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lilirae00 · 1 day ago

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Still Here - Part 3/?

Summary: Paige and Azzi were never official. But they were never nothing, either. Years in the future when they’re both in the WNBA, everything between them still feels unfinished and impossible to ignore. Inspired by the song, “Why Is She Still Here?” By Reneé Rapp.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, cheating storyline but not on each other, sexual references, nothing explicit

a/n: There's a lot of you with very strong feelings about Azzi in this. I get it. But that's the way the story goes. Stay along for the ride. It won't always be smooth, but it'll be worth it.

Masterlist

—

Present Day - Dallas, Texas

It had been almost thirty days since the last time Paige saw her. Almost thirty days since Azzi showed up at her apartment that night apologizing for calling her a friend.

Exactly twenty-eight days since she had allowed her body to forget what her heart had been trying to remember. Since she'd tasted someone else on Azzi’s lips and pretended it didn't wreck her.

She didn't text Azzi. She didn't reach out. Not even after the Lynx dropped their last three games and Azzi looked tight, tired, and tight-lipped in all the highlight clips. Paige hadn't said a single word.

She had been trying to be done with Azzi, trying to erase her from her mind.

And then Chicago happened.

The hit didn’t look all that brutal in real-time, but Paige only remembered it in pieces. A flash of the floor under her feet and then breathlessness. One second she was driving into the paint, and cutting hard through two defenders, and then the next second her feet were in a tangle with another player, her body twisted, and after that everything…tilted.

She vividly remembered the sound of her head hitting the hardwood floor but not the sensation of pain, at least not right away. She just remembered the hollow echo of her skull bouncing on the hardwood like a dropped rock.

Then the spinning came.

The lights above her eyes split into ten separate stars. The lines on the court wouldn’t stay still. And the crowd…God, the crowd was so loud, it was like they were shouting straight into her eardrums.

She tried to sit up and instantly regretted it.

After a trip to the emergency room that confirmed the concussion, she was finally cleared after 24 hours to come home under the strict guidelines of rest only.

Now, two days later, she was still moving as if her body was in slow-motion. The spinning had finally subsided and her balance seemed mostly back to normal, but her head still ached intensely and bright lights still made her flinch.

She spent most of her days in a baggy hoodie, strings pulled tight, with the blinds in her apartment all closed as if she were hiding in a cave. Her teammates would come by and check in, her parents would call every day, and her coaches would text.

Azzi did, too.

Texts came in quietly, one or two a day. Just checking. Just reaching.

But Paige never answered, didn’t even open them. She pretended they weren’t there.

So no, it hadn’t been silence. It had been avoidance.

She had spent the afternoon crumbling into the couch, trying to do anything that didn't require any effort. Her phone was face down on the coffee table. Her entire body felt like it was made out of wet sand, weighty and unstable. Her muscles ached, and she could feel her brain still lagging a half second between thought.

So when she heard a knock, it startled her.

Three, soft raps on the door of her apartment.

She blinked, her heart suddenly beating loud in her ears. Nobody ever knocked. Not without sending a text first.

For a brief moment she thought it might be her mom, or a delivery.

But she knew, deep in her gut.

The knocking started again, and she stood up slowly. Her head rolled slow and lethargic as she stood and padded barefoot to the door. She looked through the peephole in the door.

Her stomach sank.

Azzi stood on the other side, holding the straps of her backpack like she was holding onto something to steady herself.

She looked small, serious even. Like she had already been standing there an unbearable amount of time before knocking. Paige opened the door but didn't say anything. They just stared at one another.

Azzi took a step forward, her eyes glancing over Paige's face. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Paige leaned against the frame, as if her bones could not hold her up on their own. She didn't answer.

"I saw the game," Azzi continued. "I saw what happened. I’ve been texting you…"

"I know." Paige's voice was flat. Hoarse.

"You didn't answer."

Paige turned away from the door, walking inside. "I know."

But she didn’t shut the door behind her, so Azzi took the unspoken invitation to follow. The apartment was dark and dimmer than usual. The television was on silently. Dirty dishes piled in the sink. A wet towel was crumpled on the floor next to the couch. An open bottle of Advil also lay next to a mostly empty glass of water.

"You shouldn't be alone," Azzi said softly.

Paige dropped back onto the couch, turning to face Azzi. "You shouldn't be here," she said.

Azzi took another small step toward her. "I needed to see you."

"That doesn't mean you should have come." Paige had no energy left to be sharp. No energy for anything. And still, even just looking at Azzi…at the shape of her silhouette standing in this dark apartment, the familiar smell of her shampoo in the air, it shattered something in her chest.

"I saw you fall," Azzi whispered. "I saw your head hit the floor, and your arms go stiff, and…you just laid there. And then you didn’t text me back and I kept thinking…what if this is the one time you don’t get back up?

Something twisted in Paige's stomach. "I always get back up."

Azzi moved to the edge of the couch, squatting just beside it. "You're not okay."

"No," Paige said, meeting her eyes. "But that's not your job to fix."

Azzi's face cracked. "I’m not here to fix it, I just…God, I didn’t know where else to go."

"That's the thing, Azzi, you have someone at home. You go home."

The air between the two of them thickened. Familiar. Heavy with a longing that still hadn't been spoken. Paige leaned back into the couch, her body aching in too many places. “What do you want from me?” she asked.

Azzi's eyes didn't move off her face, like she was trying to memorize every piece of her. She didn't answer right away. “I just needed to know you’re okay,” she settled on.

Paige sighed, leaning back further against the cushions and folding her arms over her chest. "Well... I'm not," she said flatly. Her voice wasn’t defensive, it wasn’t anything.

Just flat. Just tired.

Azzi swallowed heavily. Her fingers twitched at her side like they were dying to just reach out to Paige, but were afraid of being denied.

“You could’ve called,” Paige said, still not looking straight at her. “You could’ve just called and asked how I was feeling.”

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

Paige didn’t say a word as Azzi moved a little closer to sit next to her on the couch. The pull in the air was still there. It was steady, undeniable, and humming just beneath the surface, like it always was, always had been.

But this time there was something different in Azzi's eyes. Something was shaken loose.

She looked like she hadn't slept in days, like she had recently carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her breathing was uneven. Her shoulders were tense. It looked like she didn't even know how to be still anymore.

She reached out slowly, as if it hurt to lift her hand, before her slender fingers brushed along the side of Paige's face. She slowed again just before her thumb lightly grazed Paige's temple like she was inspecting it for visible wounds.

Her hand trembled before softly settling there, with a tenderness that punched the air right out of Paige's lungs.

No words. Just skin on skin, like Azzi needed to touch or to feel with her own skin that Paige was still there, that she was actually okay.

Azzi's other hand settled on Paige's jaw, with a thumb catching beneath the edge of her cheekbone.

Azzi squinted her brow, but there were no tears and yet, the glossy look was there. The weight of her chest was visibly tight, like she was holding something back.

Something painful.

Not lust. Not want.

Heartbreak.

Love.

Guilt.

Paige's eyes fluttered closed with the quiet care of Azzi's hands. The soft heat of palms. The tenderness of touch.

And then Paige took Azzi’s hand, and pressed it against her chest like she needed her to feel the way her heart was still beating.

“I shouldn’t let you stay,” she whispered. “But I don’t have the energy to fight you tonight.”

Azzi nodded. And somehow, that meant it was alright.

They moved together with a steady slowness that emerged from grief, like they both knew each movement was going to cost them.

There was no rushing. No roughness. Azzi peeled the hoodie from Paige's body and kissed the shape of her shoulder like it was a prayer. Paige pulled her into bed without a word.

It wasn’t sex. It was something quieter. Azzi kissed the outline of any bruise like she wanted to kiss it better, while Paige clung to her like she needed a way to hold herself steady against the vertigo.

They didn’t talk.

Azzi wrapped around her from behind, arm draped across Paige’s middle, warmth heated into the small of her back. And Paige let her.

Because right now, she didn’t have the energy to not let Azzi hold her.

And Azzi… Azzi held on like she’d never let go.

—

The morning arrived in gentle blue tones that barely filled the dark areas of Paige's bedroom. The blinds were still closed, the room cool and quiet, and for several long moments, Paige just laid there and lingered somewhere in the gap between sleep and the pain of waking.

There was still a slight throb of pain in her head. It was like a low, mild rhythm behind her eyes, but that wasn’t what woke her up. It was Azzi's body behind her, not just still but frozen.

Paige didn’t move, she remained quiet and listened. She felt the faint hitch of Azzi's breath, the stiffness of her body. She wasn’t really asleep, she hadn’t been asleep for some time. Paige could tell. She was just lying there, motionless, like any kind of movement might break something.

Paige swallowed against the lump in her throat and spoke softly. "You’re awake," she said.

Azzi's arm adjusted slightly around her waist. "Yeah."

Paige didn’t turn to face Azzi. She just continued to stare straight ahead at the wall, her eyes adjusting to the light leaking around the edges of the curtains.

Azzi’s breath was stuck like she hadn’t meant to say anything. “How’s your head?” she finally asked, her voice hardly a whisper against the quiet of the room.

It was more than a question. It was worry mixed with effort, stretched thin under guilt. It was the sort of care you give when you know you’ve lost the right to ask, but still ask because not asking is worse.

