#zookiesfics

[averyspizookies]

Hiii pooks! Happy game day! ( kind of) anyways, who else is surprised Ive actually kept my promise of posting every game day because im lowkey surprised to! Please send in more request!! Thats the only way i can keep these coming out consistently:) Feeback and I’ll get you a pet monkey okay bye ily.

*****

Word count: 3k?

CW: drinking/drunk

******

The hotel ballroom had been gutted and reborn as a club for the night—low lights, neon strips curling along the walls, bass pounding so hard the floorboards rattled. It was All-Star Weekend, and the league had gone all out. Everyone who was anyone in women’s basketball was crammed inside—rookies, vets, overseas stars, agents, influencers orbiting the same area.

And in the middle of it all was Paige Bueckers, the loudest of them all.

She was perched on the edge of a makeshift stage, one sneaker planted on a speaker, hair wild and damp against her temples from dancing too hard. Her blazer was tied around her waist, tank top clinging, and she had a glass cup in each hand like dual trophies.

“YEAAAAH!” she screamed, head thrown back, voice cracking but uncaring. Her grin was stupid and wide. Someone from across the crowd screamed her name back, and Paige flexed like she’d just won MVP.

She took another huge swig from the cup in her left hand, then the one in her right, wobbling as she did it. She blinked at them, confused, like she couldn’t remember which one was which, then shrugged and kept both.

A wave of heat and bodies surged around her—teammates grinding against teammates, strangers laughing, people half-shouting, half-singing over the music. Sweat hung in the air like humidity. Lights strobed across faces, making it all a blur of motion and teeth and glitter.

Paige was right at home.

She hopped down from the speaker, landing clumsily, bumping into some poor rookie guard from the Pacers. “My bad, lil bro!” she shouted, steadying him by the shoulders. Then, with that tipsy charisma only she could pull off, she added, “You cold though, keep shootin’, they gonna know your name by next year. Trust.”

The rookie blinked, nodded like he’d just been blessed, and Paige wandered off before he could answer.

Ice was somewhere near the bar, shaking her head at her best friend’s antics, but Paige was long past caring. The drinks had her floaty, her temples buzzing sharp and fizzy. Every beat of the music seemed to ripple through her chest, making her want to yell even louder.

“ALLLLL-STAR WEEKEND, BABYYYY!” Paige bellowed at nobody in particular, spinning in a slow, uneven circle, arms outstretched. She almost toppled, but someone caught her elbow. Paige laughed, hair falling in her face, eyes glassy and shining.

The truth was, she’d been waiting for a night like this. She’d been grinding through season after season, injury after injury, endless travel, media, responsibility. Tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about letting go—about screaming until her voice broke and dancing like she was still a teenager sneaking into a house party back in Hopkins.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. She was here, in this moment. She was a star. She was young, dumb, tipsy, and alive.

She tossed one of her half-finished cups to some stranger and raised the other high, yelling along to a random drake song blasting over the speakers. She had her eyes closed, head back, chest heaving with laughter, like nothing in the world could touch her.

She didn’t notice the familiar figure slipping into the room.

Not yet.

Paige had just finished yelling the entire chorus of a song she only half-knew when a familiar hand hooked her arm and yanked her sideways out of the song.

“I swear to God, P,” Ice muttered, steadying her before she toppled, “you’re two seconds away from face-planting.”

Paige blinked, wobbling in Ice’s grip. Her eyes were glassy, her grin crooked. “What do ya mean? I’m fine.” She tried to pull herself upright, straightening her shoulders like she was about to check into a game. Unfortunately, her knees buckled immediately, and she had to grab Ice’s hoodie to stay vertical.

“Uh-huh,” Ice deadpanned, looking her up and down. “Totally fine. Can barely stand, but yeah, MVP of balance.”

Paige waved her off, sloshing half her drink onto her way too expensive shoes. “C’monnnn, Ice. It’s All-Star weekend. We supposed to be—” she gestured grandly with her cup, nearly smacking a stranger in the head—“having fun, in case you forgot”

“You are having fun,” Ice said dryly. “And drunk as hell.”

Paige burst into laughter, head falling against Ice’s shoulder. “Yo, you sound like Azzi right now.”

“Good. Somebody’s gotta babysit you before you do something stupid.”

“I don’t do stupid things,” Paige announced proudly, standing upright again—only to stumble a half-step and nearly topple backwards into a group of Mercury players. Ice grabbed her just in time, shooting them an apologetic look.

“Uh-huh,” Ice repeated, deadpan as ever. “Totally not stupid.”

Paige pressed her free hand dramatically over her chest. “I’m a responsible citizen. A role model. Kids look up to me, Ice.”

“Not if they see you like this.”

“Like what?!” Paige demanded, offended. She spread her arms wide, cup dangling, tank top clinging damp to her skin. “I’m thriving.”

Ice just raised an eyebrow.

Paige squinted at her, swaying slightly. Then, like it was the funniest thing in the world, she broke into another loud, sloppy laugh. “Okayyy, maybe I’m a little tipsy.”

“You’re gone,” Ice corrected.

Paige ignored her, spinning back toward the dance floor, eyes shining under the flashing lights. She downed the rest of her drink in a heroic gulp, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and shouted, “ANOTHER ROUND!” even though she could barely stay upright.

Ice groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Bro, Azzi’s gonna kill you if she sees you like this.”

But Paige was already gone again, staggering toward the crowd, arms out like she was floating through the chaos, lost in her own little storm.

Azzi slipped through the entrance like she belonged there—not pushing, not shouting, just moving with the kind of effortless composure that made heads turn even without trying. She had on an oversized black button up over her shoulders, skirt fitted just right, her hair catching the glow of the neon strips along the wall. The chaos around her barely touched her.

Her eyes scanned the room once, practiced, sharp. She wasn’t really surprised to find Ice first. Ice stood near the bar, half-bored, half-annoyed, nursing a soda while the party raged.

“Finally,” Ice muttered when she spotted Azzi. She tilted her head, relief in her eyes. “You better handle your girl, ‘cause she’s out here embarrassing both y’all.”

Azzi’s brows lifted, just a touch. Not really surprised. “How bad?”

Ice sighed, motioning with her chin toward the middle of the floor.

Azzi followed the line of sight.

There she was.

Paige.

Her Paige, in the thick of it, wobbling in a circle like she was balancing on a surfboard only she could see. She was surrounded by a group of guys she sometimes trained with in the summer—big, loud dudes hyping her up as she tried to show off some half-dance, half-basketball move that looked more like a drunk octopus than anything else.

Azzi closed her eyes for half a second, like she was summoning patience. When she opened them again, her lips were pressed into a tight, amused line.

“Of course,” she murmured.

“I tried to stop her,” Ice said quickly, holding up her hands. “I really did. But, you know. Paige.”

Azzi’s shoulders dropped with a tiny sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

And then she was moving. Smooth steps cutting through the crowd, the music vibrating under her feet, her expression the same calm mask she wore walking into an arena tunnel before tip-off. Her chest tightened just a little, though—because as much as she wanted to roll her eyes, there was also something unbearably Paige about the scene. Loud, ridiculous, the center of everything. And yet…Azzi could already tell she was going to have to pry her girlfriend off this dance floor before she broke something.

Azzi adjusted her shirt, squared her shoulders, and closed the last of the distance.

Azzi slipped into the crowd, weaving through swaying bodies and flashing lights. It took all of two steps before someone stopped her.

“Yo, Azzi! Big fan, big fan!” Some guy in a Suns cap held out his phone like she was supposed to pose. Azzi gave him a polite smile, leaned in for half a second, then excused herself with a quick, “Thanks, appreciate it,” before moving on.

She wasn’t here for selfies. She wasn’t here to mingle. She was here for Paige.

Another voice called her name—this time a player from the Dream, tipsy and laughing, pulling her into a hug that lingered just a little too long. “Girl, you look so good tonight. Where’s Bueckers? Don’t tell me she ditched you.”

Azzi smirked, sidestepping the question. “She’s…around.” Her eyes flicked toward the center of the floor, where Paige was now balancing on one foot like she was trying to prove a point, her buddies cheering like it was the dunk contest.

God. Azzi’s jaw tightened. If Paige leaned any further, she was going to topple into the DJ booth.

“I’ll catch you later,” Azzi told the player, brushing off the lingering hand on her arm. She cut through another wave of dancers, her patience thinning with every person who tried to stop her. It wasn’t annoyance at them—it was at the sight of her girlfriend wobbling dangerously close to chaos, still laughing like the world was hers to play with.

Azzi felt the difference instantly between herself and the room. Everyone else was submerged in the blur—sweat, music, drinks, neon haze. She moved through it like water parting, steady, untouched, eyes fixed.

She caught Paige’s laugh again, rising above the music, wild and carefree. Azzi’s lips twitched despite herself. As much as she wanted to scold her, as much as she wanted to drag her home this second…there was also something stupidly charming about the way Paige threw herself into every room like she owned it.

But still. Enough.

Azzi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, steadied her breath, and closed the last few feet. Paige had her back turned, mid-story—or maybe mid-rant—hands flying, body swaying like she was on a boat.

Azzi reached out, her hand brushing over Paige’s arm.

Paige was in the middle of explaining—loudly, passionately, with her cup sloshing all over—that she could, in fact, out-dance anyone in the building. Her buddies were hyping her, chanting her name like she was back in the Final Four.

That’s when a hand touched her arm.

She flinched, spun halfway around, bleary eyes trying to focus. The lights behind her blurred whoever it was into a shadowy silhouette. Too close. Too random.

Paige staggered a step back, hand out like a traffic cop. “Noooo,” she drawled, shaking her head so hard her damp hair slapped her cheeks. “Uh-uh. Back it up. I don’t dance with strangers.”

The crowd chuckled, but Paige wasn’t finished. She jabbed a finger clumsily in the air. “I got a girlfriend. Best girlfriend. Prettiest girlfriend.” She dragged out the last word like it tasted sweet. “And you? You're not her.”

Azzi said nothing—just stood there, lips twitching.

Paige swayed, tried to squint through the flashing neon. “Nuh-uh. Nope. Not Azzi. My girl’s like—like…” She lifted her hands, struggling to find the words, before letting them fall dramatically to her sides. “Like, stupid pretty. You wouldn’t get it. You can’t just walk up and be her.”

The buddies around her were howling now, recording the whole scene. Paige, blissfully oblivious, kept going.

“I miss her,” she mumbled suddenly, quieter but not quiet enough. “My girlfriend. She’s not here. She should be here. She—” Her voice cracked a little. She clutched her cup to her chest like it was a microphone. “She got these eyes, man. Eyes that look at me like…” Paige trailed off, blinking hard. “Like I’m worth somethin’.”

The “stranger” finally stepped forward, hand curling gently around her wrist, steadying the wobble Paige didn’t even notice she had.

Paige yanked back clumsily, half-pouting. “Stoppp, I told you, you’re not Azzi. She’d never grab me like—” Her words cut short as her gaze finally steadied.

The lights flickered across the face in front of her.

Her face.

Azzi.

Paige froze, mouth falling open. “...Wait.”

Azzi couldn’t help it—she laughed, soft and warm, her forehead nearly tipping against Paige’s. “Baby. It’s me.”

Paige blinked, processing with all the speed of a snail. Then, suddenly, her jaw dropped wide, like she’d just discovered fire. “AZZZZI!” she yelled, nearly falling into her. She flung both arms around Azzi’s shoulders, clutching her like a lifeline, cup dangling dangerously from one hand. “You’re here! My girlfriend’s here!” She announced no one in particular.

Azzi steadied her with both arms around her waist, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes, I’m here. You were just telling half the room how much you miss me.”

“I was!” Paige said proudly, voice cracking. She pulled back just enough to squint at Azzi again, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Her lips curved in a sloppy smile. “You’re so pretty. Like—like way prettier than them.” She waved vaguely at the stunned circle of guys still watching.

Azzi’s cheeks warmed despite herself. “That’s…good to know.”

“I told everybody,” Paige announced, jabbing her thumb at her own chest. “Whole room knows I got the prettiest girlfriend. They can’t compete. No competition.”

“Clearly.” Azzi chuckled, trying to pry the cup out of her hand. Paige resisted for all of two seconds before relenting, only to immediately wrap both arms around Azzi’s neck again, swaying against her.

“You’re my girlfriend,” Paige muttered, suddenly soft. “I don’t let anybody replace you.”

Azzi’s heart clenched. She smoothed a hand over Paige’s damp hair. “Nobody could, P. Come on—let’s get you out of here.”

Paige groaned dramatically, but let herself be steered toward the door, leaning on Azzi like a sleepy kid. “Told you…everybody’s ugly here. You’re the only pretty one.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, kissing her temple as she guided her through the crowd. “Yeah, yeah. I heard you.”

[averyspizookies]

Hi guysss!! Just felt like writing something small :) it sucks butt low-key I’ll edit it more in the morning but I hope u enjoy :)

CW: angst, pining, literary gay yearing idk man, Angst with a happy ending! TW men 😞

Word count: 4k

Friends with benefits pazzi, based off this!

****

They weren’t dating.

Not officially. Not according to the rules Azzi had set months ago, the first night they’d crossed that invisible line from best-friends-on-the-couch to tangled-limbs-in-the-dark.

Just fun, Azzi had said with that easy smile, and Paige had nodded like it was fine.

It was fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Because somewhere between the soft nights and the lazy mornings, Paige had fallen — and not the casual kind of falling you can laugh about later. No, this was the stupid, gut-deep kind that made her notice the way Azzi’s hair stuck to her cheek after a shower, or the soft little hum she did before falling asleep.

Nights with Azzi always felt like more.

Mornings with Azzi always felt like everything.

Paige just made sure she never said it out loud.

But tonight?

Fuck.

It never felt worse.

Because Paige was here, at a bar, supposed to be having the time of her life as a 20 year old.

And all she could do was stare.

Her lips. Her hair. The curve of her spine when she dipped down to grab a drink from the counter. The way her laugh slipped through the music.

Everything about Azzi Fudd was beautiful.

In a not-friendly way.

And it was eating Paige alive.

***

The place was packed — sticky floor under worn sneakers, neon beer signs buzzing overhead, bodies pressed in too close, heat clinging to the air even though the February wind was still biting outside. A DJ in the corner was blaring music that definitely was add free on sound cloud. But, every time the lights swept over the crowd, Azzi’s skin seemed to catch it like it belonged to her.

Paige leaned back against the high-top table, pretending to nurse her drink. Ice clinked softly in the glass, condensation slick against her palm. Her teammates were beside her — Lou and Ice, talking about something she wasn’t really catching.

“You’re zoning out again,” Ice said, elbowing her.

“I’m not,” Paige muttered.

Lou followed her gaze and smirked. “You’ve been watching her. You're not slick.”

Paige didn’t look away. “She’s just… standing there.”

“Standing there,” Ice repeated with a slow grin, “looking like that.”

Paige almost smiled — almost — until she saw him.

Some guy she didn’t recognize, weaving his way through the crowd with the kind of confidence that made her jaw tighten. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a grin that screamed I get what I want. And right now, apparently, what he wanted was Azzi.

Paige’s stomach went tight.

He stepped right into her space — too close — leaning down so his mouth brushed her ear when he spoke. Azzi smiled politely at first, said something short, shook her head. Paige could read the no in her body language from across the room.

He didn’t move back.

Instead, his hand slid lightly down her arm, then rested on her hip like he had any right.

Paige’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. Lou’s voice was distant now, Ice’s too. All she could hear was the low hum in her own ears, her pulse pounding hard enough that she felt it in her jaw.

Azzi stepped back a fraction. He stepped forward to close the gap.

That’s when she pushed herself up.

Paige stopped halfway across the floor, the crowd’s movement forcing her to the side. From here, she could see Azzi’s face more clearly — polite, maybe even amused, but guarded.

She didn’t need protecting.

God, Azzi never needed protecting.

She was perfectly capable of handling herself — Paige had seen her wave off persistent guys before, all cool smiles and decisive body language. But something in her chest was twisting anyway, pulling her forward even while her brain kept whispering, Don’t make it about you. Don’t make it obvious.

What if she liked it?

The thought was poison. It made her feel nauseous.

Paige’s stomach dropped. Maybe Azzi didn’t mind his hand brushing her waist. Maybe she liked the way he leaned in to speak over the music, his breath on her cheek. Maybe the shy smile she’d given him wasn’t discomfort — maybe it was interest.

Paige’s fingers balled into fists.

Her drink was still in her hand, sweating onto her knuckles. She set it on a random table she passed, ignoring Lou calling after her.

From here, she could see his hand still resting on her hip, thumb brushing the seam of her jeans. Azzi’s smile had dimmed a little, her gaze flicking toward the bar like she was searching for an exit, but the guy just kept talking, kept leaning in.

Paige took another step forward.

Stopped.

She hated herself for hesitating, for thinking about how Azzi might look at her if she did this — not as a hero, but as someone who couldn’t take a hint. They weren’t together.

Paige stayed at the edge of the crowd, shoulder pressed against a post sticky with the residue of too many spilled drinks, pretending she was just hanging back.

Her eyes didn’t leave Azzi.

The guy was still there — still in her space — talking with that confidence like every word out of his mouth was a promise. His hand hadn’t left her hip, thumb moving idly like he’d already claimed it.

Paige’s jaw flexed. She could tell Azzi was trying to be polite, that faint press of lips that wasn’t quite a smile. But it wasn’t enough to make the heat under Paige’s skin go away.

Azzi didn’t need her to step in.

She never did.

She could walk over there, pull him off her, and Azzi might look at her like she’d ruined the night. Like she’d embarrassed her. Like she was just some jealous friend.

The thought made her stomach turn.

Then he leaned closer. Not just closer — all the way in, until his mouth was a whisper away from her ear. Azzi leaned back slightly, but his hand tightened at her hip to keep her there.

That was enough.

Paige shoved off the post, threading through the crowd, heard Ice calling her name, but she didn’t stop.

