little scratchy. “what are you doin’ here?”
her eyes scanned your face like she was trying to figure out if something was wrong, if you were upset, hurt, mad—anything.
but you didn’t say anything yet. you just looked at her. and she looked at you.
“oh, shit—” jana piped up from behind her, lounging on the bed with her phone still lit in her hand. she looked between the two of you with a raised brow, then smirked like she knew exactly what was going on. “i’ll head out.”
paige turned, “uh—”
“it’s okay, i’ll go annoy kk and aubrey,” jana said quickly, already grabbing her charger. “y’all… have fun. i will be bak to sleep, though.”
she squeezed past you with a grin and a knowing glance before disappearing down the hall.
paige rubbed the back of her neck, stepping aside so you could walk in. you did, slow and quiet.
the room was a little messy—hoodies tossed on her desk chair, a gatorade bottle half-drank on the nightstand, her slides kicked off at the foot of the bed. the tv was playing something muted, but paige picked up the remote and shut it off without a word.
she turned to you, hands on her hips now. her eyes were tired, but they softened the second she really looked at you. and that look alone made your chest pull.
“you okay?” she asked, quieter now.
you nodded slowly
“i just… haven’t seen you.”
paige pressed her lips together, jaw flexing for half a second. she looked down at the floor, then back up at you.
“yeah,” she said. “i know. my bad.”
she meant it. you could see it all over her face.
paige sat down slowly on the edge of her bed. she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together, eyes fixed on the floor, trying to avoid your eyes.
you stood there for a second, unsure if you should sit too.
but you did—right beside her, the mattress dipping as you sat.
you spoke first.
“you said you’ve been busy?”
paige didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed on the floor. her foot tapped once. twice.
then, finally—
“uh, yeah,” she said. “i’m sorry.”
you glanced at her, taking in the slope of her shoulders, the small furrow between her brows.
“are you mad at me?”
paige let out a dry little laugh, not unkind, just tired.
“no. never that.”
you waited. gave her space to say more.
and after a moment, she did.
“i just been… trying to stay in my lane, i guess?” she said, afraid of saying too much. “you’ve got shit going on. i don’t wanna mess that up.”
you tilted your head. “mess what up?”
she shrugged. “i mean—someone asked you out. that’s… that’s good, right? you deserve that. somebody to treat you nice. do all that movie and dinner shit.”
your heart twinged a little.
“we’re not even—” you started, then sighed. “it’s just one movie, paige. it’s not serious. really.”
she nodded slowly, still not looking at you. but her jaw clenched again.
“yeah… still. i don’t wanna be all up in your space if you wanna, you know… see where that goes.”
you stared at her then, finally realizing—she wasn’t just being distant. she was pulling away to protect something. maybe you. maybe herself. maybe both.
you reached over, nudging your shoulder lightly against hers, “you’re never all up in my space. i… i actually didn’t like not seeing you.”
paige’s lips pressed together to form the tiniest smile. her voice was almost too soft to hear.
“yeah?”
you nodded.
“yeah.”
she swallowed hard, fingers playing with the drawstring of her sweats.
she was scared.
maybe that’s why she hadn’t said anything.
why she bit her tongue that night you texted her about it. why she ghosted you a little.
because the truth was—paige was scared as hell.
not scared of you. not even scared of rejection.
she was scared of losing you. she’d rather stay quiet than lose you completely.
this friendship meant too much. you meant too much.
and yeah, she’d wanted more for a long time. she’d dreamt about it almost everyday. stubborn little dreams she kept buried deep, like kissing you goodnight on the nights you stayed over, or holding your hand without needing a reason. she’d replayed the sound of your laughter, the way your smile looked, the way you looked at her and imagined what it would feel like to press her lips against yours. to feel you beneath her fingers, her palms, hands that were calloused and bigger than yours.
but she really didn’t wanna fuck it up.
because if you didn’t feel the same way… if you looked at her and only saw your best friend…
that would be it. no do-over.
so paige sat next to you, heart pounding in her chest, blue eyes locked on the floor, still pretending like everything was normal.
you sat quietly there for a moment, fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your knee brushing lightly against paige’s.
so you glanced at her, your voice barely above a whisper, “i’m nervous about it, actually.”
paige looked up, finally meeting your eyes.
the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease, but her eyebrows raised slightly like she wasn’t expecting you to say that. like she thought you’d be excited, glowing, already picking outfits and… all that.
“the movie?” she asked, trying to be casual.
you nodded slowly. “the whole thing. just… going out. with a guy. like that.”
she didn’t say anything right away. and if she was trying to keep her face neutral, she was failing just a little.
you kept going, letting the words fall out before you could overthink them.
“i’ve never really done any of it. dating. being out with someone. i think the last date i went to was in high school… and i can barely even remember any of it. i’ve had crushes, sure, but nothing ever really… happened.” you breathed in through your nose. “and now i said yes and i don’t even know what i’m doing.”
paige’s licked her lips, but she didn’t speak. her eyes scanned your face like she was memorizing it.
“i mean, what if it gets awkward?” you mumbled. “what if he tries to kiss me and i… i don’t even know how to—”
you stopped yourself, cheeks burning all of a sudden.
paige blinked. sat up straighter, her brows raised even higher now.
“you never kissed nobody before?”
“i have, stupid.” you blurted out fast, but glanced away soon after, embarrassed. “just… not like… that.”
she leaned back a little, nodding slowly. she didn’t tease you. didn’t laugh. but something in her chest cracked open, just a little.
now, all she could think about and look at were… your lips. how soft they looked. like they were calling her in.
all she wanted to do was be the person you felt safe with.
you were still staring down at your hands, thumbs twisting the fabric of your sleeve, when paige said it.
she didn’t know what made her say it.
“i… i could show you?”
and then it was like all the oxygen got sucked out the room.
you looked up, eyes wide, lips parting just slightly.
and paige—
fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.
she blinked, sat upright like she could somehow backpedal physically—
“i didn’t—i-i mean—” she let out a breath, raking a hand over her face. she laughed, but it was awkward and nervous and too high in her throat.
you didn’t say anything. you were just looking at her.
and that was somehow worse.
she sat forward, elbows back on her knees, face in her hands for a second like she could disappear there.
she was talking fast now, trying to fill the space, trying to pretend like her heart wasn’t racing and her palms weren’t clammy and her lips didn’t suddenly ache.
god, she wanted to throw herself out the window.
i could show you. what the fuck was that?
she rubbed the back of her neck, still not looking at you, her voice dropping to a grumble.
“sorry… forget i said anything.”
and then—so quietly she almost missed it—paige heard you whisper:
“…okay.”
her head shot up like she wasn’t sure she actually heard you right. eyes wide, lips parted, breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat.
“what?”
you were already rambling, the same as she was, like the words were tumbling out before you could stop them.
“i mean—not like for real for real, just—just to, like, try. not a whole thing, i just—I don’t know—i mean, only if you want to. obviously. if that was a joke, then—then forget it—”
“no,” paige cut in quickly, almost too quickly. “no, i wasn’t playing.”
her voice cracked just slightly at the end, and she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. her heart was pounding so hard she thought you might hear it.
“you sure?” she asked softly.
you nodded, just once. small. shy.
and her stomach flipped.
paige let out the tiniest breath as if she’d been holding it since you walked through the door. her shoulders dropped just a little, and the corner of her lips tugged up, that slow, crooked little smirk curling on paige’s lips as if she’d just remembered exactly who she was.
your face flushed instantly the moment you saw her smile, and paige bit back a grin, watching the way your lips parted.
the nerves from a moment ago vanished, replaced that same confidence she carried everywhere with her.
you squinted at her, giving her a look, “you’re being cocky.”
paige’s eyes flicked to yours, her grin widening before she shook her head quickly—lying straight through her teeth.
“i’m not,” she said.
she absolutely was. and she knew it.
you raised a brow, and she chuckled—deep and a little smug now, clearly loving the way you were already squirming.
then she scooted closer on the bed, so close now her thigh pressed against yours. her arm slid behind you slowly, palm resting flat against the mattress just barely behind your back. her fingers curled like they were thinking about reaching for your waist, but she didn’t rush it.
she was warm beside you—close enough for you to smell her perfume, feel her breath, see the way her lashes lowered when she looked at your lips again. her fingers tapped lightly against the bed behind you, brushing your lower back. her touch was barely there, but it was all you could think about.
paige leaned in just a little more, her breath brushing warm against your cheek, before murmuring softly.
“close your eyes,” she whispered.
you did. slowly.
and the second your eyes fluttered shut, paige froze. just for a moment.
her breath caught in her throat. her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
holy fuck.
her eyes roamed your face—so close, so trusting, your lips parted just slightly, your chest rising and falling like you were bracing for something you didn’t even understand yet. and somehow, somehow, you wanted her to be the one to teach you.
her fingers flexed against the mattress, resisting the urge to wrap around your waist like they wanted to. her throat was dry, her head spinning. she couldn’t believe this was happening.
she exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing thoughts, but it was no use.
is this really happening?
she tilted her head, just a little, lips hovering.
paige was already going through it before you even closed your eyes. you, sitting on her bed, in that big oversized hoodie swallowing your frame but not enough to hide the fact that you were wearing a skirt underneath, knees brushing hers when you sat down next to her.
you looked so good it made her chest ache. but it wasn’t just how you looked—it was you.
and now, you were sitting in front of her, eyes closed, waiting.
you looked so pretty like this.
god.
it took everything in her to keep it together.
paige reached up with one hand and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.
she smiled.
then, finally, you felt her lips brush yours.
paige kissed you slow. and sweet. her lips felt like the softest thing you’d ever touched. you could feel the warmth radiating from her mouth, and the slight tremble beneath her lips that told you this made her nervous just as it made you.
her other hand drifted down without her realizing it, settling gently on your thigh.
you responded without thinking, your hand creeping up to rest over the fabric of her shirt at her chest. your fingers hesitated for a second, then your fingers slid up, tracing the curve of her shoulder before reaching around her neck.
paige’s breath hitched slightly against your lips, and you felt the tiniest tremor in her body, surprised by how close you’d gotten.
she was nervous—damn near shaking—but also so fucking sure of every little thing happening.
you taste so good.
all those nights she’d imagined this moment played over and over in her head, every detail perfect, every touch just how she dreamed it would be. she’d wondered what it would feel like to kiss you—really kiss you—not just in her daydreams but for real.
and fuck, it’s even better than she imagined.
paige pressed her lips a little deeper, letting the kiss deepen slowly, humming against your lips. and, just as her mouth moved softly against yours, she felt it.
a tiny, breathy gasp escaping you, so soft it was almost swallowed by the silence. the faintest, tiniest moan, barely there, against her mouth.
it was so small, so delicate, paige almost thought she’d imagined it.
her breath hitched. her heart slammed against her ribs.
paige’s fingers dug just a little into your thigh, desperate for something to hold onto, inching slightly underneath the fabric of your skirt.
and paige knew, right then, she was completely, utterly, deliciously addicted to every part of you.
she wanted more. needed more.
fuck—
she pulled back just slightly, her breathing shallow and ragged.
she knew she was getting carried away. losing control faster than she wanted to admit.
so she paused, her forehead resting softly against yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.
“can i keep going?” she whispered against your lips.
you blinked slowly, your breath still fluttering from the kiss, heart pounding in your chest like a drum. the warmth of paige’s hand, rough and calloused from years of basketball, on your thigh sent a shiver up your spine.
you met her eyes and nodded almost softly.
“yeah,” you whispered back, barely more than a breath. “please.”
your fingers twitched, fingertips scratching the back of her neck.
paige’s smile deepened, her eyes sparkling with something fierce and tender all at once, and without another word, she leaned in again and—
“yo, can i come in now or what?”
jana’s voice called from the other side.
you and paige pulled away from each other instantly, breath catching in your throat, your hand falling from her neck as her palm slid quickly off your thigh.
paige blinked, dazed, like her mind hadn’t even caught up to her body yet. her lips were still parted, her eyes still locked on yours like she couldn’t quite believe what just happened.
then she turned toward the desk, slowly, glancing at the clock glowing on her nightstand.
1:27 a.m.
she shut her eyes tight and dropped her head forward, letting it hang for a second as she exhaled hard. not at jana. just at the timing. at the fact that her favorite kiss in the world had just been cut short.
damn it.