Paige closed her eyes for one second too long. Her chest constricted, her throat caught on the answer that wanted to come out, and she was afraid it would be too much. “Fine,” she said, flat and fast, hoping she could outrun the softness in Azzi’s voice with speed.

Azzi didn’t respond. She just laid there behind her, still and waiting and not pushing or moving, like she was trying to be small inside a feeling that had already gotten too large.

And Paige could feel it. All of it. How Azzi’s arm hadn’t moved. How her breath changed slightly after asking the question.

She wanted to turn over and bury herself in Azzi’s chest. She wanted to let go and feel cared for, held, and safe. But the second she did, if she allowed herself to feel the full weight of Azzi’s worry, she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to any part of it.

So she looked at the wall and clenched her teeth and felt her heart pounding inside of her, doing everything she could think of to not break apart in the sound of someone still loving her in the dark.

“How are you even here?” Paige asked after a moment. “Don’t you guys have a game in New York this week?”

Azzi paused to respond. "I told the team it was a family emergency. Said I would be back tomorrow."

That made Paige blink. "A family emergency," she repeated.

Azzi's chin grazed her shoulder, while she nodded slightly, as if the movement would disturb the moment. "I had to see you."

Paige finally turned with careful movement rolling to her back, to see better. Azzi's eyes were red and tired, her hair was a mess like she hadn't been to sleep, or at least had not slept much.

"You flew across the country," Paige said softly. "Because I hit my head."

"Because you didn't answer my texts," Azzi corrected, her voice slipping out of control. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about how hard you went down. About how long you laid there. And because I needed to know you were really okay."

Paige let her eyes fall closed for a moment. She didn't want to feel how she felt, like a weight on Azzi's behalf cracked something open inside of her again, something she had recently been desperately trying to keep shut.

When she opened them, Azzi was still looking at her, searching her face like she could uncover something hiding there.

"I don't get it," Paige whispered. "You told me you don't love her. So why do you keep going back to her? Why is she the one you wake up next to when I'm the one you’ll fly halfway across the country for?"

Azzi sat up slowly and pushed herself to sit up against the headboard. She dragged a hand slowly down her face, like if she did it slowly, it would help ease the tension. She sighed and said, "Because you feel like home."

Paige's chest tightened.

"I don't…" Azzi drew in a breath, paused, and switched gears. "I don't know how to explain it. Emma is... good. She's good to be around. She listens. She’s calm. It’s not a war every time I walk into the room.”

Paige flinched. "And that’s what I am? a war?"

Azzi quickly shook her head, "No. No, that’s not what I mean." She was leaning forward now, her voice low, but urgent. "With you, it’s just... deeper. And it’s been like that from the very beginning. I have never figured out how to stop feeling so much with you."

Paige was staring at her now, eyes full of fire. "Then why don't you just stay?"

"Because you scare the crap out of me," Azzi said, barely above a whisper. "Because when I’m with you, it’s too real. Always has been. You know me in ways that no one does. You actually see me and that has never been easy."

Paige looked at the sheets, bunched up like her life, in her lap. "So, what…Emma is just easier to love?"

Azzi held her breath. "No. She’s just... easier to leave."

Paige blinked at Azzi, confused. "What does that even mean?"

Azzi hesitated, her eyes searching the ceiling as if the words would be there, "I mean... if I lose Emma, it will hurt. Of course it will hurt, because she’s safe. She doesn't ask for those parts of me that I don't want to give. But I’d get through it. I would eventually move on.”

She turned her head to look at Paige, finally. Her voice barely audible as it quivered, "But you? If I ever had you, like really had you and then lost you…I…I wouldn’t be able to survive that."

Paige's breath caught. She looked at Azzi, really looked at her. The face she knew better than her own. The girl who always had the power to break her, and keep breaking her into tiny pieces.

She swallowed hard. "Did it ever cross your mind that leaving could ruin me too?" Her voice cracked in a dry and unforgiving way, "That every time you go back to her, you take a little more of me?"

Azzi flinched again, but Paige was not done. "Did you ever think for one second, that maybe, my heart isn't built to bounce back either? Or were your feelings the only ones that mattered?"

Azzi was looking at her without looking away, but Paige could see the tears now. Thick, all on the edges, unspilled because they wouldn't fall unless Paige made them fall.

"I think about it all the time." Azzi whispered, "I know what I'm doing. I know what it’s doing to you. But every time I try to stop showing up here and wanting you….I can't, Paige. I miss you like I miss oxygen. And when I see you, it’s like my body remembers how to breathe again."

She reached out to touch Paige's face, but stopped herself and pulled back a little more than halfway there.

Paige was looking at her, something sharp twisting behind her eyes. "And then you go home to someone else,” she said softly. "You let me carry the weight of it while you crawl into a bed with someone who thinks you're hers."

Azzi flinched.

"You know what that makes you?" Paige asked, almost under her breath. "It makes you a shitty person."

Azzi blinked, as if she had been slapped.

"You continue to show up here, needing me, touching me, saying that you care, only to go home to someone else like none of it means anything. That's not fair, and it’s not okay."

Azzi's voice cracked open. "I'm so fucking scared, Paige."

Paige blinked.

"Of choosing," Azzi continued, almost desperate. "Of choosing you and somehow messing it up and losing you anyway. Because I don’t even know how I’d survive that."

Paige stared at her, heart beating slow and heavy like it was sinking and settling into mud. The room felt small, too small really, for all the feelings that were pushing at her ribs. “I love you," she said, and the words felt like submission.

Not whispered in a haze of sex or in those precious moments of peace with sheets rolled up underneath them. It was said like a truth that had been eating her alive for years. "I have loved you for so long that I don’t even know who I would be without it, Azzi."

Azzi's lips parted as if she might say it back. Paige could see it there, on the tip of her tongue. There, in that teardrop hanging off her lashes.

But she didn’t say it. And there was something in Paige that just broke.

Her head began to throb again, sharp and insistent. She did still technically have a concussion, still had difficulty with her balance, her focus, and the ability to endure this kind of pain without breaking.

Finally she stood up, slowly, her legs shaky under her as she reached for the sweatshirt she'd tossed over the back of a chair the night before. The fabric felt heavier than it should have, as if even her clothes were tired of holding this.

Her voice, when she found it, was quiet, but sharp enough to cut both of them. "Don't come back."

Azzi flinched, her eyes wide. "Paige…"

"Not until you can choose me," Paige said, her tone strong even though her fingers shook at her sides. She held Azzi's gaze like it physically hurt to.

"You don't get to have both. You don't get to have someone safe waiting for you at home who cheers for you, who fits into the life you built, then come to me to actually feel something."

Azzi's mouth opened like she might respond, but Paige wouldn’t let her.

"I make you feel. I know that and you know that. But I’m not some secret you get to come back to when it’s convenient for you, or when you’re scared or lonely or looking for proof that your heart still works."

She swallowed, her breath unsteady. "If it’s her, fine. At least that’s a choice. But if it’s me, Azzi... it has to actually be me.”

Azzi remained silent, but the silence between them spoke volumes. Something twisted in her face that she could never say. Hurt, guilt, longing. Maybe all three.

She bent down to pick up her clothes from the floor, deliberately and slow, as if every second made her limbs heavier. She hooked her bra backward with shaking fingers. She pushed her tank top over her head, and pulled on her shorts. She grabbed her bag from the corner of the room and stared at it like it could convince her to stay.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Azzi paused at the door.

Once she looked back, her eyes glossed over with all the feelings she didn’t have the voice to say. Then she turned.

The door didn’t slam shut. It clicked, gently. Like the end of a chapter neither of them were ready for.

And Paige sat silently, looking at the space in the doorway, hearing the sound of the door closing as an empty echo in her chest like something breaking apart.

Not because Azzi left.

But because this time, Paige told her to.

—

Three weeks. That’s how long it had been since she told Azzi to leave and actually meant it.

Since then, Paige went back to practice. She iced her neck. She took her vitamins and did her post concussion protocol check-ins each day, without fail.

She smiled at her teammates, she laughed at the jokes in the locker room, and she fought to get her rhythm back on the court, as if everything inside her wasn’t falling apart.

And tonight, it paid off.

Dallas had just sealed a spot in the playoffs after defeating the Valkyries. It was hard-fought, physical, and the kind of game that made reporters crowd a little closer during the postgame presser. Paige walked away with 32 points, 8 rebounds, 12 assists, and 3 blocks.

The lights in the media room were bright, but Paige blinked through trying to ground herself. She shifted in her seat with a white towel looped around her neck, and a ponytail that was starting to fall loose from sweat and pressure.

The win felt good. It really did.

But she didn’t feel it the same as she used to.

“Paige, how’s your head?” Some voice called from the front row.

She nodded once, sharply. “Good. No lingering symptoms. Just thankful for clearance and the opportunity to be out there.”

Another hand shot up. “That block in the fourth, you looked like you had some kind of incentive. Was that from the game or something more personal?”

A flicker of a smile. “Every time I step on a floor, I have a reason to win. So that’s not a surprise.”

Polite laughter buzzed throughout the room.

Another question came, softer. “It’s been a tough road for you this year. Injuries. Recovery. And, some noise off the court about your rookie contract ending. What has been the hardest part for you, emotionally?”

That she wasn’t expecting.

Paige blinked, her eyes judging the large room, with so many faces, so many lights.

So many things she couldn’t say.