The music was pounding, but it felt far away now. All she could hear was her own heartbeat, her own footsteps closing the space.

Azzi’s eyes flicked up as Paige reached them — something flashing there that Paige couldn’t name but tucked away to dissect later. Relief? Surprise?

Paige planted herself between them, shoulder brushing Azzi’s, her voice sharper than she meant it to be.

“She’s good.”

The guy straightened, sizing her up. “We’re just talking.”

“She’s good,” Paige repeated, more pointed now.

Azzi stayed quiet, but Paige could feel her presence at her back — warm, still, waiting.

The guy’s smirk deepened, tilting his head like he’d just spotted something amusing.

“You her bodyguard or something?”

His voice carried that smug, condescending lilt Paige had heard before — the kind that assumed she’d either back down or laugh it off.

Paige kept her hands shoved into the front pocket of her hoodie, but her knuckles were white against the fabric. “I’m saying back off.”

It came out flat, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

He chuckled, low and knowing, like he’d just confirmed something for himself. “You seem real protective. What are you, her girlfriend?”

The words didn’t just land — they stung.

Paige froze. It was like the air around her went thin, the crowded noise of the bar suddenly muted under the pounding of her own heartbeat.

She wanted to say yes. God, she wanted to say it so badly her chest physically ached with it. The truth of it sat right there, heavy on her tongue, ready to spill out and change everything.

But they weren’t.

Not officially.

Not according to Azzi.

And Paige wasn’t about to hand over her heart just to have it tossed back with a casual we said it was just fun.

The guy’s eyes stayed locked on her, waiting for an answer, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth like he already knew she didn’t have one.

Her chest felt too tight, like she couldn’t get a full breath. The bass from the music was thudding in her ears, syncing perfectly with the frantic pulse in her throat. She could feel Azzi beside her — the heat of her, the subtle shift of her weight, the fact that her attention was entirely on Paige now.

And that… that made it worse.

Paige couldn’t read her. Couldn’t decide if Azzi’s eyes were waiting for her to confirm the truth, or daring her to.

What if she said yes and Azzi laughed it off?

What if she said yes and Azzi corrected her, right there in front of him?

What if she said yes and Azzi looked at her the way she’d been afraid of since this whole thing started — like she was too much, like she’d crossed some line that was never meant to be crossed?

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry.

The guy arched an eyebrow, leaning on the silence. “Well?”

Azzi’s voice finally cut in — calm, even, but low. “Paige…”

It was the way she said her name. Gentle. Careful. Like she could already see the war going on behind Paige’s eyes.

Paige’s throat tightened.

She wanted to look at Azzi. She wanted to see some sign that she could answer and be safe. But she didn’t trust herself — didn’t trust what she might give away if she saw something soft in Azzi’s gaze.

So instead, she broke the eye contact, both with Azzi and the guy.

“I’ll…see you later,” she muttered, turning before either of them could say anything else.

The crowd swallowed her up in seconds, but she didn’t stop moving. Each step felt heavier than the last, like she was dragging all the words she’d bitten back behind her.

By the time she reached the door, her chest was burning. She pushed it open and the winter air hit her like a slap — sharp and cold, but somehow easier to breathe in than the thick, overheated press of the bar.

Her hands were still fists in her hoodie pocket.

God, she hated that she’d walked away.

She hated that she hadn’t just said it.

But more than anything, she hated that it wasn’t hers to claim — not officially, not in the way that would have shut him up without hesitation.

The truth was simple, even if she couldn’t say it: she was protective because she loved her.

And she’d just had to act like she didn’t.

Her eyes stung immediately, tears threatening before she’d even made it halfway across the sidewalk. She blinked hard, shaking her head like she could physically throw the feeling off, but the rush in her chest wouldn’t slow down.

Every step away from the bar felt heavier, like she was leaving something important behind. And maybe she was.

Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying it.

The smirk on his face.

The way the question had hung between them.

The look in Azzi’s eyes — unreadable, frustratingly calm, like Paige couldn’t tell if she’d wanted her to answer or stay silent.

She jammed her hands deeper into her hoodie pocket, curling them tight until her nails bit into her palms.

You should’ve said it.

But no — she’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? She wasn’t Azzi’s girlfriend. That was the truth. And saying it wouldn’t have made it true, it would’ve just made her look desperate.

Still, it hurt. It hurt worse than she’d expected.

The parking lot was darker than she remembered, the overhead lights too far apart, leaving long stretches of shadow between each pale yellow circle. Her breath clouded in front of her as she crossed it, the cold biting at her nose, her cheeks, her fingers.

She could still feel the heat of the bar clinging to her skin, clashing with the icy night air until it almost burned.

Paige reached her car and stopped, bracing her hands on the roof, head hanging forward. She stared at the dull reflection of herself in the window — the curve of her shoulders, the tension in her jaw — and for a second, her vision blurred. She blinked fast, but it only made the wetness on her lashes colder.

God, she hated this.

Hated that a stranger had been able to make her feel so small with one question.

Hated that she couldn’t claim the one thing she wanted more than anything without risking losing her entirely.

The bass from inside was still faintly audible, but out here, the only other sound was the wind moving through the empty lot. It made her feel like she’d already stepped out of the night — like the fun, the laughter, the warmth of having Azzi close was miles away now.

The cold night air clung to Paige’s skin, but her mind drifted somewhere warmer — a place far from the crowded bar and the sharp sting of that question.

She remembered a night not long ago, just them, no noise except the soft hum of the ac.

Azzi had been sitting on the couch, knees pulled up under her chin, hair a little messy from the late hour. The glow of the lamp softened every line of her face, making her devastatingly beautiful.

Paige had been on the floor, leaning back against the couch, watching Azzi laugh quietly at a joke Paige barely remembered making.

Azzi had reached out then — just a hand, light and tentative — and brushed a stray lock of hair behind Paige’s ear.

It was such a small gesture, so easily overlooked, but Paige had felt it like a jolt, a reminder that this — whatever “this” was — wasn’t real.

She remembered how their eyes had locked for a beat longer than necessary, the unspoken question hanging between them like a fragile thread.

“Hey,” Azzi had whispered, voice low and soft, “you okay?”

Paige had nodded, though inside her chest had been tight with things she couldn’t say.

“I just…” Paige had started, but the words had faltered, swallowed by the quiet warmth between them.

Azzi smiled then, that calm, steady smile Paige had fallen for a thousand times over, and said, “You don’t have to say anything.”

That night had been full of quiet moments like that — soft touches, lingering looks, and the kind of closeness that felt like it was building something neither of them dared to name.

But morning always came, and with it, the rules Azzi laid out.

“Just fun.”

No expectations, no names, no promises.

Paige had tried to believe it — tried to bury the ache that grew every time she saw Azzi in a new light, the longing that threaded through every smile and every touch.

Now, standing in the cold, the memory was a knife — a reminder of what could be, and what Paige was too scared to claim.

Because Azzi was a question Paige hadn’t yet learned how to answer.

Paige could still feel the ghost of Azzi’s hand brushing her cheek. Even though now it felt like a burn.

They had spent that night in a bubble — the world outside forgotten. No phone screens, no interruptions, just the quiet symphony of shared breathing and soft laughter.

Azzi had rested her head against Paige’s shoulder, eyes half-closed, and for a moment, Paige had let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this was enough.

But the silence between them was heavy — a fragile thing neither wanted to break.

Because with every tender moment came the unspoken truth: Azzi was holding back.

And Paige wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else — pride, maybe, or a stubborn need to keep things simple.

When Paige reached for her hand, Azzi hadn’t pulled away, but she hadn’t quite squeezed back either.

That had been the moment Paige realized how deeply she’d fallen — how much she wanted Azzi to fight for more, to push past the boundaries they’d set and into something real.

But Azzi’s smile, warm and steady, was the only answer she got.

“Just fun,” Azzi had said again, a mantra whispered between them like a prayer to keep the cracks at bay.

And Paige had nodded, swallowing down the aching hope in her chest.

Because if she said what she truly felt, she risked everything — the nights, the laughter, the delicate balance they’d found..

Paige’s fingers trembled as she fumbled with her car keys, the cold biting through the thin fabric of her hoodie like a thousand tiny knives. The metal felt slick and slippery in her hands, but she held on tight—because if she let go, maybe everything would fall apart.

Tears blurred her vision again, hot and unwelcome, but she refused to blink them away. She wasn’t going to break here. Not now. Not after everything.

Her breath came in shaky pulls as she unlocked the door, sliding inside and pulling the warmth of the car around her like a fragile shield. The familiar scent of leather seats and Azzi’s faint perfume mixed in the air—reminders of nights spent together that Paige was suddenly desperate to hold onto.

The engine’s hum was a faint comfort, but her chest felt like it was being squeezed tight by invisible hands, a relentless ache lodged deep and stubborn.

She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, closing her eyes, trying to steady the storm raging inside her. That damn question kept echoing in her mind—You her girlfriend?—taunting her, twisting like a knife sharpened on doubt and fear.

She hated how much she wanted to say yes. Hated how much the truth burned under her skin, begging for release. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not like this. Not when everything between them still felt so fragile.

Her throat tightened, and a ragged breath escaped her lips. The tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over, hot and raw, streaking down her cheeks.

Then—

“Paige!”

The voice was sudden, breathless, desperate—cutting through the cold night and the heavy silence that had settled around her like a shroud.

She lifted her head just in time to see Azzi running toward her, hair wild and damp from the cold, cheeks flushed pink, eyes wide and shimmering with urgency and something raw—fear, hope, something fierce.

“Wait—please—just hear me out,” Azzi gasped, her words tumbling out in a rush, voice trembling under the weight of everything she’d held inside for so long.

Paige’s heart hitched, the knot inside her chest twisting tighter as Azzi closed the distance between them, breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

Azzi stopped right beside the car, hands gripping the roof like she was holding herself together, grounding herself against the chaos swirling between them.

“I wanted you to be able to say yes,” she blurted, voice cracking with fierce vulnerability, the confession spilling out like a lifeline thrown across the chasm between them.

Paige blinked, stunned—her breath caught somewhere in her throat as the raw truth of Azzi’s words sank in, breaking down the walls she’d built around her heart.

Azzi’s gaze locked on hers—intense, unguarded, stripping away every doubt, every fear Paige had been trying to hide even from herself.

“I want no one but you,” Azzi whispered, voice shaking but steady, each word a quiet vow that filled the cold night air with warmth.

For a long moment, the world seemed to hold its breath—the distant hum of the city, the sharp bite of the winter air, even the fading thump of the bar’s bass—all faded into silence, leaving only the two of them suspended in that fragile space between hope and fear.

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s, fingers trembling as they intertwined, searching for the truth in the touch, anchoring herself to the reality that had been out of reach for far too long.

And then, without thinking—without hesitation—she leaned in, her lips brushing Azzi’s in a kiss that was tentative at first, exploring, tasting the promise beneath the surface.

The kiss deepened quickly, filled with everything she’d been holding back: the longing, the fear, the desperate hope for something real.

Azzi’s hands moved to cup Paige’s face, fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer as if to make sure she was really there, really hers.

Paige’s breath hitched, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the world as the kiss pulled them into something raw and endless—an unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cold night air.

Azzi’s voice was a soft, trembling whisper. “I’m scared. But I don’t want to be without you.”

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, voice barely more than a whisper in response. “Me neither.”

And in that moment, everything that had been left unsaid between them finally found its voice.

[averyspizookies]

Hi pookies!! I know y’all have been waiting for this, again I am not an expert at smut but I took some of y’all advice and this is what happened. Sooo I hope you guys enjoy and please please please leave feedback!! It’s really helps! I think this turned out pretty well written! Send in requests, I post after every wings game also my graphics cooked thank yew. Have fun;)

@izzih22 🤍

— — — — — —

Cw: s m u t!!!

Word count: 6,370

Pairing: No established relationship, Paige and Azzi are around 27 and 26, set in LA.

Leave feedback and u get a cookie :)

**********

The air in the room was thick with that strange, unshakable stillness that follows a night game—the kind that clings to your skin like leftover adrenaline. The hotel’s AC hummed softly, but the real light came from the slice of moon spilling through the barely drawn curtains, silvering the edges of everything it touched. Somewhere outside, Los Angeles was still buzzing, but up here, it felt suspended.

Azzi sat down on the bed across from Paige’s, legs folding under her with casual ease, her warm-up still hanging loose on her frame.

“It’s so crazy being here,” she said, eyes flicking over the room before settling on Paige. “Y’know… really here. After all these years.”

Paige peeled off her jacket, tossing it onto her bed. “Yeah… I get what you mean.” She leaned back on her hands, studying her like she wasn’t sure if she should smile. “I mean, what’s it been—five years?”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Five years since we shared a court”

The first game of the USA tournament had been a blowout—72–103 against Canada—but the scoreboard didn’t matter. Not compared to the quiet, electric fact that this was the first time they’d seen each other off a competing court since college. No tunnels filled with WNBA camera crews. No jerseys declaring their loyalties. Just the two of them, stripped of that noise. They had lost contact when Paige got drafted, from teammates to just..respectable silence.

“Still,” Azzi said after a beat, her voice softer now, “seeing you tonight… I almost forgot what it’s like playing with you, not against you.”

Paige’s gaze flickered to her in the moonlight. God, she looked different—but not. Same eyes. Same calm. But without the overhead glare of stadium lights or the Mystics’ red and blue stitched into her skin, she was just… Azzi. The real one. And it hit Paige in the chest harder than she’d expected.

She didn’t plan on saying anything. But the thought had been scratching at her all night, from warmups to the final buzzer, and now—here in the hush of a shared room—it pushed its way out.

“You know…” Paige shifted forward a little, elbows resting on her knees. “I used to have a thing for you back then. Like, during college. Fact is, I almost told you the night we won that championship.”

Azzi blinked, her head tilting just slightly. A small, amused breath left her, but her eyes didn’t waver. “You’re telling me this now?”

Paige’s lips quirked into something between a smirk and a wince. “Guess I figured it’s been long enough to admit it.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She leaned back slightly, propping herself on her palms, eyes flicking down for just a second like she was deciding if she wanted to step into that space Paige had just opened.

“I—” she started, then stopped, her lips pressing together in a small, self-conscious smile. “Okay… I guess I should be honest too.”

Paige cocked her head, already grinning. “Oh, should you?”

Azzi laughed quietly, but it was the kind of laugh that carried nerves under it. “Yeah. I had a crush on you too. Back then.”

Paige’s eyebrows lifted, a slow smirk tugging at her mouth. “Oh, you did?”

Azzi nodded, her gaze dropping to the comforter she was absentmindedly tracing patterns into. “Mhm. I just… never said anything. You were—” She paused, her eyes flicking up to meet Paige’s briefly before darting away again. “You were Paige Bueckers. You had that whole… thing about you. Confident, easy with people, always knew exactly what to say. I figured the last thing you needed was me throwing a crush in the mix.”

Paige chuckled, leaning forward on her knees like she was closing the distance just to make Azzi squirm. “You think I always knew what to say? That’s cute.”

Azzi’s lips curved. “Well, you looked like you did.”

“Yeah, that’s called faking it so no one knows you’re actually losing your mind,” Paige said, her tone light, but her eyes didn’t leave Azzi’s.

There was a beat where neither spoke, the air between them filled with the faint hum of the AC and the distant noise of LA nightlife through the window. Paige was the one who broke it, her voice softer now.

“So… all that time, we were both walking around with the same secret?”

Azzi tilted her head, meeting her eyes again. “Guess so.”

Paige let out a low whistle. “Man… we could’ve been dangerous.”

That earned her a genuine laugh from Azzi—quieter than Paige’s, but warmer. “Dangerous?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, shrugging one shoulder. “You and me, back then? On the same team, winning everything, already in sync on the court. Add the off-court part?” She leaned back a little, smirk widening. “Would’ve been over for everyone.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah, but you missed it, huh?”

Azzi hesitated just long enough for the pause to mean something. “Maybe I did.”

Paige didn’t push after that. She just let the words hang there, watching how Azzi sat a little straighter now, how the moonlight caught in her hair. The years between them felt thin all of a sudden—like the version of them from college was still somewhere in the room, pacing just outside of reach.

Azzi glanced toward the window, her voice quieter when she spoke again. “It’s funny. We’ve both had all this life since then—different teams, different cities—and yet… this still feels…” She searched for the word, eventually settling on, “Familiar.”

Paige nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like we never actually stopped.”

Their eyes met again and stayed there this time, a little longer than necessary. Not tense. Not awkward. Just that low, steady hum of recognition you can’t fake.

And then Paige smiled, slow and deliberate. “Guess we’re finally saying the things we should’ve said five years ago.”

Azzi smiled back, her voice just above a whisper. “Guess we are.”

Paige let her weight sink back onto her palms, eyes drifting over Azzi like she was relearning her. The braids were the first thing she noticed—long, a little wavy at the ends, curls spilling from them in light shades of brown and a little blonde, catching in the moonlight when she moved her head. They were nothing like the two neat braids she used to wear on game days, but they suited her. Made her look older, sure, but also softer. Maturely gorgeous.

“You changed your hair,” Paige said, her tone casual, but her gaze lingering.

Azzi lifted a hand, fingers brushing lightly over one braid as if to check it. “Yeah… been like this for a while. Easier for me now.” A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. “You noticed?”

Paige gave her a look that was almost teasing, but not quite. “Course I noticed. Hard not to when it’s this good.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered down and then back up, maybe to deflect. “And you… you’ve got tattoos now huh. Not too scared anymore I guess”

Paige glanced down at her left arm, twisting it a little under the light so the ink shifted. Black lines and shading curled over muscle—abstract shapes, a cross, a few words tucked in places only visible up close, some Bible quotes that were her favorites. “Yeah. Got it done during the off-season last year. Kept adding to it.” She smirked. “Not bad, right?”

Azzi’s lips curved. “It’s… different. Makes you look…” She hesitated, then settled on, “Like you’ve lived a little.”