“i-i should…” you started, voice shaky, still catching your breath, “i should probably go.”
paige looked up at you, her heart twisting. she didn’t want you to. not yet. but she nodded anyway.
“yeah… yeah, okay,” she murmured, rubbing the back of her neck.
you stood up slowly, brushing your hands against your skirt, then looked back at her, lips parting, unsure of what to even say after all that. your cheeks were still warm and your heart was beating a mile a minute.
“t-thanks for um…” you paused, swallowing. “for showing me.”
paige looked at you then. she nodded once, lips tugging into a lopsided smile.
“anytime,” she said, a little hoarse.
she pushed herself up on her feet, her hand brushing against her sweats like she wasn’t sure what to do with it now—whether to reach for you again, or just let you go.
she shifted her weight awkwardly, glancing at the door, then back at you, a little hesitant to speak.
“do you want me to walk you back—”
but you were already shaking your head, offering her a small, flustered smile as you stepped toward the door.
“n-no, it’s okay,” you said quickly, eyes darting anywhere but her. “i… i can walk on my own.”
paige’s mouth opened slightly like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t push. she just nodded, once.
“aight.”
and she watched you reach for the door, her chest still rising and falling. her fingers twitched at her side, wanting to hold you there.
but she stayed still.
and when you glanced back at her one last time, paige just looked at you—eyes soft, jaw tense, heart full of a million things she still couldn’t say.
“get home safe,” she said gently. “text me when you’re in.”
you nodded again, your hand tightening around the doorknob.
“i will.”
you opened the door just as paige stepped up behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her all over again.
and there stood jana, arms crossed, one brow lifted, clearly waiting.
“well damn,” jana said, smirking as her eyes darted between you and paige. “finally.”
you gave her a soft smile, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks, “hey, jana. sorry, i didn’t mean to take up your room this long.”
jana just waved a hand, stepping aside so you could pass, “don’t worry about it. i was just getting a little sleepy. i think p. boogers over here forgot we have practice early tomorrow morning.”
you gave a quiet laugh and tucked your hands into the sleeves of your hoodie, glancing back one last time. “goodnight, guys.”
paige held the door open, silent, her eyes glued to your back as you walked down the hall. she didn’t say anything. she just stared. and watched as you disappeared around the corner. only when she couldn’t see you anymore did she finally close the door.
then she dropped her forehead against the wood with a groan. long. loud. half frustration, half complete emotional combustion.
jana raised an eyebrow from across the room, already toeing off her shoes, “so y’all kissed or what?”
paige reached blindly for the nearest pillow and launched it at her.
“shut up.”
jana caught it, laughing as she plopped onto her bed.
—☆ Synopsis: Wherein the class nerd, Paige, was paired with you for a project while you knowingly bad mouth her to the whole class — she puts you in your place.
—☆ Pairings: Paige Bueckers x reader
—☆ Warnings: mean girl!reader, reader's in denial of being gay, smut, porn with plot (skip to the second star for smut alone)
No one was actually listening to the teacher anymore during this time of the day, there was light rain outside. lunch just finished and the professor's words were incomprehensible, especially when you're half asleep, head laid on your table while you chewed on the tip of your pen. No one was actually listening, well, except her. Paige, she was jutting down notes like her life depends on it, her blonde hair tucked inside her sweatshirt to which you're sure is uncomfortable and itchy, purple rimmed glasses resting on her nose as she paid the teacher close attention. She's not doing anything wrong, really, if anything she was the only person in this class who actually gave a fuck about the lecture, but nonetheless, you found something to talk shit about her.
"I swear, she never calm the fuck down. Did she think she'd get extra points for all the notes she's writing?" You chuckled, whispering to your friend who's just beside you, also not listening to the lesson. Your voice was firm, unapologetic and you made sure that Paige heard you talking down to her in that condescending tone. "I know, right? She's studying all the time, she must be a chore to be with." Your friend replied which earned a giggle from you. Your intentions were clear — you want to embarrass and humiliate Paige, talk behind her back and hate her for doing nothing and everything at the same time.
She was laser focused, eyes on the board that's filled with equations, one hand fidgeting with her eraser while the other wrote down notes. She worked fast, efficiently, like she's been doing this her whole life and to a degree, she has. "Not this bitch again" Paige sighs under her breath while solving a problem. She was tired of you, honestly. You being the queen bee, always up her business and you can never seem to leave her alone.
The class went on like that, the professor would explain, you won't listen, Paige would do something, it'll make you roll your eyes, then you'll have something to say about it and share it with your friends.
"By the way, your final project for my class is research with any topic. I don't care what, fiction, non fiction, history, geology — as long as it's a detailed and credible paper. You have 7 weeks to finish this project, and no, you cannot change partners." The professor suddenly said, making everyone groan.
"imagine if you're partnered with Bueckers" Your friend laughed, you slapped her shoulders, rolling your eyes at the thought. It can't be, right? Out of the 38 students here, there's no way-
"You and Bueckers" You professor's voice interrupted, pointing at you. Paige couldn't help but chuckle, the fact that the teacher doesn't even know your name, probably because of the amount of absences and your lack of class cooperation. "You and Bueckers are partners." He repeated.
"WHAT?!" Your voice echoed in the quiet room while your friends snickered beside you, trying to hold their laughter from your sudden outburst. "What?" He raised a brow, your professor's clipboard held close to his chest, challenging you. "You can't do that! I don't want to be partners with.... with this!" Everyone gasped, some chuckled, including Paige.
"No changing of partners, if you're brave enough then do this research alone and miss Bueckers would be partnered with somebody else." His voice was filled with authority and as much as you want to say 'yes, I'll do this alone if it had to be with her!' you know to yourself that you're not the best when it comes to research and you actually need Paige to pass this class. So with a frustrated groan, you leaned back to your seat, a thud on the table as you laid your head back down. "Fine, I'll be with Bueckers." You sighed, giving up.
—☆
A few days later and you find yourself in the front step of her apartment, clutching your laptop in one hand along with your phone while the other's holding your iced matcha. You clicked the doorbell, waiting for her to open. "What's taking her so fuckin long? It's so hot out here" Groaning, you took a sip of your macha before the doors to her apartment opened. You were welcomed by Paige, her hair was up, unusually so. It was in a low bun, she was still wearing her purple rimmed glasses that gave her those googly eyes, and she's in gray sweatpants and a plain black tee. She has a thin, silver chain adorning her neck while her pointer finger has a plain ring.
"Come in" Her voice was stern, direct and firm, the type of tone that takes over the locomotion of your body and makes it so whatever it wants. You stepped in, leaving your UGGs by the door as you entered. "look at that, you still have some respect left in ya" Paige chuckled, making you snap your head to look at her.
"I'm raised in a respectable household, thank you very much." Rolling your eyes at her, she only hummed and went straight to her kitchen that's connected to the living room. Her apartment was well... Paige. It screamed Paige. She has fucking planets for lights, glow in the dark stars stuck to her ceiling, a literal skeletal system model beside her t.v that's just conveniently playing some documentary on a dinosaur you can't even pronounce the name of.
"you cannot be deadass..." You rolled your eyes, huffing as you sat on the gray couch, the only thing that's normal in this house. "what?" Paige raised a brow, drinking her water as she leaned on the counter. "You have adult money and You're spending it on these dumbass things? Really, Paige?" It was fascinating how this girl's mind works, she's so... geeked.
"oh please, you have adult money and you spend it on overpriced coffee along with that overpriced phone case that, no offense, looks like a pussy" She snapped back, pointing at your pink, Rhode phone case. "Excuse you?!" Exclaiming, you tried to hold your laugh, but you gotta admit that it kinda resembles it.
Not long after, Paige sat on the opposite end of the couch, her own laptop resting on her lap and already laser focused on the task. "Our topic's about tyrannosaurus rex, how vicious it was and why it's gotta go." Paige said, monotone and quick. You didn't like that. "What the hell? You didn't even ask me if I agree with that topic, you can't just do that!" Paige shot you a look, that made your mouth immediately shut, a frown on your face.
"it's not like you're doing anything for this research, anyway." She calmly said back, still looking you dead in the eyes. "So just shut up and let me do my job, alright? You're only here for documentation purposes, I didn't want to be partners with you, either" She started. "Just cooperate and act busy when I'm taking pictures." She added.
And so you did, laying on her carpet floor, scrolling on her Netflix and watching movies while she worked her butt off in the paper. About two hours passed and you couldn't take it anymore, you plopped yourself down beside her, peeking on her laptop, making her click her tongue.
"can you not?" Paige said but your eyes were already the screen, articles after videos and photos of the said dinosaur were pulled up making your head spin. "You are a nerd" You chuckled before looking directly into Paige's eyes. "Never said I wasn't" she said before shoving you away from her laptop. You didn't let up and kept annoying her.
"you're always doing... Whatever the hell this is, nerd stuff" Paige hummed, waiting for you to get to your point. "I don't fucking know? I'm starting to think you don't even watch porn because all you watch are these!" You pointed at her laptop screen as if accusing it of something criminal, the images of a T-Rex looking back right at you.
Paige shook her head, chuckling, her fingers tapped on the side of the couch as if she was contemplating about something. "I do watch porn, I'll have you know that." There was a brief smirk on her lips when she saw the shock on your face, eyes wide, lips slightly parted and your cheeks were reddening. "I-i doubt you!" Huffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, just enough to give your tits a nice push and Paige didn't miss that, another subtle smirk.
"yes I do, I'mma nerd, not a saint." She shrugged her shoulders like she's too cool for you and it ticks you off, this cannot be the same girl that stutters during presentations. "Oh yeah? Well, name three porn sites" Challenging her, your body shifted a little closer to where she was sitting, thighs brushing against each other.
"I don't do porn sites" Her answer was direct, no bullshit, just straight to the point. "What?" Confusion etched on your face, head tilted and eyebrows raised. What the hell does she mean she doesn't do porn sites? "I use only fans and pay pretty girls for their pussy" She elaborated. You choked, like, really choked. You didn't expect her to say something so vulgar, a part of your mind was wondering if this was actually calculus geek Paige you were talking to or was she passed by an... I don't know? A fuck boy, perchance?
"Are you being serious?" You asked, looking at her in surprise, but also, it was funny how honest she was. Letting out a chuckle, you love even closer, looking into her eyes intently as your thighs once again touched. "Dead serious" Paige confirmed, her eyes roaming your sitting figure beside her. "Wait- pussy? You're like... like lesbo?" You asked, oblivious and flustered as you started at her face, trying to read her neutral expression but it's hard when she's so nonchalant.
"Isn't it obvious?" Paige scoffed, setting her laptop aside before she turned her body to face yours. "And I heard you're super straight, my instincts say otherwise." She confidently said, she sounded so certain, so sure that you're not straight. "Of course I am!" Your voice cracked slightly, looking away, cheeks reddening under her watchful gaze. "I-i'm straight... I like boys..." You mumbled like an affirmation, almost like you're convincing yourself instead of Paige.
"Oh yeah? Never searched lesbian porn your whole life?" She smirked, head tilted in a taunting gesture, her arms crossed lazily. God you hate this woman so fucking much, how is she always so confident about everything? The words that left her mouth sounded so calculated and sure. "I... I have- BUT I was just curious! I'm not a fucking lesbian pervert like you!" You huffed, turning away from her. You could feel your cheeks burning, embarrassment eating you alive. I can't believe I just confessed that I watch lesbian porn to this nerd. The silence was deafening but you could hear her shifting on her seat.
Paige stood up from the couch, making her way over and standing in front of you, a cocky grin on her face as she looked down at your face. Flushed, a pout, a frown, she knows that all too well. You're in denial and she finds your struggle funny, entertaining, even. "How about I help you confirm that, hm?" You thought you misheard her, maybe you're having audible hallucination. "What did you say?" You asked, looking at her now, serious, gaze unwavering.
"I said, I'll help you confirm if you're really straight." Is this bitch crazy? Did she just offer that? To you? "I don't need your help, I'm very comfortable with my sexuality, thank you" You sarcastically said, rolling your eyes at her for the nth time today earning you another chuckle. "What? Scared you'll like it and switch sides, queen bee?" She's taunting you now, just straight up provoking you. "Shut the fuck up, I already told you I'm straight! I like boys!" Paige was laughing now, like actually laughing, shaking her head in amusement. "I mean it! And how the hell are you gonna help me confirm it anyway?!"