She swallowed hard, pulling her fingers away from the microphone as they twitched in the space of its grip. "I think..." she started, but paused. Her voice sounded raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I think the hardest part has been the quiet."

The room stilled, with no one stepping in.

"I've had to sit with a lot of things this season," Paige said, her voice low with thoughtfulness. "A lot of... moments that I thought were going to mean something. People I thought I could trust. And then, when those people are gone, you realize how loud the quiet really is."

A beat passed.

Then the words came out before she could stop them.

"I guess I'm just tired of being a ghost in someone else's story."

The air snapped. A soft murmur passed through the room. Pens were being scratched against pages, phones were being lifted into the air, but Paige didn’t flinch.

She only sat there staring at the mic like somehow it would absorb the unintentional confession. She gave them a tight smile, nothing more than an acknowledgement, and leaned back against her chair.

The PR rep interjected. "Okay, that's all for today. Thanks, Paige."

She stood, the scraping of chairs arose behind her like the push of a wave. Cameras flashed, and voices started to chase after her name along with it. But Paige didn’t look back.

In the locker room, she sat on the bench long after the others had showered and left. Her phone buzzed with notifications, mentions, retweets, texts she wouldn’t open. She tossed it facedown into her bag.

She meant what she said, every single word.

She just hadn’t meant for Azzi to hear it too.

But she probably would.

And that was the part that made her chest ache.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige and azzi

272 notes · View notes

lilirae00 · 5 days ago

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a happy ending for still here or step on a Lego 😭

Everything will always have a happy ending, don’t worry

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lilirae00 · 5 days ago

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you just unlocked a different level of greed inside me because i need 10 more chapters immediately wow this is so good

Idk about 10 more, but there’s definitely much more coming!

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lilirae00 · 5 days ago

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Azzi better have the craziest redemption arc or I fear i'm team sad pazzi ending because she does notttt deserve Paige

Oh for sure, I actually hate when fics unrealistically make people happy real fast after huge trauma like this. That’s why unfortunately this is gonna be a rough road ahead because even when they DO get together which they will because I’m here for happy endings, she will have to work for it. And Paige will still have lingering doubts that Azzi will have to prove to her aren’t true.

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lilirae00 · 5 days ago

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What chapter does Still here Azzi die 🤗

Oh come on, she isn't that bad. She's dealing with stuff and unfortunately Paige is just a pushover and can't say no.

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lilirae00 · 5 days ago

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bitch fucckkkkkkk sh!azzi

Haha, yeah I'm feeling that. This version of Azzi is horrible but Paige can't seem to let her go.

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lilirae00 · 5 days ago

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Still Here - Part 2/?

Masterlist

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, cheating storyline but not on each other, sexual references, nothing explicit

a/n: Enough people bullied me into making another part and I’m considering that this could potentially become a series…not a big one, but definitely multiple parts. Thoughts? Also, still dealing with some angst here. If I’m gonna let this story play out, I can’t rush it too much even though we all want happy Pazzi.

—

Present Day - Azzi’s Apartment, Minneapolis, MN

As Paige started to wake from sleep, the light filtering around her was gentle. It was soft and muted as it peaked through the airy curtains onto the hardwood floor. And for a moment, only a moment, she forgot where she was.

Then she looked around and the ache resettled within her body. Low in her spine, low in her chest, low in her throat. She was in Azzi’s bed.

Azzi was still asleep beside her, an arm fallen across Paige's waist, her breath warm and steady against Paige's shoulder. At some point during the night the sheet had twisted around them and Paige had her leg hooked around Azzi's without thinking.

It should have felt safe, but it didn’t.

Trying to be quiet, Paige slipped out from underneath the covers, moving like a person that was stealing something that didn’t belong to them. Her bare feet landed on the floor with quiet thumping. She located her clothes on the floor and held them in front of her naked chest to shield herself, suddenly feeling exposed in a way she didn’t feel last night.

The apartment was silent. Too silent.

She softly tiptoed into the connected bathroom, wiping her face with her hands, and attempting to think away the ache behind her eyes. She ached all over, but the pain was nothing compared to the empty ache taking up space in her chest.

She flipped on the bathroom light, and slowly dropped the hoodie she was using as a shield onto the bathroom tile. Her ankle still pounded with a dull throb from the game the night before, but she pushed through and stepped under the stream of hot water cascading down her shoulders and down her spine.

She let the hot water soak her hair and wash away her sleep and her regret while the silence surrounded her.

The shelf in the shower was lined with bottles, half-used and various brands.

Paige reached for the bottle she knew by heart. Azzi’s.

The citrus shampoo that Azzi always used, ever since college. The one that clung to Azzi's clothes and pillowcases and that always hit Paige in the stomach like a memory every time Azzi pressed a soft kiss to Paige's cheek or buried her face in Paige's neck.

Paige popped the cap and closed her eyes while she rubbed a generous amount into her hair, letting the smell bloom around her. It was fresh, sharp, and familiar.

For a moment, it was like Azzi was in the room with her, like she was about to pull back the curtain and step into the shower at any second and wrap her arms around Paige from behind while whispering something stupid and sweet against Paige's wet shoulder.

Paige stayed in that place for a while, allowing the scent to settle into her. And then she reached for Azzi's body wash too, the smell always reminding Paige of late practices, clean sheets, and skin that felt like home.

When she finally emerged, the mirror was foggy and her fingertips were wrinkled. She reached for a towel from the linen cabinet, but hesitated. She saw a lilac towel folded neatly, monogrammed with the letter E embroidered on it. Not hers.

She grabbed it anyway and wrapped it around her body. Another around her head while drying her body slowly. There was heat and something heavier, something she didn’t want to name, that hummed in her body.

When the mirror fog faded enough for her to see her reflection, her eye finally caught a note stuck to the corner:

You've got this today! So proud of you. Love you - Em.

The towel around her chest felt tight. Azzi’s soap scent lingered on her wrists, collarbone, and the ends of her hair. And all Paige could think was…so close, and still not mine.

Her reflection stared back at her damp, pale, and hollow-eyed. Her jaw tightened. Her fists did too.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to rip the note from the glass, tear it in half and throw it in the trash and ask what are we even doing?

After a bit, she slid quietly back into the bedroom, all dressed again. It felt a little grimy to slip right back into the same outfit from the last night, like she was sealing herself back into the same thing that had just been ripped open.

Her shirt was stretched out, evidence of where Azzi pulled it off in a rush. And everything still smelled faintly like skin, sweat, and longing.

As Paige walked further into the bedroom, Azzi began to move around underneath the sheets, blinking sleep from her eyes, soft, open face flooded by the morning light.

"Hey," she murmured, voice scratchy.

Paige didn’t respond, but instead bent over to slip on her shoes and tie up the laces.

Azzi sat up rubbing her eyes. "You’re leaving?"

Paige nodded but kept her voice low. "I’ve got to get back to the hotel before the bus leaves."

Azzi glanced at the clock, seeing that it said 6:45am. "It’s early."

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Paige said. Her voice was sweet, but also felt heavy already, like she was halfway gone. Her fingers lingered at the edge of the hoodie she was pulling over her head, not quite ready to finish the motion.

Azzi swallowed. The silence between them felt oddly quiet, but definitely familiar. Like every other morning-after when nothing had actually changed.

Azzi's eyes drifted to her, like she wanted to say something. Whatever it was she didn't, just reached for the blanket and pulled it tighter around herself.

Paige finally pulled off the towel from her head, and ran her fingers through her damp and tangly strands. She crossed the room slowly with the lilac towel bunched in her hands and held it out for Azzi to take.

"Here," she said quietly, and set it down like it gutted her to touch it.

Azzi blinked at it. "That's…Emma's."

"I know."

They held each other's gazes, the both of them not addressing what they really wanted to.

Paige double checked her pockets for her phone and wallet. "I’ll see you around,” she said.

Azzi opened her mouth. And quickly closed it.

Paige walked out before she could change her mind. And as she walked out, the door closed with the softest click behind her, like it never even wanted to open in the first place.

—

It had been four weeks since Minnesota. Four weeks since Paige stood barefoot in Azzi’s bathroom, hair drenched as she folded a towel that smelled as though it belonged to someone else. Four weeks since Azzi told her "it was complicated" and didn't stop her from leaving.

And now, the Lynx were in Dallas.

It was late…late enough in the night that the city felt slower, warmer, and quieter. She didn't mean to wander this far from her apartment, but her legs moved more out of restlessness than out of intention.

She had thrown on a pair of basketball shorts and a plain grey tank top after dinner and headed out with her headphones on, though no music was playing. The night sky was cool, but the Dallas humidity stuck to her skin in that way that made her a little uncomfortable and a little anxious to move.

She was rounding the corner by the restaurant off Cedar Springs, the one that she sometimes liked to hit up with her teammates, when she noticed movement that made her glance up.

And her body froze.

There was Azzi. Standing just a few feet ahead on the sidewalk, half turned in the direction of the person beside her, a take out bag in her hand. She had on cutoff shorts and a cropped tee, and her sunglasses were pushed up into her curls. She looked good. Relaxed.

She was smiling, maybe even laughing. She had one hand moving wildly in an animated way, and then the other hand was resting casually behind the back of the person adjacent to her.

Emma.

Paige's stomach dropped.