Paige chuckled low in her throat. “Oh, I’ve lived. Don’t worry about that.”

That earned her another soft laugh from Azzi, but it faded into a quieter kind of stillness. The kind that wasn’t awkward—just full. They’d gone years without speaking, and yet here they were, trading small details like they were catching up over coffee, not sitting in the dim hum of a hotel room with the city pressing in beyond the glass.

“You know,” Azzi said after a moment, voice thoughtful, “I think part of why I didn’t tell you back then… is because I didn’t want to mess it up. The team, the rhythm we had. I was scared it would change everything.”

Paige tilted her head. “And now?”

Azzi’s gaze held hers for a beat longer than before. “Now… I guess I’m wondering if that was a mistake.”

Paige let a slow smile spread. “Could’ve been. Or maybe it’s just… timing.”

Azzi arched a brow. “Timing?”

“Yeah.” Paige leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees again, eyes locked on Azzi. “Like maybe back then, we weren’t supposed to. But now? Different story.”

Azzi’s fingers stilled on the braid she’d been absently toying with, her breath catching just enough for Paige to notice.

It was subtle, but the air in the room shifted right there.

Paige moved without thinking too much about it—just eased forward until she was sitting at the edge of her bed, close enough to see the way the moonlight painted tiny highlights along Azzi’s cheekbones.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Paige murmured, “and I’m gonna think you’re still crushing on me.”

Azzi’s lips curved, but there was a flicker of shyness in it. “Maybe I am.”

Paige’s grin turned slow, deliberate. “Good to know.”

For a moment, they just stayed there—close, watching each other like neither wanted to be the one to break the line they’d finally crossed back into.

Paige didn’t rush it. She just let the pause hang between them, watching how Azzi’s shoulders rose and fell with her breathing. Then she shifted—slow enough for Azzi to see it coming—and crossed the narrow space between their beds.

The mattress dipped under her weight when she sat down on Azzi’s, close enough that their knees brushed.

Azzi’s head tilted slightly, one of her braids sliding over her shoulder. “You’re just gonna sit here like you belong, huh?”

Paige smirked. “Didn’t hear you tell me not to.”

Azzi shook her head, but her smile gave her away. “You always did have a way of getting what you wanted.”

“Mm,” Paige said, leaning in just a fraction, her voice dropping. “Guess I still do.”

The hum of the AC felt louder now, like it was the only thing keeping the room from boiling over. Paige’s eyes lingered on her, slow and deliberate, tracing over the curve of her jaw, the way the moonlight caught the subtle gold in her skin, the soft movement of her fingers still playing with a braid.

“You smell the same,” Paige said suddenly, a little grin tugging at her mouth. “Like… whatever that lotion was you used to use. You still got it?”

Azzi blinked, a quiet laugh slipping out. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, her gaze dipping just enough to make Azzi’s stomach flip. “You used to drive me crazy with that. I’d catch it in warmups and…” She trailed off, smirking like she’d caught herself saying too much.

Azzi’s voice softened, curiosity edging it. “And what?”

Paige held her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting. “And I’d forget the play we were running.”

Azzi shook her head, but the blush at her cheeks was undeniable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Paige said, leaning just a little closer, “but I’m honest.”

For a second, neither moved. Paige could see the slight flare of Azzi’s nostrils when she took in a deeper breath, could feel the faint warmth radiating between them. She wanted to touch her—badly—but she didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she murmured, “It’s weird, huh? How easy it is to sit here like this. Like no time’s passed.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “It’s… nice. And a little dangerous.”

Paige’s grin spread. “You say that like you’re warning me.”

“Maybe I am,” Azzi said, but her voice was quiet now, almost like she didn’t want to ruin the way Paige was looking at her.

Paige let the silence stretch for a heartbeat, then shifted again—turning slightly so their thighs brushed, her arm draping loosely over her knee, close enough that her fingers almost touched Azzi’s.

“You think we’d have been good together?” Paige asked, her tone softer now, less teasing.

Azzi’s lips parted just a little, her eyes dipping before finding Paige’s again. “I think… we might’ve been unstoppable.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, but there was a heat in her eyes now, steady and locked in. “Guess we’ll never know… unless we find out.”

That landed. Paige could see it in the way Azzi’s breathing shifted, in the way her fingers stilled completely.

And still, Paige didn’t move in. She just stayed there, close enough that Azzi could feel every ounce of what she wasn’t doing—yet.

Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige’s mouth just a little too long. Paige caught it, of course — she caught everything — but didn’t say a word. She just sat there, steady, her knee pressed against Azzi’s, her arm draped casual but close, like she was daring her to close that gap.

And then Azzi moved.

Not quick, not hesitant — just slow enough for Paige to feel every inch of it. Her weight shifted toward her, her braids sliding forward over her shoulder, the faint scent of her lotion curling into Paige’s chest. When she stopped, their mouths were maybe a whisper apart — no more than the space of a breath.

Close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of Azzi’s exhale on her lips.

Close enough that pulling back would mean admitting too much.

Close enough that leaning forward would change everything.

Paige’s eyes dropped to her mouth, then back up. “You trying to start something?” she murmured.

Azzi’s voice was barely there, but steady. “Maybe I am.”

Paige’s jaw flexed. She’d been holding herself in check all night — watching, teasing, testing the edges — but that? That undid her.

Her hand slid up the side of Azzi’s neck, fingers curling into the base of her braids, and she pulled her forward hard enough to erase the space.

The kiss hit like it had been waiting five years to happen — no soft testing, no polite brush. Just heat. Paige’s mouth claimed hers instantly, deep and greedy, her thumb stroking over Azzi’s jaw as she angled her head for more.

Azzi didn’t melt into it, though — she met her, pressing forward with equal force, one hand fisting in the front of Paige’s shirt like she was holding her in place. Their mouths clashed, parted, clashed again, tongues tangling in a rhythm that felt more like a fight than a dance, neither giving an inch.

Paige’s other hand slid down Azzi’s side, over the dip of her waist, gripping her hip and pulling her closer until their knees knocked and their thighs pressed. Azzi responded by sliding her own hand up Paige’s inked arm, fingers tracing the edge of the tattoo before curling tight around her bicep.

The air between them was gone — nothing but heat and the ragged sound of breath between kisses. Paige tilted her head, deepening it, sucking lightly on Azzi’s bottom lip before dragging her teeth over it, earning the faintest, muffled sound in response.

That was all the encouragement Paige needed. Her hand slid lower, splaying over the small of Azzi’s back, pulling her flush, chest to chest. Azzi broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, their foreheads touching, both of them still gripping like letting go wasn’t an option.

Paige’s voice was low, rough. “Five years, Az. Five years and you kiss me like that?”

Azzi’s lips curved against hers, breath still fast. “Guess I was holding back too.”

Paige didn’t answer — she just caught her mouth again, harder this time, both hands in Azzi’s braids now, holding her right there as the kiss turned frantic, messy, unstoppable. Azzi’s fingers slid under Paige’s shirt, nails grazing the warm skin at her waist, and Paige groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating between them.

It wasn’t careful anymore. It wasn’t patient. It was all pent-up want spilling out in touches that were everywhere at once — Paige’s hands roaming over her back and shoulders, Azzi’s tracing the line of her spine before gripping her hip again and pulling her closer still.

By the time they finally broke for air, both of them were breathing like they’d just come off the court, foreheads pressed together, neither letting the other go.

Paige’s smirk was faint, but her eyes were still dark, locked on Azzi’s. “You know you just made it impossible to stop now, right?”

Azzi’s lips brushed hers, the barest tease of a touch. “Good.”

Paige didn’t break eye contact when she moved.

Her hands slid from the back of Azzi’s braids down to her waist, firm and deliberate, guiding her forward until she was straddling Paige’s lap. The mattress dipped slightly under their weight, Azzi’s knees sinking into either side of her hips, and suddenly the air felt thinner.

Azzi’s hands found her shoulders for balance, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt. The position put them so close that their noses nearly brushed, their mouths just a breath apart. Paige could feel the heat radiating off her, every tiny shift in her weight sending a low thrum through her body.

Her voice was low, almost teasing, but steady. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted you right here?”

Azzi’s answer came with a quiet, unshaken confidence, even as her eyes dipped to Paige’s mouth. “Probably as long as I’ve wanted to be here.”

That was it — Paige closed the last inch, their mouths colliding in a kiss that was nothing like the first. It was deep, searching, like they were both determined to make up for every minute they’d lost.

Paige’s grip on her waist tightened, holding her in place as her tongue slid against Azzi’s, drawing a quiet gasp from her. Azzi's right hand sliding up to cup the back of Paige’s neck, her thumb brushing over the edge of her jaw like she needed to feel her as much as taste her.

The kiss slowed for a moment — not because they wanted to stop, but because they couldn’t help lingering, learning the shape of each other’s mouths. Azzi murmured something against her lips, too soft to catch, and Paige smiled into the kiss, letting it break just enough to ask, breathless, “What?”

Azzi’s eyes opened, dark and unguarded. “Worth the wait.”

Paige laughed softly, the sound rough in her chest, and pulled her back in. The kiss turned hotter, more urgent, their mouths parting and finding each other again with a rhythm that was messy in the best way. Azzi’s fingers slipped into Paige’s hair at the base of her neck, nails grazing lightly over her skin, pulling a low hum from her.

The position made every movement magnify — when Azzi shifted to get closer, her hips brushed against Paige’s in a way that sent a jolt through both of them. Paige’s hands roamed up her back, over the curve of her shoulders, before sliding down again to hold her tighter, thumbs pressing into her sides like she couldn’t bear the thought of letting her drift even an inch away.

The room was quiet except for their breathing — uneven, tangled — and the faint, wet sounds of their mouths meeting and parting. Paige let one kiss break just long enough for her lips to graze Azzi’s cheek, her words low and almost a growl. “You’re killin’ me sittin’ like that,” she murmured, her voice low, gravel threaded through the heat.

Before Azzi could ask what she meant, Paige’s hands slid — deliberate, steady — to grip the backs of her thighs. That casual strength lifted her just enough, guiding her forward and down until her hips found the ridge of Paige’s bent knee.

The shock of pressure stole Azzi’s breath. A sharp, unplanned sound escaped her throat, and Paige caught it with her mouth, swallowing it like she’d been starving for it.

“Fuck…” Paige exhaled against her lips, kissing her again — deeper, wetter, like she’d decided there was no going back now. Her hands didn’t just hold Azzi there; they urged her in slow, controlled movements, the pressure beneath her rubbing exactly where her body had been screaming for friction.

Azzi’s fingers tangled in Paige’s hair, pulling lightly, but every pull only made Paige guide her harder over the pressure, her knee pressing up just enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.

Paige kissed like she had a point to prove — not rushed, but all-consuming, every brush of tongue and catch of teeth syncing with the subtle drag of her knee under Azzi’s weight.

“You feel that?” Paige muttered between kisses, her breath hitching against Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi could only nod, the motion tiny, desperate, her forehead pressed to Paige’s as she rode the steady, teasing rhythm Paige was dictating with her hands. The friction through her clothes was maddening — not enough to finish her, but enough to burn every nerve raw.

Paige’s thumbs stroked slow circles into the backs of Azzi’s thighs, grounding and inflaming her all at once. “Good girl… just like that,” she whispered, voice dipping low enough to make Azzi’s stomach tighten even more.

Azzi didn’t know what she wanted more — for Paige to keep her exactly here, or to push her over that line they’d both been tiptoeing around for years.

Azzi’s hands were everywhere now — not frantic, but searching, insistent. Her mouth broke against Paige’s every few seconds, breathless gasps between kisses that had gone from smooth to stuttering. She rocked down, slow at first, then harder, the muscle of Paige’s knee pressing exactly where she needed it.

Her fingers bunched into Paige’s shirt, nails catching on the cotton as if she could rip it over her head without even thinking about it. Paige’s hands caught her waist, not to stop her movement — not yet — but to guide it, dragging her forward, back, forward again until Azzi’s breath hitched against her mouth.

The friction was maddening. Every shift sent heat curling up her spine, made her knees weaken even though she was straddling Paige. The kiss faltered entirely when Paige flexed her thigh just right, and Azzi’s head dropped to Paige’s shoulder, muffling a sound she hadn’t meant to make.

Her grip on the shirt tightened, tugging upward, desperate for more skin, more anything — but Paige’s voice was there, low, steady, cutting through the haze.

“Uh-uh,” she murmured, a thumb pressing into Azzi’s hip to still her just enough. “Not yet.”

It wasn’t a rejection, not in her tone — it was a promise, one that made Azzi’s whole body shiver in frustration and want. Paige kissed her again, slow and deliberate, keeping her perched right at the edge, nowhere to go but exactly where Paige allowed.

Paige’s lips broke from Azzi’s just long enough to breathe, her hands sliding over her waist and down the curve of her hips. She gave a soft, low chuckle, letting her thumbs drag lightly over the edge of Azzi’s shorts.

“Pull these off for me, okay, sweetheart?” she murmured, tapping gently on the fabric damp, her voice soft but commanding.

Azzi’s hands trembled just a little as she nodded, lifting them over her hips and rolling the waistband down. The soft gasp that escaped her lips when her skin hit the cool air of the room made Paige’s chest tighten with need.

“Good,” Paige murmured, leaning in to kiss her again, slower this time, tasting her, memorizing every curve. Then, in a swift, smooth motion, Paige tugged her own shorts down, letting the warm, bare skin of her thigh meet Azzi’s.

Azzi froze for a heartbeat, just letting the sensation hit her before a shiver ran through her. Paige caught it in a hum, tilting her head to kiss her neck, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back to hold her close.

“Over me,” Paige whispered, nudging her forward gently. “I want to feel you.”

Azzi shifted carefully, sliding herself onto Paige’s bare thigh. The friction hit immediately, making her gasp into Paige’s mouth, clutching at her shoulders to steady herself. Paige’s hands moved down to her hips, guiding her movements, lifting her just slightly, rocking her slowly.

“Like that…” Paige murmured against her lips, thumb brushing over the line of Azzi’s hip. “Slow… you feel so good.”

Azzi’s moans started quiet, shaky, but soon grew in rhythm with the gentle push and lift of Paige’s hands. Every press of her body against Paige’s thigh made her head spin, every gasped breath into Paige’s mouth pulling a low groan from her.

Azzi's eyes locked on hers, lips brushing hers between murmurs and sighs, guiding her with careful pressure. “That’s it… just like that… Don’t stop—please.”

Azzi’s hands tangled in Paige’s hair, nails grazing lightly, every motion building a tension so acute it was almost painful, but so right. She rocked with deliberate, slow movements, letting Paige’s thigh press into her, Paige’s hands steadying her, controlling the rise and fall, until she was trembling, building, aching for release under Paige’s steady guidance.

Paige’s eyes stayed locked on Azzi’s as she shifted her grip on her hips, tilting her forward just enough so the pressure of her bare thigh pressed into her in all the right ways. Azzi’s breath hitched, hands clutching Paige’s shoulders as she rocked against her, hips moving in a rhythm dictated by Paige’s steady hold.

“patience,” Paige murmured, voice low, rough with need. Her thumb brushed teasing circles along the side of Azzi’s hip, dragging her closer.

Azzi could only nod, her lips parting into a soft gasp as she moved, trying to ride the heat Paige was giving her. The friction alone was enough to make her knees tremble.

Paige didn’t stop. Slowly, deliberately, she slid one finger along Azzi’s slickness, brushing just the edge at first. Azzi froze, a sharp, startled gasp breaking past her lips, and Paige caught it in a hungry kiss.

“Shh…” Paige whispered against her mouth, letting the tip of her finger slip inside slowly, teasing, careful, inch by inch. Her other hand cupped Azzi’s jaw, tilting her head so their eyes stayed locked.

Azzi moaned into her, the sound shaky and desperate. She pressed down harder against Paige’s thigh, grinding just enough to feel the added pressure, letting her hips roll with the guidance Paige was giving. Her hands fisted in Paige’s hoodie, nails grazing the fabric as if she could anchor herself in the moment.

Paige’s lips trailed along her neck, murmuring her name softly between strokes. “God, you feel so perfect… just like this,” she said, her voice low and throaty. Her finger moved with deliberate slowness, matching the rhythm of Azzi’s hips, teasing her, making her body tighten around her.

Azzi’s gasps grew louder, uneven, broken by shallow breaths. Her movements stuttered, hips rocking almost uncontrollably as Paige’s finger and the hard ridge of her thigh combined to drive her higher. Every inch, every deliberate press and slide, was building her toward a desperate, aching edge.

Paige’s eyes stayed locked on hers, dark and commanding, watching every reaction, every tremor, every gasp. “You like that, don’t you, Az?” She said, almost teasing.

Azzi couldn’t answer — all she could do was shiver, rock, and gasp into Paige’s mouth, feeling herself coil tighter and tighter, every nerve on fire, every motion guided by the woman under her.

Paige’s gaze didn’t leave Azzi’s as her hands moved up, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Azzi’s breath hitched, fingers tangling in Paige’s hair.

“P-Paige…” Azzi stuttered, her voice trembling,

Paige’s smirk was slow, knowing. “I know.”

Before Azzi could react further, Paige peeled the shirt up over her head, tossing it aside. Her hands skimmed over Azzi’s bare skin, fingertips ghosting along the curve of her waist, teasing every nerve.

Azzi murmured, hips rocking slightly, pressing against Paige oh my God. “Feels… so good, just being… like this.”

Paige leaned in, capturing her mouth again, but now her fingers pulled away from Azzi, sliding to the waistband of her own boxers. With a low groan, she pushed them down, freeing her thighs to spread and anchor Azzi more firmly.

“Now,” Paige murmured, tugging gently at the hem of Azzi’s shirt, making her sit back slightly. “I want all of you on me.”

Azzi shivered, a mix of nervousness and hunger in her eyes. “okay,” she whispered, pulling it off, letting Paige’s hands help slide it over her head.