"Let me fuck you." Silence. You blinked once, twice, your breath hitched and the tension was palpable. You wanted to laugh, brush it off as nothing, but you could see that Paige is serious. Serious about proving her point right, of proving that you're not straight, serious about fucking you. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words but nothing would come out. Paige was still looking at you, waiting for your answer with her arms crossed. Fuck she's making you nervous.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked away before speaking. "H-how would that prove anything?" You want to sound strong and firm but your voice cracked and Paige caught on that. "See if you like it, I'll fuck you dumb and you'll tell me how you like it." She casually said as if she's not proposing about railing you. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone at University. I know you have a reputation to uphold" Cocky. She was so damn cocky with that stupid smile on her pretty face. You were contemplating, biting your lips in thought because you swear on everything you're straight but why the fuck is this nerd making you question your own sexuality?
You sighed, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes again. "Fine... b-but this is our secret, okay?!" Blushing, you shyly stared at her, waiting for a reply, for her to say something. Anything. "Deal"
—☆
it was supposed to be a meet up for the project that's worth half your grades, but here you are, sitting on Paige's lap while she's sat by the edge of her bed, big hands cradling your hips and caressing your skin. "you've never been with a girl?" Her voice was a hush whisper, you nodded, moaning softly as you felt her kisses on the side of your neck. One of her hands moved from your hips to the buttons of your blouse, long fingers unbuttoning them with practiced ease, her nails light scratching the skin of your chest and stomach. Paige smiled against your neck, a hum leaving her throat. "I'm gonna break your mind so good, you'll never talk shit about me in class" She chuckled, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. "Because every time you look at me, all you'd remember was tonight."
Her movements were calculated, she's moving with purpose, fingers tracing your clothed tits, gently toying with your nipples, causing them to harden. She smiled at the sight, her hands crawling to your back, tracing patterns on it while she busied her tongue with your nipples, still covered with your lace bra. "P-paige..." You moaned, fingers tangling with her blonde locks as you pushed her head snug against your chest. "Shh, calm down, mama, I gotchu" she chuckled before flicking her tongue on your nipple, sucking gently that caused you to throw your head back.
"You're so vocal, angel" Paige whispered as her mouth detached from your breasts, keeping eye contact. "Mhm, I know... I-im noisy during sex" You shyly confessed, looking at her for any sign of turn offs, but she only smirked and crashed her lips on yours. Her tongue tracing your lips, asking for entrance which you gave with a moan, feeling her tongue explore the insides of your mouth was heaven. You've been missing out on this your whole life? Fuck.
Paige pulled away gently, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, she hissed softly as she took off her glasses. It shouldn't be that hot, no, but God it made you so wet. She threw her glasses somewhere on the carpet floor, you heard it thump as it hit the ground. She was getting impatient yet Paige was still considering that it is your first time with a woman so she's taking it slow. Carefully, she laid you on her bed, kissing you again before her lips went lower to your neck, chest, her fingers unclasping your bra in a swift click and not long after, joining her glasses on the floor.
Her kisses went even lower now, down to your stomach that made your back arch. It's embarrassing how you're already a moaning mess just from kisses, but the way Paige does it is so intimate and you can't help it. "Please..." Your voice was weak, soft, you're desperate. "What was that, pretty girl?" Paige asked while she slips you panties down, leaving your skirt on. Your fingers gripped the sheets, whining at her slow teasing. "Just touch me already, god damnit"
Paige smirked, hooking your thighs over her shoulders, she took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. "Fuck" she groaned, eyes closing shut at the smell of your sweet wetness. She placed a kiss on your clit before spreading your folds with her pointer and middle finger. She gave your core a long lick, from your entrance to your clit as a satisfied hum left her throat, savoring your taste of your wetness.
She was gentle, her tongue lazily lapping up your cunt, thumb caressing some circles on your thighs while she ate you out. "You like that, princess?" She whispered against you, making your body quiver. You nodded, raking your fingers through her blonde hair as you pushed her face further into your heat. "Y-yes... Fuck, Paige don't stop" And she didn't, Paige spent a good ten minutes between your legs, tongue flicking your clit before thrusting it inside you and whenever you're about to come, she'd pull away.
"Please please please, 'm cumming... im gonna- Fuck" another whine was torn from your mouth as she pulled away just when you're about to cum. "Not yet" was all she said before spitting on your cunt, her saliva dripping from your clit, kissing your entrance, then on the sheets beneath you. It was so erotic, so fucking sexy.
"Want you to cum on my cock, princess" Paige said, climbing out of bed and to her drawer. She took her sweatpants off along with her boxers and you couldn't help but ogle. She chuckled at her, grabbing her strap from her drawer and wearing it before returning to bed with a bottle of lube. "I'm gonna fuck you nice and slow, get you to squirt on me like no other boys can, yeah?" She opened the lube, squeezing the cold liquid over your already dripping wet pussy before she stroked herself with it.
"Ready?" She didn't wait for your answer, just gave your clit three taps with the head of her cock before pushing it in. Three inches in, your back arches, moaning loudly as you felt the curve of her shaft prodding your sensitive spot. Five inches in, Paige pushed it carefully, making sure you felt every vein and every inch of her.
"S-so big..." You bit your lips, so turned on by the sight of her. This nerd, this loser, pushing her way in your cunt like she owns the hole. It was hard to believe that it really was her because if you told yourself three days ago that Paige Bueckers would have you on her bed, sprawled, pussy red and full of her, you'd laugh it off.
"I know, angel, two more inches" Paige whispered, thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of flesh as she pushed her way in. Seven whole inches, Paige Bueckers has downed seven inches of cock in you and that thought alone was enough to make your head spin and vision blur. She started to roll her hips,dick massaging your walls so deliciously that you couldn't help but tremble under her body. "You're so fucking pretty... If only you weren't mean to me." She whispered,dragging the strap out all the way but leaving the tip in.
"Apologize for being a bitch and maybe I'd let you cum" she punctuated her words with a sharp thrust, walls clamping around her as she knocked the air out of your lungs. "Fuck!" You moaned, thighs already trembling from the amount of edging Paige has put you through, you're just desperate in need of release.
"I-im sorry-" you whimpered, almost sounding like a sob from how frustrated you are, you needed it so damn much. Paige only smirked, her pace starting to pick up, the tip consistently kissing your cervix. "What was that?" She taunted, mouth attaching to your hardened nipple as she started to actually fuck you now.
"I-i said! I'm... I'm S-sorry!" You cried, body shaking and arching against hers. Her pace was punishing, like she's trying to prove a point, and she is. "Yeah? You think that's gonna cut it after years of bullying, whore?" She laughed like you're stupid, ramming your cunt with her cock, completely destroying you.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry- I won't do it a-again! Please please just let me cum... Just p-please Paige" you sobbed, nails scratching her back while she buried herself deep into your pillowy pussy. "You mean that? You're gonna be a good girl, bitch?" You nodded early, desperate for release and her approval. "I-i promise... I'm so sorry- please, a-ahh fuck fuck!" You could feel it and she can too, your walls were gripping her like a vice and that's more than enough satisfaction for her.
"Cum on me" that's all it took, your mind went blank, tears rolling down your cheeks as a chocked moan left your throat as well as your drool by the side of your lips. You looked perfect, just like how Paige envisioned it in her head when she was crushing on you.
"Thank you thank you thank you" you chanted repeatedly like a mantra as you came and squirted all over her cock and stomach, cunt sucking her in, creating a white ring on the base of her strap. "Shit..." Paige whistled, smiling down at her work before giving your forehead a kiss.
That day you learned a lot of things — that t-rex's have binocular visions, that there are other galaxies in the milky way, that anime wasn't so bad to watch... but most importantly — is that you learned that you aren't straight. All in courtesy of Paige Madison Bueckers.
HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL ANGELS, I hope y'all liked this one AND OMG??? I did not expect this fic to be this fucking long holy shit 😭 but as always, feedbacks r appreciated and y'all stay cute 😜 💋 xoxo kyriaki 🪽
synopsis: different scenarios where juju’s program is REAL strict but she’s also easy for her girl.
Y’all PLEASE go easy on me, i’m trying to ease my way back into writing. It’s been a long ass time since i’ve actually sat down to write something. I used to be d1 at writing and then high school english took that passion away .
NO AI. I LEARNED HOW TO WRITE FROM TEACHERS AND OTHER ADULTS.
SCENARIO ONE:
Juju sat perched on the barstool that sat next to her kitchen island, her eyes flicked back to the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was currently 12:56 am. You were out with some friends to celebrate one of their birthdays.
That wasn’t the problem. The problem was you told Juju you’d be back before 12.
Now Juju trusted you, she never had no reason not to, but she did want you safe and in the house before she went to sleep. She hated falling asleep without knowing you were there.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the faint jingle of keys cut through the quietness of the apartment. The door cracked open a few seconds later and Juju saw you standing there. She felt her body physically relax.
A soft smile makes its way onto your face as you spotted her sitting there, before you made your way over to her. You were a little woozy, the drinks finally catching up to you. Juju watched you approach, her facial expression caught somewhere between concern and quiet annoyance.
“Hi baby,” your voice comes out a little slurred as you wrap your arms around her neck. You feel her hands settle onto your hips as she pulls her slightly closer, steadying you, between her legs.
“Why you ain’t text me?” She asked, voice low but firm. “You said you’d be back at 12.” She looks down at you. You looked up at her, the tone of her voice hitting harder than you expected. Your smile slowly shrunk into a small frown.
“Are you mad at me?” The few drinks you had were starting to get to you as you feel a wave of sadness shoot through you.
Juju’s face softened as she sighed. Her thumbs brushing slow circles against your sides before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Nah,” her voice was gentle as she talked. “I’m not mad. Just let me know next time, okay? People out here be weird. I just wanna know you’re okay.”
You nod faintly before leaning back into the warmth of her body, your eyes growing heavy as the silence grows.
Juju slid off the stool carefully, keeping her arm around you as she turned you both towards the hallway.
“Cmon, you’re going to bed.”
“I’m not tired,” you mumbled, dragging your feet just a little as she guided you along.
Juju let out a small huff, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“I am,” she replied. “So we going to bed.”
You sighed, already knowing there was no winning this one. Letting yourself lean into her hold once again, you followed her down the hall, her body warm and steady as she got you both settled in for the night.
SCENARIO TWO
The desert sun is beaming down on your back as you stand beside Juju, your hand laced with hers.
In your other hand, you held Jazzy's phone, continuously clicking the white button that was on the screen as she posed.
“Wait! Last one,” Jazzy said as she pulled Sienna in the picture, posing with her. You let out a small laugh at the girl before snapping the picture and handing her phone back.
"These are so cute," The girl exclaimed after receiving her phone back. "Thank you so much!" Jazzy placed a quick little peck on your cheek before hurrying off with Sienna.
You smiled and shook your head before turning back to your girlfriend, expecting to see her beautiful smile but instead you saw the somewhat irritated look that took over her face.
Your smile slightly dropped from your face as you turned your body towards her. "Ju, what's wrong?" Your voice somewhat raspy from all of the screaming song lyrics earlier.
"Nothing," Her eyes drifting past you as she looks at whatever's behind you. You huff as you look at her, knowing she's not telling the truth.
"Baby, it's not nothing. What's wrong?" Your arms come up to wrap around her neck, forcing her to look down at you.
"I don't like you letting people be on you like that." The sentence comes out so quickly, you're not even sure if you heard it correctly. When you finally register what she said, you have to fight back a laugh.
"Who? Jazzy?"
She cuts her eyes at you as she hears the slight giggle leave your mouth. “Am I laughing?” Her tone makes me look at her again before shaking my head to say no, biting back my smile.
“I know Jazzy doesn’t swing like that,” Juju looks away for a brief second before bringing her attention back to you. “But you’re still my girl.” Her arm came up to wrap around your waist.
“Don’t let nobody be on you like that. Touching and kissing up on you like that.” She said as she wraps her arm around me, kissing my forehead.
You looked up at her, smile forming on your glossed lips.
summary: paige had always just been your brother's best friend. your little brother's annoying best friend. on a typical summer trip to your family's cabin, you start to realize maybe paige isn't so little and annoying anymore.
warnings: lots of plot!, hella teasing, a little body worshipping, overstimulation, oral + fingering, thigh grinding, paige comes in her pants, switch!paige but bottom!paige would also be accurate, praise of course
word count: 9.3k
notes: this was NAWT supposed to be this long but i got carried away lowkey. i'm considering writing a part 2 for this bc i love this dynamic
song: wild thoughts by dj khaled, ft rihanna and bryson tiller
❝when i'm with you all i get is wild thoughts❞
read part 2!