It dropped in the way it does when you lose a game to a buzzer beater shot or when a desperate final shot bounces off the rim and an entire arena goes still or when you watch an entire team jump up and celebrate while you can’t even hear your own thoughts with the ringing in your head.

They hadn’t seen her yet. Paige could’ve simply kept walking. Could’ve crossed the street, turned around and saved herself from whatever fresh hell this moment was becoming.

But she didn’t.

Azzi’s eyes found her.

And Paige saw it all happen in real time. Azzi’s smile faltered, her body moved forward an inch away from Emma, like that could somehow cushion the blow of what Paige was looking at. Her grip tightened around the bag of leftovers she was carrying and her other hand pulled away from Emma’s lower back.

“Oh,” Azzi said quickly, and the register of her voice went a little too high, a little too bright. “Hey! I didn’t know you were…"

Paige just stared. Didn’t blink. Her arms suddenly felt a chill, but her jaw was burning hot.

“I live here,” she said, flatly.

Azzi flinched, too subtle for anyone but Paige to notice. “No, yeah! I mean, I just didn’t expect to see you over here.”

Paige tilted her head slightly and glanced at Azzi with a knowing look that said you know where I live.

“This is a block from my building.”

Azzi nodded. “Right…of course.”

Emma turned then, finally catching up with the conversation. She wore a Lynx tee tucked into her joggers and smiled like this wasn’t the most awkward moment imaginable.

Paige had never actually seen her in person. No Instagram picture or quick courtside glance at a Lynx games could have prepared her for the truth of her…so pretty, so alive, so very here.

She and Azzi had never allowed their two worlds to run into one another, not really. And yet here they were colliding on a sidewalk. Almost like the universe was tired of waiting.

Azzi, still attempting to fix something that was already broken, gestured awkwardly between the two of them. "Uh…Emma, this is Paige, an old friend. We played together at UConn."

Paige's heart thudded once, hard, like the wind had just been knocked out of her.

Friend.

The word was echoing in her ears, ringing louder than any crowd she had played in front of. Louder than any late-night whisper or every stolen breath or every time Azzi had reached for her in the dark, like she simply could not stand there to be space between them.

Friend.

Emma smiled genuinely and extended a hand. "Oh, yeah…Paige Bueckers. I’m a big fan."

Paige didn't say anything right away. She just looked down at the hand, and then looked back up at Azzi.

Azzi's face was trying. Her eyes were soft, pleading, and a touch desperate. But Paige could no longer read them like she used to, not when they were doing this.

Paige reached out to Emma and shook her hand, brief but polite.

"Cool," was all Paige said. Cool.

And then there was a weighty silence. It was thick as fog, rolling all around them. They didn't move.

Emma looked down at her phone and then offered Azzi a gentle smile back. "We should probably head back to the hotel…you know, big game tomorrow," she said, her voice light but kind of nudging.

Azzi nodded a little too fast. "Yeah. Totally."

Paige exhaled sharply through her nose. And then she made herself nod, just one quick jerk with her chin. "Well," she said, her voice flat like she was reading a newspaper, "you two enjoy the rest of your night."

Azzi opened her mouth like she might say something.

But Paige turned and walked away.

Her heart was pounding all the way down the street. She didn't look back. Her jaw was tight and her arms wrapped around herself so tightly that her nails were digging into skin.

The walk back to her apartment felt much longer than it actually was.

Paige barely processed the buildings or the traffic lights or the couple laughing outside the winery on the corner. It all blurred past in streaks of light and sound.

Friend.

She mulled over the word the entire walk home. She even tried saying it out loud to herself like it would sound different coming from her mouth and not Azzi’s. It didn’t.

She let herself into her building without even realizing she’d punched in the door code. She took the elevator up in silence, her eyes locked on the flashing number of the floor like it was counting down her last dignity.

In her apartment, she threw her keys on the counter and ripped her tanktop off as if it was on fire. Her body had been chilly outside only moments before, but now it felt like fire.

She stood in the center of her living room, in just her shorts and sports bra for a really long time. She stood there, bare arms with little goosebumps standing straight up, staring into nothing.

She thought about Azzi’s hand on Emma’s back. About how casually she had used the word. About how she didn’t even take it back. About how she didn’t even try.

Paige went to sit on the couch and dropped into it like her bones couldn’t hold her up anymore. She tucked one leg under herself and stared out the window of her high rise, the skyline twitching in vague blinks, hollow, and endless.

She reminisced about that night in Vegas during All-Star. It was the first night Azzi showed up after months apart and Paige never once questioned it.

She thought of Minnesota. The towel. The note on the mirror. The silence.

And still… still it hurt much worse to hear that word, than it did to see the toothbrush, or the photos on the bookshelf.

Friend.

Like it could shove everything they had done into a drawer labeled, “nothing.”

It was way past midnight when she finally turned off the lights. She crawled into bed wearing just a t-shirt and loose boxer shorts. The duvet was cool against her bare legs. Her muscles ached but it was definitely not from practice.

She lay on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow and the other wrapped around her waist, as if trying to stop her body from unraveling.

She was almost asleep, her mind hazy as her limbs felt leaden, when she heard it. A knock.

Soft. Two taps. Hesitant.

But then Paige sat up, realizing immediately that she knew that knock.

She blinked against the darkness, her heart already racing and her mouth dry.

She waited just a second, half hoping it was her imagination, that she was dreaming it into existence. But then it happened again.

A knock.

Softer this time.

Paige dragged herself out of bed, slow, like her body already knew what was about to happen and didn't want to cooperate.

She shuffled down the hall barefoot, with the floor cold against the soles of her feet.

She opened the door.

And there she was.

Azzi stood in the hallway, hair looking damp like she had just showered, hands shoved in her pockets. Her eyes looked wide and exhausted, like she had been waiting up all night.

Paige leaned against the doorframe, and just stared at her.

"What are you doing here?"

Azzi blinked as she stared at Paige for a long second. Then she looked down at her own shoes. "I don’t know."

It wasn’t a good enough answer, but Paige opened the door wider anyway. Of course she did. Azzi stood still in the hall like she wasn’t so sure how she had even gotten to this point. The fluorescent hallway light cast a faint yellow glow over her skin.

"I don’t know why I’m here," Azzi said again, quieter this time. Her voice wobbled a little at the end.

Paige didn’t move. She stood barefoot in the door frame, crossing her arms against her chest, her body almost glowing in warm amber behind her. Her heart was loud in her ears. For a minute, she felt too loud.

"You came all the way here to tell me that?" she asked.

Azzi blinked, again as if she didn’t know the answer either. "I couldn’t sleep."

Paige let that linger between them. She tilted her head slightly studying her. "So you just showed up here…at my apartment."

Azzi’s shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug, helplessly. "I just didn’t know where else to go."

That wasn’t true. But it was enough. Paige stepped back slowly, quietly, her jaw still tight. Azzi crossed the threshold like it was some kind of invisible line she shouldn’t have crossed, but always did. The door clicked shut behind her.

The apartment was still dim, and the only source of light was the glow from the kitchen under-cabinet lights. The couch was still messy from when Paige had curled into it hours ago, but she didn’t make any move to tidy up.

Azzi moved carefully, as if the simple action of breathing too loudly might knock something over. She glanced around the apartment like she hadn’t been there in years, even though it had only been a few months.

Her eyes glanced over all the details of the room, the books stacked on the coffee table, the shoes at the door, the hoodie over the arm of the couch, and she looked back at Paige.

"I’m sorry," she said, almost inaudibly, barely making it out of her throat.

“For what?”

Azzi's gaze lowered. "For earlier."

Paige crossed her arms again. Her tone was flat, but low. "You mean for introducing me like we were strangers?”

Azzi winced. “I didn’t mean…”

“You said I was your friend,” Paige cut in. The word caught in her throat like something bitter. “That’s what you called me. After everything.”

Azzi sucked in a breath. It was shaky. "What was I supposed to say? Emma…"

"Was right next to you…yeah, I noticed," said Paige.

Azzi moved to the center of the room and stood there looking frozen, unable to sit down and unsure if she wanted to run. "It wasn't about you. I panicked."

Paige stared at her, arms still crossed and weight hanging onto one side of her body. “That’s the problem, Azzi. You always panic. Every time it’s real. Every time it might actually mean something.”

Azzi opened her mouth. Then closed it.

"I stood there," Paige continued, her voice a notch softer and more dangerous, “listening to you call me your friend, like I haven’t had you in every city we’ve ever crossed paths in. Like you don’t crawl into my bed and let me hold you like I’m the only person who knows where it hurts.”

Azzi stepped toward her, "Paige..."

"No,” Paige shook her head. "You don't get to say my name like that. Not after tonight."

Azzi was so close now that it felt too close. The air grew thick again, heavy with every unspoken thing.

"You are my friend though, aren’t you?" Azzi's voice quaked slightly.

Paige’s laugh was hollow, almost soundless. She stepped back just far enough to catch her breath.

"You want to talk about what this is?" she spit out with her eyes blazing. "Because it didn't feel like friends when you begged for me in your hotel room at All-Star last year in Seattle. It didn't feel like friends when you said my name like a prayer last time you were here. Or on your kitchen floor after you cried into my neck on your birthday because everything felt too big, and I was the only one you wanted to hold you."

Azzi's breath caught. Her eyes shined.