Paige smiled, teeth grazing Azzi’s shoulder as she leaned her back against the mattress. With one fluid motion, she guided Azzi over her, helping her lay flat, back to the bed, their bare skin pressing together for the first time.

“Look at you,” Paige murmured, tracing a finger along Azzi’s spine, down her side, watching her shiver. “So perfect… just for me.”

Azzi let out a low, shaky laugh, pressing herself closer. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Paige’s lips captured hers again, slower this time, savoring, tasting, letting her hands roam. Both of them were bare now, throbbing with need, every nerve raw and alive. The heat between them was unbearable, electric, ready to consume them entirely.

Paige’s lips hovered over Azzi’s core for a heartbeat, just looking, just tasting the anticipation thick in the air. Her fingers lingered on Azzi’s hips, steadying her as she lowered herself, letting her breath ghost over her clit before brushing it lightly with her tongue.

Azzi’s back arched instantly, a sharp intake of breath shattering the quiet. “Oh… god…” she whispered, hands tangling in Paige’s hair. “Paige… fuck…”

Paige smiled against her, teasing, letting her tongue trace tiny circles, drawing out every gasp, every whimper. She took it slow, torturing her deliciously, letting her lips hover just over the sensitive spot, dragging lightly before dipping lower.

Azzi’s fingers dug into her hair, tugging gently but insistently as her hips rolled down, searching for more friction against Paige’s lips and tongue. “ Oh god…” she moaned, voice shaky, uneven.

Paige groaned, loving the way Azzi’s body moved against her, like it was made for this. She shifted subtly, rocking her hips against the mattress, trying to get friction against her own thigh, teasing herself while keeping every movement dedicated to Azzi.

Her tongue moved with painstaking slowness, flicking, circling, dipping — every pass coaxing more sounds from Azzi, each gasp and moan urging her to go just a little harder. “You taste so good Az… every inch…” Paige murmured, voice low and thick, almost a growl as she pressed her lips against her, fingers sliding to spread her more for access.

Azzi’s head fell back, lips parted, every breath coming in shallow gasps. Her hands clawed through Paige’s hair, tugging, holding, desperate for more, for release, for friction, for everything Paige was giving her. “Paige… I’m… I’m—oh fuck—so close,”

Paige didn’t rush her, didn’t let her go just yet. She kept her movements slow, aching, torturing her in the best possible way. She teased her, sucked lightly, licked in tiny, precise motions that made Azzi shiver and tremble. Every brush, every flick, every press of her lips made Azzi’s body coil tighter and tighter.

Azzi’s hips started to buck lightly, uncontrolled, hands in Paige’s hair, moans spilling out in ragged gasps. “Fuck…” Her voice broke halfway, a guttural sound of need and surrender as she teetered on the edge.

Paige groaned, one hand bracing at Azzi’s hip to guide her, the other still threading through her, holding her in place even as she shivered and quaked. The friction against her own cunt was a delicious burn, but every thought, every motion, every groan was about Azzi — making her come undone, slow and shattering, while Paige took it all in.

Azzi’s body finally trembled, the first wave hitting hard. She let out a strangled cry, fingers clutching Paige’s shoulders, pulling her impossibly close, every nerve on fire. Paige hummed against her, soft, possessive, letting her taste every sound, every shiver, every desperate gasp until she came down just enough to kiss her softly, letting her lips brush along Azzi’s in a quiet, intimate aftershock.

Paige stayed on Azzi just long enough to feel every shiver, every tremble, every ragged breath, but she didn’t linger. Azzi’s gaze locked on hers, eyes wide and glistening, mouth parted in soft gasps as her hands fisted in Paige’s shoulders. “Paige… don’t stop…” she murmured, voice raw, almost pleading.

Paige smirked against her lips, letting her teeth graze the side of Azzi’s neck before she lowered her mouth back down, teasing, pressing just enough for friction while her own hips rocked lightly. She was deliberate, controlled — not letting herself go fully yet, just edging, tasting, feeling Azzi’s body coil tighter around her.

“Mm… you’re killing me,” Azzi whispered, hips rocking involuntarily, stuttering as Paige guided her. Her hands clutched at Paige’s hair and shoulders, pulling her closer, desperate for more.

Paige groaned low, letting her lips brush along Azzi’s neck, tongue flicking at sensitive spots, fingers teasing just enough to keep her on the edge. And then, with a smooth, careful roll of her hips and a low, guttural murmur, Paige let herself slip over the edge, shivering, thrusting slightly into Azzi as her climax hit in a sharp, scorching pulse.

Azzi gasped against her, breath coming in rapid, shallow bursts, eyes fluttering as she clutched Paige’s shoulders, still trembling with aftershocks. Paige didn’t stop to recover fully — she was already coaxing her, grinding and guiding Azzi against her thigh, keeping the rhythm slow, torturous, and perfect.

Azzi moaned, head tilting back, lips brushing hers in a messy, wet kiss, riding the wave of her own building need. Paige’s hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, guiding her gently but insistently.

Every movement was synchronized — every press, every glide, every teasing flick of lips and tongue — until Azzi’s gasps and moans grew frantic, her body trembling in perfect time with Paige’s control, every nerve fired and raw.

Paige kept her steady, murmuring her name, kissing, teasing, holding her close, letting her ride out wave after wave of desperate need — until Azzi’s whimpers finally turned into a ragged, shuddering release, body quaking atop Paige, hands clutching at her shoulders as if she could anchor herself to her.

Paige held her through it, soft and possessive, lips brushing hers, murmuring praise between ragged breaths. Just so Azzi was on the edge again.

Azzi shifted slightly atop Paige, hips still tingling from the first release, and Paige’s hands slid to guide her closer. “Come here,” she murmured, low and throaty, letting her thumbs drag along the curve of Azzi’s waist.

Azzi’s breath hitched, trembling slightly as she obeyed, hips brushing against Paige in just the right way. “Like… this?” she whispered, voice shaky, warm, full of need.

Paige’s grin was wicked, soft, and slow. “Better,” she said, rolling her hips to press the slick heat of her thigh against Azzi’s once more. Then she leaned her own thigh up and across, guiding Azzi to match — slow, deliberate, until the two of them were grinding together, flesh against flesh, slick against slick, every movement amplified by the closeness of their bodies.

Azzi gasped, pressing her chest to Paige’s, hands threading through her hair, tugging lightly as she rocked. “Oh my god… Paige…” her voice was ragged, broken by the shivers racing down her spine.

Paige kept her steady, hips adjusting just enough to make Azzi gasp again, moaning into her mouth as they kissed, lips messy, tongues brushing. Paige murmured, voice low, thick with need. “God, you’re so perfect”

Azzi’s hands roamed down Paige’s back, gripping her hips, urging her impossibly closer. “Y-yes… fuck… don’t stop…” she whispered, rocking harder, grinding against Paiges cunt in small, shuddering motions. Every movement sent delicious friction through them both, heat pooling, muscles tightening, and gasps spilling out like fire.

Paige guided her with careful movements, hips tilting, pressing, shifting slightly to maximize the friction, letting Azzi take the lead while she subtly controlled the pace. Her hands cupped Azzi’s cheeks at one point, pulling her down into a kiss, tongues tangling, lips parting in ragged gasps.

Azzi let out a strangled moan, nails dragging lightly along Paige’s shoulders. “Shit…Paige” Her voice broke on the edge, body trembling in response to the slick, perfect connection.

Paige hummed against her, a low, possessive sound, grinding just enough to push her closer, her hands moving to cup her hips, fingers digging in lightly. “Let go, Az. Lemme feel you, okay?” she whispered, guiding her still.

Azzi’s back arched, chest pressing into Paige’s as a loud, breathless cry tore from her throat. She shook against her, just as Paige came undone at the same time. Her hands clutching at Paige’s shoulders, every nerve on fire, every gasp dragging them both higher. Paige let her ride it out, holding her close as she did the same, whispering praises between ragged breaths, letting them shiver and melt together .

Paige’s forehead rested against hers, both of them panting, sweat-slick and trembling. The world outside their room didn’t exist — not the village, not the court, not the years of missed chances. Just this heat between them, the taste of each other still lingering, the raw, spent pulse of their bodies pressed together.

Azzi’s lashes fluttered as she tried to steady her breathing. “That…” she whispered, voice hoarse, “wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

DPaige smirked, thumb brushing lazily over the side of her hip. “What, perfect?”

A soft laugh broke from Azzi’s throat, and Paige felt it against her own chest. She kissed her once — slow, lingering — before finally letting their bodies ease apart, though her hands refused to leave her.

Azzi rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, still feeling the echo of Paige everywhere. Paige leaned on her side, watching her with that same maddening focus she’d worn on the court — like she was already planning her next move.

“You’re in trouble now, Az,” Paige murmured, voice low and warm.

Azzi turned her head, meeting her gaze. “Why?”

Paige grinned, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. “Cause I’m not letting you disappear for another five years.”

Azzi’s smile softened, but there was a dangerous little glint in her eye as she pulled Paige closer again. “Good. ’Cause I wasn’t planning on letting you, either.”

****

[averyspizookies]

Locked.

Hi guys :))) I know I know, this took so long, I’m so sorry. But thank you guys for your patience truly. I appreciate everyone who stayed and waited. I love you also very much. Giving feedback = I’ll give u a cookie. Enjoy!! xoxo (please tell me if u see any spelling errors, this isnt edited)

Part one here

My masterlist

Pairing: final four UCLA Azzi x UConn Paige, slight enemies to lovers.

Azzi woke up slowly, like her body wasn’t sure it wanted to return to reality. The hotel room was still dim, curtains pulled half shut, letting in just enough soft, early morning light to haze the space in a sleepy gold.

At first, she didn’t remember where she was. Just warmth.

Then she felt it—an arm, strong and heavy, wrapped around her bare waist. The heat of someone else’s body at her back, the slow rise and fall of steady breath brushing the back of her neck.

Azzi’s eyes shot open.

Paige.

She froze, breath caught, mind scrambling as the memory of last night hit her like a punch. The lock-in. The late-night truce.

The bed.

Her whole body stiffened, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Paige’s hand was splayed against her stomach, fingers spread in that careless way someone sleeps when they don’t realize they’re touching someone else. The hem of Azzi’s sleep shirt had ridden up in the night, leaving skin exposed. Skin Paige’s hand now touched.

Azzi could feel every line of Paige’s palm. Calloused fingertips. The rough pad of her thumb. The steady press of Paige’s leg against the backs of hers.

And God—Paige’s scent.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. Something like cedarwood, sweat, and hotel laundry detergent. Warm and dizzying. Azzi swallowed, trying not to breathe it in, but it was everywhere. In her lungs. Her pulse. The space between them that didn’t feel like space at all.

She bit down on her bottom lip and very, very slowly shifted her hips forward—just enough to put a breath of distance between Paige’s hand and her own skin.

Too late.

Paige stirred.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut.

She felt the grip around her waist twitch, then loosen.

A low, throaty voice broke the silence. “You’re shaking.”

Azzi opened her eyes. Paige’s breath was warm against her nape, her voice still thick with sleep and scratchy like gravel. It made something in Azzi’s chest tighten.

“Was not— and you were touching me,” Azzi said, trying to keep her tone steady. But it came out softer than she wanted—quiet, breathy.

Paige let out a low grunt and shifted back, hand retracting. “Chill. I move when I sleep.”

Azzi finally turned her head, just enough to see Paige over her shoulder. Paige was already propped up on one elbow, hair a mess; long, blonde and perfectly golden. Her face relaxed in a way Azzi had never seen before.

She looked good in the morning. Too good.

Paige yawned, rubbed at her bright blue eyes, then looked down at Azzi, her gaze dragging lazily over her face like she had all the time in the world. “You're lucky y‘know, how many people would kill to have me touch them?”

Azzi Rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Please.”

But the heat under her cheeks betrayed her. She sat up fast, flipping the covers off and swinging her legs off the bed like she was escaping something. Her skin still buzzed where Paige had touched her, and she hated how her body remembered it.

Behind her, Paige was grinning.

“You ain’t deny it.”

Azzi turned, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “You’re impossible.”

Paige sat up too, cracking her neck as she did, body unfolding like a cat stretching after a nap. Shirt rumpled, arms bare, shoulders broad. “Nah,” she said. “Just right And you know it.”

Azzi tried not to stare. Failed.

There was something about seeing Paige unguarded like this—without her usual scowl, without the tension of the court—that felt…dangerous. Like it made everything worse. Or better. She didn’t know anymore.

Azzi stood and padded to the bathroom, fingers running through her hair, trying to shake it off. “We should never talk about this again.”

“Mhm” Paige called from behind her.

Azzi looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were too wide. She looked…affected.

And Paige had noticed. She always noticed.

Azzi washed her face, breathing deep. The chill helped, but the memory of Paige’s hand on her bare waist lingered like static electricity.

When she came out of the bathroom, Paige was fully dressed in her UConn warmups, stretched out on the bed like she had nowhere to be. One leg up, the other hanging off the side. Smirk locked and loaded.

“You sleep heavy,” Paige said casually, not looking up.

Azzi crossed her arms. “You snore.”

Paige glanced at her, eyes twinkling. “Didn’t hear any complaints last night.”

“I was unconscious, Bueckers.”

“Mhm.” Paige stood, walking over to grab her sneakers. She walked like she had nowhere to be, like time followed her, not the other way around . As she bent to tie them, Azzi couldn’t help but look. Just for a second. Paige’s back flexed under the fabric. Her movements were loose, confident, fluid.

Azzi looked away fast.

Then—thankfully—the door clicked.

Ice and Lauren stepped in, both of them pausing dramatically in the doorway like they were expecting chaos.

Instead, they were met with silence. Azzi glaring at the floor. Paige lacing her shoes with that same smirk still playing on her mouth.

Ice looked between them. “Y’all still alive?”

“No thanks to her,” Paige muttered.

Lauren’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You two… didn’t kill each other?”

Azzi opened her mouth, then shut it. She didn’t trust her voice.

Paige just grabbed her water bottle and tossed her hoodie over her shoulder. “Stupid idea, by the way. Lockin’ us in. Coulda backfired.”

“Could’ve worked,” Lauren said, eyeing Azzi.

Azzi ignored her. “Can we go now?”

The four of them exited the room in pairs—Ice and Paige in front, Lauren and Azzi trailing behind.

As they walked down the hall, Lauren leaned close to Azzi and whispered, “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She was still reeling from that morning. From Paige’s voice in her ear. Her arm around her waist. The scent of her skin. That stupid smirk.

The way her whole body felt lighter and heavier at the same time.

She needed a distraction. Fast.

And luckily—game day would deliver exactly that.

****

"You sure you good, P?"

Ice’s voice cut through the echo of rubber slapping hardwood, quiet but direct. Paige didn’t look up. She’d just bricked her third free throw in a row, and the sound felt louder than it should’ve — like it was mocking her.

She took her usual breath at the line. Closed her eyes. Aligned her stance like muscle memory had taught her a hundred thousand times.

And still — clank.

“Oh my fuck,” she muttered, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek.

Ice stepped toward her, slow, like she was approaching a wounded animal. “P…”

Paige kept her eyes forward. Shoulders tight. Jaw locked.

“You distracted?” Ice asked, finally placing a hand between Paige’s shoulder blades.

That made Paige spin around, fast. Her hands flung up like she was ready to fight the air.

She never let herself get distracted. That’s not the player she was. Ever.

But now…

Maybe it was.

“No!—im just….Ugh” She snapped the ball back and forth between her hands.

“I’m just” she continued “I just—need to focus. I’m just not in my rhythm.”

“Sure…” Ice said. “Just take a break..go get some water, yeah?”

Paige nodded, swallowed and set the ball down. “Yeah..you're right. Ima be back in 5.”

Ice nodded as the blonde walked off in the distance, leaving the gym.

**

Paige stepped out of the sweaty gym. The cooler air hitting her.

God. Why.

Why did she keep thinking about last night.

The way they woke up.

Truth was—she didn’t normally move in her sleep. It was like her body was moving on its own just to torture her.

She had no idea why she woke up with her hand around Azzis waist. Better yet—no idea why it felt good. Relaxing. Warm in the best way.

This did not need to be happening.

She was here to beat Azzi. To make a fool out of her on the court. Not to have some jumbled feelings towards her.

She was better than this.

But of course. The world was more than unfair.

As Paige turned the corner, of course. Who else would be standing there.

Other than Azzi Fudd.

Leaning against the wall, phone in hand, half-glowing in the hallway light. Her curls were tied up messily, a few loose ones bouncing around her cheekbones, and her UCLA warmup jacket was unzipped, revealing a crop top that made Paige’s stomach clench like a cramp.

Azzi glanced up — and froze.

Their eyes locked. For one second. Two.

Paige's heart spiked in her throat. She stepped back instinctively, like she'd been caught.

Azzi lowered her phone slowly. Her face unreadable. Calm, but too still. Like she wasn’t sure what version of Paige she was about to get.

Paige opened her mouth. Then shut it.

Every nerve in her body was trying to make a call. Fight. Flight. Flirt. Fold.

Azzi looked… the same as she had this morning. Still soft around the edges. Still with that little crease between her brows, like she was holding onto something too quietly. Still smelling faintly like vanilla and that subtle perfume Paige couldn’t stop breathing in. She could smell it now. Faint, lingering in the air like a dare.

Paige hated this.

Hated the heat climbing up her chest, hated how aware she was of the space between them.

Instead, she cleared her throat. Stepped sideways. Tried to make it casual. Unbothered.

Azzi blinked. “Hey,” she said, voice quiet.

That voice.

It sounded different now. Like Paige had already heard it from too close. From beneath layers of cotton and sleep and breath. Like it belonged to her memory more than the moment.

Paige swallowed and nodded. “Yo.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, scanning Paige’s face like she was looking for something. Permission, maybe. Or acknowledgment. A crack in the armor.

Paige gave her nothing. Or tried to. Her jaw set. Her hands stuffed in her shorts pockets.

But Azzi? She just smiled. The smallest curve of her lips. A flicker of mischief behind her eyes.

