#I know there’s a baby in there but when I don’t feel her move for an hour or so I absolutely spiral

[mapis-putellas]

𝑰𝒏 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

The moment Alexia steps off the set, you can tell she’s in a mood.

Her shoulders are tight, her jaw is clenched, and the slight crease between her brows is a dead giveaway. She walks straight past you without a word, not even sparing a glance in your direction.

You bite back a smile.

“Baby,” you call, jogging a few steps to catch up with her.

She doesn’t stop walking. “No me hables.”

That only makes you grin wider.

You fall into step beside her, watching as she all but rips the lanyard from around her neck and shoves it into her pocket.

“What happened?” you ask, even though you already know.

She mutters something under her breath that you don’t quite catch.

“Alexia.”

She sighs sharply through her nose. “Me hicieron hacer una entrevista en inglés.”

-

Alexia sits stiffly in the chair, hands clasped together in her lap, her knee bouncing ever so slightly. The bright studio lights make her blink more than usual, and she shifts uncomfortably as the camera operator counts down from three.

She wishes she’d had more time to prepare.

She’d known today was media day. That part was fine. What she hadn’t known was that they were going to throw an English interview at her, completely unplanned, with no script, no warning -nothing.

“Alexia, thank you for being here,” the interviewer, a young British woman, says with a warm smile.

Alexia nods, pressing her lips together. “Yes. Thank you.”

She winces internally. Too robotic. Too forced. She can already feel the heat creeping up the back of her neck.

The interviewer doesn’t seem to notice, though. She just keeps going.

“So, first of all, congratulations on such a great season. How are you feeling?”

Alexia inhales, nodding as she searches for the right words. “I feel…good. Um. Happy with…the team, the, uh…” She gestures vaguely with her hands, trying to recall the word.

“Performances?” the interviewer offers gently.

Alexia nods quickly. “Yes. Performances.” It’s clunky, and she knows it, but she pushes forward.

“We…work very hard, uh, every day. It’s not…easy, but we-” She pauses, trying to structure the sentence in her head. “We, uh, fight for… win? Winning?”

The interviewer nods encouragingly. “Yes, for the win.”

Alexia exhales through her nose. “Yes. We fight for the win.”

She glances off-camera briefly, looking for an escape. There isn’t one.

The interviewer moves on. “You’ve been captain for quite some time now. What does leadership mean to you?”

Alexia hesitates. It’s not that she doesn’t know the answer -she does- but trying to articulate it in English is an entirely different challenge. She frowns slightly, her mind racing.

“Um… it is…” She clears her throat, frustrated with herself. “Not just… talking, or… or yelling. It is… to show with, um…” She taps a finger against her knee. “How you are?”

“By example?”

She exhales in relief. “Yes. By example.”

She shakes her head, feeling the frustration building. She knows she’s not saying things the way she wants to. In Spanish, she could give a perfect answer -nuanced, thoughtful, meaningful. But here? She feels like she sounds like a child.

She pushes through the rest of the interview, nodding and forcing out short, simple answers. By the time it’s finally over, she’s barely holding back her annoyance.

The interviewer smiles, seemingly oblivious to Alexia’s internal agony. “Thank you so much for your time, Alexia.”

Alexia nods stiffly. “Yes. Thank you.”

As soon as the cameras cut, she exhales sharply, raking a hand through her hair.

She hates this feeling. She stands quickly, muttering something to herself as she storms off set.

-

You nod slowly. “And?”

She waves a hand in the air, exasperated. “And nada.”

“But you’re grumpy.”

“Porque no lo esperaba.”

You hum in understanding. Alexia likes her routines. She thrives on knowing exactly what to expect, and when something disrupts that -well. You’re witnessing the aftermath.

“I bet you did great,” you say.

Alexia gives you a flat look.

You laugh, bumping your shoulder against hers. “I’m serious.”

She exhales heavily, raking a hand through her hair. “Me trabé dos veces.”

You reach out, gently tugging on the sleeve of her jersey. “That’s not so bad.”

She scoffs. “Para ti, no.”

You squeeze her arm. “For everyone. No one expects you to be perfect, baby.”

Alexia doesn’t respond, but you can tell she’s still stewing over it.

You glance around, noting that most of the team is still tied up with their own media obligations. It’s the perfect opportunity to steal her away for a little bit.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the exit.

She resists at first. “¿A dónde vamos?”

“To fix your mood.”

She huffs, but she lets you drag her along anyway.

You find an empty corner outside, away from the cameras, away from the noise. The late afternoon sun is warm against your skin, and there’s a slight breeze that carries the scent of freshly cut grass.

Alexia leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, watching you warily. “¿Qué quieres hacer?”

You step closer, reaching up to brush your fingers along her jaw. “I want you to stop being mean to yourself.

Her lips press into a thin line.

You tilt your head, studying her. “You know what I think?”

She sighs. “¿Qué?”

“I think you’re the most incredible person I know. I think you’re brilliant at everything you do, including speaking English. And I think it’s really cute when you get flustered over small things.”

Her ears turn pink.

You smile, shifting your hand to the back of her neck. “Baby, it’s okay to mess up sometimes.”

She looks away. “No me gusta.”

“I know. But you have to be kinder to yourself.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, then finally, she exhales, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Lo intento.”

You grin, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a soft sound as you tuck her against you, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist, hands looped at the small of your back.

“There she is,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her neck as you cup the back of her head.

She buries her face in your shoulder. “Eres molesta.”

“You love me.”

She sighs dramatically. “Sí.”

You chuckle, swaying with her slightly.

After a beat, she pulls back just enough to look at you. “Me llevas a casa después de esto?”

You nod. “Of course.”

She kisses you, soft and slow, and just like that -her bad mood is forgotten.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[imaginespazzi]

Part 15: Love You Always

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

I never made promises lightly (and there have been some that I've broken) but I swear in the days still left we'll walk in fields of gold

(In which a go with the flow writer may have changed a lot of things, but this was always meant to be the ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Mainly just fluff with a little bit of angst and hurt/comfort

Words: 22.7K (lowkey upset I was 1.3K words off of making a 24K gold joke but ah well)

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce, Concussions/Fainting,

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Welcome to the end! This fic is my baby and I cannot believe that we've made it to the last chapter. There's a fair amount of creative license taken in this chapter in regards to W logistics so just bear with me for the plot/drama. The editing in this is shoddy as hell so please be my editors and point out typos/grammar mistakes. I wanted to thank all of you so much for all the love you've given GH. You guys have made this fic worth writing and whether you left a live-react, a general ask, a comment, reblogged it, hearted it or just read this fic, know that all of you mean so much to me. I would love your final opinions on this final chapter if you choose to share them. And of course we still have Stephie's version. So as per always my loves, let me know what your liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next!

July 2007 

It’s golden hour. The park is illuminated by a resplendent yellow shine; sparkling drops of gold shimmering against the clear water of the pond that Paige is currently dipping her toes into. The echoes of the music from the gazebo contrasting against the lull of guest chattering fill her ears, as she reaches down to lazily run her fingers through the water. Paige pulls her dress up slightly, careful not to get it wet as she sits down on the bank. It isn’t her preferred attire by any means, but at least she’d gotten out of wearing the frock with pompous frills and ruffles that her mother had first picked out for her flower girl outfit.

The warmth of the sun dances against her cheeks as Paige involuntarily lets her eyes close, breathing in the much-needed moments of peace. It’s not that she’s unhappy with this wedding -her mother deserves to be happy and her new husband seems like a perfectly decent man. But there’s this hollow feeling of things will never be the same again that’s made itself home against Paige’s ribcage. And it’s not an unfamiliar feeling per say, not when it’s been festering within her since her parents got divorce. But today makes it feel finite. Once upon a time, there used to be Bob and Amy and Paige and a little house in the suburbs that, before it was filled with screaming, had been filled with laughter. Now there’s Amy and her new husband and maybe soon there will be Bob and his new wife. And then there’s Paige, who’s stuck moving between two houses, neither of which seem to fill the void of the old one. 

Paige is only six years old and perhaps she doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies of adult relationships, but she thinks she understands this one concept. And It’s a rather startling realization for such a young child to have, but she’s almost certain it’s true. 