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it was always funny when someone at your college found out that paige bueckers follows you on social media–the paige bueckers, star of uconn women’s basketball.
because to you, she was just paige, your little brother, elijah’s, best friend who was over at your house so often you had to wonder if she had her own. she yells at the television at three in the morning over video games, paces around your house over basketball games, and eats your snacks out of the cupboard. she had been around so long that she is practically your parents’ third child, and they never let you forget it. there were pictures of paige hung around the house like they birthed her, not just pictures of her and your brother either–her high school basketball pictures, her senior pictures, pictures taken at her tournaments, you name it. not only that, but your grandparents would ask your parents about her like she was a grandchild. she was always invited to family holiday celebrations and family vacations, and while she rarely came to the holiday celebrations in favor of her own family, she never missed a vacation.
you never had a problem with it per se, but she was just your brother’s friend, so she was annoying by default. your brother was annoying, therefore she was too. which, honestly, she was. she was loud, spontaneous, and maybe even exhibited some warning signs of ADHD, and did you mention she would eat your snacks out of the cupboard?
you remember the day elijah met paige, because you definitely did not want to be there. you were seven and he was five, and it was his first ever practice for basketball (well, actually for any sport). it was a small, co-ed recreation league, so they advised parents to stick around during the hour-long practice just in case. even though you had made a compelling argument that you were obviously very mature and old enough to be left alone, your parents forced you to tag along with them.
practice was running smoothly, elijah looked like a natural, until about thirty minutes in when he bumped right into paige, sending her to the floor. now typically, you would probably expect a little five-year-old girl to sit and cry on the floor after being hit like that, but not paige. she got right back up and shoved him as hard as she could onto the ground. clearly not expecting that reaction, the coach quickly grabbed paige to hold her back like it was a genuine fight (which maybe it was to her–she had definitely looked pissed). after a quick time-out, they forced paige to apologize to elijah, which she was clearly reluctant to do, but she did so she could be put back into the game. they hugged it out and have been practically inseparable ever since.
your parents loved to tell that cute story to anyone who would listen.
when it was time for them to go to kindergarten, your parents and paige’s parents made sure they were in the same class. they constantly got in trouble for talking without permission, going off topic, and playing pranks in the classroom. they would get disciplined, but it never seemed to work because it continued all through elementary school.
as all of you grew up, you didn’t hang out with your brother and paige that much. you were a whole two years older with your own activities, own friends, and own hobbies which didn’t really align with what they were interested in.
there was one day when paige was in fifth grade and you were in seventh grade, when you heard a knock at your door. you were sitting on your bed reading a book, though it was a homework assignment for class so you would’ve rather been doing anything else. you expected it to be your dad since he always knocked now that you were thirteen, but after you shouted come in!, you saw an eleven-year-old paige bueckers standing there. she was wearing a t-shirt from her basketball league, a pair of black basketball shorts, nike elite socks, and her hair was in a pink nike tie headband with a ponytail. she looked nervous, like she didn’t know how to talk to you even though you had known her for six years at this point–like she hadn’t slept at your house literally last night.
“some of the girls at school were making fun of me,” she said, playing with her fingers and not making eye contact.
you immediately closed your book so you could set it to the side, patting the spot in front of you as a gesture for her to sit down. she did it hesitantly, still not looking up at you.
“why?” you asked, like you were baffled that someone would do that. which you were. paige had always been sweet and kind to anyone she talked to, and never had a problem with anyone. if she did, it was probably basketball-related, and she would talk it out with them right after she got off the court.
“they were saying i act and dress too much like a boy so i couldn’t sit with them,” she replied quietly.
you sighed. “don’t listen to them, paige. kids can be mean. there’s nothing wrong with how you dress.”
“but i do dress like a boy,” she said, finally making eye contact.
“what does that even mean?” you ask rhetorically. “you got those clothes from the girls’ section, right? so how are you not dressed like a girl?”
“they all wear skirts and dresses,” she said like it was obvious. you knew it was true, but it wasn’t weird to dress like a tomboy. you had a tomboy phase growing up, but since you joined dance, you started being more girly.
“so what? that doesn’t mean anything. i don’t like wearing dresses either,” you laugh.
“yeah but–” she starts, pausing like she doesn’t know how to ask the question that’s sitting on the tip of her tongue. “how do i be more of a girl like you?”
your face contorts into a sad expression at the question, not really expecting it at all. “paige, you don’t need to change how you dress to please some girls at school.” like a lightbulb went off in your head, you had an idea to offer a solution without changing herself too much. “have you ever painted your nails?”
the answer to the question had been no, which you were expecting, so you did. you painted her fingernails a pink color to match her headband and hopefully help her feel a little more feminine. you wish she didn’t feel the need to change herself because of a couple of mean words, but growing up outside of the norm was hard so maybe it would make it slightly easier.
after that, paige slowly seemed to start talking to you more. she would invite you to hang out with her and elijah and she would ask if you were coming to their games. you often declined as you had your own practices, games, homework, and friends to hang out with. you had started playing school-sanctioned sports so your schedule was busy. you had decided to play volleyball and run track, and paige would often accompany your brother and parents to your games and meets.
following a particularly successful eighth grade volleyball season, you had decided to quit dance to focus on volleyball in high school. in seventh grade volleyball, the plays and positions had been very basic to get you used to it, but eighth grade was a whole new game. you weren’t particularly tall standing at 5’7, you weren’t short but definitely not as tall as most players. your coach tried you as the libero, and you fell in love with it. while this meant you were spending more time in the gym than you did before, it also meant that you had more free time to hang out with and support your friends in their own activities now that you weren’t going straight from the gym to the studio.
you attended every junior varsity and varsity basketball game of the season in ninth grade, which also meant you attended all of paige’s games. though she was only in seventh grade, her skill level had caught the coach’s attention, and she was playing with the junior varsity squad.
even though she was your little brother’s annoying friend, you had a sense of pride watching her play up two grades like that. the little girl who had grown up with you was turning into an unstoppable powerhouse. you shouted her name the loudest (well maybe her dad and her little brother, drew, shouted louder) when she would make her shots, and you would shout at the refs when you thought they made a bad call on her.
one particular home game, you were standing in the hallway talking to a couple of your friends during halftime, eating some popcorn near the concession stand. you couldn’t help but overhear a comment from a couple guys who were standing near you from the other school. one of them was talking about paige. saying she’s overrated and other mean things that you didn’t want to repeat. your friends had told you to let it go because they were just jealous, but you couldn’t. you spun on your heel, approaching them with a rage you had never felt in your life. before they could even greet you, your fist connected with the nose of the guy who had been talking about her. the guy didn’t fight back, but you were walking away before he even could anyway. luckily, no one saw and you didn’t get in trouble because the guy was too embarrassed to admit that it was a fourteen-year-old girl who did it.
when you got home and your parents noticed your bruised, swollen knuckles, they obviously questioned you. you lied at first, saying it was an accident and they just let it go, knowing you wouldn’t tell the truth. about ten minutes later, your brother came into your room to ask what happened. obviously, you told him the truth. he was so impressed, but you made him swear he wouldn’t tell your parents.
the next day at school, rumors flew about how you clocked a guy in the face. there were various reasons for why and you didn’t bother to clear them up, but paige knew the truth because your brother had told her.
you hadn’t thought much of any of it until your dad pulled came into your room after one of her games shortly after that one. it was after the first game that paige had asked if you could get a picture after. she was nervous when asking and you immediately called your brother over assuming that’s what she meant, missing the disappointed expression on paige’s face.
“be nice to paige, okay?” he asked. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion because you were always nice to paige and had never really been mean to her to warrant a conversation like that. “i think she has a little crush on you.”
you hadn’t really considered that to be a possibility before, but now that it was pointed out to you, you were suddenly very aware of all of paige’s actions. her gaze lingered a bit too long, she laughed at all of your jokes, and you were the first person she looked at when she told a joke to make sure you were laughing. even though it suddenly seemed obvious, you weren’t sure if she even knew herself. she had never indulged in crushes or anything and had focused all of her attention on sports thus far. though, you did find it strange that she never seemed to have a crush on any of the boys in her friend group, but you figured that was just because she knew them too well.
you tried to keep a distance while remaining friendly to hopefully defuse that., and you hoped she didn’t notice.
by the summer before you were in eleventh grade, you had a boyfriend for an entire year. since it had been so long (high school relationship-wise), your parents allowed you to invite him to your yearly trip to your grandparents’ house, which was a cabin on the lake. of course, the invitation obviously included paige, elijah didn’t even need to invite her anymore because your grandparents did themselves.
you didn’t notice the way her jaw would clench when he would put his arm around you, bring you food, throw you in the water, or get near you at all. she tried to ignore the feeling, but she had an overwhelming sense of something when she saw it. she didn’t know what it was, but she knew she didn’t like seeing you acting like that with someone else. she didn’t say anything though, didn’t make it obvious to anyone except maybe your bother who definitely noticed. he didn’t say anything, either. she had never said anything to him about the possibility of liking girls, let alone his sister, so he chose to stay quiet and wait for her to tell him on her own time.
it was a long two weeks for paige, but she managed to get through it without losing her mind too much.
even though you loved that boyfriend and so did your family, shortly after the school volleyball season ended and club volleyball began, you broke things off. it wasn’t entirely mutual; he definitely didn’t want you to leave, but he understood where you were coming from. both of you were busy and were struggling to make time for each other. he was picking where he was going to college for track, and you had just signed to play volleyball for creighton.
when paige heard the news, she was ecstatic–internally, of course.
after the two weeks spent at your grandparents’ house over the summer and how she felt about you breaking up with your boyfriend, she had come to terms with the fact that she definitely was not straight and she definitely had feelings for you. it was a tough realization for her, even though when she tried to talk to her stepmom about how she was feeling, her stepmom made it seem like the most obvious thing in the world–like everyone already knew. it was a little comforting, but it was jarring at the same time. could everyone tell that she had feelings for you? she hoped people could only tell that she liked girls, not the girl she liked. even worse, she hoped you couldn’t tell because that would be mortifying.
she didn’t want to try anything either, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea. you were older, more mature, and she wasn’t even sure that you saw her as anything more than a little sister or something like that. she just silently yearned, dreaming about what could happen if she told you. did you know? would you reject her?
not that it really mattered anymore, though, because for the rest of the year and through your senior year, you barely saw each other. you went to quite a few games in eleventh grade, but twelfth grade was packed with AP classes and volleyball practices. you tried to get to a basketball game when you could, but it was tough. you rarely left the gym and often times found yourself doing your homework late at night in the lounge area of it. you had something to prove in college, and you were working your ass off to get it. and paige was busy too. between playing overseas and out of state, she was rarely at school.
she managed to make a few volleyball tournaments, you attended a few of her games, and she attended your graduation, but other than that, time was passing fast, and you rarely stopped to take it all in. you had missed the family vacation that summer too. you were scheduled for summer training, but paige managed to go even after being overseas. she had sent you a text saying she missed you with a picture attached of her and your brother on the boat, which you responded back with something about how you missed her too and that you hoped she had fun with a selfie of you and your team in the school gym.
paige was giddy the entire two weeks about it.
your freshman year of college went as well as you could imagine. you were a starter for the team, you had bulked up in muscle, and you had a 4.0 GPA. and not only had you had a good year, but so did paige. you made sure to text her when she did something worth celebrating and she was always happy to hear from you. she did the same for you, making sure she never missed an accomplishment.
when she committed to the university of connecticut, your parents mailed you a uconn basketball t-shirt. you sent her a picture of you wearing it with a message saying “congrats, pretty girl <3 you’re going to do great things up there! i’ll be cheering you on the whole way”. of course, you didn’t think much of it. you had always seen paige as an extension of your brother, someone that you had always just been there, but paige thought her heart was going to fly out of her chest when she saw it. she hesitated to reply, but managed to send a quick and simple thank you back after a couple of hours. months later, you sent her another text with a photo of you and your roommates watching her play at the state championship on tv.
again that summer, you had to skip the family vacation, but she did too, so she wasn’t too beat up about it like the summer before.