Like she knew.

Like she’d woken up just as tangled. Just as warm.

And the worst part? She looked good with it.

Azzi glanced up and smiled. That annoying, pleasant, composed smile like she hadn’t just been her human-sized body pillow six hours ago.

“You look like hell,” Azzi said, all sugar. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Paige stopped, jaw flexing. “Funny. Thought you’d be the one tired.”

Azzi sipped her water slowly, watching her over the rim like she knew exactly what Paige was trying to do. “Oh, I slept great actually.”

Paige blinked. Tightened her jaw. “That so?”

Azzi leaned off the vending machine, taking a step forward. “Yeah.”

It was too much.

The way the conversation was going, the way Azzi didn't look afraid when she said things that messed with Paige's head. Her stupid little smile she always had on.

She had to change it, make the conversation less. Focus on something grounding. Like basketball. Anything but this. Whatever “This” was.

Paige scoffed. “Hope you keep that same energy when South Carolina drops twenty on y’all in the first quarter.”

A lie.

Both of them knew it.

But it was safe.

Azzi didn’t flinch. “I’ll worry about them when they spend less time making tik toks and start running plays that actually work.”

Paige’s head jerked slightly ”Still, they're gonna give y'all everything they got.”

”Mm, I know. We know.” Azzi took a soft breath and looked away for a moment, then focused back. “But it’s nothing we can’t stop.”

“I’m just saying,” Azzi said, stepping even closer, her voice soft but merciless. “You get real quiet when you're not shooting well. Maybe you don’t need to worry about how I’m gonna do, and focus more on you.”

“And you get real cocky after one good game.”

Azzi tilted her head, lashes low, smile calm. “You're saying you don’t?.”

“I earn that cockiness.”

Azzi laughed, quiet and effortless, like Paige was just so predictable it was almost cute. “You say that like Texas isn’t gonna drown you today.”

“like I didn’ dropped thirty-two on them last year.”

Azzi smiled again. But it didn’t reach her eyes. “Last year. Key word there. It’s different now.”

Paige paused. Just a beat. “Your right,” she said, brushing past her toward the vending machine. “This year I’ll make it thirty-five.”

Azzi turned as she passed, watching her every move.

Paige could feel her gaze like static under her skin. She tapped her phone against the machine, picked a random Gatorade, and cracked it open with more aggression than necessary.

Azzi didn’t walk away.

Instead, she stepped beside her.

Close.

Too close.

Paige didn’t look over, but she could feel her.

Azzi spoke again, low. “You always this jittery before games?”

Paige took a slow sip of the Gatorade, jaw tight. “You always this nosy when you’re about to lose?”

Azzi’s smile stretched, soft and menacing. “We’ll see.”

She didn’t back up.

Neither did Paige.

For a long, quiet moment, the air just hung between them. Pressed and full and hot in a way that had nothing to do with basketball and everything to do with the way Paige’s chest had started rising just a little too fast.

She hated this.

She hated her.

She hated the fact that she smelled like spring, that her voice rang in Paige’s head like a song, that somehow waking up with her wrapped in Paige’s arms had felt—God, what?

Comfortable?

No.

Forgettable.

Paige turned first.

Not a word.

Just walked back down the hallway like nothing had happened, like she wasn’t seconds away from losing her goddamn grip on the day.

Azzi stayed behind, lips parted like she wanted to say something else—maybe wanted to follow.

But she didn’t.

Because there were still games to play.

And this?

Whatever the hell this was?

It wasn’t part of the plan.

***

Azzi headed back to her shared room with Lauren. It was time.

South Carolina Vs. UCLA. The first game of the final four. Winner plays in the national championship game.

There was no way Azzi was letting her team lose.

If she had to foul out she would, if she has to shoot every single shoot herself, shed do it in a heart beat.

Her mind should be focused on one thing.

But there’s a certain blonde invading her mind. Making her go near insane.

“Azi? Did you even hear me?” Laurens Voice ct through her thoughts, snapping her b ack into reality.

She nodded. Even though she absolutely heard nothing she said. “Yeah, yeah. I heard you. Give me a second.”

Lauren shook her head, she was already dressed in the gear. Tip off was in a hour and 5 minutes. Enough time for some shots and hopefully enogugh time to clear her head.

She'd never liked Paige.

Sure, when they got to talking last night, she wasn’t the worst human ever. Maybe even a little..funny. In a strange way.

And yeah, of course she'd seen what the media had to say about her. The way everyone and their mothers were in love with her. The accounts dedicated to edits of her to slowed down-horny ass songs.

Maybe she'd saved a few. On the off night.

but still. She was a opponent.

Azzi was here to beat her.

Nothing else.

Right?

**

tip off was in 5 mintues.

Azzi was ready.

She had on her custom pink and light purple Nike shoes, ones she debuted a few days ago.

The media was all over her. The rising star gaining more and more traction every day it seemed.

That’s why she had even more pressure to not mess up. No slip ups.

Good press was harder to get than bad press. She knew this. So right now. The most important thing was playing like her life was on the one. Show no emotion, show everyone the professional she was.

Her eyes scanned the arena as music a blared.

There was thousands of people there, hundreds wearing her name on their backs. People she couldn’t let down.

She loved her fans, everything about them. and seeing this huge arena packed, and screaming for her? That was worth all the work.

So as her eyes searched, taking it in. It was more of a unpleasant surprise to see Page sitting there. Right next to ice and the rest of the UConn team.

all dressed in the same navy blue shirt, all ready to go. Their game was after this one wrapped up, so it made sense for them to be here. But still, Azzi felt something in her core tighten at the sigh of the blonde.

Then, Paige noticed.

Her eyes locked onto Azzis, gleaming blue through the sea of fans.

Azzi starred back, and for a second, everything seemed to quiet.

Paige gave a slight smirk, then a nod. Something so small. But it was there. Then looked away.

Azzi was still looking at her, she almost didn’t even notice it was time to get on court.

***

It was the third quarter.

The game was going smoothly, just enough of a lead that they’ll win easily and can keep the pace comfortable.

Azzi led her team in points, so far an extremely respectable 21 points, 6 assists, 4 steals.

But South Carolina was getting hungry.

Their play style had gotten more aggressive, their plays more sloppy, riskier shots each time.

UCLA took a timeout to adjust, just trying to come up with a plan to slow it down and win the game gracefully.

But South Carolina wasn't going down without a fight.

UCLA brought the ball up. Azzi was already moving before the inbound pass touched her hands, her sneakers whispering against the hardwood as she cut across the top of the key. She caught the ball clean, and took off—eyes darting from the defender in front of her to the weak-side help sliding over.

Lauren set a perfect screen, giving Azzi just enough room to blow past the first girl. The lane opened, and the basket felt closer than it had all night. She pushed forward, one long stride into the paint, body low, ball protected.

That’s when it happened.

A shadow in her periphery. A blur of black coming in too high, too hard.

She barely registered the arm before it slammed across the bridge of her nose.

The sound wasn’t the sharp smack of ball on hand—it was deeper, hollower. The kind of noise that made the crowd collectively inhale. Azzi’s head snapped back, her feet leaving the ground in a graceless, weightless stumble.

Then—impact.

Her back smacked the hardwood with a sickening thud, the breath yanked out of her chest. A hot, instant ache bloomed across her face, radiating into her temples. The lights above blurred.

For a split second, there was nothing—no crowd, no game, no scoreboard. Just the ringing in her ears and the sting crawling up behind her eyes.

Then she felt it.

Warm. Wet. Metallic.

Blood.

It slid from her nose down toward her lip, thick enough she could taste it before she could think. She tried to sit up, instinct telling her to move, to show she wasn’t hurt—but the room tilted when she did.

The stadium had gone dead quiet, thousands of eyes locked on her. Even the South Carolina bench was still, players frozen mid-step.

Whistles were still blowing—sharper now—cutting through the silence.

“Stay down, Az,” Lauren’s voice snapped from somewhere above her. Then the trainer was kneeling beside her, a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re okay. Just don’t move yet.”

The towel pressed against her face was warm in seconds, the cotton already streaked with red. Azzi’s breathing was shallow, partly from the hit, partly from the shock. She hated this—hated being on the ground, hated the attention.

Somewhere near the scorer’s table, the refs were already signaling the foul. The crowd erupted, half in outrage, half in relief at the call.

Azzi closed her eyes for just a beat, trying to will her body steady. Her heartbeat was in her ears, loud and insistent.

But beneath the ache, the dizziness, and the copper taste in her mouth, one voice cut through.

”That was a fucking flagarant!”

Paige's voice.

She sat up slowly.

It was fine. Really, she'd been hurt worse.

Laurene winced at the sight of her, probably meaning there was more blood then there should be.

Azzi felt it. It was dizzying and heavy. Everything felt like it was too bright or too loud.

The trainer kept a towel close to her face, and her head tied forward.

She slumped down on the bench, barely remembering standing up. It seemed like her legs were just on autopilot.

The she looked over, slowly. But still, the voice making her look.

The ref was stood next to someone tall,

she squinted to see clearer,

then it came into view.

Paige.

Was. Yelling. At. The. Ref.

“That was clearly on purpose! Are you fucking blind?” Paige screamed, Ice was behind her with a look on her face that said ‘why is she like this, but also this is hilarious.’

The ref kept his whistle in his mouth, still by the scorers table surrounded by coaches and pother players, a few of Azzis teammates yelling too.

Truth was, azzi didn know it if was a flargrant or not. Sure as hell felt like it.

But another ting she didn’t know.

Is wy Paige felt the need to stand up, and come argue the call.

Why would she care so much?

Why did she care so much.

Azi could still ear her just over the slight ringing that was slowly subsiding.

“Do you need my glass? No serially, I have them right over—

a whistle.

Sharp and loud.

At Paige.

the ref yelled something back at her.

Paige barely flinched. She held her ground, which was easy considering her was a good 5 inches taller then him.

He threw his hand over, gesturing at Paige then the hall.

Ejecting her.

Not even from her own game.

Not even from something that happened to her teammates.

But ejecting her over Azzi.

Paige just muttered something Azzi couldn't hear over the loud booing from the crowd, seemingly directed at the ref.

Azzi watched as Ice pushed the blonde somehow who was still talking, out of the area and through the locker room doors.

Her eyes were so glued on Paige she didn't realize her trainer was trying to get her attention again.

“Azzi? We have to go check you out.”

It took a second for the words to register in her head, but as they did she was standing up, a little wobbly.

The crowd cheered as she left through the same doors Paige had gone a minute earlier.

She walked slowly, still clutching the towel to her face as she did.

The trainers kept a hand on her as she walked, then left her to walk the rest of the way herself while they got set up in the other room.,

she heard her before she saw her.

Paige still rambling about how bad the refs were.

She spotted Azzi first, locking eyes on her.

“Azzi?” she said, quietly, unlike any other time she'd ever said the word. It was quiet not just in volume, but in sarcasm, annoyance. It was heavy and concerned.

Paige pushed off the wall to get closer to her in the quiet hallway.

They were the only ones there, but still the area felt so packed.

“Are you—“ Paige started, her blue eyes bouncing all over her face, scanning Azzi, “are you okay?” She took a heavy breath out then scratched the back of her neck avoiding eye-contact like she couldn't hold it anymore. ”well—I mean, obviously your not okay, I mean like- you—um—

“I'm okay, Paige.” azzi cut her off softly, stopping the clear ramble Paige was going on.

The blonde relaxed at her voice, snapping her eyes back onto the brown ones of Azzi. “Okay, well—I mean those refs, god. are they stupid.”

“well, at least you share something in common with them” Azzi joked, the words coming out a little softer than she meant.

Paige rolled her eyes, “Yeah, sure.” But her voice kept that same tone, it was light in all the most confusing ways.

Something was happening. Or changing.

And it was confusing.

But maybe, just a little welcome

[averyspizookies]

mini series/one shots Never dated part one ~ part two

high schooled ~ Marks & a head Injury

A quick Sunny Pic ~ You her girlfriend?

Olympic Heat ~ shes so pretty

Guarded- completed Chapters: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve

Locked Chapters: One ~ two

Dangerous Question- completed Chapters: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine

Book recs :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[averyspizookies]

Locked.

Part one.

Pairing: Final four UCLA Azzi x UConn Paige, Enemies to lovers.

Word count: 6.8k

Note: hi guys, I really hope you all enjoy this!! It’s based off the clip of juju saying “I hate ucla bro” lol, so yeah I had fun writing it. It’s not well edited, but I really want you guys to give more feedback, it’s how I was inspired to write most of guarded and I miss y’all!! Anons or dms even always welcome. Thank you all for reading. Let me know if you see any errors!🤍

My master list link!! (Updated)

____ ____ ____

“Bro—I’m not guarding that hoe.”

Paige’s voice echoed through the nearly empty hotel conference room the UConn team had taken for the night. Her chair squeaked as she leaned back dramatically, arms flung wide like she was being personally victimized by the film.

KK didn’t even look up. Just sighed, her cheek smushed into her notebook, highlighters and half-dead pens scattered. “Well,” she mumbled, “you kinda don’t have a choice.”

Paige groaned, “I’m serious. I hate UCLA. Like, on a spiritual level. They’re all—sunny and shit. With their stupid faces and tans like they live in a fucking Nike commercial.”

Across the table, Ice glanced up from her screen, eyebrows raised. “Paige. Half the stuff you just said isn’t even remotely basketball-related.”

“I knowww,” Paige drawled, already halfway draped over her chair, sounding offended by the very existence the West Coast. “But it’s still true. They’re too... happy.”

“I dunno...” Caroline piped up, voice calm, but curious. She was scribbling something in the margins of a notepad, but her eyes flicked up. “Azzi seems kinda nice. Off the court, I mean.”

Paige sat up like someone had just personally offended her. “Nice? Not with the way she plays.”

“She literally isn’t even a dirty player,” KK said, finally looking up, confused.

“No, no, no—y’all don’t get it.” Paige huffed, already flipping open her laptop with laser focus. “Here. Let me educate you.”

She fast-forwarded through last year’s matchup against UCLA with the speed and precision of someone who’d watched it on loop.

“Thirteen forty-two,” she muttered, timestamp burned into her memory.

The video froze on Azzi Fudd, calm and composed, dribbling the ball up the court like she had all the time in the world—like gravity didn’t exist for her. Paige unpaused, and there it was: the shot.

No hesitation. No pass. No screen. Just Azzi, the ball, and the net. The swish was so clean it sounded like water,

It haunted Paige.

“Bro, so what?” Ice asked, pulling back from the screen, her voice casual but amused. “That’s just—”

“So what?” Paige cut in, incredulous, already gesturing wildly. “That’s fucking— it’s just—”

“A good play?” KK offered, sipping from her water bottle, barely hiding her smirk.

The other girls giggled, and Paige scowled, eyes still locked on the paused video like it had insulted her.

“Whatever. She’s a bitch,” Paige muttered, slamming her laptop shut. “Trust me.”

“You’ve literally never talked to her,” Ice pointed out, gathering her chargers and cords.

“Don’t need to. I can feel it,” Paige insisted, shoving things into her bag with uneeded aggressiveness “She has bitch energy. bitch aura.”

KK was already halfway to the door with Ice, but she turned back, grinning like she was about to drop a grenade. “Maybe you just wanna get in her pants.”

Ice exploded with laughter, nearly choking as she tried—and failed—to cover it up with a cough. The two of them disappeared through the door, still cracking up.

Paige was left alone in the quiet room, surrounded by the glow of half-lit screens and scribbled scouting notes.

“Hell no,” she grumbled, even though her face felt a little too warm and she suddenly couldn’t look at the paused image of Azzi on her laptop without thinking about the way her ponytail bounced when she shot, or the way her eyes didn’t blink after she followed through.

No. Absolutely not.

She slammed her laptop shut again.

Definitely not.

***

The UCLA team rolled into the Final Four hotel like a wave of California sun, dressed head-to-toe in royal blue and gold. There wasn’t a hair out of place or a single scuffed sneaker in sight. They looked every bit the part of a team built for the big stage—cool, polished, camera-ready.

They strolled through the lobby like it was a runway, a day out from their Final Four matchup against South Carolina. A rope separated fans from the players, but it didn’t stop the noise—screams, phones raised high, posters waving in hopes of a signature or even a glance.

Most of those screams were for one person.

Azzi Fudd didn’t acknowledge them. Not really. A polite smile here, a wave there, but never long enough to feed the frenzy. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had learned long ago that attention was a currency—and too much of it could bankrupt your peace.

She’d been “the star” since her sophomore year, though she’d never say it out loud. You didn’t have to.

Slam covers. GQ. Vogue. A $3 million Nike deal dropped just months ago that had turned her from basketball prodigy into a full-blown brand. Ten million on Instagram. More on TikTok. She didn’t even run half of it anymore—there was a team for that. A fan favorite? Understatement. Fans didn’t just support her; they idolized her. Worshipped her like goddess.

Edits of her game highlights mixed with thirst-trap music regularly hit millions of views. Every game day, her name trended.

She moved through the lobby with her best friend and teammate Lauren beside her, flanked by security. Lauren was the only person who never changed around her—never acted like she was someone to tiptoe around.

“Ughhhh,” Lauren groaned the second she face-planted onto the plush hotel bed, the mattress dipping with a satisfying thump.

“I know,” Azzi replied, flopping down beside her, voice muffled in the pillows.

March had been a blur of red-eye flights, endless film sessions, bruising practices, and must-win games. And now, they were here. The Final Four. Another night, another city…

But tomorrow? Tomorrow wasn’t just another game. It was South Carolina.

And maybe, just maybe... after that? UConn.

Azzi sighed again, but this one came from somewhere deeper in her chest. The part that still remembered last year. And the year before.

“What the hell are we gonna do about UConn?” she blurted, still face-down.

Lauren groaned and turned her head, dark curls spilling over her cheek. “What?”

Azzi rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling like it had answers. “They’re not here to mess around. Paige—she’s not leaving without that championship.”