Things that are lost, stay lost; they don’t come back to you. 

“I like your dress,” Paige’s eyes fly open at the sound of a small voice, shyly complimenting her dress.

Confused, she follows the sound of it till her gaze lands on a little girl, probably close to her own age, giving her a dimpled grin. Paige looks the dark-curled stranger up and down for a moment, taking in her casual shorts and pink butterfly t-shirt and she suddenly feels a little self-conscious in her own far-too-formal-for-a-park appearance, despite the compliment. 

“Thanks,” she says meekly, playing with the blue ribbon tied around the middle, “it’s my flower girl outfit.”

The other girl’s eyes gleam with excitement, “you were in a wedding?” 

Paige nods, the beginnings of a smile starting to peek through her own lips, “yeah,” she points towards the gazebo in the distance, “the rec-petion is happening over there.”

“That’s so cool,” the brunette remarks as she plops down next to Paige, daintily sliding off her sandals so she can slip her feet into the pond, “why are you here then?”

Paige hesitates, “it’s very loud.”

The other girl nods in understanding, “my Mommy and Daddy’s wedding was really loud too.”

Paige turns sharply towards her at that, “you went to your Mommy’s wedding too?”

Explaining the divorce to her classmates had been complicated enough -she barely understood the concept herself- but then, when she’d broken the news that she’d be attending her Mommy’s wedding this weekend, she’d gotten a whole other round of confused glances. 

Children don’t go to their Mommies weddings, one of the girls had said matter-of-factly, looking at Paige like she’d made some incredulous exclamation. Mrs. Carter, her favorite teacher, had overheard and intervened, sympathetically explaining the entire situation -and the supposed normalcy of it- on her behalf. That had been the extent of it and it had been enough to disband the small crowd of kids that had gathered around her. But there was something about the slight glint of pity in Mrs Carter’s eye and the almost judgemental tone of that one girl, that had left Paige feeling queasy about the whole ordeal. And so she’s surprised by how casually the darker-skinned girl in front of her mentions her own mother’s wedding, like it really was as normal as Mrs. Carter had explained it to be.

“Yeah I did, when I was littler, ” the girl admits happily, “they got married on a bask-ball court and it was lots and lots and lots of fun and I ate so much cake that I had a tummy ache after,” she giggles conspiratorially at her own words and there’s something so contagious about the sound of it, that Paige can’t help but laugh along. 

“Did you wear a pretty dress too,” she asks curiously, secretly pleased when her question makes the other girl’s face light up. 

“I did. It was like yours but it was pink,” the little girl sighs contentedly, “when I have my own wedding, I’m gonna wear pink again.”

Paige scrunches her nose, “you can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Silly girl,” the blonde shakes her head, “my Mommy says you have to wear white when you get married. It’s tradition.”

The other girl frowns, “but I love pink.”

“Maybe you can have something else in pink like-,” Paige pauses, thinking really hard, “like pink flowers in your book-et.”

The brunette seems to contemplate it for a while before another bright grin breaks out on her face, “I like that. You’re so smart.”

“Thank you,” Paige beams, her face glowing almost as bright as the world around them and then a sudden thought strikes her, “oh my name is-”

“Shush,” the other girl cuts her off, hurriedly placing her tiny hand against Paige’s mouth and the blonde’s eyes widen. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice muffled. 

“You can’t tell me your name silly,” the brunette says firmly, “Mommy says we don’t tell strangers p-ivate info-mation ‘cause what if they-” she drops her voice to a whisper, “what if they wanna kid-nap us.”

Paige wrangles herself free, giving the girl an odd look, “I’m not going to kid-nap you. I’m just a little girl. Little girls can’t kid-nap people,” she says, affronted, “are you gonna kid-nap me?”

“Of course not! I’m too nice-”

“Are you saying I’m not nice?”

“No- that’s not,” the other girl blushes, looking rather flustered, “it’s just what my Mommy says and Daddy says Mommy’s always right and I have to listen to her.”

“Fine,” Paige concedes, a little amused by how pitiful the girl in front of her looks, “I’ll tell you my middle-name instead and then when we meet again and you’re not a st-anger anymore, I’ll tell you my real name.”

“Who says we’ll meet again?” the brunette asks softly. 

“I do. I say so. I just know we’re gonna meet again,” Paige smirks, an air of arrogance around it but she really does believe it and she doesn’t know how she knows -is perhaps too young to understand the concept of a gut-feeling- but she just does. There’s something about this girl, about her big brown doe eyes and her carefree smile and the way talking to her just feels so comfortable, that has Paige convinced they’re destined to meet again, destined to be in each other’s lives. 

The girl seems to mull over Paige’s words for a moment before she finally stretches her hand out, “okay. I’m Jazlyn.”

“Jazlyn,” the blonde tests it out slowly, as she shakes Jazlyn’s hand, “that’s a pretty name. I’m Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you Madison,” Jazlyn says, her voice filled with sincerity as they release each other’s hand, fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary. 

“You too,” Paige replies politely as the two of them kick their feet back and forth in the cool water, ‘you said your Mommy and Daddy got married on a bask-ball court? Do you play?”

Jazlyn nods enthusiastically and that warm feeling that comes with finding common ground with a new friend, flickers through Paige’s heart, “I love bask-ball.”

“Me too,” Paige grins, “it’s my favorit-est thing in the whole wide world.

And then there’s no stopping the conversation between them, the two of them speaking a mile per minute as they cover as many topics as their little minds can think of. Paige learns that Jazlyn’s mother used to play basketball and had passed her passion onto her daughter. The other girl might not have lived much life yet, but whatever she has lived, has been immersed in the sport. It’s so different to Paige’s own story with basketball that had started only a year or so ago when her parents had started her in little league to get her mind off of the divorce. But it’s clear that despite their different starts, their love for the sport is the same. And Paige has basketball friends but no one quite seems to understand the thrill of making an orange ball go through a hoop as much as Jazlyn. 

The world slowly morphs from a golden hue into something darker, the water beneath their feet turning cold as the rays of sun hitting it begin to disappear. Golden hour is over. But the two of them barely notice, too enthralled in a silly argument about who the best Spongebob character is. Paige says Patrick. Jazlyn says Gary. Paige thinks Jazlyn’s lost her mind because Jazzie come on he’s a snail to which Jazlyn immediately raises her eye-brow because and Patrick is starfish Maddie, what’s your point? 

“Oh no,” it’s Jazlyn who seems to notice the time first, her eyes widening as she haphazardly stands up, accidentally flicking Paige with water when she slides her feet out of the pond, “I should get back to my Mommy and Daddy.”

“Right,” Paige swallows, a hollow feeling in her chest as she realizes her new friend is about to leave, “you can’t stay a little bit longer?”

Jazlyn shakes her head apologetically, “sorry Maddie. ‘Member I told you, we’re going back to Virg-inia tomorrow so I have to help Mommy pack all our things.”

Virginia. 

That’s the other thing Paige had discovered about the girl; that she wasn’t from around here. Jazlyn had come to visit her grandparents, just as she tended to every summer. She’d spent the last part of her holidays in their lodge, which coincidentally bordered the park -with the fancy gazebo- that Paige’s mom had booked for the reception. Paige had learned that this was a part of Jazlyn’s routine apparently, to stroll to the pond right before sunset and it was close enough to where she was staying that her parents let her go by herself. She’d told the blonde that for the most part the walks had been rather boring, peaceful but uneventful. Until today, when she’d stumbled upon Paige, sitting at the exact place Jazlyn would normally sit.

And, tomorrow, the other girl will be gone.

Paige isn’t quite sure where exactly Virginia is -geography isn’t her strong suite- but she knows that it’s far away from Minnesota, far away from Paige. They’ve just met; it feels almost wrong for them to already be torn apart. 

“Are you gonna visit again?” Paige asks slowly, her voice tinged with hope.

“Prob-ly. Like I said, we visit every summer,” Jazlyn says, as she slips her sandals back on, “are you gonna be here next time?”

“I think so,” Paige grins as she stands up herself, noticing she’s just an inch or so taller than the other girl, “Mommy’s new house is pretty close to here.”

Jazlyn’s smile stretches her entire face as she juts out her pinky, “so we’ll see each other again?”