“I don’t take friends to bed, Azzi,” Paige whispered.

They stared back at each other, breath shallow, eyes wide, every inch of space between them was tense and breaking.

And then, Azzi reached for her. It was only a hand, gentle against Paige’s arm, like she was asking for permission without words.

And Paige let her. Always. Because even when her brain was screaming no, and she promised herself she would be stronger this time, the ache in her chest always answered yes.

Their mouths collided like magnets snapping back into place. Not tentative, not testing, but urgent like they’d spent too many nights pretending not to remember what this felt like.

Azzi's hands were in Paige's hair, and trembling lightly, tugging her close with a wanting softness that didn't ask a question.

Paige pressed forward, instinctively, her fingers already pulling up Azzi’s t-shirt, the cotton brushing over her knuckles as she reached for skin.

Azzi gasped into her mouth, and that sound caused something to crack open inside of Paige.

They fell backward together into the hallway wall, breath tangled and chest heaving, and Paige kissed her again, but this kiss was rougher and messier than before.

There was no grace to it. Just years of tension, too many broken promises and too many nights alone combusting into yet another impossible, inevitable moment.

"God," Azzi breathed, voice locked somewhere between a sob and a moan, her forehead pressed against Paige's. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here."

"You are here," Paige muttered against her lips. "You always come here."

Azzi didn’t respond. She let her hands slip beneath Paige's shirt, palms warm and familiar against her ribs, tugging her close again like she needed to feel and memorize the sensation, again.

Paige let herself be tugged in, her body slipping into Azzi's like they still fit together…which they did, heartbreakingly well.

It was clumsy, clothes half-on, half-off and fumbling in the dark toward Paige's bedroom. They weren't having a conversation anymore. There was nothing left unsaid that hadn't already been demonstrated and whispered, or withheld in silence.

Only touch now. Only breath. Only the weight of what this always was.

Paige’s shirt hit the floor. Then Azzi’s.

When Paige shoved Azzi onto the bed, it wasn't possessive…it was surrender. She crawled over her slowly, like she was looking for familiar paths in a still-unknown landscape, scouring Azzi's body like she was afraid it was the last time.

She kissed the hollow of Azzi's throat, then into her collar bone, working lower, preparing herself to press her mouth down towards Azzi's core.

Azzi's hands were grabbing at whatever they could find. Paige's back, her hips, her face…as if she couldn't think of which body part to cling to first. When their eyes met again, Paige's chest tightened so much, her breath nearly caught in her throat.

"You still do this," Paige remarked in a low voice, "You still ruin me."

Azzi blinked, silent, but her breath stuttered out of her as Paige moved against her, then in her, then with her. The bed creaked beneath them, their bodies moving like they had a map no one else could read.

Azzi fisted the sheets as her back arched and began those deep breaths that Paige knew, loved, and longed to hear. When Azzi came, it was with a shudder that felt like grief. Paige held her through it, forehead pressed to hers, neither of them speaking. Neither of them knowing what to say.

Later, long after sweat cooled and silence became far too distracting, Paige stared at the ceiling, her body pressed into the mattress, helpless. Azzi was curled next to her, but she didn't touch her. Not anymore. Not when it was quiet.

"Is it easier?" Paige asked, barely a whisper.

Azzi didn't answer.

Paige turned her head slowly, watching. "With her," she said. "Is it easier? Not having to think about it. Not having to feel this much."

Azzi's face was still, eyes on the ceiling like it held the answer.

"It's not like that," she said finally, raspy.

"Then what is it like?" Paige asked.

Azzi turned her face away.

"Complicated," she said.

Paige swallowed the bitter taste rising in her mouth. "It's not complicated," she said. "You just don't love me enough."

Azzi's breath hitched, just slightly, but didn't argue.

Paige pushed herself up, the sheet fell off her chest. Her body ached. Not from what they did, but from what they always do.

She stood, walked to the edge of the bed, picked her night shirt up off the floor, pulled it over her head like armor.

Azzi sat up behind her, silent.

Paige paused in the center of her bedroom, her back to Azzi. She didn't want to cry. Not now. Not where Azzi could see.

"Who's fucking you better?" she asked quietly, almost like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Azzi inhaled sharply, breath catching in her throat like it hurt.

"I'm not asking to hear the answer," Paige clarified quickly, voice low and hoarse. "Because I already know. I know she doesn't touch you like I do."

Azzi's voice finally broke. "Then why would you ask me that?"

Paige turned just enough to see her. "Because you keep saying that you don't love her. But you still won’t leave her."

Silence.

"I get it," Paige whispered. "I'm the one making everything harder. Emma...Emma's easy."

Azzi didn't deny it.

Paige's jaw clenched, nodded slowly. Then she bent down and picked up Azzi's clothes off the floor and tossed them onto the bed. She turned back one last time. Her voice was low, but steady.

"You should go," she said. "Before she wakes up and realizes you're not there."

And this time, Azzi did.

—

FLASHBACK - University of Connecticut

It was late February during Paige’s sophomore year when she went down hard on a drive to the rim, her ankle rolling awkwardly beneath the weight of her own momentum.

She didn’t hear a pop, but she knew it was bad. The pain was immediate and sharp like a bee sting. Then, right as she hit the floor, it set in…she knew this was it for tonight.

Azzi was the first to get to her, low to the ground next to her while trainers rushed in from the bench. Paige saw Azzi’s hand hover over her knee, like she was going to comfort her but didn't know how to without completely falling apart.

A sprained ankle. Two weeks off, boot and all. It could have been worse news, but Paige had always been bad at being sidelined.

She was stubborn too, insisting that she didn't need help, and that she could handle it. But Azzi was in her room anyway the next day with a bag of ice and her favorite snacks.

“Don't argue with me,” she said, setting everything down next to Paige's bed. “You suck at taking care of yourself.”

Paige didn't argue with her, she liked it too much when Azzi was there.

Days passed slowly. Practices continued without Paige. She watched from the sidelines and when they traveled without her, Azzi FaceTimed her from hotel beds and texted updates about the team.

"Why don't you just move into her room already?" Nika joked one afternoon when Azzi showed up with takeout from Paige's favorite Thai place.

"You practically live together as it is," Caroline added, winking.

Azzi's smile faltered. She laughed too quickly, brushing it off. "Shut up," she said, throwing a napkin at Nika's head.

But Paige had seen it, that flicker in her eyes. Like something cracked open just a little too wide.

Later, when it was just the two of them again, Paige leaned her head back against the pillow and watched as Azzi scrolled through her phone on the floor beside the bed, her legs tucked up underneath her, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands.

"Are you okay?" Paige asked.

Azzi didn't look up. "Yeah."

"You sure? You've been weird since lunch..."

Azzi hesitated. "They were just joking."

Paige frowned. "About what?"

"Us."

Paige blinked. "Well, I mean we are kind of always together."

Azzi shrugged. "I know. I just…" She trailed off chewing the inside of her cheek. "It's stupid."

Paige softened her voice, "Az."

Azzi finally looked up at her. "It just felt... real. Like they saw something I wasn't ready to name yet. Like we weren't just messing around or keeping it light. Like…like it meant something."

Paige stared at her for a long time, her heart painfully thrumming away in her chest. She dragged her fingers out to Azzi's wrist.

"It does mean something," she said.

Azzi didn't say anything in return. She just leaned up, pressed her forehead to Paige's, and closed her eyes.

And then, just like always, Paige let it go. Gave Azzi the silence she needed instead of what Paige really wanted.

—

Back to Present - Paige’s Apartment, Dallas, TX

Paige didn't say a word for a long while after Azzi had left and the door had clicked closed.

The walls felt thin, the air felt too still, almost like there was something sucked out of the room that would never return no matter how deep she breathed in.

She couldn't stop staring at the empty spot on the floor where Azzi's shoes had been. The blanket that she didn't use, the place where her body had curled just hours before.

Paige curled her knees onto her chest on the couch with her arms around her knees tightly. The room was still dark, she hadn't turned the lights on because she didn't want to. The darkness felt...good.

As always, with silence filling the room, her mind drifted backward. Paige closed her eyes and felt the memory stretch inside of her.

She remembered the way Azzi looked when their teammates joked about them practically living together. There was that flicker of fear behind Azzi's smile, that quick, deflective laugh. The way her voice got small and uncertain when she told Paige, later, that it felt real in a way that scared her.

This wasn't new, at least not for Paige. Paige had known even then.

Azzi wasn’t afraid of her. She was afraid of what loving her might mean. Of how big it all felt. How consuming. And the truth was, Paige had let her be afraid, over and over again. Had let her stay silent. Had bitten her own tongue each time Azzi backed away, hoping maybe the next time it would stick.

But tonight, Paige finally said it out loud.

You just don't love me enough.

And Azzi hadn't denied it. But she didn't say it back, either.

Paige let her head drop back onto the couch and she stared up at the ceiling. She let the tears well up in her eyes, but didn't let them fall. She let them sit somewhere behind her ribs where she could carry them with her in silence, behind every breath.

The fear had always been louder than the love.

And maybe that was something Paige couldn’t fix.

Not anymore.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige and azzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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lilirae00 · 7 days ago

Note

That song has been on repeat since it cane out and you captured it so perfectly I loved it so much (pls make another part!)

Working on it! Had some stuff come up this week that took up more time than I thought but it's coming!