Lauren blinked at her for a second. “Well... neither are you.”

Azzi didn’t reply.

Lauren sat up a little. “We’re ready. We’ve got you. We’ve got height. UConn’s bigs are good, but they don’t dominate the post like they used to. And you’re averaging twenty-three a game, Az. We’ve got this.”

Azzi nodded, slowly. Lauren was right. Technically. Statistically. But reality wasn’t always made of numbers.

They both knew the truth: if Azzi or Lauren went down—or even just had an off night—the rest of the roster cracked like glass under pressure. It had happened before. Too many times.

They didn’t have depth. They had each other.

And tomorrow, it had to be enough.

“I gotta stop Blondie,” Azzi muttered.

Lauren burst out laughing. “Right. And she’ll be trying to stop you. You two are like... the same person, just on opposite coasts.”

Azzi made a gagging noise and stuck out her tongue. “Don’t even say that.”

Lauren grinned, unfazed. “I mean... c’mon. Both of you are bajillionaires. Both have followers in the tens of millions. Both have armies of fans thirsting over edits. Both of you are the face of your programs.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and flopped an arm over her face. “God, you’re annoying.”

“Admit it. You’re the West Coast Paige.”

Azzi lifted her arm just enough to shoot Lauren a look. “Please. If I ever start flailing around and yelling at my teammates mid-game like she does, bench me.”

Lauren cackled. “That’s fair.”

Still, the words stuck. Paige was UConn’s golden girl—their anchor, their edge, their fire. Everything Azzi was for UCLA. Their rivalry was iconic. Edited to hell and back. Every time they met on the court, it was like the internet paused to watch. Azzi never let herself look too close, but sometimes... she did. And that was the problem.

“Whatever,” Azzi said, shaking the thoughts out of her head. She sat up and grabbed her sneakers. “Let’s go.”

Lauren blinked. “Go? Go where?”

“The gym.”

Lauren sat up like Azzi had just suggested running a marathon. “Azzi. We just got off a plane. My knees are still vibrating.”

Azzi tugged on her arm, relentless. “Yeah, well—tough. I want to win.”

Lauren groaned but grabbed her gym bag anyway, mumbling something. As they reached the door, she gave Azzi a long look.

“You know... you’re not as nice as everyone thinks.”

****

“C’mon bro, let’s go. Just real quick,” Paige whispered urgently, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Ice, lounging sideways on a stiff hotel bench in the hallway, arched a brow and glared at her. “Paige. Madison. Bueckers.”

“Yeah?” Paige grinned, dragging her voice into something sugary and innocent, eyes wide and untrustedworthy.

“You are six feet tall and a fully grown adult woman. You’re more than capable of getting shots up alone.”

Paige crouched beside Ice like a little kid. “Yeah, but—” she took Ice’s hand in her own—“it wouldn’t be any fun without my very best friend there.”

Ice smacked her hand away with a smirk. “You’re such a pain.”

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you. For 30 minutes. No more.”

She tossed her gym bag over her shoulder, blonde hair whipped into a messy bun, in black UConn warmup pants and a slate gray shirt still damp from earlier shootaround. Ice sighed, tugging her hoodie over her braids and muttering under her breath as they wandered down the hotel corridors, lost twice and laughing about it both times.

Then, Paige shoved open the double doors to the gym.

Immediately, Ice stopped dead in her tracks.

“Bruh, Ice—what’s your deal?” Paige asked, crashing into her back.

Ice didn’t move, eyes locked on the court. “We should come back later.”

“What? Why?” Paige slipped around her, utterly confused. “It’s not like—”

Her words cut short as she stepped into the gym.

There were already people here.

Lauren Betts stood alone near the far basket, 6’7”, commanding space like gravity. Her UCLA shorts clung to her frame, her form fluid and efficient. Watching her in person—up close—was different. The stats on paper didn’t show how naturally dominant she was. She wasn’t just tall. She was elegant in the way skyscrapers are elegant.

Paige gave Ice a look. “It’s fine.”

Ice hesitated, then followed her.

They set up on the opposite half-court, silently respecting the invisible boundary. Sneakers squeaked against the floor as Lauren continued her workout, sweat glistening down her back. Paige and Ice tied their laces, then jumped right in—Paige leading one-on-one drills, exploding into the lane, her footwork a blur of muscle memory and talent.

Every jumper was water. Every crossover was tight, slick. Her passes snapped through space like knives. The kind of flow that made time irrelevant.

She didn’t hear the gym door creak open.

Didn’t hear footsteps.

Didn’t notice the sudden shift in temperature.

But Lauren did.

“Azzi!” she said, a little too brightly. Too forced.

Paige froze—not because of the name, but because of the tone. Her back straightened like a shot. She turned, slowly.

There she was.

Azzi Fudd. In nothing but UCLA-rolled shorts, a royal blue sports bra, and sweat-kissed curls braided into a bun that framed her face like something out of a GQ shoot. Her face, flushed from rinsing off in the bathroom, was unreadable—but her eyes?

They were daggers.

“Don’t,” Azzi snapped at Lauren, already annoyed.

Lauren offered a helpless shrug.

“Well. Look who it is,” Azzi said, voice syrupy-sweet and sharp as a blade. She walked forward, arms crossed, her stare pinned straight on Paige like a heat-seeking missile.

The tension snapped like a rubber band pulled too far.

Paige turned fully now, her hands resting on her hips, her expression unreadable but undeniably smug. “Azzi Fudd. How are you?”

There was no warmth in her voice. Just a hollow echo of politeness. A taunt wrapped in pleasantry.

Azzi cocked her head, cool and unbothered. “I’m great. Ready to play.”

They stared each other down, less like rivals and more like predators unsure which one was hungrier.

They didn’t blink.

They didn’t break.

They hated each other.

And not in the cliché way most people claim to hate their rivals. This wasn’t school spirit, or trash talk, or even competitiveness.

This was personal.

But neither could say why.

“Good,” Paige said finally, breathing out slowly, like she had to push the word out past her pride. “That’s good.”

Azzi smiled—chill, collected, cold. “I hope to see you guys on the court. It’s always… fun, to play against you.”

Paige chuckled dryly, a sound that lacked all humor. “Yeah. Sure. ‘Fun.’”

Their gazes clashed in the middle of the court—blue eyes against brown, California sunshine versus Minnesota. Neither flinched.

Azzi held her smirk a second longer, then turned and walked back toward Lauren, her strides sharp, her presence magnetic. Without a word, she picked up the ball and started drilling again—only harder now, sharper.

Paige turned back to her side of the court too, jaw tight, pulse quicker than before. She hadn’t lost control. Not really. But something was different now.

*****

Ice, Paige and Azzi, Lauren all worked. The coexisted in the space even though the air felt charged-and it was.

After Lauren missed a step for the second time in a row Azzi groaned.

“Lauren! Cmon.”

She sighed and whipped her sweat off her hands, lookimg back to Azzi. “I'm tired Az! And so are you. Can we leave? It’s been like an hour and a half.”

Azzi glanced over quickly to where Paige and ice were.

They were blowing through some drill where Paige blocked ices shot and kicked out for a three.

She was sweating- probably out of breath too.

But still, she was full out sprinting each time, never missing, always talking to ice.

She pulled her head back.

“No..not yet.”

Lauren’s gave her a glare, following where her eyes had just been. “Really?”

Azzi locked eyes with her, still breathing heavily dispite wanting to keep going. “Really what?”

“Azzi” she started, “I’m not stupid.” Lauren’s voice dropped down to a whisper. She glanced over Azzi's shoulder again to motion towards Paige. “I know you just wanna stay here and work longer then Paige…for whatever stupid feud you too have going on.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was completely right.

She grabbed the ball out of Lauren’s hands and started dribbling. “Cmon, let’s shoot some threes.”

“Your evil Fudd.”

****

Paige… I’m gonna pass away,” Ice groaned dramatically, sprawled half-upright against the wall.

“You’re not dying,” Paige replied flatly, the words almost lost beneath the crisp swish of her shot ripping through the net. She was locked in; shoulders square, eyes sharp, every release a surgical strike.

“No. I am. This is it. I’m leaving this world sweaty and betrayed.”

Paige didn’t look her way. Just caught the ball off the bounce and let another three fly, all net. “If you die, can I have your slides?”

Ice rolled her eyes so hard her whole head tipped back against the wall. It had been over 90 minutes of nonstop one-on-one drills, makeshift shooting contests, and—more than anything—unspoken warfare between Paige and Azzi across the court.

Neither of them said a word to each other.

But the tension screamed.

They mirrored each other perfectly: the same relentless drive, the same stubborn refusal to quit, the same stolen glances.

It was like a silent chess match. Only with sneakers, sweat, and pride.

And Ice? She was done.

She let out a fake cough loud enough to rattle the gym. It echoed.

Neither Paige nor Azzi looked up.

But someone did.

Lauren.

Across the court, Lauren caught Ice’s exhausted eye and tilted her head with concern. Ice looked at her, nodded dramatically toward her own body and mouthed, “I’m dead.”

Lauren barely smirked, but the laugh hit her eyes. She mouthed back, “Me too.”

UCLA and UConn weren’t even rivals, not officially. But the Azzi-Paige Cold War could’ve melted steel beams. The two of them acted like the other’s existence personally offended them—but even that didn’t explain the weird electricity in the air.

Lauren’s gaze flicked toward the locker room hallway. She tilted her head meaningfully, mouthing, “Meet me?”

She stood up slowly, muscles stiff from shooting, and started walking toward the bathroom. Ice caught the signal and nodded.

As Ice made her move, Paige finally snapped out of her shooting trance.

“Ice?” she called, not looking away from the hoop. “Where’re you going?”

Ice froze for half a second. “Bathroom. Real quick,” she said casually, already halfway down the court. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Paige just hummed and sank another jumper.

Azzi didn’t look up either, but Ice noticed her brows twitch the moment Paige spoke.

Curious.

The door clicked shut behind Ice as she slipped into the bathroom. Lauren was already leaning against the counter, pulling her hair out of its sweaty bun and sighing.

Ice didn’t waste time. “We need to do something about them.”

Lauren didn’t hesitate. “Agreed.”

“Like… what even is their problem?”

“I don’t think even they know,” Ice muttered. “It’s like they hate each other, but also can’t stop looking at each other like they wanna… I don’t know. Fight or kiss or fight and kiss.”

Lauren snorted. “Right?! Thank you. I’ve been saying that. No one else sees it!”

“Oh, I see it,” Ice said, pacing now.

“So what are you thinking?” Lauren asked,

Ice paused and looked at her. “Okay. Don’t call me crazy.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a promising start.”

“I’m serious. I get a vibe. I think they’re into each other. Or at least—something. Something messy and probably way more interesting than either of them would admit.”

Lauren leaned in. “Keep talking.”

“Well,” Ice began, smirking now, “even if they’re not into each other, they’re gonna have to figure this out eventually. We have a few single rooms left open, right?”

Lauren’s eyes widened slightly.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“That’s evil.”

“I know,” Ice whispered, grinning like the Grinch. “But it’s also kind of genius.”

Lauren burst out laughing, her whole body shaking. “Oh my god. You're insane. I’m in.”

****

They slipped out of the bathroom like criminals on a mission.

The plan? Foolproof. Dirty. Beautiful.

Get Paige in first.

Say it was about going live.

Use her one weakness.

And let the rest fall into place.

Ice led the way, casual as hell, phone in hand like she was just scrolling TikTok. But her brain was calculating every move like it was game point. She dropped herself dramatically onto the hardwood, legs sprawled, phone propped up against her knee.

Time to bait the hook.

“Paaaige,” she drawled out, voice extra whiny, like a little sister trying to get her way. “C’mon, dude.”

Paige, mid-dribble, didn’t even turn fully. Just flicked her eyes over. “What, Ice?” Her tone was short, distracted, a little annoyed. Classic locked-in Paige. Even this late, she was still trying to one-up Azzi across the court.

“We’re done,” Ice said. “It’s literally two a.m. We. Are. Leaving.”

Paige sucked her teeth and let the ball roll back into her palm. “Yeah, aight. You can go. I’m stayin’.”

She squared back up at the top of the key, body angled, hips light. She moved like she was in her own world. Just her and the rim.

Until Ice dropped the magic words.

“If you leave right now… we’ll go live.”

Paige froze mid-shot. The ball still in her hands, forgotten.

“You deadass?” she asked, brows raised. “Ice, don’t play with me right now.”

Ice gave a nod, biting back a smirk. “Deadass. You know I hate going live but— Let’s give the people what they want.”

Paige squinted. She was suspicious, but intrigued. “You being for real? Like, we’ll actually go live? Not that ‘five minutes and end it’ shit?”

“I’m talking real live. Long live. Comments on. No filter.”

Paige hesitated, then slowly cracked a grin. “Say less.”

She jogged over to grab her bag, tossing her head back and wiping sweat off her neck with the collar of her shirt. Her grey UConn tee clung to her like she’d just showered in it, and her hair was a wild mess of curls pulled into a lopsided bun.

“I gotta shower first, though,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Not tryna go live lookin’ like a raccoon.”

Ice nodded casually, already rolling into Phase Two. “Bet. Actually, I need to shower too. I was thinking…”

She paused like she just now thought of it.

“…since the team rooms are all right next to each other, and it’s stupid late, what if we used one of the extra rooms across the hall? Less noise. Plus it’s got its own bathroom.”

Paige stopped for half a second, clearly thinking. Then she shrugged. “Aight, cool. That’ll work. I’ll hit the shower first, come in like twenty?”

Ice smiled, trying to look chill but barely holding back. “Say less.”

She watched as Paige turned and strutted off toward the elevators, humming under her breath, already dreaming about Instagram comments and dumb livestream filters.

Behind her, Ice pulled out her phone and sent one message to Lauren:

“Room secured. It’s go time.”

***

“Lauren?” Azzi asked, glancing over as she wiped sweat from her temple. “I think they’re leaving. Would you like to head out now?”

“Yes! Finally,” Lauren said, a bit too enthusiastically. Then, stepping closer with a sudden thought, she added, “Oh, also—I was thinking about doing some yoga before bed. If you’re up for it. I just didn’t want to get our room all messy, so maybe we could use one of the extra rooms?”

Azzi blinked, surprised. Lauren never suggested yoga. Usually, Azzi had to beg. “Sure, sounds good. I’ll rinse off first.”

“Alrighty,” Lauren replied, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile too hard.

They left the gym a few minutes after Paige and Ice, casually making their way back to the dorms. Inside their room, Lauren slid the door open and stepped in first, pausing just long enough to surprise Azzi again.

“You can go first. I’m going to text Jayden real quick.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Jayden? Who is that?”

“Oh. Just… some guy,” Lauren lied smoothly, avoiding eye contact as she reached for her clothes. In truth, "Jayden" was the code name for Ice—they’d coordinated this entire plan together.

Azzi didn’t push. She just nodded as she grabbed her towel. “Alright. But I want to hear all about this mystery man when I’m done.”

“Promise,” Lauren replied, already tapping away on her phone.

Lauren: Hey, Azzi’s in the shower now. Should be about 15 minutes ‘til we head over.

Ice: gotcha, Paige is already in the room. Left her phone on the table too

Lauren: they’re so perfectly stupid it’s painful. I’ll text when I drop Azzi in.

Ice: bet 🫡🫡

The sound of water running filled the room, and not long after, Azzi stepped out. Her curls were looser now, stretched from the conditioner. The front half of her hair was still braided, the rest hanging wet down her back. She threw on a pair of Nike Pro shorts and a UCLA hoodie that swallowed her frame. Her signature Stewie socks peeked out above her slides.

“Laur? You ready?” she called, finishing brushing her teeth.

“Yep!” Lauren answered a little too quickly. She tried to play it off with a casual nod. “All set.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m totally fine. Why?”

“No reason,” Azzi said with a shrug. She stepped into her slides and followed Lauren out.

Once they were walking, Lauren texted again.

Lauren: Heading over now.

They strolled toward the extra room, which was a short walk from the main UCLA block. Azzi stayed focused on her phone—probably checking team emails—while Lauren’s attention locked onto the door ahead. She felt her pulse tick upward.

Lauren pulled the keycard from her pocket and swiped it.

“Can I see your phone for a second? I think I might’ve posted something by accident,” she said casually.

Azzi, distracted, didn’t hesitate. “Sure.” She handed it over and stepped into the room.

The moment she crossed the threshold, her eyes landed on the bag and clothes thrown over the bed. Her stomach dropped.

“I’m pretty sure this is someone else’s room,” she said, turning sharply toward Lauren.

Lauren just smiled, stepped back, and closed the door with a sharp click. Locked.

“Lauren! What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Az! We’ll be back in the morning,” Lauren called through the door.

“We’ll? Who’s we?!”

That’s when Paige’s voice called from the bathroom. “Ice? That you?”

Azzi’s eyes widened in horror. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ice strolled up beside Lauren, already laughing.

Inside, Azzi slapped her palm against the door. “Lauren! What the hell!”

“Sorry Az!” Lauren shouted back, voice chipper.

“Y’all have fun in there!” Ice added, barely containing her giggles.

“Ice? Seriously?” Azzi groaned. Then she paused. “Wait—do you have my phone?”

“Yup!” Lauren answered through the door, practically glowing. “Told you, we’ll grab you in the morning.”

“Bye Azzi! Tell Paige I said goodnight!” Ice chirped before the two conspirators walked away, still giggling.

From inside, Azzi could still hear them laughing down the hall.

Then the shower stopped.

Out walked Paige, towel slung over her shoulders, sports bra on, shorts low on her hips. Her eyes flicked up when she spotted Azzi standing by the locked door.

“Yo. Azzi?” Paige said, confused, water still dripping down her back.

“Yep,” Azzi replied with a resigned sigh.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Paige asked, voice deep and unbothered, arms folding across her bare chest.

Azzi crossed her arms too and pointed at the door. “Lauren and Ice thought it would be hilarious to lock us in here for the night.”