“Def-nitely,” Paige promises as she interlocks her own pink with her friend’s, “I’m gonna miss you Jazzie. Even if I just met you.”

Jazlyn’s eyes soften before she pulls the other kid into a hug, her head fitting just a little too perfectly into the crook of Paige’s neck, “I’m gonna miss you too Maddie.”

They part reluctantly, too young to understand the confusing magnetic pull between them, but still perceptive enough to understand that, despite having only just met, there’s something between them. 

“Bye Maddie,” Jazlyn says quietly, her lips trembling for a slight second as she waves at the blond, slowly backing away. 

“Bye Jazzie,” Paige calls out, watching as the other girl smiles at her one last time, before turning on her heel and starting to run back home. She watches her go until her silhouette disappears and a slight shiver -that isn’t just from the summer wind- runs up Paige’s skin. 

“I hope I see you soon,” she whispers into the wind, almost like she’s making a wish, before hugging her arms around herself and heading back towards the gazebo. 

But soon isn’t quite soon. Because not even six months later, Paige’s mom and her new husband move to Montana, the house by the park sold to the highest bidder. When August rolls around, with the promise to Jazlyn weighing heavily on her mind, she begs her father to take her up there but instead, bound by a custody agreement, he puts her on a flight to go visit her mother instead. It’s not his choice to make and really, Paige is too young to fight it, so instead that becomes a part of her summer routine. Every August, Paige goes to Montana and slowly but surely -as is natural with little kids- the memory of meeting the girl with the dark curls and big doe eyes and a bright smile, slowly fades away. 

That is, until she’s 15 and participating in a camp for USA basketball and she meets Azzi Jazlyn Fudd. 

And the memories don’t quite come rushing back -it’s been nine years and her recollection of things that happened when she was six isn’t particularly good- but there's a flicker of recognition that ignites in her stomach. That same feeling she’d felt all those years ago, comes rushing back into her veins as their eyes meet across the court and by the way Azzi’s face softens just a little bit, Paige can tell, she feels it too. 

The feeling that the two of them are destined to be in each other’s life, that they’re destined to always find each other over and over again. 

*** 

July 2033 

Wings 76     Valkyries 94

American Airlines center is filled with the sound of crowds of fans grumbling as they leave the arena, their home team having suffered an expected loss to the Valkyries. Paige has no ill-will to the Dallas fans -they’d treated her with nothing but love her time here- but she can’t help but smirk a little, the competitor in her, just always a little too cocky about winning and shutting the opposing team's supporters up. 

But there are still fans of her tenure at Dallas here and Paige can’t escape the horde of signs being shoved in her face, waiting for her autograph. The fans have been crazy since she was in college and as grateful as she is for the fame, sometimes, just the sheer amount of people that seem to avalanche her out of nowhere, overwhelms her just a little bit. Still, Paige poses for the pictures and signs the most ridiculous poster with a warm smile on her face but her mind is wandering far off, thinking about walking through the tunnel and finding her person standing there, waiting so they can go do media together. 

It’s that thought that has her rushing a little bit, her signature becoming messier and messier as she slowly reaches the last of the fans. Paige shoots the crowd one more charming grin, before she slips away -the for the people smile on her face morphing into something more intimate as she rushes towards the tunnel. It’s been almost three weeks since Paige had gotten her head out of her ass and finally gotten the girl, and every single second since has felt like magic. 

“Hey superstar,” Azzi calls out to her as she makes it about halfway into the tunnel and Paige feels her heart skip a beat as she finally catches sight of the brunette, leaning against the wall, watching her with a smirk of her own. She’s slipped on a Valkyrie’s shirt over her jersey, her hair slightly mussed from the pace of the game and Paige thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Hey baby,” she whispers, as she saunters over to Azzi, tugging the younger woman into her arms as she brushes their lips together, “I missed you.”

The brunette rolls her eyes fondly, her hands locking behind Paige’s neck as her fingers play with wisps of baby hair, “we were just on the court together. It’s been maybe seven minutes since you last saw me.”

“Seven minutes too long,” Paige says airly as she steals another kiss from Azzi’s lips, “I miss you every second we’re apart.”

“You’re such a sap,” Azzi shakes her head as removes herself from Paige’s grasp, giggling when it elicits a small whine of protest from the blonde, before she intertwines their hands together as they start walking towards the media waiting room. 

They barely make it into the area before there’s a blur of limbs whizzing into their legs, causing both of them to laugh as they try to keep themselves from falling over at Stephie’s attack. The little girl grins up at them, a lavender #5 jersey -that makes Paige practically glow with pride- framing her little body. Stephie had taken to alternating between her customized #5 and #35 jerseys between games and even though technically today should’ve been Azzi’s turn, the little girl had insisted that she needed to wear #5 today. 

To show Dall-s that she’s only ours now, Stephie had said with a possessive scrunch in her face when Azzi had dramatically complained of the betrayal. The logic had been enough for the brunette who’d agreed in a heartbeat that of course, you’re right, everyone should know she’s ours as she’d winked at Paige. The blonde had only chuckled, but really it had sent a ember of warmth through her veins, filling her heart with the comfort that came from knowing the people she considered hers, considered her to be theirs. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks, you played so well today,” Stephie gushes, arms still fervently wrapped around both of their knees as she grins up at them, “and-and-and I cheered so loud for you guys. The loudest. So loud that even Pops had to tell me to be quieter. Can you believe it Pops had to tell me to be quiet,” the little girl giggles like it’s absurd that her grandfather -the most boisterous man she knew- could tell someone else to be quiet, “but I told him I’d only be quieter when you guys played less good-er and you guys never played less good-er so I never had to be quiet,” she finishes with a proud smirk. 

Paige laughs at her enthusiasm, winking at Tim who’s spluttering justifications, as she swings Stephie into her arms, before plopping onto the sofa with the little girl comfortably settled in her lap, “You were that loud huh? I knew I heard you.”

Stephie beams, “you heard me?”

“Of course I did. Why do you think all my shots kept going in? It’s cause I knew my Stephie-bean was cheering the loudest for me,” Paige says, as she pulls on the little girl’s nose. 

“The loud-est-est-est,” Stephie stretches her arms proudly before she wraps them around Paige’s neck, bringing the blonde closer to her so she can press a long sloppy kiss to her cheek. 

“Oh okay I see how it is,” Azzi pouts dramatically as she perches on the armrest next to them, “guess nobody was cheering for me then.”

“Silly Mama,” Stephie shakes her tiny little hands reaching up to cup her mother’s face across Paige’s body, “I said I was cheering for both of you.”

“But only Miss Buecks is getting kisses. Where’s Mama’s kiss?” Azzi asks cheekily as she expectantly juts out her face towards Stephie. 

But before the little girl can do the honors, Paige beats her to it, foolishly grinning like a teenager in love as she presses her own lips to Azzi’s cheek, “there you go baby, there’s your kiss.”

“Paige!” Azzi exclaims, eyes widening in surprise as a light blush creeps up her cheeks. 

Paige shrugs mischievously, “What? You wanted a kiss Az, I gave you a kiss.”

“I was- I was-,” Azzi splutters, “I was asking Stephie.”

“Oh, were you? My bad. Didn’t realize, lemme take it back,” Paige smirks as she places her lips back onto the brunette’s cheek, suctioning them inwards like she’s trying to reverse what she did previously, “there! I took my kiss back.”

“Paige!” Azzi squirms again, her face crimson now as she rubs at her cheek, glaring at Paige who looks far too pleased with herself. 

“You’re so red Mama,” Stephie giggles, all of her teeth showing. 

“Zip it Stephie,” Azzi says, attempting to sound strict but there’s no bite to her tone and instead Stephie and Paige look at each other for a second, before bursting into another round of laughter. 

Azzi groans, “I hate both of you.”

Stephie removes one arm from Paige’s neck, so she can loop it around her mother’s, bringing the brunette closer to the two of them, “no you don’t Mama, you love us the most-est-est-est in the world.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, but there’s no stopping the sappy smile that her daughter’s words elicit, “maybe just most-est-est,” she concedes as she nuzzles her head against Paige’s, her finger gently rubbing Stephie’s cheek. 