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lilirae00 · 9 days ago

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this is the first time in a fic that I actually want Paige to walk away from Azzi 😭 at least until Azzi figures her shit out and stops stringing Paige along.. she deserves better than that!

I know, Azzi is kinda not a great person in this right now. I feel bad for Paige but I get it. I’ve unfortunately been in a similar scenario where you love someone and they kinda just keep you hanging on enough to give you hope but not enough to fully commit.

But I will say, as I’m thinking through how I want to continue this, I know that Azzi is going to eventually have to be faced with some hard choices. It might take some time for Paige to work up the courage to draw that line but it’ll come.

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lilirae00 · 12 days ago

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oh god this is so good. like, i know the premise and where still here was going but i still got a stomachache from how much i just want them to be happy together in every universe.

i try not to ask about sequels or part twos, since that's, y'know, your decision as the writer. but if you already have ideas... i'm so down bad for everything you write.

Thank you! I definitely have a ton of ideas, I even slightly mapped out in my head how it would eventually end just because everything always has to have a happy ending. I can’t create something that stays sad or angsty 😆

I just wanted to see how people felt about the premise before I moved too far into it.

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lilirae00 · 12 days ago

Text

Still Here - Part 1/?

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: cheating storyline but not on each other, sexual references, nothing explicit

a/n: Happy Fudd Around and Find Out Premiere Day. This idea stuck with me for a bit when this song came out. I feel like there could be more to this, so let me know if it’s something that intrigues anyone…

—

Present Day - Target Center, Minneapolis, MN

The lighting inside Target Center was always too bright, piercing in a way that made it nearly impossible to hide from anything. Not defenders, not cameras, or the tightness sitting just below Paige’s ribs.

The buzz of the crowd resonated with the kind of loyalty she used to be jealous of. She was born just outside the city, so she knew what it meant to love this place. But Minnesota didn’t belong to her anymore. Not professionally, and certainly not personally.

It belonged to Azzi.

Warm-ups were wrapping up, and Paige tore off her warm-up pants that covered her shorts and exhaled through her nose in an effort to anchor herself in the muscle memory. It was game time, time to focus. Still… her eyes had other ideas. They found Azzi instantly.

Azzi was stretching by the baseline, hair in a perfect bun, headphones over both ears, head tilted back toward the skyline like she could breathe her way up to it. Paige had seen her do this exact stretch a thousand times, maybe even two thousand. She knew how she breathed, how she flicked her wrist before sneaking her arm behind her head to stretch further.

God, she’d missed watching her like this.

They hadn’t spoken since the last time…the last city, the last bed. That had been weeks ago now. And this, this whole thing between them had been going on for years.

It had been four years since Paige was drafted, and three since Azzi.

They both agreed that they would end it when they were both in the WNBA. They had exchanged promises at airports, hotels, and elevators. But every time they were in the same city, every time one of them looked too long or didn’t say enough, it all came rushing back.

They never really said goodbye. They just stopped…until next time.

“Ten minutes!” an assistant coach announced from the sideline. Paige blinked herself back into a place.

But then she saw her.

Courtside, right behind the Lynx bench. Emma.

Azzi’s girlfriend. Still.

She was wearing Azzi’s jersey, white with teal lettering, number 35 stretched across her chest. Her hair was dark, wavy below her shoulders, and she was clapping politely while the announcer went through warmup intros. She somehow looked… comfortable. Like she belonged.

Paige’s stomach twisted.

She redirected her attention to her team’s shooting drill, nodding at a pass and knocking down a corner three with practiced form. Don’t look. Just played the game.

But as she jogged back towards the half court line, she saw Azzi again.

Their eyes met.

Just for a second, not long enough for it to be obvious. Not long enough for Emma to see. But it hit Paige right in the chest. That little break of recognition. That thing they never talked about but also couldn't stop doing. Azzi looked away first, she always did.

By the time the tip-off came, there was a dryness in Paige's throat.

The game was tight with scrappy defense, elbows in the paint, lead changes every two minutes. Azzi was on fire, crossing over with that trademark shifty-ness, and her step-back three was as clean as the first time Paige ever saw it.

Paige couldn’t help but track her like a second skin. She knew where she was, how her shoulders shifted before a drive, the slight hitch in her shot release when she got tired. Paige knew her tells better than anyone.

And Azzi knew hers.

At one point during the third quarter, Azzi slipped behind her on a backdoor cut, brushing her hip with her hand as she went up for the layup. The contact wasn’t necessary for the play. Just contact. A reminder. Paige didn’tt contest it, she just watched the ball drop through the net, trying not to think about the last time Azzi had touched her like that.

Minnesota won by two. Paige had a chance at a buzzer beater, a clean look from the wing, but it rimmed out.

After the game, Paige trudged toward the tunnel, sweat cooling too quickly on her skin, her heart beating too loud in her ears. She walked over to the bench and picked up a towel, flinging it over her shoulder, trying to forget the ache in her legs and the sharper one in her chest.

Then she saw them.

Azzi and Emma. Just a few feet ahead, just out of earshot. Emma was saying something, smiling that soft private smile she only ever wore for Azzi. Azzi laughed, hand brushing Emma's arm.

Then Azzi’s eyes shot up and found Paige again.

A beat passed. Paige didn't blink. Didn't look away. Just watched, and waited.

Azzi didn't say anything. Just held the gaze a second longer than she should have and turned back to Emma, letting herself be pulled toward the locker room.

Paige stood there for a moment, frozen in the hallway.

She's in Azzi's city. In Azzi's space. Like she's the one who belongs there.

And maybe she does.

—

FLASHBACK — University of Connecticut

The door opened with a creak, as it always did, and Paige didn't look up from her laptop.

"About time," she muttered, while she highlighted another line in her textbook.

Azzi stepped inside without a word, her backpack sliding from her shoulder and landing with a soft thump beside the bed. Her jacket was halfway zipped up, and her hair was half up, half down, the way Paige liked best.

She didn't bother knocking anymore. Not here. Not with Paige.

Azzi slipped across the floor in her socks and silence and flopped onto Paige's bed face down, muffling a groan against Paige's comforter.

"Tough day?" Paige asked, still typing.

Azzi only reached out, grabbed a corner of Paige's shirt and pulled it, like a little kid wanting attention.

"You know I have an exam tomorrow," Paige said with a smile while she continued typing.

Azzi grunted, rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling like it had done her wrong. "I hate March."

"No you don't."

"I hate the pressure."

"You love the pressure."

Azzi didn't argue. Paige closed her laptop, and set it on the desk. Without saying anything, she pushed herself up and went over to the bed, crawling in beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because it was. This is what they did, steal quiet nights when the campus was only dreaming, when the sounds of practice and press conferences and expectations subsided just long enough for them to breathe in each other’s rhythm.

Azzi turned her head to meet Paige’s eyes. "You have that look again," she said softly.

"What look?"

"The one where you're gonna do something reckless."

Paige smirked, and leaned in until their noses brushed together again, then she kissed her. It was slow, like she was trying to tease more than take. But Azzi sighed into it, almost like this was the only time she ever found relief.

Paige kissed her again, this time cupping her jaw with one hand and resting the other on the side of Azzi's ribcage, thumb brushing along bare skin where her shirt had ridden up and she didn't even realize.

It always went like this. Gentle, greedy. Familiar.

Azzi tasted like lemon Vitamin Water and the leftover peanut butter from the protein balls they kept in the locker room fridge, but Paige didn't care. She kissed her deeper, pushing her tongue slowly into Azzi's mouth, and Azzi pulled her closer by the back of her shirt.

They didn't even have to talk about it anymore. Azzi would show up, Paige would open her arms and all the tension they held would melt somewhere in between the tangled sheets of their breathy sighs.

But tonight, Paige wanted something different.

Not more. Just... different. She pulled away, just barely, and brushed her thumb against Azzi's cheek. “You ever think maybe we should stop doing this halfway?”

Azzi's brow furrowed just a little, the only sign that she wasn't completely caught off guard. She didn't immediately respond, just searched Paige's face like she was trying to find out which version of this question she was asking tonight.

"We've been doing this since you were a freshman," Paige said softly. "And it's not like we've stopped. We haven’t even slowed down. You’re always here. We’re always..." Her voice trailed off and she exhaled, brushing Azzi's hair from her forehead. "I just…don't you think it's time we called it something?"

Azzi looked past her, to the poster half ripped from the wall of the dorm room. Paige waited. She knew the rhythm of this.

"You've got the draft next year," Azzi said finally. "You're gonna go number one. Then I'll have my last year. And then the W, and then we’ll both have something to prove. All eyes will be on us."

Paige blinked slowly. "So... what?"

Azzi turned her gaze back to her. "So we can't afford to be messy."

Paige looked at her. "We're already messy."

Azzi didn’t disagree. She just reached out and played with the sleeve of Paige's shirt.

"And the team," Azzi added. “If people find out, if it becomes a thing… I don’t want to be a distraction. Not right now. Not when we could be winning a championship.”

Paige pushed back slightly, creating distance between them even though every cell of her being hated it. “So is this just nothing? Just practice?”

Azzi winced. “You know it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Paige asked, voice just above a whisper.

Azzi opened her mouth, but closed it. She looked elsewhere again.

Paige swallowed. “I don’t want to be something you only want when there’s no one watching.”