through your sophomore year and her senior year, life couldn’t get any better for both of you.
until covid-19 lockdown cancelled paige’s final state championship.
she was distraught, rightfully so, at losing her chance to play in her final game for hopkins and for another chance at a championship. you sent her some apologetic texts and even a phone call because you know this meant the world to her, but it was hard to cheer her up. the future of her college career was uncertain at this point and so was yours. you had to come home from school suddenly, but luckily you didn’t have to miss any of your season.
to get away from it all, she had gone to virgina to spend time and quarantine with her friend azzi. the house was definitely quieter without her around. you thought that you would be happy to finally get to experience silence in your home, but it just felt empty instead. and your brother felt it too. one more than one occasion, he had come into your room seeking comfort about missing paige. it brought you two closer together.
as the world slowly opened back up and you were able to go to college again, you were ecstatic that this time, you would have a piece of you joining. your brother had decided to commit to creighton, just as a student though. even so, it made moving back to school away from home so much easier, and you could always trust that someone would be at your games. your parents had done their best before, but since elijah was still in high school, it was tough.
paige had an amazing freshman season and you texted her a few times to congratulate her, but you both were getting too busy to keep up like you used to. you didn’t really watch her games anymore and you didn’t text her for every game, but you managed to catch a few headlines about various awards she won.
that summer, the family vacation was put on hold. your grandparents were nervous about the pandemic given that all the kids were in college and could bring it back, so you stayed in omaha to work on your graduate school applications. your brother went back, though, mumbling something about not wanting to live in a house full of your friends or paying for summer housing.
and it was the same the next summer, too.
paige wouldn’t have gone anyway, after her injuries that season. you texted her about those, telling you how sorry you were. she didn’t get to come to your college graduation and she sent you a congratulations text to make up for it–for both graduating college and getting into the graduate program you wanted, but you understood.
and you ended up having to repeat that for her junior season. you had sympathy for her because she would have to miss out on her entire season twice in a row, something she was working so hard for.
you didn’t talk to her much beyond that, but you could imagine she was devastated.
luckily, her senior year went a lot smoother. she was fully cleared, and playing harder than ever before. after she announced that she would be returning to uconn for a 5th year, your dad called to let you know that you would be having a special family vacation at the cabin to celebrate. grandpa and grandma were healthy, paige was healthy, and it would be the first time in years that you would get to do the tradition–though it wasn’t much of a tradition anymore. you made sure that you could make it because you missed your parents, your grandparents, and truthfully, you missed paige. you didn’t have to miss your brother because you could visit him whenever you wanted, but you guess it would be fun to hang out with him just like old times.
the drive to the cabin in your parents' car was so nostalgic, you almost had the urge to cry. the familiar view of trees lining the road, though there were several new houses and stores lining the route. when you were younger, paige would ride along with your family, but this time she was driving herself. you couldn’t remember why, but you didn’t really question it.
when you pulled into the driveway, you saw your grandpa’s minivan and a brand new jeep in the driveway–a jeep you had never seen before. you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering who the hell was at your grandparents house.
your dad put the car in park, immediately popping the trunk to get the luggage out and inside. if there was one thing about him, he certainly didn’t waste any time getting settled in here. you got out too, looking around to take it all in. you had always loved coming here, this house had so many memories.
usually, though, your grandparents were rushing to the porch at the sound of the car door to greet you with a hug and a kiss, but they hadn’t come out yet. you tried not to think about it as you grabbed your suitcase and carried it inside. you left your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, not really feeling like carrying it up to your bedroom at the moment. you could see your grandparents sitting on the back deck laughing through the big windows of their living room, so you all walked toward the door to see what had them so occupied.
your dad was first, opening the door and immediately saying, “hey, what’s the deal?”
“oh, shit! you’re already here!” your grandpa laughed, pushing himself off out of the chair to give your dad a hug. your dad quickly bent down to give your grandma a hug as she stayed seated in your chair.
“paige got here early! we must’ve gotten distracted talking about how amazing she is,” your grandma explained.
then your dad turned, opening his arms wide. “paige,” his voice was soft, “it’s so good to see you again, kid.”
she stood, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “i’ve missed you.”
when your dad stepped away, you were able to catch a glimpse of paige, and you swear, time stopped for a few seconds. she looked wildly different than the last time you saw her in person, and the livestreams and photos didn’t do her any justice. she looked grown up, like an actual adult rather than the little girl you remember running around your house. her hair was pulled into a messy low bun, probably because of the heat, and she was wearing a gray fitted tank top with black shorts and sneakers. you noticed she had definitely been spending time in the weight room by the defined muscles in her shoulders. her features were sharper, face slimmer.
you were snapped back to reality when it was your turn to hug your grandparents, giving them quick hugs before turning to paige. you tried not to make it obvious that you were feeling a whole different way for your brother’s best friend than before as you said a hello and gave her a quick, probably too quick to not be obvious, hug.
you knew it was going to be a long two weeks.
and the first week only proved that.
you found yourself staring at paige when she was doing anything–swimming, playing pickup basketball with your brother, sitting at the breakfast bar, playing cards with your family. and she definitely noticed. you made eye contact almost every single time. at first, you would immediately look away, but you started testing the waters and holding it. she almost always broke first. you hoped no one else noticed because you couldn’t help it. the veins in her hands, the accentuating lines on her abdomen, the new curve of her ass–they were all distracting.
she started getting bolder too. touching your waist or back just barely whenever she went by you, bringing you snacks or drinks, and making sure to always be on your team when you were playing games. your dad and your brother would snicker quietly, clearly assuming paige’s crush never subsided.
it was friday night, and your grandparents had invited a few of the other families that lived close to come hang out a few hours ago. it was normal, you knew all the families that were coming, and so did your parents. your dad had grown up in this house, so they had all known each other for years. you had been talking to one of the girls for a while, trying to catch up, but you could feel paige’s eyes trained on you.
she was sitting across the deck from you at the table with your brother and a couple of the other kids from the other families. you didn’t know what they were talking about, but paige didn’t seem too interested at all. the only thing that was holding her attention was you and the seltzer she was holding in her hands.
after around twenty minutes, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. only, you didn’t even really have to go to the bathroom, you just could feel yourself getting antsy under the intense stare.
paige excused herself too, mumbling something about how she needed another drink. your brother didn’t see you go inside, nor was he really paying attention, so he didn’t even say anything as she chugged the rest of her seltzer and pushed the back door open.
you had gone to the bathroom upstairs to splash some cold water on your face and give yourself some light affirmations in the mirror about how you would be able to get through this week without any issues or slip ups. it wasn’t really convincing, but you managed to peel yourself away from the bathroom to join your family anyway. you knew that if your dad even suspected that you irish-goodbyed him at his own childhood home, he would come searching for you to drag you back out–especially since he had been drinking. you took a deep breath before you started down the stairs, trying to calm yourself down so paige didn’t notice she was getting to you.
when you got to the bottom of them and walked down the hall, you saw paige in the kitchen leaning against the counter. she was gripping it like it would run away, her head hung between her arms like she was struggling with something. with the way it made her muscles pop, you wouldn’t be surprised if drool started dripping from your lips.
“hey,” you said casually as you entered the kitchen.
her head immediately snapped up to look at you, and she seemed stunned for a few moments, too shocked to even reply. she shouldn’t have been, she knows you are here and she followed you inside. you visibly chuckled at her, but she just watched you as you moved past her to grab a drink from the fridge.
“need another?” you asked, grabbing a random can from the shelf and holding it out for her. she stared at it for a few seconds before slowly reaching out for it.
“thank you,” she said quietly.
you cracked your own can open to take a drink, holding eye contact with her while doing so. she held her breath, clearly nervous about where this was going but you had a mischievous glint in your eyes.
“i’m glad you’re here,” you say, leaning your hip next to her hands against the counter. “i was beginning to think i’d never see you again.”
she pushed herself off, copying your position while facing you to use the height difference to her advantage. holy shit, when had she gotten this tall? well, she had been that height since high school, but the new body made her seem more powerful in her stance. she used to be a lanky kid who grew too fast for own body to keep up. she seemed to have gathered her composure as she smirked.
“are you saying you missed me?” she asked, seemingly assuming that she could make you nervous. you were a little nervous, but you knew you had the upper hand in this situation.
you tilted your head flirtatiously. “yeah, i did, but i didn’t expect you to look so...” you paused like you were coming up with a word to use, “different.”
she raised her eyebrows in shock, struggling to swallow from nervousness as her lips parted. you glanced at them then back at her eyes, knowing what you were doing. she seemed to be searching any part of her brain for a coherent reply, but was coming back with nothing.
you just smiled, taking a step back and walking back onto the porch to rejoin the conversation you had abandoned. and for the rest of the evening, you could feel paige’s eyes on you again, but you made zero effort to give her a glance back.
after the party had died down and it was far later than you intended to be awake, you sat in one of the chairs that had been left out with a drink in your hands, watching the water. you were below the deck, so just slightly out of the line of sight from the house so no one could see you and come interrupt your moment. that is, until you heard paige walking down the rickety old wooden steps. she jumped a little, like she had not expected to see someone there, but quickly recovered. you watched her for a moment before gesturing to the chair next to you in a silent command for her to sit down. she did, of course she did.
“what are you doing awake?” you ask in an accusing way, like she was in trouble.
she laughed at your tone. “trying to figure out what different means.”
admittedly, you were not expecting that answer or even anything similar to it. it took you a little off guard, but you were able to not make it obvious. she sat back in her chair casually, staring at you with intensity, waiting for the answer, and you did your best to match it.
“what do you want it to mean?” you asked.
“i don’t know,” she shrugged. “you’re the one who said it.”
you chuckled and looked away, nodding at her words. she obviously had an answer she was searching for, and you had one that probably aligned with it, but you did not want to give it to her right away.
“you’re not gonna tell me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
you shook your head stubbornly, making eye contact with her again. “i think you know.”
the air between you two was suddenly loaded, tiptoeing over the line that had never been crossed. you both knew where this was going, and you could cut the tension with a knife. though, she didn’t seem very patient to get the answer.
her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. she hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware of how close your chairs were. “i want you to say it.”
you pretended to think about it for a moment, even adding a little hum for dramatic effect.
“nah.”
you figured that would be the end of that, that you had made paige just nervous enough to back down. she would go back into the house and overthink this interaction. but she didn’t. she leaned in toward you, her eyes shifting to stare at your lips instead. she stopped just before your noses were touching.
“c’mon,” she murmured, brushing your noses together. “tell me.”
you consider giving into her game. you consider closing the gap and pressing your lips together in the kiss she’s obviously baiting for, to give her exactly what she wants. what she’s been waiting for.
but you don’t.
you bite your lip, turning your head forward toward the water.