They stay like that, the three of them cocooned in their own little bubble as Stephie recites her favorite moments from the game and the two adults listen on intently, adding a comment or two here and there to humor the little girl. This is Paige’s happy place; she thinks if peace had a definition, it would most definitely just be a picture of this: her, Azzi and Stephie, just existing together. 

“Excuse me, Paige, Azzi, they’re ready for the two of you now,” a polite voice breaks in through the calm and Paige looks up to see their media manager looking pointedly at the two of them. 

“Alright Stephie girl,” Tim calls out, “let's you and me go get some ice cream, while your Mama and Miss Buecks go do press.”

Stephie frowns, her grip instinctively tightening around the two women, “can I come with you?”

“Stephie-” Azzi begins gently, slowly rising off of the armrest. 

“Please Mama,” Stephie implores, jutting out her bottom lip, “Ri-Ri says Uncle Twin used to let her do media with him sometimes. She showed me a video of it and everything. I’ll be good I promise,” she places a hand on her heart, “I just wanna be with you and Miss Buecks pretty please.”

Paige bites her lip, still a little scared to overstep boundaries since last time but she sends Azzi a pleading look, not wanting to let go of Stephie either. And really Paige has already fulfilled her saying no to Stephie quota for the week considering it was her, who’d said no to the little girl when she’d asked for extra whipped cream on her waffles this morning. 

“Fine,” Azzi relents with a sigh, “but you better be on your best behavior Miss Stephanie and you too Paige,” she says pointedly to the blonde who holds her hands up in mock surrender. 

 “I’m always on my best-est-est-est behavior Mama,” Stephie says proudly as she slides off of Paige’s lap to allow the older woman to get up. As soon as she does, the little girl reaches for her hand, intertwining one through Paige’s and the other through Azzi’s as she excitedly bounces in between, pulling them towards the conference room, “let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

Murmurs ring out through the press cohort as the three of them enter together. Despite Azzi’s reassurance that she had no intent to hide their relationship this time around, neither of them were really the type to make a big public announcement acknowledging it either. But there had been a picture of Stephie and Azzi -both casually sticking their blue-tinted tongues out at each other while holding rainbow popsicles- that Paige had added to her life lately photo dump around a week ago, which had sent the rumours flying about what their potential relationship status might be.

As Paige and Azzi take their seats, Stephie looks thoughtful between them, clearly deliberating on where -or rather on who- she wants to sit. Eventually, she climbs onto Paige’s lap and the blonde smirks triumphantly as Azzi’s mouth falls open. 

“Guess I’m the favorite,” the older woman says cheekily into the mic in front of her, causing a few chuckles to echo throughout the press room as she drapes an arm around the little girl’s middle -right against the #5 of her jersey- allowing Stephie to get comfortable. 

Azzi shakes her head, the edges of lips turning upwards despite her attempt to look betrayed as she addresses the rest of the room, “y’all should know the ball isn’t the only thing she steals,” she says in reference to Paige’s three steals tonight, “she also apparently steals other people’s places as their child’s favorite person in the whole wide world.”

“That’s not true Mama,” Stephie quips defensively, “you guys are tied.”

“But me just a little bit more though right Stephie-bean?” Paige whispers conspiratorially, poking the little girl in the stomach and causing her to squeal.

“Miss Buecks stop,” Stephie says in between peals of laughter, “Mama said we have to be on our best-est-est-est behavior remember?”

“Oh right, right, right,” Paige nods vehemently, pretending to compose herself as the media personnel look on amused at the antics on display, “best behavior from now on I promise.”

The first couple of questions are directed to Azzi -mainly about her career high in blocks (4) and that she’d gone 7 for 10 from three- and Paige allows herself to dissociate a little bit. She hooks her chin against Stephie’s shoulder, bringing the box score closer to herself so she can look through it. The little girl leans in alongside her to look at the paper in front of them and Paige almost laughs at the concentration with which Stephie’s eyes trace the numbers. 

“Only three rebounds tonight Miss Buecks?” the little girl notes keeping her voice low so the mics won’t pick it up as she raises her eyebrow at Paige and attempts to tsk tsk tsk.

“Can’t do everything I guess,” the blonde replies playfully, pointing out that she’d more or less stuffed the stat-sheet beyond that. 

“But you still gotta rebound Miss Buecks” Stephie says gravely, with all the wisdom of a little girl who’s grown up around a lot of basketball, “don’t you always say to Mama that she has to rebound more? Cause rebounds win champ-ships right?”

“Not you using my own words against me. You’re too smart for your own good,” Paige mutters under her breath but there’s a gentle smile -one reserved solely for the little girl cuddled to her chest- playing on her lips, “but alright Coach Stephanie, I’ll get more rebounds next time.”

“Good. You should,” the little girl retorts happily, as she goes back to reading the box score, continuing to occasionally point out other things that peak her interest, to Paige. For her part, the blonde is so lost in this little bubble she’s in with Stephie -intently listening to the little girl’s analysis as they giggle over something they’d both found funny- that she doesn’t even register a question being sent her own way until Azzi loudly clears her throat. 

She raises her head at the sound and even though the whole room is looking at her, Paige’s eyes -as they often seem to do whenever the brunette is around- immediately turn towards Azzi. The younger woman’s gaze is focused on the two of them, something unmistakably soft hidden behind the amused quirk of her eyebrow, as she tilts her head slightly towards the reporters, trying to signal that it was the older woman’s turn to answer a question. 

“Sorry,” Paige clears her throat sheepishly, “what was the question?”

The reporter -a young man that she recognizes as working on one of the Dallas sports news channel- chuckles, “sorry to interrupt Paige; she’s a lot cuter than we are, I understand,” he teases good-naturedly and a series of amused laughs ring out through the room as Paige nuzzles Stephie closer to herself, “I was just asking -this is your first time playing in Dallas since you left, how does it feel to be back?”

“It feels great,” the blonde admits with a smile, and although it’s partly the politically correct answer, she really does mean it, “I’ve always loved playing here you know, the fans always- always showed out for this team when I was here and it’s great to see they did again today. It was a little weird being boo-ed by the same people who used to cheer for me when I was shooting free throws- but you know- that’s sports and you know they still clapped for me when I came out so I’mma take that as they still love me just a little bit cause I’m pretty easy to love,” Paige winks and can practically feel Azzi rolling her eyes at the gesture, as the reporters laugh at her feigned cockines, “but yeah you know- it was great to be here. You know this place used to be home once-”

“And now home is me and Mama,” Stephie announces, cutting Paige off mid sentence as she turns around in the older woman’s lap, her big brown eyes glittering as she looks up at her, “right Miss Buecks?”

It’s like everyone seems to hold their breaths at the little girl’s words; there’s no denying the meaning behind them. Paige opens and closes her mouth, trying to figure out the right way to respond. She glances towards Azzi, trying to figure out how the other woman wants them to play this. The brunette is already looking at her, her eyes slightly wide at what her daughter had just said but filled with the promise of we’ll always be your home as she gives Paige a slight nod, her lip curling upwards into a small grin. 

“Right Stephie-bean,” Paige says softly, addressing the little girl more than the media, “my home is you and Mama.”

“You’re our home too Miss Buecks,” Stephie grins toothily as she reaches up to press an open mouth kissed against the blonde woman’s cheeks before turning her little body back towards the press, unaware of the spark of emotion her innocent little declaration had birthed in Paige’s heart. She looks at Azzi again, finding her eyes moist with the same tears of pure happiness that she knows are reflected on her own, a testament to finally getting everything they’d dreamt of as two naive college students, curled into each other on a twin-sized bed. 

And then there’s a familiar cough resounding through the audience and Paige feels her entire body stiffen. She reluctantly drags her gaze away from Azzi and amidst the sea of smiling faces -all of whom had clearly found the scene rather sickeningly cute- she finds a distinctly known face scowling up at the podium. Olivia. 

"Miss Buecks," Stephie whispers, as she lifts herself a little off of Paige's lap so her lips are level with the blonde's ear, "why does that reporter look so mad?"

Paige swallows, her grip tightening protectively around the little girl on her lap,

 “It’s nothing honey,” she reassures but there’s little conviction in her voice. 