Azzi did not respond. Instead, she reached out and gently tugged Paige back onto her chest, her fingers mindlessly tracing patterns across her spine.

“I don’t know how to be what you need,” Azzi murmured.

And for a long, quiet moment, Paige allowed herself to ignore that those words hurt worse than silence.

She laid there, cheek pressed against Azzi’s collarbone, trying hard not to memorize the sound of her heartbeat beneath her ear. She should have pulled away. Should have told her to leave. Should have drawn a line and actually followed it for once.

But instead, she breathed her in. Citrus on her skin, the faint echo of her heart beating faster, the heat between them that was always burning too steady to ignore.

Because Azzi was always a temptation Paige couldn’t resist. Not even when she knew it would tear her open.

So when Azzi tilted her chin up and kissed her again…slow, hesitant, like asking for permission she knew she already had, Paige let her.

And when Azzi rolled into her and gently whispered her name like a secret, like an apology, Paige didn’t push her away.

She let herself be consumed.

Because that was always the part she said yes to.

—

Back in Present Day — Paige’s Hotel Room, Minnesota

Paige’s hotel room was too quiet, but not the kind of quiet that feels restful. It was restless, the kind that crawls into your ears and under your skin. The kind that made her twitchy and stuck inside her own head.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed with her hands on her thighs, staring at the television that was muted but still showing a cooking program to no one. She still had her shoes on, and she hadn't even changed her clothes yet.

She had showered after the game but still felt dirty. Not dirty in the physical sense, but in the emotional sense.

The knot in her stomach twisted again. The knot that had been there since tip-off, since she had seen her sitting courtside. Emma. Smiling in Azzi's jersey as if she belonged there, as if she knew she belonged there.

Paige had watched them laugh during shootaround. Watched Emma lean close to whisper and watched Azzi smile in that soft, private way she once smiled for her, and still did sometimes. Just not in public where it counted.

She should have been used to this by now. Should have known not to expect anything different. But it still scraped at the inside of her chest like sandpaper.

Her phone lit up next to her.

She turned her head to glance at it without moving her torso, already half-expecting who it would be. Her heart had already begun to beat faster even before she had picked up her phone to see the name.

Azzi: You up?

Of course.

Of course, she was.

Paige stared at the message, feeling the tightening in her throat. She hadn't heard from her since their last meet-up. Two weeks ago? Three? She didn't know anymore. They didn’t talk, not unless they were both in the same place.

There was another message a minute later.

Azzi: Come over

And then…

Azzi: Emmy's going out of town for work. She left after the game.

Azzi: I'll leave the door unlocked.

The words punched her in the gut. Emmy. Not Emma. Emmy. A nickname. An intimacy Paige never had.

She didn't text back. Just stared at the screen, slow shallow breaths.

She should say no. She wanted to say no.

But her feet were already moving.

She didn't even know what she was grabbing…just a hoodie, her room key, and her phone. Before she knew it she was out the door. No make up. No second guessing.

No defense.

After a 15 minute Uber ride, she was walking down the familiar hallway of Azzi's apartment. The door was unlocked, just as she had said. Paige stopped short of going inside and allowed the front door to make noise as it creaked open into a dim golden light.

The apartment was too quiet. Too still. The kind of still that felt staged. Like someone had tried to make it appear lived-in without actually using it.

Paige took a breath and walked into the apartment. The second she stepped inside, she was hit by the unfamiliar scent of flowers. Not what Azzi uses usually for body wash. Something sweeter. Something…Emma.

The space looked the same yet different. A little too neat. The throw pillows were recently fluffed. There was a new candle on the counter, just waiting to be lit. There were flowers in a slender vase near the sink, some type of flower that was a little too delicate for Azzi.

But it was the photo on the bookshelf that sealed the deal.

There was Azzi and Emma, arms wrapped around each other standing by some lake. Big, toothy, grinned smiles. Hair blowing in the wind. Happy.

Paige just stood there and stared.

The worst part wasn’t the photo, it was that it looked real.

And then, all of a sudden, she felt small again. Like she was a part of someone else's life, concealed in the corner.

Footsteps padded into the room, tiptoeing on the hardwood floor.

Azzi appeared in the hallway, wearing slightly wrinkled cotton shorts and an old camp shirt. Her hair was down and messy, eyes somewhat tired. Still so annoyingly, heartbreakingly beautiful.

When Azzi saw Paige standing there, she hesitated. Paige stood there with her phone still in hand, looking like she hadn’t completely committed to being there yet.

"Hey," Azzi softly spoke as she stepped forward, stepping into the light of a nearby window. The way the light struck her skin made it glow. At that moment, Paige’s mouth went dry and her whole body reacted. It was years of muscle memory, desire and heartbreak, all happening all at once.

Paige didn’t move. She was afraid if she did, she’d collapse into her. "You shouldn't have texted me," she said, her voice quiet but sharp.

Azzi's face changed. A tiny crack of guilt seemed to pierce through her eyes.

"I know," Azzi whispered, but she didn’t step away. Her bare feet planted less than a foot away from Paige's shoes, a distance close enough to feel the heat from each of their bodies. A distance close enough that Paige could smell Azzi's shampoo. A distance close enough that she could remember what Azzi's skin felt like.

"I saw you," Paige said next, voice now deeper. "After the game."

Azzi nodded slowly. Almost like she had been waiting for this. "She wanted to come. She hasn’t seen me play in a while."

"She looked proud," Paige said, her words more pointed than she intended. "She looked like she belonged."

Azzi winced, just a little. "Paige…"

Paige cut her off with a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Don’t. Just… don’t make it sound like it means less because I’m here now.”

Azzi's hand twitched at her side like it wanted to reach out but wasn't sure how.

Paige stared at her for a long moment, letting the tension stretch, and then asked flatly, "Why’d you text me to come here?"

Azzi blinked. "I wanted to see you."

“That’s not new,” Paige said. “You always want to see me. And then I leave and everything goes back to normal.”

Azzi didn't argue, just closed the space between them and lightly brushed her fingers along the sleeve of Paige’s shirt. Her eyes were so tender Paige wanted to scream.

"I'm sorry," Azzi whispered. "I don't know how to stop."

Paige drew breath. "Then don't text me just because she's gone."

Azzi shook her head. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Azzi didn't say anything. She leaned in and rested her forehead against Paige's for a moment. It was too close…too familiar.

Paige could’ve walked away. Should have.

But she didn't.

—

FLASHBACK — All-Star Weekend, Las Vegas — Azzi’s rookie year

The hotel was cold, the kind of cold meant for the dessert air. Paige tugged at the sleeves of her Team Reese warmup jacket as she leaned against the wall just off the stage, half-listening to the league rep read through talking points before the next round of interviews.

She was exhausted. Not from the travel, but from the endless cameras and smiling. From being the version of herself that every sponsor wanted. Fun. Polished. Marketable.

Her eyes scanned the room automatically.

And there she was.

Azzi.

She was on the other side of the carpeted hall, laughing at something one of the other rookies said, her All-Star jacket unzipped just enough to reveal the collar bone that Paige used to kiss when no one was watching.

Her hair was slicked back, curls tied high, and her entire face lit up like she wasn’t carrying a single ounce of weight in the world.

Except when her eyes found Paige, her smile wavered. Just for a moment.

Paige felt that look in the pit of her stomach.

It was the first time they’d spent any time in the same room in almost a year, since Paige left UConn and reinforced their mutual agreement to stop whatever it was they were doing.

Clearly, they had not.

The weekend played out like the universe was testing them. Four different press appearances and they were paired together each time. "Former Huskies turned W superstars," one of the interviewers kept saying. "The future of the league," said another.

They sat shoulder to shoulder for team content, ran drills side by side, and fake smiled and posed for picture after picture. And every time, Paige caught Azzi looking at her the way she always had…like Paige was the one place she didn’t have to pretend.

During one on-camera interview, Paige made a joke about something that happened during her sophomore year film session, and Azzi snorted so loud at the memory, she almost fell off the stool.

Later that day, they found themselves literally in a corner of the practice gym, alone, after most of the other players filtered out. They shouldn't have still been there, staff told the players to head back to the hotel, to their media obligations, but neither of them moved.

Azzi had the ball spinning on the tip of her finger. Paige watched her with arms crossed.

"You still do that," Paige said. "When you're nervous."

Azzi caught the ball and tucked it under her arm. "I'm not...nervous."

"You're lying."

Azzi smirked, then looked down at her shoes. "You still wear your laces uneven."

"You used to untie them and do them for me," Paige said.

Azzi wouldn't look up. "Yeah. I remember."

The silence stretched far and wide between them, full of everything they hadn't said. All the things they couldn't let themselves say.

Finally, Azzi looked at her, really looked at her. Not the way she did across a court or in a handshake line after a game. Not a quick glance that the cameras might catch.

This wasn't the same.

Her eyes slowly, perhaps somewhat cautiously, swept over Paige, as if she didn’t trust herself to blink, or she hadn’t allowed herself to see Paige this way in quite some time.

"You look older," Azzi said, voice low, breaking up and uneven.

Paige let out a silent laugh. "You’ve seen me a few times in the last two months."

Azzi shook her head, slightly. "That doesn’t count. "

Azzi’s voice softened, as if something was crumbling around the edges. "You feel... different."

Paige's throat closed a little. "Yeah, you do too."