“shoot,” you say as you stand, “i’m beat. think i better get to bed.”
she stares up at you with parted lips in shock, thinking she was going to finally get what she wanted. and she will, you intend to, but not right now. you want to tease her, string her along a bit more, make her desperate for it. but you didn’t have much time left to do so.
you walk back up the stairs of the porch without looking back at her, proudly smirking to yourself like it was an accomplishment. she stares at you as you do, not even able to be annoyed at how that played out. she doesn’t know why. she always gets what she wants, so she didn’t know why she wasn’t angry, let alone annoyed.
when you made it up to your bedroom, you closed the door softly to not wake anyone and flopped onto the bed. you stared at the ceiling with your arms crossed across your chest, thinking about how you were going to approach this. part of you wishes you had just given in and gotten what you both wanted, but this was fun. it was fun to know that you had power over her, the girl who would call herself the ultimate rizzler. maybe she was back at school, but you had yet to see it. here, she was all nervous smiles and glances and gentle touches that could be mistaken for something else. you had been the ones leading the conversations that were loaded with anything but friendliness.
even though he made jokes about it sometimes, you wondered if elijah would be mad about this. apparently, he used to love telling paige that you were home or that you’d be at a game to test her and see if she would react. she tried not to, but everyone could see right through it. which you had just learned this week from your dad after he had a few too many drinks. paige tried to play it cool, but you didn’t miss the blush that rose to her cheeks as he told the stories.
well, even if he would be mad, it’s not like you have to tell him. it’s not like you’re asking for her hand in marriage. you doubt that paige would tell him anything because why would he want to hear that stuff about his sister? you definitely wouldn’t want to hear about him from girls that he hooked up with.
the sound of a door closing in the hallway broke you from your thoughts. you knew it was paige’s, that she had finally come inside for the night. even though you wanted to keep her waiting longer, your body betrayed you as you pushed yourself off the bed and walked to your door. your hand hesitated on the knob for a second, because really, what were you doing? but you opened it nonetheless.
unfortunately, paige’s door was directly in front of yours. to make up for it, you stood stupidly in front of her door, contemplating just turning around and going back to bed. you didn’t know what to say or do once she opened it–if she opened it anyway. you almost wish she wouldn’t.
before you could even convince yourself not to, you knocked on the wood twice in an attempt not to wake anyone else up. you could hear shuffling from within the room, making your mind wander to what paige could be doing in there. you didn’t have too long to think about it before the door was creaking open, though.
her expression was a mix of emotions–both surprised and not surprised to see you standing there. surprised that you were standing there knocking on her door in the middle of the night, but not surprised because you were the only other person awake. she stared at you for a few moments, not really knowing what to say.
you didn’t know what to say either, but it didn’t matter. you reached your hand out to fist the collar of her shirt, pulling her down to your height and crashing your lips together. she made a surprised sound in the back of her throat, but quickly recovered to kiss back with an open-mouthed, heated intensity that you weren’t expecting. her hands flew to your waist, using them to tug you into the room. you used your other hand to close the door, so she took advantage of the opportunity to press your back against it, pressing your bodies together. you didn’t even realize that your hand had released the grip on her collar and had a light grip on her throat.
you must’ve accidentally squeezed because she whimpered against your lips, snapping you back to reality. you pulled away breathlessly, a look of disbelief in her eyes. you just smiled, leaning forward to give her another peck.
she tried to chase you, but you just whispered, “goodnight, paige.”
and with that, you spun on her heel, opening the door and closing it behind you. your heart was racing from what you just did, and you almost wanted to skip back to your room from the giddiness. that wasn’t even your intention, but you knew it would definitely linger in her mind.
behind the door, paige was staring at it in shock. her hands were still in the same position they were in on your waist and her jaw dropped. one, because she couldn’t believe that actually happened. and two, because you really did her like that. like, what the actual fuck? she had half a mind to march her ass across the hallway and give her a piece of her mind.
she didn’t, though. she did exactly what you wanted–didn’t sleep, just stared at the ceiling wondering if she was hallucinating.
you thought that you would probably do the same, but as soon as you laid down, you found yourself falling asleep.
at around 10am the following morning, there was a knock at your door. you groaned loudly, extremely annoyed that someone decided to wake you up from the best sleep you had in months. they were polite, at least, because they were waiting for you to answer instead of barging in (so it definitely was not your parents). you huffed as you sat up in bed, throwing the covers dramatically and padded over to the door.
you turned the knob and pulled it open to see paige standing there with a disheveled bun like she had been tossing and turning all night, and a blank look like she was trying to mask how she was really feeling. it woke you up, suddenly remembering what you had done to her last night. before you could even say anything, she was using one hand to push you back into the room and closed the door behind her, eyes on yours the whole time.
“good morning to you, too,” you laughed.
“you think this is funny?” she deadpanned. it definitely caught you a little off guard, and had you wondering if she was genuinely angry at you. you definitely wouldn’t blame her if she was, but you also didn’t really think it was that serious.
“maybe a little,” you shrugged nonchalantly. though, you didn’t really feel nonchalant at the moment. your heart was pounding against your ribcage and you were struggling to control your breathing, but you hoped it wasn’t obvious to her.
she blew a laugh out of her nose, clearly unamused, and rolled her eyes. you watched as she bit the inside of her cheek, but you couldn’t tell if she was trying to figure out what to say next or if she was genuinely upset.
“y’know what you do to me?”
you tilt your head slightly, raising your eyebrows like you’re confused–playing dumb. obviously you do, you both know that, but this was unclaimed territory. you had never really been friends, let alone anything close to where you are now, and everything changed last night. you would never be able to take back the one thing that completely changed the trajectory.
“tell me,” you say so softly it was almost a whisper.
“i think you know,” she replies with a smirk, copying you from last night.
you hesitate for a few moments to weigh your options on where to go from here. you know you could keep asking and she would probably tell you, but she’s even more stubborn than you. you could leave her hanging for the third time in twenty-four hours, but what’s the fun in that?
“i do.”
she swallows hard, clearly not expecting an upfront answer like that. she completely expected you to dance around the subject like you had been–to keep her wondering and hanging onto an idea that she wasn’t even sure was real. not that she had a reason to doubt anymore after last night. her face was unreadable, but you could tell that she was nervous now. she didn’t expect that answer, and now wasn’t really sure what to do. she didn’t think she’d get this far, to be honest.
instead of waiting for her to make the first move like you planned, you put your hands on her waist, fisted her shirt, and backed her against the door like she did to you last night. her breathing sped up enough for you to see the shallow rise and fall of her chest, relishing in the power you had at the moment. you pressed your bodies together and brushed your noses together, not wanting to close the gap yet. her lips parted as you did so, her eyes closing in anticipation.
a smile rises to your face when you decide to pull away again, loving this game you were playing. she seemed to not return the feeling, though, because she automatically reached out to grab your throat and crash your lips together again. you expected it to be intense and fast like last night, but she kissed you slow and sensually like she was trying to savor the moment–like she didn’t know if this would ever happen again.
you loosened the grip on her shirt to press your hands on the small of her back and press your bodies impossibly closer. she tangled her other hand in your hair, but didn’t pull.
“you’re drivin’ me crazy,” she whispered into your mouth, but didn’t give you any time to reply.
the heat of your lips and bodies pressing together was more passionate than you had ever felt in your life. you didn’t know what it was–if it was the anticipation or the amount of want between the two of you. she was definitely still holding back, and you wanted paige to let her guard down fully.
the hand she had on your throat slid down slightly to your chest, using the position to lightly push you backwards. you didn’t even take the time to think about what she was doing, but her intentions were clear when the back of your legs hit the bed. she gave you a light shove so you fell backwards, your back hitting the soft mattress with a soft thud. she didn’t waste any time grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head as she smirked down at you, exposing her black nike sports bra.
you figured she would immediately crawl on top of you to continue kissing you, but she sank to her knees in front of you. you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch her curiously. she held eye contact as her palms smoothed over the skin of your legs from your ankles up to your knees. then, she leaned forward to place a soft kiss along the inside of your knee, trailing up your thighs slowly with close-mouthed pecks. when she reached the hem of your shorts, she placed a kiss to your other leg and trailed back down to your other knee, her hands coming up to smooth over your thighs.
wetness pooled in your shorts at the touch. even though you would be content going slow if you were in her position, you wanted her to speed up and move to where you wanted her the most. it was only okay when you teased like this.
and you thought she was going to give in as you watched her face get closer, but instead, she used both hands to push up your t-shirt to expose your abdomen and placed a kiss just above the waistband of your shorts. she started to trail her kisses up your stomach toward your breasts, but you interrupted her.
“paige,” you groaned in annoyance, trying to resist the urge to push her head down.
she just laughed against your skin. “what?” she asked with a combination of amusement and innocence dripping in her tone.
you rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh. honestly, you had no right to be complaining after last night, but that was your game to play. you were supposed to be the one in control of the situation, not her.
“i thought you were patient,” she accused playfully.
“i never claimed to be,” you replied, but you knew exactly what she was referring to anyway.
she shook her head, a light chuckle leaving her lips. one of her hands traveled from your shirt slowly down your stomach to your shorts, teasingly tracing over your clit through the fabric. the sensation was more intense than you thought it would be due to your lack of underwear. you expected her to move her hand again when she noticed, just to keep you waiting, but instead, she lowered her hand and mouthed over it through the fabric. you sighed, placing one of your hands on the back of her head.
her pointer finger hooked around the waistband of your shorts to tug them down. you lifted your hips directly into her face to assist her, causing her to laugh, but you didn’t even think about it. you just wanted her to stop wasting time, to stop teasing. once your shorts are off, she doesn’t do anything for almost an entire minute, just stares at you to take it all in. she almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.
“paige,” you impatiently groan again, “seriously.”
without any hesitation, she leans forward and flattens her tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance up to your clit while making sure she’s holding eye contact the whole time. you bite back a moan, not wanting anyone in the house to hear you. but when she starts to circle your clit with her tongue at a fast pace that you weren’t expecting, you can’t hold it back. her hips buck forward slightly and thighs clench together at the sound, loving that she is the one making you feel like that.
you should’ve known she would be good at this. you’re sure she has all the girls falling to her knees back in storrs, connecticut. she probably has so many girls crying over her, wishing they would be next, and you say a silent thank you to whoever taught her to do this so you could experience it.
one of her fingers traces your entrance lightly causing you to grasp her hair, probably messing up her bun, but neither of you care. she pushes two fingers inside you and your back arches off the mattress. they curl inside you as she pumps them in and out slowly. the contrast of her tongue quickly circling and her fingers moving slowly makes you buck into her face, and she moans against you. you can’t help the way your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling.
she pulls her mouth away to gauge your reaction, speeding up her fingers and using her thumb against your clit to make up for it.
“does that feel good?” she asks lowly, but you couldn’t help but notice that she sounds genuine too. like she isn’t confident in her abilities–her amazing abilities, mind you.
you open your eyes to meet hers, seeing a genuinely curious glint in her eyes. “so good, paige. you’re doing so good for me.”
her eyes widen, hips bucking forward again. you hadn’t even touched her yet but she was having to squeeze her thighs together to keep from coming in her pants. she couldn’t help it though–the teasing, the sensual kisses, your moans caused by her. it was shocking too, she doesn’t know if she has ever gotten off this much and this fast just from pleasing someone else. maybe it’s because it’s you, the girl she’s been waiting for to finally look her way.
her mouth is back on you again, but this time, instead of her fingers moving slowly while her tongue quickly swirls, her fingers are moving fast too. they’re curling inside you desperately trying to find your spot. it’s so much, and you can feel the pressure building in your stomach already.
“shit,” you moan, trying to hold back your release. “fucking me like you were made for me.”
but then she moans against you again, and that’s all you need before your stomach tenses and you’re coming on her fingers. she keeps the pace, working you through it relentlessly which drags it out much longer than you expected it to last.
you twitch as you begin to come down, but paige doesn’t stop.
“w-wait–fuck, paige,” you stutter out. your hips attempt to buck away, but she throws her arm across your hips and squeezes to keep you in place, and your unoccupied hand presses against her forehead. you apply a little pressure, but not enough to actually push her off. it’s too much but it feels so good–you can’t decide if you want her to keep going or stop.
“i’m not done,” she murmurs–or maybe whimpers is the more appropriate word.
you moan loudly as your thighs clench tightly around her head, but she doesn’t care. she continues to fuck her fingers into you at an intense pace, circling her tongue like she wasn’t losing any stamina. it only takes about a minute before you’re falling apart again, but you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it.
with your head thrown back against the mattress, you don’t even notice the way she’s clenching her thighs to hide her own orgasm.
luckily (or unluckily), she slows her pace this time to help you work through it. when you finally came down, she pulled her fingers out causing you to wince at the sudden emptiness. then, she slowly stood, trying to cover up the way her legs were shaking a little bit. she sheepishly bit her lip, hoping you didn’t notice the way she had just came in her pants in a touchless orgasm.
you do notice her legs shaking, though. you sit up, placing your hands on the sides of her thighs and smoothing over the skin.
“you’re shaking,” your voice is soft as you say it, and she can’t meet your eyes.
your hands quickly move up to tug her shorts down her thighs. when she realizes what you’re doing, she scrambles to help you. after she steps out of them, you move your hands to her hips to tug her into your lap. she complies, straddling your thighs awkwardly. clearly, she didn’t do this often either. you groan when she settles herself down completely, feeling the wetness through her underwear brush against the muscle of your thigh. not only that, but the way her clit is pulsing too.
“fuck, paige,” you moan, looking up at her with amazement, “did you come already?”
“no,” she replies a little too quickly. but you don’t miss the way her cheeks turn red.
“you’re so cute,” you laugh, leaning forward to press your lips together.
she cradled your face in her hands as your lips move together slowly. you used the placement of your hands on her hips to grind her against your thigh.
“is that okay?” you whispered against her lips.
she started to grind her hips slowly on her own, then whispered, “yes.”