Paige can almost feel the tension radiating off of Azzi’s body, clearly recognizing who the reporter is and she has to fight the urge to reach out and grab the younger woman’s hand, to squeeze or trace light patterns against her skin. She doesn’t know how she’d spent so long not realizing her ex-wife was sitting second-row at the press conference. Paige had known Olivia was gonna be here, had been mentally preparing for her to be covering the Dallas game and yet, perhaps because she’d been so preoccupied with Stephie and Azzi while walking, she’d barely taken note of the woman. 

“This is a press conference, not your home,” Olivia remarks icily and all the other reporters twitch uncomfortably in their seats, clearly aware of the dynamics at play, “so if y’all are done, I think we’d all love to go finish this off and get back to our own homes as well.”

Azzi’s hands clench under the table and this time Paige doesn’t bother fighting it; she uses the hand not gripping Stephie, to grab for the younger woman's fists under the table, rubbing soothing circles against her knuckles to try and calm her down. It’s like there’s magic in her touch -the same that seems to exist in Azzi’s when she touches Paige- and slowly but surely it begins to calm the brunette down. 

Still keeping hold of Azzi’s hand underneath the podium, Paige musters up an apologetic smile for Olivia, “sorry- that was uh- that wasn’t very professional of us.”

“Well workplace relationships aren’t quite professional either,” Olivia remarks pointedly, an unsettlingly saccharine smile on her face, and it’s like a cold chill -most definitely not from the air conditioning- settles across the room, “but that’s never been an issue for you has it Paige?”

Paige stares at the journalist in shock, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to respond. Since the divorce, despite the amicable appearances, Olivia had always had a thinly-veiled passive-aggressive jab ready to integrate into her post-game media questions. But there was nothing thinly-veiled or remotely passive about this particular remark and Paige is completely caught off-guard, her body freezing at the sheer amount of vitriol in her ex-wife’s voice. 

As if sensing her unease, Stephie leans back into Paige, almost as if she’s trying to provide some semblance of comfort. Under the table, Azzi flips her hand over, unclenching her own fist so she can intertwine their hands together as she gently squeezes the blonde’s hand, a simple gesture of i’m here that makes Paige relax just a little bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says, her voice a matching syrupy sweet as she focuses her attention on the reporter, “I was under the impression you wanted to continue the press conference but well-” she tilts her head almost mockingly, “you don’t seem to be asking any basketball questions so unless you have one of those, I suggest you let the others ask their questions because like you said, we’re all ready to go home.”

There’s a quick flash of anger in Olivia’s eyes but she’s quick to compose herself, putting on a tight-lipped smile as she addresses the two of them again, “I do have a basketball question thank you Azzi,” she spits the brunette’s name out bitterly and Paige tries to not show her irritation on her face, choosing instead to focus on the pressure of Azzi’s fingers playing with her own, “the two of you have been known since college for your chemistry- on the court that is of course- apparently Paige has a knack for finding your or something. But over the last two games, only two of your shots have been assisted by her? So I guess I’m just wondering, is the chemistry fading? Were you guys maybe just trying to force something that used to exist but isn’t meant to anymore?”

It’s a ridiculous question laced with farcical underlying meanings and Paige can tell it takes every little bit of restraint left in Azzi’s body to not curse Olivia out right then and there. 

“And what happened in the game before the last two?” the brunette asks calmly. 

Olivia shrugs, “does it matter? I’m asking about the last two games.”

“Did you watch that game?” Azzi presses. 

“There was a Wings game on at the same time. I had priorities,” Olivia answers airily. 

“Fair enough,” Azzi says, her voice deceptively casual as she narrows her eyes at the other woman, “I’ll tell you what happened then. The game before that, Paige assisted on six of my eight made shots. The game before that one, she assisted on four of them. The game before that, on five of them. I guess it’s gone down a little these last two games but as a journalist you should probably know that two games doesn't make a trend. So no, we’re not trying to force something that used to exist. We’re building off of something -off of a chemistry- that has always existed,” she glances briefly at Paige, her stoic expression softening, “and always will,” before turning back to Olivia with cold eyes, “does that answer your question?”

Olivia purses her lips as she nods reluctantly, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Azzi retorts.

There’s only two more questions after that, the atmosphere in the room having clearly shifted and all the rest of the reporters clearly eager to escape the still-lingering tension. Paige doesn’t let go of Azzi’s hand, that and Stephie’s occasional fidgeting on her lap, the only thing keeping her fully grounded. 

As soon as the press conference officially concludes, Azzi’s out of her seat, marching out of the media room with vengeance and Paige knows exactly where she’s going. 

“Stephie sweetheart, you go hang out with Pops for a second okay,” she tells the little girl, pointing her in the direction of Tim who had been waiting on the sidelines, before rushing to catch up with her girlfriend. 

“Az-” Paige attempts to say as she falls into step next to the younger girl, trying to match her furious pace, “baby come on it’s not worth it.”

Azzi ignores her, continuing on her tirade towards Olivia, who is where she always is, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Azzi hisses, coming to a quick half in front of the reporter and Paige stops right behind her. 

Olivia quirks an eyebrow, “excuse me?”

“Oh don’t even try that bullshit with me. Look I get it okay- I get that you have issues with Paige and probably with me and that’s fine. You have every right to dislike us- maybe even hate us but pulling that stunt in front of all the media? You don’t get to do all that.”

“And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Olivia asks, not even attempting to keep up a pretense of cordiality. 

“Do not test me,” Azzi warns, “you know damn well I can have your credentials to cover the Wings revoked with one word.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know me,” the brunette cuts off Olivia’s weak protest, “you don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do for the people I love.”

A flicker of hurt rushes across her ex-wife’s face and Paige suddenly feels a slight pang of guilt taking birth in her stomach. In front of her, Azzi lets out a shallow breath, clearly having noticed the same thing. 

“I know what it’s like you know,” the younger woman says slowly, her voice much softer now, “I know what it’s like to lose Paige. I know what it’s like to see her with someone else. I know how much it hurts,” Azzi swallows, shaking slightly like even the memory of it is hard to relieve before her voice hardens again, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll just let you take that hurt out on us like that. Next time we’re in Dallas, if you pull that shit again, know that I will absolutely get you fired.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, pointedly looking away from Azzi as she crosses her arms around her body. Knowing the lack of response would only irritate the brunette further, Paige takes a step towards her, gently pressing her thumb against Azzi’s wrist to get her attention. 

“Hey Az, baby how about you go check on Stephie? Maybe get changed so we can head out,” she says softly, giving the younger woman one of her patented charming smiles, “I’ll come find you guys in a little bit.”

For a second it looks like Azzi’s going to protest but there must be something in the look that Paige gives her and instead she sighs, nodding as she lightly bumps her forehead against the blonde’s temple, before walking back towards the media waiting room. Paige can’t help but watch her go until her silhouette disappears, can’t help the just for Azzi smile that stays glued on her face till the brunette is out of her sight. 

“You used to tell me you didn’t do nicknames,” Olivia’s tone is tinged with resigned bitterness and Paige takes in a sharp breath before turning slightly to face her ex-wife. 

“What?”

“I told you- on our first date I think- that you could call me Livvy and you said- you said you don’t do nicknames. Or pet names. But clearly,” she gestures in the direction Azzi had gone, “you do.”

Paige pauses, letting the other woman’s words sink in as she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry.”

Olivia chuckles unhumourously, “for not calling me by pet name or for all the stuff your girlfriend just said?”

“Neither, “Paige replies cautiously, “and Azzi didn’t say anything wr-”

“She threatened to get me fired-”

“Because what you did in there was really fucking unprofessional Olivia,” Paige defends immediately, matching the loudness in her ex-wife’s tone. 

Olivia narrows her eyes, “so then what exactly are you apologizing for Paige?”

“I’m apologizing for making you feel like you have to be unprofessional. You’re a really good journalist and I- I hate that I make you act differently. And I know that- I know it comes from a place of hurt and I know I’m the reason that hurt exists. And I don’t think- I don’t think I ever properly told you how sorry I am for it,” Paige nibbles nervously on her bottom lip, “so that’s- that’s what I’m apologizing for.”