They didn’t move any closer, but the air between them shifted into something thin, tightened, and pulled. It was like there was invisible string snapping tight between their ribs.

They didn’t kiss. Not yet.

But they were both thinking about it.

Later that night in Paige's hotel suite, she didn’t expect to hear a knock. Most of the players were at a rooftop event about two blocks away sponsored by Gatorade, including all of her teammates. She ducked out early, said she had a headache. But she needed to get away and breathe.

The knock was quiet. Hesitant.

She didn’t need to ask who it was.

Azzi was in the hallway, hands in her pockets, hair damp from the shower. Her face was careful like she knew she shouldn’t be here, but somehow came anyway.

Paige stepped back, the door still open to let her fully into the room.

Neither of them said anything right away. Azzi walked in slow, looking around like she really expected this to feel more different than it did. Paige closed the door behind her and leaned on it.

Azzi turned back to face her. Her voice was soft. "I don’t know why I came."

Paige swallowed. "I do."

They stared at each other across the room, the air buzzing like something electric was between them.

"I’ve missed you," Paige said.

Azzi didn’t speak, she just took two quiet steps forward. Then another until she was close enough that Paige could feel her breath.

"I can’t stop thinking about you when I shouldn’t," Azzi whispered. Her voice cracked at the end.

Paige’s hand found her waist. "You think I’ve stopped?"

She kissed her before Azzi could answer. And it was like no time had passed, like nothing had ever changed. Azzi melted into her like she was still that freshman sneaking into Paige’s dorm after the lights out. Like her body remembered where to fit, where to hold, where to break.

They made it to the bed slowly, almost reverently, like they were scared it wouldn't last. Azzi clung to Paige like she had been holding on to this want for months. Paige kissed her like she was starving.

Afterward, they didn’t say anything for a while. They just laid there together, skin still damp with sweat, and breath still rattled.

Azzi curled into her body, resting her head on Paige’s chest. Her fingers drummed against her ribs. A rhythm Paige hadn’t felt in a year but knew by heart.

"I told myself I wouldn’t do this," Azzi murmured.

"I told myself I wouldn’t let you," Paige whispered back.

They both knew they were lying.

—

Back in Present Day — Azzi’s Apartment, Minnesota

They didn't intend for this to happen. At least, that's what Paige would tell herself later, when she was back in her hotel room, heart pounding with a kind of ache that can't be soothed away with sleep.

But now, Azzi's lips were on hers. Her fingers were wrapped up tightly in Paige's hoodie. Their bodies already remembering the familiar rhythm before they committed to any actual movements.

It was always like this.

Azzi didn’t just kiss her, she clung to her…like Paige was the only thing keeping her steady.. Like she hadn't just spent the whole day pretending to play house with someone else.

And Paige let herself be kissed. Let herself be pulled into the bedroom like a secret. Like a mistake that was already half made. Her pulse felt like it was pounding in her throat, louder than the faint music thumping in the hall, louder than the rational voice in her head screaming don’t do this again.

But she did.

Because her body didn't care about logic.

It only knew Azzi.

The lights in the bedroom were dim, maybe on purpose or maybe out of habit. But Paige could still see Emma's shadows everywhere.

A sweater thrown over the back of a chair. A pair of socks rolled up on the floor. A half burned candle on the nightstand that smelled like pumpkin, a scent that Paige knew Azzi hated.

Paige swallowed hard as her eyes caught the headboard. She thought back to the last time she'd been here, when the candle hadn't existed.

Azzi was reaching for her again, and Paige let herself forget.

Let herself fall.

They kissed harder now. Azzi's mouth was familiar and warm, their hands were grasping at anything they could in a way that felt frantic. Paige gently pushed her onto the bed, climbed over her like muscle memory, and swallowed the whine that escaped Azzi’s mouth when they connected at the hips.

Clothes were stripped away in a hurry, like they needed skin to speak what words couldn’t.

Azzi was warm and gasping underneath her, whispering Paige's name like it was something sacred, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Paige kissed a path down her body, slow and passionate, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She wanted to claim her. To brand her. To make her feel her long after the moment had passed.

But even with Azzi quivering beneath her, begging and arching and clutching the sheets, Paige could still smell Emma on the pillow, could still picture her by the closet door that was left half-open and could feel her in the way Azzi hesitated before saying her name too loud.

It’s like she was always in the room.

Afterward, Paige lay back, sheets sticky on her damp skin, chest still raising and falling like she was coming down from something she'd barely survived.

Azzi was curled on her side, one hand resting on Paige’s stomach, her breath ghosting over her shoulder.

It should've felt good. Safe. Familiar. Like falling into something soft after months of bracing for the fall.

But it didn't.

It felt like pretending. Like putting on an old hoodie that still stinks like someone else. Like saying I love you without opening your mouth.

Paige stared up at the ceiling, her chest still rising and falling slowly. Her skin was cooling, but the heat of Azzi’s body pressed close beside her hadn’t faded.

One of Azzi's fingers traced low circles over the curve of her stomach too lightly to be comforting. Too lightly to be real.

Her other hand was still curled in the sheets between them like she was struggling not to reach for more.

The silence stretched between them.

Paige's throat burned. Her fingers twitched where they lay on the pillow, restless, tense, and biting just under the skin. She turned her head slightly, eyes on the ceiling, voice quiet, unsteady.

"Do you love her?"

The weight of the question settled like a rock dropped into still water. Everything stopped.

Azzi didn't move, she didn't breathe. The circles paused, her fingertips stood still taping and teasing, inches above Paige's skin.

The air between them thickened. It was dense with unspoken things, and memories that didn’t belong in this bed.

Paige let the silence fill the air. She didn't try to cut it short or break it, she just let it stretch and push against her ribs as though it wanted to see what would break first. When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige finally turned her head.

Azzi's jaw was clenched, still staring at the blanket bunched around her waist. She looked like someone either about to jump off the roof of a very tall building or just waiting to be pushed.

Paige didn't look away.

One beat passed. Two.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence. Her voice was soft and worn. "No."

Just that. Nothing else.

But Paige heard it. The way she'd caught her breath. The way her lips stayed parted like there was more trying to crawl out.

Her gut twisted. She narrowed her eyes just a little more. "But..?" she whispered.

Azzi pressed her lips together again and curled her shoulders like she always did when she was trying to disappear. She didn’t lift her head, or meet Paige’s eyes.

"It's complicated,” she said.

Paige laughed, bitter and humorless. She pushed herself up, and the sheet slid down her bare back in the process, as she roughly pulled her hair out of her face in frustration. The heat from Azzi's fingers still burned on her skin, and the heat in her chest felt like a totally different thing.

Two years. That's how long it had been. Two years with Emma. Of toothbrushes in the bathroom, framed pictures, shared furniture and shopping lists, and Instagram posts that made it seem so effortless.

Paige stared across the room at nothing in particular, and let the words force their way out.

“You’ve been with her for two years,” she said quietly, her voice flat. “So that has to mean something, right?”

Azzi blinked at her, already beginning to curl the blanket around her body like armor.

Paige didn't wait for an answer. "That's not a casual thing. You don't just accidentally spend two years with someone."

Azzi opened her mouth in objection, but instead shut it tightly. Her hands were gripping the blanket with white knuckles.

“She’s funny,” Paige continued on, her voice trembling. “She’s good to you. She roots for you. You always got someone to go home to after a loss, someone who doesn’t make all of this so… complicated.”

Azzi flinched, the last word sliced through the air of the room. "Paige..."

"No, I mean it," Paige cut her off, speaking softer, sounding almost physically pained that she had to say the words but needed to. “I get it. She’s easy. I’m not. I never was.”

Azzi sat up slowly, her eyes searching, her throat was tight. "It's not about easy."

"Isn't it?" Paige asked, looking back over her shoulder, as she turned to face her sleepily. “You and I… we were never light. We were fire and pressure and things we never said out loud. And maybe it was too much. But with her, you don’t have to think too hard. You don’t have to feel everything all at once.”

Azzi turned her head away, afraid to look into those blue eyes.

Paige drew in a tight, shaky breath. "If I’m the thing holding you back from something real with her...I don't want that."

Azzi's head snapped back around. "You’re not."

Paige rolled her eyes at this declaration. It wasn't angry, just so worn down. "But maybe I am. I can't keep doing this if it means you’re staying stuck between a thing that's real and something you won’t let go."

Azzi had no words to say. Her hands twisted and knotted in the edge of the blanket. Her shoulders curled inward, like she was trying to make herself small enough to escape the questions that hung in the air like a full balloon, waiting for someone to pop it.

Paige watched her, with no intention of breaking the silence. She could still taste Azzi on her tongue. She could still feel the shape of Azzi's body pressed against her from moments ago. She could still hear Azzi straining breathlessly to say her name.

But even with all of that, she had no clue what Azzi wanted.

She wasn't sure Azzi did either.

The silence stretched around them until it ached. Then slowly, Azzi reached out, fingers brushing the back of Paige's hand. It was careful. Like the featherweight touch had weight, like she knew she didn't deserve to be held but couldn't help but reach out anyway.

Paige hesitated and her jaw tightened.

But then, slowly… she let their fingers tangle.

Because as much as it hurt, as much as she hated what this had become, she still wasn’t ready to walk away.

Not yet.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #paige and azzi #pazzi fics

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