Paige’s eyes followed the motion. She walked over and tugged the handle twice. Nothing.

“Your joking.”

“Nope.”

With a muttered curse, Paige banged on the door. “Ice! Stop playin, open the door!”

From the bed, Azzi said dryly, “You really think I haven’t already tried that?”

“Man, shut up,” Paige muttered, not looking at her.

Azzi lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine. Do your thing.”

Paige gave the door one last shake, then turned, annoyed.

“You try callin’ somebody?”

“Lauren has my phone,” Azzi answered calmly. “What about yours?”

Paige dragged a hand down her face. “… I left it on the table.”

Azzi threw her hands in the air. “Well. Looks like we’re stuck.”

Paige sucked her teeth and dropped down into a chair across from the bed. “this is some bullshit.”

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

She stared at Azzi for a moment, jaw working like she wanted to snap but didn’t have the energy. Then she leaned back with a grunt.

“Nah. Guess I don’t.”

“Mhm,” Azzi murmured, folding her legs beneath her. “Didn’t think so.”

They sat in the thick quiet for a second—Paige glaring at the floor, Azzi watching her from the bed. Neither spoke, but the tension in the room hung heavy, thick as humidity. And neither of them looked away.

****

Back in Ices room, her and Lauren sat on the bed talking.

“So, you have like any real idea why those too hate each other?” Lauren asked.

“Not really” ice replied. “Paige is..stubborn to say the least, when set her mind on hating Azzi, it’s not changed.”

“Same for Azzi. There like, the same person.”

“I know!”

“You know what we should do? Let’s go live right now.” Ice said.

Lauren nodded and moved closer to ice on the bed, getting in frame for the tik tok live.

Ice started it and the comments rolled in.

“Ice and Lauren?? What kinda duo is this?”

“Why are yall together this is so random😭😭”

“Acting like yall don’t have game tmrw night smh😪”

“Where’s Paige and Azzi?”

It’s not uncommon for fans to ask about Paige and Azzi, them being the stars.

Lauren looked over at ice, giving her a side eye at the comment then laughing.

“Umm who are Paige and Azzi?” Ice said at the camera, her voice dripping in sarcasm as Lauren laughed.

The chats started blowing up

‘WAITT why yall laughing 🤨🤨’

‘Suspicioussss’

‘Maybe Paige and Azzi duo soon’

“Doubt it” Lauren said under her breath at the last comment, which of course the chat caught

‘WHAT ARE YALL HIDINGGG’

‘Acting mad strange right about now’

‘Lauren wdym bro😭😭’

“Me and ice aren’t good enough for yall?” Lauren said, while ice snickered.

‘Nooo just let us know where Azzi and Paige are🤫🤫’

Ice and Lauren both read the comment, then ice answered.

“Umm Azzi and Paige are..busy”

‘BUSY DOING WHAT?’

‘What is going on atp🤨🤨🤨’

‘Mhmm so there together #NewDuoAlert’

“Yall are messy” ice laughed

****

“We’re in here for the night, you know,” Azzi said, her voice cutting through the thick silence.

“Yeah. Figured.” Paige didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on the carpet.

Azzi tossed a pillow in her direction. “You take the bathtub.”

The pillow hit Paige’s chest with a soft thump. She caught it, then lifted her eyes slowly, a brow raised. “You’re joking.”

Azzi’s arms crossed, mouth pulled in that maddeningly calm way she had. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, standing a little straighter. “Because you’d have to be out of your damn mind to think you’re getting the bed that easy.”

A pause.

Azzi held her stare for a moment too long. Then, voice softer, quieter: “Why do you hate me?”

That caught Paige off guard. It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t even bitter. Just... curious.

She hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, which was dangerous—truth always was with Azzi. “Because I hate UCLA, maybe. And you... you basicallyare UCLA.”

“Mhm.” Azzi’s eyes didn’t leave hers. There was something unreadable in them. Not challenge. Not sarcasm. Just... presence.

“Why?” Azzi asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you hate UCLA?”

Paige shrugged like it was stupid, like this conversation wasn’t unraveling her from the inside out. “You guys are all... blue and shit.”

Azzi laughed. Like, really laughed. And damn it, it made Paige want to smile too.

“What’s funny?” she asked, lips twitching.

“I’ve just never been hated for a color before.”

“New experience for you then,” Paige said, smirking now. The tension shifted, a little looser. Still there, but not choking.

“Okay. Then why do you hate me?” Paige asked, firing it back like a challenge she didn’t mean to make.

Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Because I hate guarding you.”

Paige blinked. “...Is that a compliment?”

“It’s just a fact.”

The silence that followed was different. Not awkward. Not cold. Just... weighty.

“I don’t love guarding you either,” Paige admitted after a moment.

Azzi leaned in slightly, like gravity had shifted. “Why’s that?”

Paige found herself mirroring her—leaning in too, like they were finally on the same wavelength. Or maybe circling something they’d been pretending wasn’t there.

“Because your shot’s quick. Stupid quick. Hard to read. I hate that.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just listened, head slightly tilted. Waiting.

“I like knowing things before they happen,” Paige continued. “I like reading the play before it forms. You don’t let people do that. You’re... slippery.”

“Thank you,” Azzi said softly.

“Like you said. Not a compliment. Just a fact.” Paige’s tone was calm, but there was a flicker in her eyes. Something new.

Another silence—this one thicker. Heavier. Like an unspoken truce had been signed and neither of them wanted to admit it.

“Your shot’s pretty,” Azzi said, and it landed like a drop of warm rain on skin.

Paige blinked. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Azzi nodded, her gaze unwavering now. “Your three-pointers are easy, though.”

“Easy?” Paige asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“I mean, you usually come off a screen. Not always. But enough.”

Paige didn’t bristle at it. The way Azzi said it wasn’t critical. More like analysis. More like she watched her. Closely.

“Your midrange, though,” Azzi added, a crooked smile pulling at her lips. “That’s practically cheating. You stop on a dime, change direction, attack the paint. Can’t predict that. It’s... brutal.”

Paige stared at her. Really stared. Like she was watching film, trying to dissect a play she didn’t quite understand.

“High praise from you,” she murmured.

Azzi just shrugged, smile still lingering, eyes still locked on hers. “Maybe“

Paige scratched the back of her neck, still standing while Azzi leaned casually against the edge of the bed like she owned it. That alone irked Paige—not the bed, but how Azzi always looked so composed, like nothing ever got to her. Paige wasn’t used to feeling off balance, especially not around someone who wore smugness like it was stitched into their jersey.

“You always talk like that?” Paige asked finally, voice low, gritty.

Azzi raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like a therapist who also dropped thirty in the semis.”

Azzi grinned. “Only around people who need therapy.”

Paige let out a scoff that was half a laugh, dragging her palm over her mouth like she could hide it. Then she crossed the room, dropped onto the chair in the corner with a full man-spread—legs open, elbows on her knees, chin resting in one palm. Watching Azzi like she was still trying to scout her.

“Alright, go ‘head. Say what you really think of my game.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up, just slightly. “You want honesty?”

“Nah, lie to me,” Paige muttered, rolling her neck with a smirk. “Of course I want honesty. C’mon. I can take it.”

Azzi studied her for a beat longer, then pushed off the bed. She walked closer, slow, steps soft against the hotel carpet. She stopped a couple feet away, arms folded, expression calm but edged with something a little more playful now.

“You hunt space better than anyone I’ve seen,” Azzi said. “Like—you create it out of nothing. And you don’t even hesitate. Most guards, they wait. Think twice. You just go.”

Paige didn’t move, but her smirk tugged a little deeper on one side. “Aight,” she said.

“But,” Azzi added.

“Knew it.”

“But you overuse your left crossover when you’re tired. You don’t trust your weak-side kickout. And you lose track of the weakside cutter when the play breaks.”

Paige leaned back like Azzi had just hit her with a cross to the jaw. “Damn.”

“You asked,” Azzi said, that crooked smile back again.

Paige ran a hand over her braid, biting down a grin. “That’s crazy comin’ from someone who pump fakes like she’s in a community college acting class.”

Azzi scoffed. “You bit on it twice in the last game.”v

“I slipped,” Paige said.

“You did not.”

“I slipped,” she repeated, eyes glinting now.

Azzi stepped closer. “Slipped right into a midrange jumper. I remember.”

Now Paige stood up, the chair creaking behind her as she rose. Not aggressive, not threatening—but there was something in the way she loomed a little taller now, arms hanging heavy at her sides, body loose and ready like she was checking someone at halfcourt. They were nearly eye to eye, close enough Paige could count the flecks in Azzi’s brown eyes. The air between them tightened.

“I could guard you,” Paige said, voice low.

Azzi tilted her head, not backing off an inch. “Not for four quarters.”

“I’d get in your head,” Paige added.

“You’re already there,” Azzi said, soft and devastating.

That landed heavier than either expected.

For a second, neither moved. Paige’s chest rose and fell a little slower now, not calm—but careful. Like if she moved too fast, the moment might crack.

“Alright,” Paige said, breaking it. “That’s enough of this... vibe.”

She stepped back, like she needed the distance to breathe, then walked to the other side of the room and dropped onto the bed like it owed her money—legs open, hand rubbing her face like she’d just stepped off a double-overtime game.

“You sleep on that side,” she said, tossing a thumb at the far end of the bed without looking.

Azzi hesitated, then crossed the room and sat, pulling her legs up underneath her.

They both stayed facing forward, like the other might disappear if they looked too long.

A long stretch of silence passed. The room was dim, lit only by a muted bedside lamp. The kind of light that made things look softer than they were.

“I don’t actually hate you,” Paige said eventually, her voice rough with sleep or something close to it.

Azzi didn’t look at her. “I know.”

Another beat.

“I still don’t like you, though,” Paige added.

Azzi smirked at her lap. “Would’ve been disappointed if you did.”

Paige let out a low chuckle, then flopped back dramatically, arms behind her head like she owned the ceiling.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be hell,” she said.

“For Texas?”

Paige turned her head slightly, eyeing Azzi. “You cocky now?”

Azzi shrugged. “You asked.”

Paige let that sit a minute. Then closed her eyes. “South Carolina’s not gonna let y’all breathe.”

“We don’t need to breathe,” Azzi said, voice dropping lower, like the truth in it was simple. “We just win.”

Paige opened one eye. “You always talk like that?”

Azzi nodded. “Only around people who listen.”

For a long time, they didn’t say anything.

Just the sound of the air conditioner humming.

Paige stayed on her back, legs still wide, body sprawled out like she wasn’t used to fitting into clean corners. Azzi sat curled up, spine straight, arms around her knees like she was trying to stay contained.

Opposites.

But the silence between them wasn’t cold anymore. Just stretched. Like taffy.

Eventually, Paige rolled onto her side, facing Azzi. Her voice dropped.

“You really hate guarding me?”

Azzi glanced over. “I do.”

“Why?”

Azzi hesitated. Then let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Because you don’t stop. Not when the shot clock’s low. Not when the lane’s clogged. Not when you’ve missed four in a row. You just keep coming.”

Paige blinked, the words hitting her stomach before her ears.

Azzi kept going. “And you talk. Always. In the middle of plays. Between free throws. It’s distracting.”

Paige grinned. “That’s the point.”

Azzi looked away. “Yeah, well. It works.”

Paige sat up, the bed creaking again. “You talk too.”

“Not like you.”

“true.”

Azzi didn’t respond. Just pulled the blanket up a little.

Then, like the room had shifted again, Paige said—quietly, sincerely—“Good luck tomorrow.”

Azzi looked at her. “You too.”

They stared at each other for a second too long again.

Then, slowly, carefully, Azzi laid down, facing the ceiling. Paige did the same. The room dimmed further as one of them clicked the lamp off.

And in the dark, without speaking, Azzi shifted just a little closer. Not touching. Just near.

It was Paige who spoke first, voice barely above a whisper.

“You cold?”

Azzi didn’t answer.

Instead, she moved again—slow, like sleep was pulling her limbs. Her shoulder found Paige’s, tentative, then settled there like it belonged.

Paige stiffened at first.

Then—gradually—relaxed.

Azzi’s breath evened out, soft and slow.

Paige stared at the ceiling.

And didn’t move.

Not because she didn’t want to.

But because something sharp and slow and burning was blooming in her chest. Something she hadn’t planned for.

Something like… not hate.

Just the sound of Azzi breathing. Just the heat of her shoulder, warm against hers.

Just the silence—finally not thick, not heavy.

Just… full.

Paige closed her eyes.

Didn’t sleep.

But didn’t move either.

Not yet.

[averyspizookies]

Part Two.

AN: leave feedback please!! Love y’all :)

Warnings: heavy angst, no contact between the too, player P, panic attack on court.

Twenty thousand fans on their feet, every single one buzzing like they'd been playing themselves. Banners waved, cameras panned, the national anthem still fading.

But Azzi couldn’t hear any of it.

She stood on the court like she’d never touched one before. Like her legs didn’t belong to her. Like the lights were trying to bleach her memory clean — and failing.

Her heart was thumping in her chest.

Across from her, the UConn players broke out of their huddle.

The crowd roared.

Azzi didn’t flinch. her body felt stiff, but ready.

Her name was announced next.

“Starting at guard — a junior out of Columbia, South Carolina — Azzi Fudd!”

The fans exploded. The floor shook. Her teammates clapped, shouted, bumped her shoulder. Chloe was already walking toward the center circle, glancing back at her with eyes full of warning and worry.

Azzi moved.

She walked to her spot, the soles of her pink Nike shoes squeaking across polished hardwood, body tight, muscles too stiff. Her mouth was dry. Her vision tunneled. She knew what was coming next.

Then she saw her.

Paige.

Jogging toward her with that same lazy confidence. Ponytail swinging. Dark Blue uniform on. matching arm sleeve that covered a scar only the people closest to her knew was there.

She didn’t even look nervous. Didn’t even look different.

Just Paige.

Just the girl who wrecked her and laughed it off.

Azzi’s throat closed.

Paige stopped across from her. Stood tall. Slapped her hands on her knees and dropped into a light defensive stance.

She looked Azzi up and down, slowly.

Azzi couldn’t tell what was going on in her head. Knowing Paige probably nothing except for the ball, and winning.

“Let’s go, Z,” she said, voice low. Not making eye contact with Azzi.

Z.

God.

Like they were still in practice lines. Like nothing had ever happened. Like Azzi hadn’t cried alone in her dorm for months with her suitcase still half-open, unable to unpack because it meant that night had really happened.

Azzi blinked, her mouth parted, but no sound came.

The ball was tossed into the air.

Tip-off.

Azzi didn’t jump. Chloe did. Won it. South Carolina’s point guard took it upcourt. The play was called.

But Azzi didn’t move.

Paige shadowed her step for step, eyes cool, hands up, knees bent — like she was defending a player, not a person she once held in her arms.

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She felt everything all at once.

The way Paige’s breath had felt against her shoulder.

The way her fingers had traced her ribs.

The way she’d said “We just got carried away.”

Now she was guarding her. On national television. Like this was just business

God, what the fuck is this game?

How is she supposed to pretend like it never happened?

Paige reached out, tapped her hip lightly — a normal move, checking positioning. But it was a shock through Azzi’s entire body. Her breath hitched. She stepped back without meaning to.

“Eyes up,” Paige muttered, low, almost kind. Like she still knew her.

Azzi locked eyes with her then.

And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel rage.

She felt sick.

Those blue eyes felt like they went straight through her, and they probably did.

Paige was everything to her at a point, and she hoped she could just say that she didn’t mean anything now, but that would be a lie.

Her voice, low and sweet, reminding her to look up. Did nothing but hurt.

She had to get back control.

Chole had the ball, Azzi moved, Paige lagged a little from the shift, she stepped behind the three line and — swish.

“Damn, Z. Okay.” Paige muttered, running back on offense.

Azzi didn’t even acknowledge her.

she didn’t speak the entire first two minutes.

She didn’t need to.

The ball did.

Another touch came on a wing swing from the point guard. Paige shifted over the screen, quick on her feet. Ready. Studying. Watching her.

Azzi didn’t hesitate.

One dribble, pull-up three — swish.

Nothing but net.

Paige’s eyes barely flicked up.

But Azzi saw it. That half-second of adjustment. Like Paige had to remind herself that this Azzi wasn’t the one she brushed off three years ago.

She was faster now. Sharper. Unforgiving.

Next possession, South Carolina came down in transition.

Chloe snatched a board and pushed.

Azzi sprinted up the sideline, hair bouncing, breath shallow.

She stopped behind the arc, caught the outlet, and fired immediately.

Another one.

Crowd roared.

South Carolina bench exploded.

Azzi didn’t smile.

Didn’t blink.

Two minutes later.

Paige bumped her coming off a screen. Hard.

Azzi pushed through it, cut again, wrapped around Chloe’s pick, took the handoff and faked left — then stepped through, easy layup through contact.

And-1.

She hit the floor and rolled to her knees, catching her breath.

The crowd was on its feet. Her teammates ran over to help her up. But Azzi just pushed herself up. Alone. She walked to the line, eyes straight ahead. No celebration. No nod to Paige. Nothing. Just stillness — and a made free throw.

*

By the time the first quarter ended, Azzi had 14 points.

Paige had 3.

The announcers were eating it up.

“Fudd is firing today. What a statement from the junior guard—this is personal.”

“She’s playing like something lit her on fire!”

And she was.

The gym echoed with every swish.

Chloe caught her at the timeout huddle, pulling her by the sleeve. “Slow down. Az. Breathe.”

Azzi didn’t even look at her.

“I’m fine.”

Her chest was heaving. Sweat lining her temple. Jaw clenched so tight it clicked.

Chloe glanced across the court, saw Paige staring from the UConn bench. Her eyes hadn’t left Azzi once.

“Bullshit,” Chloe muttered.

Azzi took a sip of water. Barely swallowed it.

Their coach was talking, she still could barely hear. Everything said to her seemed to be in another language; she could feel Paige's eyes on her.