Olivia’s quiet for a second and when she finally does speak, there’s  a fragility hanging onto her words, “I was right, wasn’t I? All those arguments- during all those fights about- about her when I said that you were still in love with her- you- you never denied it. You just- you would always change the topic- say that it wasn’t about her. But I was right, wasn’t I? You did still love her.”

Paige hesitates, “Olivia-”

“Give me this one last thing Paige, please,” Olivia pleads softly, “just- tell me I was right.”

“You were,” Paige admits finally and both of them seem to let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding, “I’ve loved her since I was fifteen and there hasn’t been a moment since then that I haven’t been in love with her.”

Olivia flinches, screwing her eyes shut for a second, “I thought that would hurt more to hear but it-” her eyelids flutter open as for the first time in a long time, she gives Paige an almost genuine smile, “it almost feels good to hear. To know I wasn’t crazy.”

“You weren’t. I’m sorry,” Paige repeats again, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“I know. Me too. You’re right- you’re both right. I- I shouldn’t have done what I did at the press conference. I’m sorry- for that and for all the other ones too,” Olivia acknowledges slowly, “tell um- tell Azzi that too. That I’m sorry and I uh- I’d really appreciate it if she didn’t try and get me fired.”

They both giggle softly at that and it feels like a weight being lifted off of Paige’s shoulders, something almost like closure. 

“I’ll make sure she knows,” she promises. 

“Thanks,” Olivia nods, folding her press notes into her purse as she gets ready to leave, “bye Paige.”

Paige smiles, “bye Olivia.”

And then she turns around, and walks back towards Azzi, back to where she’s always belonged. 

***

Azzi’s sitting on the couch in the locker room -having changed back into regular clothes- by the time Paige returns from whatever conversation she’d been having with her ex-wife. She’s aware she’d probably been a little harsh on the other woman -knows that the not-so-kind feelings she has towards said woman is definitely unwarranted- but she’d had the audacity to target their relationship -to target Paige. And that had been enough for Azzi’s anger to cloud the more empathetic side of herself, who understood the hurt the other woman must have felt at having to watch the three of them -happy and giddy with love- on the podium together. 

“How did your conversation with your ex-wife go?” she asks as Paige enters the locker room, swinging her feet up to lounge them on the armrest. Azzi’s not normally a petty person but the mere existence of another woman having been married to her Paige, seems to evoke that side of her more often than not. 

The blonde shoots her a pointed look as she walks over to her stuff, “that was unnecessary and you know it.”

“It was. I’m sorry,” Azzi rubs her neck sheepishly, “but I really do wanna know what happened.”

“I apologized,” Paige says, slipping her jersey off and Azzi’s momentarily distracted by the sight of her girlfriend's abs, tongue instinctively darting out to lick her lips, that she doesn’t quite register what the older woman had just said. 

“What?” she frowns when the realization finally does hit, “why would you apologize?”

Paige sighs, slipping on the light blue oversized shirt -the one Azzi loves because it brings out the color of her eyes- before reaching for the darker cargo pants that had accompanied it, “because she only pulls shit like this because I hurt her. And I guess it worked cause, she apologized too.”

“You’re a good person, you know that?” Azzi says softly and she means it. Sometimes it amazes her just how amazing Paige is despite it all, just how humble and kind she's remained despite the fame that surrounded her. 

Paige grins, finally dressed as she plops on the couch next to Azzi, lifting the younger woman's legs up and rearranging them so they’re settled comfortably on her lap. 

“I know but I like hearing you say it,” she says as she lets her fingers run across the exposed skin of Azzi’s thighs. 

The younger woman raises her eyebrows as Paige’s hand moves higher up, a smirk on the blonde’s face, “what are you doing?”

“You’re hot when you get all protective and shit you know that,” Paige says slowly, pulling Azzi closer to herself, clearly pleased when she’s met with little resistance, “it’s really sexy when you get all defensive. Especially when it’s about me.”

“Oh it is, is it?” Azzi asks, eyes hooding over when Paige presses her lips against her neck, her movements gentle but purposefully as her hands continue to roam up and down the younger woman’s legs, “Paige- fuck-,” she groans when the blonde’s teeth graze against her skin, “baby we’re in the lockerroom. Anyone could walk in.”

“Let them,” Paige says, mouth moving down to work against her collarbone, and Azzi shivers, almost losing her restraint, “been wanting to do this all day. Since you came out in this skirt- fucking tease aren’t you baby? And then you were so hot on the court- so sexy when you’re confident.”

“Paige please,” Azzi reaches out a hand to still Paige’s movements, finger enclosing over the older woman’s hands, knowing she’s one moment away from caving in and letting Paige have what she wants, “we gotta go baby. Gotta get back to the hotel and I swear, once Stephie’s asleep in my parents’ suite, you can do whatever you want to me.”

Paige smirks against her skin, “whatever I want?”

“Whatever,” Azzi promises coyly, pulling the blonde’s face out of her neck so she can meld their lips together. 

“I like the sound of that,” Paige grins as she finally lets go of Azzi, standing up and pulling the brunette up with her so she can lace their hands together, “where is Stephie anyways?”

“With Ice and Jana. Something about aunty-niece bonding time,” Azzi answers with a slight fond shake of her head, only a little concerned about what mischief their friends might be up to with her daughter. 

And sure enough, when Paige and Azzi do finally find the little girl, she’s sitting in between their former college teammates on a picnic bench right outside the Dallas facilities,  her mouth stuffed with saltine crackers and her entire face decorated with crumbs.

“What on earth,” it’s Paige who recovers first, eyes darting back and forth between Ice and Jana, who both also have a mouth full of saltine crackers, and Stephie. 

A series of indiscernible noises ring out from the three people in question, the crackers in their respective mouths clearly prohibiting them from being coherent and Azzi isn’t sure whether to be concerned or to laugh. 

“They’re doing the crackers challenge,” a new voice explains helpfully, and Azzi follows the sound of it to find KK’s face -bright and goofy as always- grinning at her from Jana’s phone screen. Their former teammate waves excitedly, “HI MOM AND DAD.”

“Of course, you’re here too,” Paige chuckles as she lines up behind Stephie, rubbing the little girl’s back as she continues to scarf down crackers. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” KK asks, affronted and then glances at the timer, “chop chop ladies, y’all only have 20 more seconds left- anyways what are you tryna say P Boogers?”

Paige rolls her eyes as Azzi stifles a laugh, taking a seat as she keeps a watchful eye on her daughter just in case. 

“I am way too old for you to be calling me that nickname Kamorea.”

“You are too old,” KK admits thoughtfully and Paige immediately guffaws, “but not too old to be called P Boogers. Anyways, countdown time 10, 9, 8…”

Azzi shakes her head as Paige joins in with KK, banging her fists on the table for emphasis and for a second it almost feels like they’re back to being a bunch of twenty-something year olds just learning to navigate life together with a ball in their hands,  “4, 3, 2,1!!!”

“I WIN,” Stephie announces, spraying the table with crumbs as she jumps up from her seat to claim victory. 

“NO YOU DIDN’T,” Ice protests loudly, her voice still muffled by the remnant of crackers, as she points to her bowl, “I have two left and you have two and a half.”

“The half doesn’t count Aunty Icey,” Stephie says matter-of-factly. 

Ice splutters, “what do you mean it doesn’t count,” she looks at Jana, who’s clearly still having trouble swallowing as she coughs, “Jana help.”

The Egyptian shakes her head, struggling to breathe and Azzi -with a pitying look on her face- hands her a glass of water that she gratefully takes. The entire scene is chaotic and yet, it brings the brunette a sense of peace, like something she hadn’t let herself realize was broken, is healing. 

“KK,” Ice rounds on the shorter girl on the phone, once she realizes Jana’s not gonna help her, “KAMOREA TELL THIS- THIS- THIS CHILD THAT I WON.”

“No Aunty ‘Morea,” Stephie says sweetly and by the way KK’s face immediately softens at the nickname, Azzi already knows who the younger woman is about to declare as the winner, “tell Aunty Icey that I won because the half doesn’t count right? Cause I’m littler and my mouth is smaller than hers.”

“ARE YOU SAYING I HAVE A BIG MOUTH,” Ice explodes, her eyes widening when Stephie shrugs impishly and then proceeds to high-five a laughing Paige who almost has tears spilling out of her eyes. 