“i want you to make yourself come again.”
you pulled your lips away from hers to kiss down her neck, nipping at the skin while making sure you didn’t leave any marks so she didn’t get in trouble with her coaches. she threw her head back in a moan at the feeling.
“you look so good in my lap like this,” you reply. “so desperate for me.”
her head drops to bury itself in your neck, a whimper leaving her lips. one of her hands gripped at the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling slightly. you couldn’t help but smile at her even though she couldn’t see it.
“feels so good,” she whispered hesitantly like she was nervous to say anything. “never want to stop. i could fuck you all day.”
you moan as your hips bucked up to meet hers causing your thigh to press against her harder.
“fuck, i’m gonna–” she didn’t even get to finish her sentence before she was crying out and coming hard on your thigh, still sensitive from her orgasm earlier.
“that’s it, baby. so good for me,” you say, smoothing your hands over her back in a comforting way.
when she came down and stopped twitching, you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist and pulled her back as you allowed your back to meet the mattress, her lying on top of you. giggles erupted from her lips at the action which caused you to laugh at the adorable sound.
free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 mom!paige! the life of paige bueckers, her lovely wife and their two kids -- dax and jelly bueckers
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 descriptions of motherhood, temper tantrums, angst at some points, more fluffy than anything.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 3.3k
ᝰ 𝒆𝒗'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 | this is a new au i want to start!!! ive always loved the concept of mom paige and now IM OBSESSED. i could not decide between girl mom paige, or boy mom paige then realized... i have free will! why not have both??
pls send in your thoughts about this AU so far!!! id love to hear them<3
You learn the sound of your footsteps before you learn the sound of the house.
Dax’s footsteps are fast and uneven, like he’s always half a second away from tripping over himself. Jelly’s are lighter and more chaotic, punctuated by sudden stops when she decides she is done walking. Paige moves differently, measured even when she’s rushing, every step purposeful and familiar in a way that makes your body relax before your brain catches up.
Right now, it’s all three.
You’re awake before the sun, not because you want to be, but because someone is whisper-yelling your name from the hallway.
“Mama,” Jelly stage-whispers, which is just yelling with intention. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”
You roll onto your side, eyes half-open, just in time to see her small silhouette in the doorway. Her blonde hair sticks up in three different directions, clutching her favorite stuffed animal (some unidentifiable creature that used to be a bunny before years of love).
“What’s wrong?” you murmur, arms already opening.
She waddles toward you and climbs onto the bed like she’s scaling a mountain. “No sleep,” she says seriously.
Behind her, Dax appears, already fully awake, vibrating with energy. He’s tall (too tall for almost eight) and somehow managed to outgrow the pajama pants you bought him two months ago. He’s dribbling an imaginary basketball, whispering play-by-play commentary under his breath.
Paige leans against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand, watching all of it with a soft, tired smile she doesn’t realize she’s wearing.
“Good morning,” she says.
Dax grins. “Mom, can we go outside later? I want to practice crossovers. Coach said-”
Paige raises an eyebrow. “It’s six in the morning.”
“So?” he says, like this is the dumbest question she’s ever asked.
Jelly, meanwhile, has burrowed into your chest, fingers fisted in your shirt. “Mama,” she says again, content now that she’s found her spot.
Paige watches that too. Always does.
She doesn’t say anything, but you see it: the way her shoulders tense just slightly, the way her smile falters for a fraction of a second before she smooths it out. You’ve learned her tells over the years, learned them through college games and injuries and press conferences and pregnancies and late-night conversations whispered into pillows.
Paige Bueckers is an incredible mom.
She just doesn’t always believe it.
Your first pregnancy with Dax hit when Paige was at the absolute peak of her career. Endorsements, travel, expectations stacking higher and higher. She was home less. Tired more. Still attentive, still loving, but stretched thinner than she liked to admit.
She knew what to do.
From the moment Dax wrapped his tiny fingers around hers, Paige was locked in. He became her little shadow. He learned to crawl by chasing after her shoes. His first word was something dangerously close to “ball.” By the time he was four, he could name more NBA/WNBA players than most adults.
They were best friends in a way that made you smile. Inside jokes, secret handshakes, hours spent watching game film together while you pretended not to notice Paige explaining defensive schemes to a preschooler.
Dax adored her, and Paige soaked it up like proof she was doing something right.
Jelly was different from the start.
Angelica (Jelly) Bueckers was born during a strange, liminal time in Paige’s career when she was already great, already known, but still hungry, still climbing. She was terrified she’d miss something important. Terrified she’d be gone too much, that she wouldn’t know what to do.
You carried Jelly slower than Dax. Heavier. More aware of everything that could go wrong. Paige hovered when she could, hands always on your back, your stomach, your shoulders. When she couldn’t be there, she called, left you voice memos she recorded in empty locker rooms.
Jelly came into the world screaming like she had somewhere else to be.
She never stopped moving after that.
She learned to walk early, then immediately decided walking was for losers and took off running. The apartment became a hazard zone with coffee tables, corners, anything she could climb. By the time she was eighteen months, you and Paige were touring houses with yards because Jelly needed space to sprint like her life depended on it.
That’s how you ended up here.
A big house, huge backyard, grass worn down in uneven patches from little feet and basketball drills and Paige chasing both kids until she pretends she’s out of breath just to make them laugh.
Jelly loves Paige.
She just loves you differently.
You’re comfort. You’re the one who knows which cup she wants, how she likes her blanket folded, which song calms her down when she’s spiraling. Paige is excitement - games, noise, energy, the parent who riles her up and then hands her back to you when she crashes.
Paige knows this.
Some days, it eats at her.
Later that afternoon, Paige sits on the back steps with Dax, a basketball between them. He’s chattering a mile a minute, demonstrating a move he learned from watching highlights. Paige nods, engaged, correcting his footwork with gentle taps.
You’re inside with Jelly, who is mid-tantrum because you gave her the wrong snack.
“No,” she says for the fifth time, tears welling dramatically. “Mama. No.”
You crouch in front of her. “This is the snack you asked for.”
“No,” she insists, even though you both know she does want it.
From the doorway, Paige watches.
She doesn’t interrupt, rarely does when it comes to Jelly and you. She lets you handle it, even when it hurts a little to feel unnecessary.
Later, after both kids are finally asleep, Paige sits at the kitchen table, staring into nothing.
“You ever feel like,” she starts, then stops.
You wait.
She exhales. “Like I’m failing her.”
Your chest tightens. You move closer, resting your hands over hers. “Who?”
“Jelly,” she says immediately. “I mean... both of them, sometimes. But Jelly especially. She doesn’t want me the way she wants you.”
“She’s three,” you say gently. “She wants comfort.”
Paige nods, jaw tight. “I know. I just-” She shakes her head. “I’m gone so much. What if she grows up and I’m just… background noise?”
You squeeze her hands. “Paige. She’s going to grow up thinking her mom is the coolest person alive.”
Paige laughs weakly. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” you say. “Right now, I’m the safe place. You’re the fun one. One day she’s going to realize you’re the one who taught her how to be brave.”
Paige looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes soft in a way the world never sees.
“You’re really good at this,” she says quietly.
“At being a mom?”
“At being… us,” she says.
You smile. “So are you.”
Down the hall, Jelly sighs in her sleep. Dax mutters something about basketball dreams. The house settles.
The car ride home is quiet in a way that makes your chest ache.
Dax sits in the backseat, slumped low, hoodie pulled over his head even though it’s not cold. His basketball bag is wedged at his feet, zipper still half open, a stray sock hanging out like it gave up trying. Normally, he’d be talking - replaying drills, complaining about refs, asking if Paige saw his text about a move he nailed in warmups.
Today, nothing.
You glance at him in the rearview mirror. His jaw is tight, eyes are glossy, fixed on the window like he’s daring himself to blink.
“How was practice?” you ask gently, even though you already know.
He shrugs. “Fine.”
It’s the flattest word in the English language.
You pull out of the parking lot, waiting. Eight-year-olds can only hold it in for so long. Sure enough, two minutes pass. Then three. Then-
“I didn’t get first string,” he says suddenly, voice cracking despite his best effort to keep it steady.
Your heart sinks. “Oh, buddy.”
“They put Tyler in,” he continues, words tumbling out now that the dam’s broken. “Coach said it’s not permanent and that I just need to keep working but I already work hard. I do extra drills. I listen. I don’t mess around like some of the other kids.”
His voice wobbles, and he presses his sleeve hard against his eyes, furious with himself for it.
You signal and pull over into a quiet side street, putting the car in park. You twist in your seat to face him. “Dax,” you say softly. “Not getting first string doesn’t mean you’re bad.”
“Yes it does,” he snaps, then immediately looks guilty. “Sorry. I just-” He swallows. “I wanted Mom to see.”
That’s the part that gets you.
Paige is in another state tonight. Away game. You’d FaceTimed her before practice, her already in team gear, telling Dax she was proud of him no matter what. You can picture her now - all locked in, no idea her son is unraveling over a gym rotation chart.
“I know,” you say quietly. “She’ll still be proud.”
He shakes his head hard. “You don’t get it.”
You reach back and rest a hand on his knee. “Help me get it.”
He hesitates, then blurts, “She’s really good at basketball. Like, really good. What if I’m not?”
The question hangs there, heavy and unfair and too big for an eight-year-old to carry.
You open your mouth, ready to reassure him, to tell him all the right things but before you can, he sniffles and adds, voice barely above a whisper, “I just want Mom.”
That stops you cold.
You don’t take it personally. You know this moment belongs to Paige. You pull your phone out without another word.
“Okay,” you say. “Let’s call her.”
Paige answers on the third ring, breathless. “Hey, baby. Everything okay?”
She’s still in uniform, hair damp, locker room noise echoing behind her. You angle the phone so Dax can see her.
He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at her, lips pressed together, eyes shiny.
Paige’s expression changes instantly.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Ducky?”
He winces. “Don’t call me that.”
She smiles, gentle. “Mm. That’s how I know it’s bad.”
She looks at you. You mouth, first string. Paige nods, jaw setting with quiet understanding.
“Hang on,” she says, already moving. “Let me step out.”
You watch her weave through the locker room, push open a door into a hallway. The noise fades and she props the phone up somewhere and crouches so she’s eye-level with the screen.
“Okay,” she says. “Tell me everything.”
Dax takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t get first string and Coach said it’s fine but I think he’s just saying that, and Tyler’s not even better than me, he just... louder. And I practiced really hard and-” His voice breaks. “What if I’m just not good?”
Paige doesn’t interrupt, lets him get it all out, nodding along, eyes locked on his like nothing else in the world exists.
When he finally runs out of words, she speaks.
“Hey,” she says gently. “Do you know who Michael Jordan is?”
Dax sniffles. “Yeah, obviously.”
Paige smiles. “Did you know he got cut from his high school basketball team?”
Your eyebrows lift slightly. This was the story everyone heard in elementary and middle school, the one that plays at every assembly. Even though it’s not entirely true, everyone believed it as a kid. It’s like a rite of passage.
Dax’s eyes widen. “He did?”
“Yep,” Paige says, solemn. “Didn’t make the team. Went home. Cried. Thought he wasn’t good enough.”
Dax leans closer to the phone, hooked.
“And then,” Paige continues, “you know what he did?”
“What?”
“He worked. Every single day. He practiced harder than everyone else. And he became Michael Jordan.”
Dax is quiet for a moment, absorbing this. “So… getting cut doesn’t mean you’re bad?”
“No,” Paige says firmly. “It means you’re being challenged.”
He frowns. “But what if I never get first string?”
Paige tilts her head. “Then you keep showing up, keep loving the game. And one day, you look back and realize this was just a step, not the whole story.”
He picks at a loose thread on his hoodie. “It still sucks.”
She laughs softly. “Yeah. It really does.”
That honesty seems to help more than anything. He exhales, shoulders relaxing just a little.
Paige watches Dax through the screen for a second longer than she needs to. He’s still hunched, shoulders pulled inward like he’s trying to make himself smaller. She recognizes it instantly. She’s worn that posture before.
“Hey,” she says, quieter now. “Can I tell you something?”
Dax shrugs. “Okay.”
She takes a breath. You can see it - this isn’t a canned speech. This is her choosing honesty.
“When I was in college,” she starts, “I was playing the best basketball of my life. Like… everything was clicking. I felt like I was on top of the world, I was number one in the country.”