14 points was the most she'd ever gotten in a single quarter, normally, she'd be ecstatic and glowing in her pride.

But this just felt hollow.

She felt like her old self. A 18 year old girl who had her heartbroken and had to run. a girl who had always looked down on others for drug abuse but now was right there with them. She could almost smell what that depression had felt like, stale sheets and sweat.

She had dropped 13 pounds in a month after Paige had broken her.

She couldn’t eat, could only sleep.

There was only a single photo in her camera roll from that month, one of her smiling and glowing at the bar, just a night before he had slept with her.

no picture or video felt worth capturing after that.

Nothing felt real.

“Az?” Chloe cut in, breaking her out of her thoughts .

Azzi turned her attention to her, only seeing the haze of concern in Chloe's eyes.

“You can stop Chloe.” Azzi said coldly, walking away back to the court.

Chloe ran up to her, “Stop what?”

Azzi snapped her head back to her, “You can stop caring, you can stop asking if ‘I’m okay’, you can stop with the fucking shit. Just leave me the hell alone.”

She could see the hurt from her venomous words hit her, guilt filling her chest. But hey, at least she felt something. No matter if it was guilt or not.

As soon as it came, she pushed it back down and didn't wait.

Getting right back on defense.

*

Back on the court.

UConn switched their play style. Throwing the pace off in hopes of tying the score back up. Sarah Strong leading their team in points.

Paige was on her, every second. Every movement. Every dribble. She was taking Azzi.

It didn’t matter, Azzi pushed against her, using her strength. Taking shots that were reckless, stupid even. But they all made it in, only 2 missed shots so far. 20 points under her by halfway through the second.

Geno had seen enough.

“Face guard Fudd,” he barked. “Don't let her breathe.”

Face guarding was pathetic. Everyone knew it. It was embarrassing to call out for someone of Geno status. It ment last option, it meant that Azzi was winning against them. Against Paige.

So Paige nodded once, surely pushing down her pride and ego and made herself big. Getting ready to push Azzi as far away from the ball and play as she could.

Too late.

Azzi heard the command, broke out of Paige’s way and snapped into the paint, A dime from a freshman topped it off. Another 2 points under her belt.

She could her Geno cursing. Screaming.

That’s the only time she let herself break a little smile.

Then it was gone.

Azzi had already scorched the gym.

And for the first time — the very first — she looked Paige dead in the eyes as she jogged back.

Didn’t say a word.

But everything was in her stare.

You don’t get to forget me.

You don’t get to laugh this off.

You don’t get to win this time.

***

The pace had slowed.

Azzi’s legs burned. Her lungs ached. Sweat soaked through the back of her jersey, sticking her to the weight of the game.

She’d played every minute so far.

She hadn’t spoken since tipoff.

The crowd was deafening. Whistles, buzzers, bodies crashing. But all Azzi could hear was the sound of her own breath — shallow, uneven, desperate.

Her hands were shaking now.

The rage that fueled her first half was draining, drop by drop, with every second that passed.

And then came Paige.

Again.

Switched onto her after the timeout.

Face calm. Eyes steady. Like nothing had happened. Like she wasn’t the reason Azzi hadn’t slept in years.

Azzi dribbled on the wing, isolating. Paige closed the gap.

Too close.

Their bodies brushed.

Paige’s left arm looped gently around Azzi’s waist — muscle memory from defense drills, from practice years ago — but her hand…

Her hand grazed that spot.

The place just above Azzi’s hipbone. The place Paige had clutched in her sleep that night. The night Azzi thought love might finally be real.The night Paige woke up and called it nothing.

Azzi froze.

The ball slipped from her fingers — barely — but enough.

She caught it again, but the possession had lost rhythm.

Chloe screamed from the top of the key: “Reset! Reset!”

But Azzi wasn’t hearing her

Wasn’t hearing anything.

She was back there—

—in that bed, Paige’s breath across her spine, murmured sleep sounds, warm hands gripping her waist like they never wanted to let go—

And then the morning.

The sunlight.

The laugh.

“We just got carried away.”

Azzi’s throat burned. Her chest caved in, hollow and gasping. Panic set in.

Paige said something.

Azzi didn’t hear it. Didn’t want to.

She pivoted, drove baseline, hard — but her foot caught, staggered, the angle off. Paige's hand reached again, a stabilizing touch on her side—

And Azzi broke. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious.

Just a sharp inhale.

A clench of the jaw.

And then… she passed the ball off blindly.

Ran straight to the corner.

Eyes wide.

Vision blurring.

She braced her palms on her knees. Her breath wouldn’t steady. Paige stared from the arc, brow furrowed now. Watching. Azzi looked up at the jumbotron.

Saw herself.

Face pale.

Lip trembling.

Not strong. Not locked in. Not the star.

A timeout whistle blew.

Chloe ran over to Azzi, panicked. Knowing this wasn’t small at all, if azzi was breaking down on national television. It was worse then it ever had been before.

“Az, come on— just breath, you're gonna sit down, okay?” Chloe muttered, shielding Azzi from the cameras the best she could. Trying to comfort her.

“You’re done,” Coach said, looking over at Azzi.

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t speak.

Just walked, quiet, head down, jersey soaked, heart completely shredded. trying to calm her breathing.

Sat down on the bench.

Paige stared dead at her. Emotion swelling her eyes.

Fucking unbelievable.

What right did Paige have to look sorry for Azzi? To act like she cared about her in the slightest.

Azzi sat at the end of the bench, elbows on her knees, hands gripping the edge of the seat. Her fingers went white at the knuckles. She wasn’t even watching the court anymore.

The noise was static now. Not cheering. Not booing. Just noise.

Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate. The air was too thick. The sweat clinging to her skin felt like weight.

She tried to inhale.

It caught halfway up her chest.

Tried again.

Failed.

Her shoulders rose, then dropped. Jerky. Too fast.

“Hey,” Chloe whispered, crouching in front of her now. One hand on Azzi’s shin. “You’re alright. You’re off the court now. Just stay with me.”

Azzi blinked hard. Once. Twice.

Her vision tunneled. Not from exhaustion. From too much. From trying to hold too many years in her ribs all at once. Her past, her future, her fucking present — and all of it somehow still tethered to one person on the opposite bench.

Paige.

Still watching her.

Still looking at her like she gave a shit..

Because that look?

It wasn’t pity.

It wasn’t anger.

It was... remorse.

Real, shattering, too-late remorse.

Azzi whipped her head away.

She clenched her jaw until it ached. Dug her nails into the bench under her. Anything to keep from doing something reckless. From screaming.

Azzi’s breath hitched. Her hand trembled.

“I need—” she started, barely audible.

“What?” Chloe leaned in.

Azzi stood suddenly. Too fast. Blood rushed to her head, the lights above spinning like a carousel.

“I need to get out of here.”

“You can’t leave the bench yet, Azzi—”

“I need to get out.”

She didn’t wait for permission. Just ducked her head and pushed past the assistant coach.

The cameras followed her. One of the trainers rushed behind her.

Paige watched. Paige watched every step.

Watched Azzi vanish down the tunnel, jersey wrinkled, shoulders shaking, heart still somewhere on that court.

—————————

Thanks for reading sorry it low-key sucked butt but yknow. 😛

[averyspizookies]

— — Guarded — —

You guys are so lucky im posting this and its pretty much out of spite. Anyways, I love yall. This is the long awaited ending to guarded. Its short and sweet, just some closure to the story. <3

The sunlight was a mere memory by the time they woke up—three hours of sleep, maybe.

Azzi stirred, the heaviness in her chest replaced by the lightness that came with Paige.

Paige felt her move around, disoriented, but one thought stayed clear in her head: the way Azzi had let her in. Trusted her. Chose her.

“You awake, Az?” Paige asked softly.

Azzi turned to face her in the darkness of the room, still wrapped in warmth and sleep. “Yeah… do you know how long we were asleep?”

Paige exhaled a soft breath, the air between them still thick with the quiet heat of rest. She rolled over and grabbed her phone.

9:23 p.m.

7 missed calls – Dad 3 missed calls – Caroline

“Oh shit.”

She had completely forgotten about storming out of the house—hadn’t told her dad where she was going, hadn’t cared at the time.

Azzi’s brows drew together. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sleep still heavy in her voice.

“My dad. I kinda… didn’t tell him where I was. Or that I was leaving,” Paige admitted.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Paige.” Her tone was laced with faux-annoyance, not entirely convincing.

Paige shrugged and clicked on the call icon. Her dad picked up before it even rang once.

“Paige Madison.”

Madison, Azzi thought, making a mental note of the name.

“Hey, dadddd,” Paige said, her voice too high, too sweet.

Azzi bit her lip, trying to hide the grin forming.

Paige saw it and shot her a glare, right before her dad’s voice boomed again.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Ummm… I’m at Azzi’s house.”

“And what are you doing at Azzi’s house? Because last time I checked—you were upstairs in your room!”

“I’m sorry!” Paige rushed out. Her dad didn’t get mad often, usually only when she did something reckless. Which this absolutely was.

“I just—I needed to be here. It couldn’t wait,” she added, her voice softer now, sincere.

Her dad sighed on the other end. Paige could practically picture him—standing in the kitchen, one hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Just… tell me when you’re coming home. Be smart, and be safe, kid.”

“I love you,” Paige said quickly. “And I will.”

She hung up and turned to Azzi, who was already looking at her, clearly having heard the whole conversation.

There was a shift. They both felt it.

Now was the time.

It was scary. Terrifying, even.

“We can’t keep pushing this off,” Azzi said, eyes locked with Paige’s.

She was right. Paige knew it.

“Yeah,” she murmured.

Azzi took a deep breath, still a little shaky from sleep, and began. “Well… I mean, I don’t know how you feel. I mean—I do. Kinda. But the photo’s out there. As much as I don’t want it to be… it is. And we can’t fully take it back.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

Azzi swallowed. It was now or never. “Paige?” she asked, hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“I—um…” Azzi let out a breath. “I’ve never felt like this before. For a girl, I mean.”

“I know, Azzi,” Paige said gently, cutting her off. “I know. So, I mean, we don’t have to… like, be that. We can—”

“But I want that.”

Paige searched her face, looking for any sign of hesitation.

Nothing.

Just honesty.

“You… you do? I mean, like, you want—me?”

Azzi let out a small laugh, knowing damn well she was falling for the blonde harder every second.

“Yes, stupid. I want you. I want you to… y’know.”

A grin spread across Paige’s face, unstoppable, wild. “You’re saying… You. Azzi Fudd. Want to be my girlfriend? Like—for real, for real?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t hate that.”

Paige was on her in a second, launching herself across the bed.

The weight of her six-foot girlfriend crashing into her knocked Azzi back, but she didn’t care.

“Paige!” she squealed.

Paige buried her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. “Shush,” she mumbled, smiling into her skin, taking in the moment.

They stayed like that for a beat, tangled in the bed, phones forgotten, the world shut out.

Just them. Just warmth. Just everything new.

“Sweetie!!”

A sharp knock at the door.

Katie’s voice.

Paige sprang up like she’d been electrocuted, limbs tangled, promptly stumbling and falling off the bed with a thud.

“Uh—yeah! Yes! What, Mom?” Azzi called out, her voice cracking as she looked at Paige on the floor.

Katie cracked the door open, suspicion written all over her face.

“What was that noise?” she asked, eyes flicking from a flustered Azzi on one side of the bed to Paige scrambling upright.

“Uh… just— I fell,” Paige said, standing now. “Y’know. Tripped. All good.”

Katie narrowed her eyes. She knew it was a lie. But she didn’t push.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Azzi and Paige exchanged a loaded look.

They’d talk about that later.

“So, Mom?” Azzi started, trying to recover. “What’s up?”

“We were thinking of grabbing some late dinner,” Katie said. “Pizza. You girls wanna come?”

Paige looked at Azzi, and Azzi looked back.

It would be the first time she stepped outside since everything. First time being seen with Paige, too.

But Azzi smiled. “Yeah. Sure. We’ll come, Mom.”

Katie paused—like she hadn’t heard Azzi sound like that in weeks—and smiled gently. “Okay. Sounds good. We’re leaving in five.”

She left, closing the door behind her softly.

Paige exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the whole time.

“Tripped?” Azzi teased.

“Shut up,” Paige muttered. “We weren’t exactly in a friendly position, Fudd.”

“Seemed pretty friendly to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Paige leaned over, caging her in with both arms. “You this close with all your friends?”

“So what if I was?” Azzi shot back, holding eye contact—burning with challenge.

Paige’s heart kicked in her chest. Azzi’s face was too close. Her scent, her breath, her lips—everything.

“I’d tell you that’s stopping. I don’t like to share.”

“Hm,” Azzi replied, short and sharp, refusing to back down.

“Hm?” Paige echoed, tilting Azzi’s chin up with a single hand.

Azzi faltered at the touch. Paige’s possessive streak was shining through, raw and new and real.

“What?” Paige whispered, face barely an inch away. “Cat got your tongue?”

Azzi could feel the flush climbing up her neck. Her heart thumped, her body thrummed.

And Paige knew.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

“No,” Azzi whispered, breathy and far from convincing.

“Hm,” Paige said again, satisfied.

And then she kissed her.

Their mouths moved in sync, Paige taking the lead, her hand still firm on Azzi’s jaw, pinning her gently to the bed.

The kiss deepened, both of them pulling closer, clinging tighter.

Azzi let a sound slip—soft and unfiltered.

Paige hummed against her lips, guiding the kiss deeper, hungrier.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered, breaking away for just a second.

“Yeah, baby?”

Azzi froze.

Baby.

It rolled off Paige’s tongue like she’d said it a thousand times.

“Az?” Paige asked again, not even realizing what she’d said.

“We have to stop. We gotta go,” Azzi whispered, her voice thick with heat.

Paige breathed out slowly, forehead pressed to hers.

She didn’t want to pull away. She didn’t want the world back in.

But she nodded.

“Yeah… okay.”

----

Azzi sat up slowly, her lips still tingling, cheeks flushed, the weight of Paige’s body no longer on her but somehow still everywhere. Paige backed up, ran a hand through her hair and tried not to stare.

She failed. Miserably.

Azzi was already fixing her hair in the mirror, trying to cool her face down, but Paige just watched her like she was some rare, impossible thing. Like she couldn’t believe she got to see this version of her.

"You good?" Azzi asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Paige blinked once. “Yeah,” she said, then again, like she meant it this time. “Yeah.”

They didn’t speak much as they threw on hoodies and sneakers. It was the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. Paige let Azzi lead the way out of the room, past the framed baby pictures in the hallway and the smell of laundry in the air. Paige had never been more aware of how in someone’s home she was. Not just physically. In it.

Downstairs, Katie was waiting in the living room with her purse slung over her shoulder, keys in hand.

“Ready, girls?”

Azzi nodded, pulling the hood over her curls like it might hide more than just her face. Paige lingered by the door for a second too long before following them out.

The pizza place wasn’t even far — just a ten-minute drive and a dimly lit strip mall — but it felt like a whole new universe for Azzi. Every car they passed, every person at a red light, she wondered if they’d seen it. If they knew.

She sat across from Paige in a booth near the back. Paige’s thigh bumped against hers every few minutes. It grounded her.

Katie made light conversation with the waitress, and Paige did most of the ordering — pepperoni and garlic knots, of course. Azzi kept her hands in her lap, fingers curling into the hem of her hoodie.

“Hey,” Paige leaned over, voice low. “You okay?”

Azzi nodded. Then, “I think so.”

Paige offered her pinky under the table. Azzi stared at it for a second before lacing hers around it.

They didn’t talk about the photo. Or the comments. Or the reposts and speculation and reposts of the reposts. Not yet. It was too much, and this night felt like a fragile glass house she wasn’t ready to crack open.

Katie excused herself to the bathroom just as the food arrived. Paige didn’t hesitate—she slid her phone out of her pocket.

Azzi raised a brow. “Don’t you dare post me looking like this.”

Paige grinned, thumbs typing quick, then glanced up. “I’m not posting you.”

Azzi reached for a garlic knot. “Then what—?”

Paige clicked her phone off, slid it face-down on the table.

“I just posted the sky. Said something stupid like, ‘Some things aren’t for the internet.’”

Azzi blinked. Her chest stung.

“That’s all?” she asked softly.

Paige shrugged. “People can say what they want. They already are. But we get to say what matters.”

Azzi stared at her, heart hammering. “That’s actually kind of…poetic, Bueckers.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, cocky smirk on full display. “I’m full of surprises.”

-----

Back at the house, they didn’t talk about what had changed, but it was obvious. Azzi sat a little closer. Paige took a little longer saying goodbye.

Katie was halfway up the stairs before turning around. “You staying again, Paige?”

Azzi turned, startled. “Wait—really?”

Katie gave a pointed look. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? You’ve been happier in the last few hours than you have in days. And Paige,” she looked at her, soft but firm, “thank you for showing up.”

Paige looked down, cheeks pink. “Yes, ma’am.”

Katie smiled. “Call your dad this time though.”

-------

Azzi curled into Paige under the covers again, neither one pretending they weren’t exhausted or a little scared.

The house was quiet. Their phones were off. Paige’s fingers were tangled in Azzi’s.

“Hey,” Paige whispered into the dark.

“Yeah?”

“You still want to be my girlfriend?”

Azzi laughed, nose scrunching into Paige’s hoodie. “Yeah, stupid.”

Paige smiled into the top of her curls.

“Cool. Just making sure.”

----

Paige was already half-asleep again when she heard Azzi mutter, “Can I post something?”

Paige cracked an eye open. “What?”

Azzi’s phone was glowing against her chest.

“I just…want to say something. I think I’m ready.”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “Then do it.”

Azzi hesitated anyway. Then she leaned over and snapped a picture. Paige was blinking sleepily at her, hoodie falling off one shoulder, hair a disaster.

“Really?” Paige groaned. “That’s the one?”

Azzi smiled.

She opened Instagram and posted it to her story. No filter. No caption, except:

"Mine <3"