“She makes a good point Isuneh,” KK says finally, “you do have a big mouth-”

“Kamorea when I fu-”

“Ice!” Paige warns, coughing slightly as she recovers from her laughter. 

Ice glares at her, “when I fudging catch you.”

“I’m not scared of you Isuneh,” KK says ruefully, “anyways I hereby declare Stephanie Katarina Fudd, the winner of this saltine challenge.”

Paige and Stephie burst into cheers as Ice continues to shake her head, “y’all are some cheaters.”

Stephie sticks her tongue out at the older woman before bounding over to Azzi, swinging her arms around her neck as her mother lifts her onto her lap, “Mama, Mama, Mama, did you see I won?”

“I did,” Azzi chuckles, as she brushes the crumbs lining her daughter’s mouth. 

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna eat another car-ker again though,” the little girl makes a face, patting at her stomach, “I feel sick.”

“My poor baby,” Azzi coos, “eating a bunch of saltines after you’ve already had dinner will do that to you.”

Stephie pouts at the call-out, “but Mama I had to win the challenge. Miss Buecks says never say no to a challenge you know you can win and I knew Mama, I knew I could win and I did.”

Azzi looks over Stephie’s head at Paige, who grins sheepishly at her before coming over to sit right behind them on the bench, so her chest is pressed to Azzi’s back and she can wrap her long arms around both mother and daughter.

“I did teach her that,” Paige confesses, “and I mean,” she winks conspiratorially at Stephie, “she did win.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Azzi rolls her eyes, her body relaxing as she leans back into the warmth of Paige’s body, humming contently when the older woman presses a quick kiss against her temple. 

“It’s good to see y’all are disgustingly cute as ever,” KK’s voice interrupts the calm, but there’s no real bite to her teasing; in fact there might even be a little bit of relief, “ion know how Jana’s dealing with the two of you again.”

“It’s a hard life,” Jana says solemnly, having finally recovered from the whole cracker debacle by having downed a whole bottle of water. 

“I bet. Do they still do that thing they used to do? Where they just keep staring at each other with dopey smiles and not saying anything?” KK inquires, a mock disgusted expression on her face.

“Oh they might do it more than they used to actually,” Jana complains as both Paige and Azzi try to protest, “it’s sickening stuff. Free me forreal.”

“Y’all are so mean,” Paige grumbles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, smiling only when Stephie lightly pats her head in consolation. 

“Don’t be mean to my Mama and Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently, turning towards her Aunties with a small frown, “they’re a little gross-”

“HEY.”

“Sorry Miss Buecks. But you are sometimes. But it’s okay,” the little girl grins, “because you’re in love and it’s okay to be a little icky in love.”

Azzi smiles at her daughter's wise words; thinks the little girl and their former teammates are probably both right. They are a little gross and disgusting and sickeningly in love but it’s their love. It’s the only way they’ve known how to love since they were fifteen -nauseatingly but all-consumingly- and she wouldn’t change that for anything. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Ice defends finally. 

“See, this is why you were always my favorite child back in school,” Paige fistbumps Ice and and immediately both Jana and KK let out a chorus of protests. 

“I knew it,” Ice smirks triumphantly, “but no forreal. I’m really glad y’all found your way back to each other. I can’t lie, after that time you drunk-called Azzi and said all that stuff to her, I didn’t think y’all-” she stops abruptly, eyes widening in realization of what she’d just let slip out. 

“Ice,” Jana hisses, glaring at her former teammate before looking concernedly at her two current ones.

Azzi twists uncomfortably, “P-”

“When did I drunk-call Azzi?” Paige asks slowly, her voice dripping with confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“Did I say that?” Ice chuckles nervously, her tone unusually high-pitched, “oh you know me, always make up stuff for no reason. Why would you drunk-call Azzi? Why would I even let that happen, amirite?”

“Nice job Isuneh, real convincing,” Jana mutters under her breath as Paige continues to look unconvinced. 

“Mama,” Stephie cuts in, peering up at Azzi with big questioning eyes, “what’s drunk-calling?”

“It’s nothing sweetie,” Azzi reassures the little girl before looking pointedly at Ice, “you still driving us back to the hotel?”

Ice nods hesitantly, “I got a carseat and everything just for little miss Stephanie.”

“Good, it’s the least you could do,” Azzi bites out, referring to the secret the other woman had just accidentally let out -one they’d preserved for four years- and Ice at least has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “how about you and Jana take Stephie and start heading towards the car, we’ll catch up in a second.”

“Trust me Az,” KK calls out, still on facetime, “I’ll make sure they don’t lose her.”

Despite the newfound tenseness around them, Azzi smiles at her fellow UConn alum, “I’mma hold you to that Kamorea.”

“What is Ice talking about? What drunk phone call? What did she mean by all that bullshit I said to you,” Paige says immediately as soon as the trio of Jana, Ice and Stephie have made it far enough out of earshot, moving herself so that she’s now facing the brunette, “what did I say?”

Azzi gulps, searching to see if there’s even a hint of recollection in the blonde’s face, “you really don’t remember it do you?”

Paige shakes her head helplessly. Sensing how much it’s stressing her out to not know, Azzi takes in a deep breath, intertwining their fingers together, trying to provide the older woman with some semblance of comfort -of what happened in the past, is in the past- to make her feel just a little more at ease. 

“Baby,” Paige pleads, “please tell me.”

“It was a couple of years ago. Probably- probably a month or so before your divorce or something and I guess- I guess you and your ex-wife, you guys had- you guys had a big fight or something and you were drunk- like really drunk,” Azzi begins. 

Paige nods along, “I think- I think I know what night you’re talking about. Olivia and I- it wasn’t just one fight. It was constant, almost every night and then it just got really bad one night and I- I dragged Ice to a bar and I- I definitely drank too much,” she cracks a smile, “clearly cause I- I don’t even remember calling you. I can’t believe Ice didn’t tell me before.”

“I told her not to,” Azzi admits and she thinks it’s rather ironic that Paige has no memory of a phone-call that had been the only thing occupying her mind for days after it happened. But then again, that’s how she’d wanted it. She hadn’t wanted Paige to remember that phone call -hadn’t wanted her to feel those same waves of wretched guilt -the ones the blonde’s words had drowned Azzi in- that came crashing into you with hurting the person you love the most in the world. 

“Az,” Paige presses softly, “what did I say?”

Azzi closes her eyes -and it’s almost like she can hear that call again, can hear the vitriol in the bullets Paige had aimed towards, “you- you were really upset Paige. Whatever fight you guys had, had- I guess- I guess it was about me and you- you were mad at me because of that. I think- I think you blamed me for it.”

“What? Shit baby, that was unfair of me,” Paige says immediately, squeezing the brunette’s hand “it wasn’t you. There was a lot wrong with me and Olivia and I- I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“Not you shouldn’t have. Not for that at least,” Azzi acquiesces and even with her eyes closed she can feel Paige frown. 

“What else did I say?” the blonde urges, attune to the fact that there’s more to the story that the younger woman hasn’t revealed yet. 

Azzi swallows, not wanting to tell her, “does it matter? It was a really long time ago.”

“But you remember it. I can tell- you remember it and that means- that means it must- it must not have been something good and I just- Azzi- baby I need to know,” Paige presses. 

“It was nothing- honestly- I mean you’ve said that stuff to me sober too. I already knew- I already knew how upset you were with me about saying no,” Azzi babbles, “I mean yeah it- it hurt to hear it all over again and you- you sounded so broken but it wasn’t- it was nothing-”

“It’s not nothing,” Paige cuts her off frustratedly, “Azzi please, what exactly did I say?”

“Paige-”

“Azzi.”

Azzi lets out a sharp breath as she finally opens her tear-filled eyes, her voice small when she finally does speak, “you said you hated me.”

Saying it out loud seems to make all the hurt of the moment, that she’s slowly buried away since, come rushing back into her body, like a thousand needles -all at the speed of lightning- being pricked against her skin. 

“I- I what?” Paige asks throatily, a myriad of emotions sprinkled all across her face as she processes the brunette's word. 