Dax’s eyes flicker up.
“And then,” Paige continues, “I hurt my knee. Bad. ACL. Doctors, surgeries, months where I couldn’t even run.”
Dax frowns. “That’s the big one, right?”
“Yeah,” she says. “The really big one.”
He swallows. “Were you scared?”
Paige nods immediately. “Terrified.”
She leans closer to the phone, voice steady but raw. “I thought it was over. I really did. I thought, that’s it, that was my chance and I blew it. I watched my team play without me, watched other people get better while I was stuck doing exercises that felt stupid and slow.”
Dax picks at the string on his hoodie again. “Did you cry?”
She smiles sadly. “A lot. Like… a lot.”
That earns the tiniest ghost of a smile from him.
“And you know what the worst part was?” she adds. “It wasn’t the pain. It was the voice in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough anymore.”
Dax looks up fully now. “The voice that says mean stuff?”
“Exactly that one,” Paige says. “The one that lies.”
She lets that sit for a second.
“But I kept working,” she says. “Even when it sucked. Even when I didn’t believe it would matter. And now” she shrugs lightly. “I’m playing in the WNBA. People call me one of the best.”
Dax’s eyes widen. “Yeah. You are.”
Paige’s smile softens. “And that didn’t happen because everything went perfectly. It happened because things went wrong and I didn’t quit.”
He thinks about that, chewing on the inside of his cheek the way he does when he’s processing something big.
“So,” he says slowly, “not getting first string doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“No,” Paige says firmly. “It means you’re in the middle of it.”
He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath since the gym.
“And Dax,” she adds, voice warming. “You’re my kid. I know how you work. I’ve seen you practice in the backyard until you’re drenched in sweat. I’ve seen you mess up and try again instead of giving up.”
She grins. “That’s not luck. That’s you.”
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
She smiles. “And hey.”
“What?”
“You’re still my favorite basketball buddy.”
He groans. “Mom.”
She grins. “Sorry. My tall, dramatic, very good-at-basketball Ducky.”
“I hate that name,” he mutters.
She laughs. “Sure you do.”
You watch him the whole time. How his breathing evens out, how the weight seems to lift just enough for him to sit up straighter.
“I love you,” Paige says softly.
“Love you too,” he replies, quieter now.
She looks at you. “Thank you.”
You smile. “Always.”
The call ends. Dax leans back in his seat, exhausted but calmer.
After a minute, he says, “Mama?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we practice later?”
You glance at the basketball bag, then back at him. “Yeah,” you say. “We can.”
He nods, finally letting his eyes close as the car starts moving again.
The house is loud in a good way.
It smells like grilled food and sunscreen and the faint sweetness of whatever dessert someone brought without telling you what it was. Music hums low through the speakers Paige set up in the backyard, people are everywhere, clustered around the grill, stretched out on patio chairs, leaning against the fence.
This is the first big thing you’ve hosted here. A housewarming, technically, though it’s really just an excuse for Paige’s teammates to come over and see the place and eat too much food. They’ve taken to the house like they belong in it - shoes kicked off by the door, laughter echoing down the hallway.
Jelly is in heaven.
She’s darting between people, ponytail bouncing, cheeks flushed from excitement. She loves Paige’s teammates - her “aunts,” as Dax calls them. They scoop her up, spin her around, let her steal food off their plates. She giggles loudly, and for a while everything is perfect.
Dax is outside with a basketball, of course. A small group has formed around him, cheering dramatically every time he makes a shot. He’s eating it up, chest puffed out, basking in the attention.
Paige stands near you, drink in hand, watching it all with a soft expression she doesn’t bother hiding.
“Look at this,” she says quietly. “We did this.”
You smile. “We really did.”
It happens fast.
One second, Jelly is laughing, being passed from arm to arm, her voice bright and high. The next, there’s a sharp change in pitch - a cry that cuts through the noise like a siren.
You and Paige both turn at the same time.
Jelly stands in the middle of the yard, hands clenched at her sides, face crumpling as tears spill over. One of Paige’s teammates crouches in front of her, concern written all over her face, but Jelly steps back, shaking her head violently.
For a split second, it seems like she might come to you. She looks in your direction, eyes searching.
Then-
“Mommy!”
The word is loud. Desperate, broken in half by a sob.
Paige freezes for exactly one heartbeat.
Then she’s moving.
She crosses the yard in long, fast strides, not running but close, urgency radiating off her. You stop short instinctively, watching as Paige drops to her knees in front of Jelly.
Jelly launches herself forward, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt like she’s afraid Paige might disappear if she loosens her grip. Her face presses into Paige’s shoulder, sobs hitching and wet and unrestrained.
Paige gathers her up without hesitation, one arm under her legs, the other secure around her back. She stands, rocking gently, murmuring nonsense words and reassurances into Jelly’s hair.
You see it then - the way Paige’s body softens, the way she tucks Jelly in close like it’s muscle memory.
“It’s okay,” Paige whispers. “Too loud? Too much? I know. I know.”
Jelly clings tighter, sniffling, her little hands fisted in Paige’s hoodie.
Around you, the noise dips, people pretending not to stare but watching anyway. Someone turns the music down a notch. The moment is quiet in a way that feels intimate.
Paige doesn’t rush it, doesn’t try to pass Jelly off, just holds her, swaying slowly until the sobs ease into hiccupping breaths.
Eventually, Paige carries her back over to you and sinks down onto the outdoor couch beside you. Jelly stays glued to her, cheek pressed against Paige’s chest, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
Paige adjusts her grip, settling Jelly more comfortably, one hand rubbing slow circles into her back.
Paige glances at you, something tentative in her expression. “I mean... she just-”
You cut her off gently. “She knows I’m here.”
Paige searches your face.
“She just wanted her mommy,” you add, smiling softly. “That’s all.”
Paige’s lips curve into a small, almost disbelieving smile. It’s subtle, but you see it. The way her shoulders relax, the way she exhales like she’s been holding something in all along.
Jelly sighs, finally calm, still clinging but peaceful now.
Paige presses a kiss to the top of her head, eyes shining just a little.
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contains. smut, semi public sex, kinda porn without plot
notes. not proofread, short and kinda bad but it's something for the girls something for the summertime we don't care about the streams, named after miniskirt by aoa
words. 1.33k
two hours.
that’s how long paige has been slumped against the cushion in this fitting room while you try on clothes. the two of you are visiting new york for the week, and she’d taken you to fifth avenue for a little shopping spree, giving you free reign over her credit card. whatever you want, baby, she’d grinned as she handed you her platinum amex. you’re super into fashion and posting your outfits on social media, and nothing makes her happier than seeing you enjoy yourself. she just didn’t think it would take forever.
in retrospect, she should’ve known by the way your eyes lit up when the two of you strolled into this store, after browsing at chanel and zara— like a kid entering a toys–r–us for the first time. dragging you out of here is going to be like pulling teeth.
she’s hungry and bored and she wants to go to the lego store, but every time you swear there’s just one more thing you need to try on, you return with a whole handful of new things, not even looking the slightest bit apologetic.
speaking of the devil.
there you are, arms overflowing again, looking thrilled and not even a little bit sorry as you meet her eyes.
“babe, isn’t this so cute?” you ask, holding up a white blouse. it’s quite plain, but it’d look good on you, especially with your styling expertise.
“it’s aight,” she says, truthfully. “it’d look if you were wearing it.”
“i could totally style it with these trousers and those heels from chanel…” you start your babbling as you approach the rack full of clothes that you’re for sure buying, holding the blouse to the pants you’re talking about and visualizing them as an outfit.
you go on like that, doing your thing, while paige just goes back to boredly staring at her phone, one arm stretched over the back of the cushion and manspreading leisurely. she wonders if this place will let her doordash some wingstop…
every so often, the same female employee comes in to snoop around, taking the garments you for sure aren’t purchasing for re–shop. she laughs when she comes around for a third time and asks if you’re all set, and you and paige answer at the same time: a delighted no from you while paige groans hers.
another forty–five minutes pass. when paige looks up again, it’s to gauge whether or not you finally seem ready to go.
instead, she catches a glimpse of you in this tiny, tiny black dress. it’s strapless, sculpted high along the bust with a sharp, curved neckline that dips into a strange but aesthetically pleasing cut–out, like something out of an art exhibit. the fabric clings to you like it was poured on, molding to every line of your body before stopping dangerously high on your thighs. paige’s mouth goes a little dry. suddenly, she’s not so bored anymore.
“damn,” she comments, sitting upright. your gaze meets hers through the mirror as you pose, and you grin.
“you like?” you ask, turning to face her and pose again. “it’s ysl. i was thinking i could wear it to the nike dinner party thing.”
paige stands, sauntering over toward you. her hands find their designated place on your waist, sliding down to your hips as she admires the dress up close. “there’s no way you’re wearing this around anyone else.” she murmurs, leaning in close.
the words cause heat to stir low in your gut, and you lean back into her touch. “but paige,” you whine, though you’re pleased with the sight of her pressed up behind you in the mirror, her hands on your hips complimenting the dress better than any piece of jewelry ever could. “it’d be so good.”
she doesn’t answer, head dipping down between your shoulder as her lips press to your neck, one of her hands moving up your thigh. “paige,” you gasp as the hand slips between your legs, disappearing into the dress.
“look so good, baby,” paige says into your neck, the pads of her fingers dragging along your panties. she feels the way your body jolts as they graze over your clit through the fabric, whimpering, and hums contently when they find the patch of warm wetness already leaking through. she presses against it, teasing your entrance, and your thighs attempt clamp around her wrist. “fuck.” she whispers.
“someone could walk in,” you protest weakly, core throbbing, thinking back to the employee. it hasn’t been long since she last checked in, but still.
paige is aware. she just can’t bring herself to care— not when you look like this, and you’re hers to take.
“thought you wanted people to see you, though?” paige asks, lifting her head from your neck and looking at you through the mirror, eyes piercingly blue. “thinking you’re gonna wear this shit to a dinner…”
“not like that— oh,” you cut yourself off with a moan as one of paige’s fingers works it’s way past the barrier of your painties and into you. your knees go weak, and paige’s free hand immediately comes to hold you up by your waist before you fall forward. she pushes up against you so that your front is pressed to the mirror, hands bracing themselves on the glass, before she starts thrusting, eye–wateringly slow.
“nah, exactly like that,” she corrects you, working in a second finger. “shit. so fuckin’ tight.” she groans, feeling you clench around her digits, insides warm and slick.
“f–fuck,” you gasp, back arching, pushing back and forcing her fingers impossibly deeper. you moan lewdly at the feeling, letting your head loll back onto paige’s shoulder, chasing it.
“you want ‘em to hear you, too, slut?” paige chides, and you bite down on your lip, attempting to contain your sounds.
she adjusts, flexing her arm so that she can fuck you how you really need it, increasing her speed while also pressing the heel of her palm to your achey, still–clothed clit. the pressure is just what you need, unable to hold back your moans any longer. you keen out her name.
paige tuts, sliding the hand she’s not using to fuck you up over your throat, pushing her fingers into your mouth, effectively shutting you up. it forces you to look forward into the foggy mirror at yourself, sucking on your girlfriend’s fingers, dress bunched at your hips with her hand between your legs, the still–attached tag jerking with the force of of your movements.
“tonight, when we get back the hotel,” paige breathes. the muscles in her arm are straining and her fingers beginning to cramp. still, she doesn’t let up. “i’mma fuck you so hard with my cock, you can be as loud as you want. that what you want?”
you mean to say yes, but it sounds more like mmmgh with paige’s fingers in your mouth. it doesn’t matter, because paige understands you loud and clear, knows exactly what you’re thinking, can tell that you’re close by the way your pussy clenches around her, thighs quiver, moans almost too loud to muffle.
you cum right then, hard, cunt pulsing around paige’s fingers. it gets all over her hands, your panties, the dress.
she removes her hand from your mouth and gives you time to recover, catch your breath, before easing her fingers out of your pussy. brings them to her mouth, sucks them clean.
it takes a good minute for the haze to subside, and when it does you’re immediately grossed out by the wet feeling between your thighs. then, you’re hit with a realization that has you turning to paige with a smug grin.
“you have to buy it now,” you say, voice hoarse. “i’m wearing it to the dinner.”
“that’s fine,” paige shrugs, though there’s that unmistakeable mischievous glint in her eyes. “as long as you wear it like that.”