“It’s- it’s fine,” Azzi rushes out, partly because she doesn’t want to dwell on these memories and the way they haunt her and partly because she wants nothing more than to take away all the pain clearly visible on the older woman’s face, “really Paige- it’s fine. I knew- I knew you were drunk and that you didn’t mean it- that it was the alcohol speaking. It’s- it’s fine,” she repeats again, unconvincingly. 

“It’s not fine,” Paige whispers, “baby I- I’m so- I’m so sorry.”

“No- no Paige you don’t-”

“I do,” Paige says firmly, cupping Azzi’s face with two hands, “you can’t lie to me baby. I can tell- I can always tell with you- I can tell that I hurt you and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry Azzi.”

“It’s okay Paige. I promise it’s okay,” Azzi reassures, resting her own hands on top of the blonde’s, “it doesn’t matter anymore. That was- that was then and what matters is now. I know you love me.”

“And I always have,” Paige presses her forehead against Azzi’s, her fingers gently caressing the younger girl’s cheeks, “I need you to know that- that no matter what I said- I never- I never hated you baby. I couldn’t- not even if I wanted to because I'm pretty sure I’ve loved you since the second I set eyes on you. I love you even more now and I swear I've loved you every moment in between. I promise.”

“Me too. I love you. Always,” Azzi says softly before pulling the love of her life into a searing kiss. 

They’ve both thrown grenades at each other, shot well-aimed bullets at each other’s hearts in an attempt to avenge the pain the other had given them. For a long time, all that was left around them was a wreckage of empty casings and deep gash wounds that refused to heal. 

But those wounds are healing now. 

Because for all the ways Paige and Azzi had destroyed each other, they’ve always known that they’re still the only bandages to each other’s scars and slowly but surely, they’re starting to fix every piece of each other they’d broken, healing together. 

*** 

August 2033 

Tempo 54        Valkyries 57

It’s been a defensive slogfest of a game, neither team fully getting into rhythm offensively and the frustration is beginning to show. There’s a minute left in the game and the score is tight, the Toronto Tempo -a franchise still struggling to find its identity- is putting up hell of a fight against the current top team in the league. Paige can tell that players on the other team are desperate for this win- for the glory that would come with breaking the Valkyrie’s current 5 game win streak right as they’re about to head into all-star break. 

She’s at the top of the key -having just gotten the ball off of a perfect hand-off from Joyce- when it happens. Paige’s defender gets stuck on the screen and she lets the likely dagger three fly, a cocky grin on her face as the ball swishes through the net, just as the shot-clock runs out. 

And then

THUD 

Paige has almost run halfway back on defense when the loud sound of a body hitting the ground -far harder than it ever should- rings out through the arena. The sharp ring of the ref blowing the whistle echoes next and then, nothing. 

Silence. 

Concern ebbs through Paige’s veins as her eyes immediately search for Azzi. It’s habit really -has been since she was fifteen- a natural instinct to seek comfort in the brunette that had started front the moment they’d started playing together. Even when they’d been on opposing teams in the league -their first year as rivals who’s animosity ran much deeper than the court- Paige remembers when one of her former Wings had gone down with an injury during a game against the Valkyries, it had been Azzi she looked for first. 

And so it’s a given of course, that now -when they’re more each other’s than they’ve ever been- that Paige is looking for Azzi, looking for the comfort and reassurance and whatever happens as long as I have you it’ll be fine that the younger girl’s presence brings. She squints her eyes at the blurred combination of maroon and lavender jerseys rushing towards whatever had happened under the basket, her own feet moving in the same direction. At first, she’s confused why she can’t seem to find that familiar #35 and then-

Paige’s eyes snap towards the ground as she comes to an abrupt stop just a few meters away from the scene. 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

And Paige Bueckers has been scared a fair few times in her life; remembers the absolute panic of when a four year old Drew had been admitted to the hospital with a fever, can still feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins the first time she watched Azzi tear her ACL, doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the absolute dread that had hit her when tearing her own, or that sinking familiar feeling as she watched her best friend endure her second one. Paige knows fear all too well. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to the way her stomach lurches at the sight of Azzi Fudd, her Azzi, lying -eyes closed, body unnaturally still- on the cold hard floor. 

It’s an image she thinks will haunt her forever and if she could, she thinks she’d bleach her eyes just to get rid of it. But no matter how many times Paige blinks, Azzi stays on the ground, completely unmoving. 

Paige watches for a second, still rooted to her spot, as her other teammates on the floor -Jana, Joyce and Tessa- crowd around the girl on the floor. She can almost see waves of tension rolling off of their bodies and it isn’t until Tessa turns around, beckoning for their team doctor -her eyes shining with distress-that Paige finally finds herself running towards Azzi. 

“Baby,” she whispers, falling onto the ground next to her girlfriend -comforted slightly by the fact that she can clearly hear her still breathing-, “c’mon Az, don’t scare me like this.”

Nothing. No response. 

“Paige,” Jana’s hand on her shoulder is meant to be something comforting but instead it feels heavy and Paige shrugs it off, ignoring the younger woman’s words. 

“Azzi,” she repeats again, reaching out but hesitating to touch the girl. 

“Paige you gotta move bro,” it’s Joyce this time, “you needa let the doctor see her.”

Paige ignores her too, pulling Azzi’s head onto her lap, “this isn’t funny baby. You know I don’t deal well with shit like this.”

In the distance, she can hear her teammates telling their team doctor what had happened. Something about Azzi colliding against a player, trying to move back and instead losing balance and hitting the floor hard.  The crowd has gone from silent to antsy, curious murmurs tinged with anxiety ripple throughout the stadium. In the distance, it almost sounds like someone’s crying. She hears the doctor trying to reassure her, something about how Azzi’d probably just got the wind knocked out of her or perhaps she’d hit her head first and that it was maybe a concussion. Nothing too bad. But Paige doesn’t care. 

Because she still can’t see Azzi’s pretty brown eyes. 

“Azzi,” Paige says more urgently, “c’mon baby please.”

She keeps repeating it like a mantra, decisively not listening to her teammates or the doctor’s pleas to let the latter please examine the girl on the ground. And logically, Paige knows that’s what she should do but she can’t find it in herself to move until she gets something -just an inkling- that makes her feel certain the brunette is going to be alright. 

“Baby please.”

Azzi’s face twitches. The slightest movement first and then something more clear, until her eyelids start fluttering. It takes her a couple of beats to get them fully open, like it’s a struggle to do the most basic thing. But she does. 

And Paige lets out a sigh of relief, body almost sagging as the weight of worry that had been holding her up eases just a little bit at the sigh of dark brown eyes -confused and slightly bleary- staring up at her. 

“Wh-what’s going on,” Azzi manages to slur together, her eyes blinking rapidly as she looks up at Paige. 

“It’s okay,” Paige reassures immediately, her thumbs caressing the younger woman’s cheeks, “you’re okay baby.”

“I- I don’t- what-,” Azzi continues to ask disorientedly as she looks from Paige to the doctor and teammates still hovering over her. She tries to sit up and almost immediately falls back as Paige’s arms reach out to steady her. 

“Careful baby,” the blonde mumbles as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, letting her lean on her for a second, before pulling the brunette’s arm around her shoulder. She gently lifts her up onto her feet and the crowd begins to clap, a collective sigh of relief resounding through the arena. 

“We’ve got her,” one of the assistant coaches says softly as she and the team doctor try to take Azzi off of Paige, “I know you wanna be there for her but we’ve got this.”

The older woman is about to protest, not wanting to let Azzi out of her sight when despite her confused state, the brunette shakes her head, moving herself out of Paige’s grasp so that her entire body weight rests on the doctor and the assistant coach instead. 

“Go win it,” Azzi whispers, mustering up a small but sincere smile. 

Paige hesitates for a second before nodding as she watches the love of her life being steadily walked off the court as she herself is pulled into a team huddle. There isn’t much time left and victory is practically imminent after Paige’s last three-point shot. But still, there’s a newfound determination amongst the players, the will to win it for Azzi. 

And win it they do. 

The rest of the game passes in almost a blur and all Paige really remembers of it is that the Valkyries are in full control of the last couple of possessions. But for as much as she’s present on the court, Paige’s entire mind is already off of it -her play driven by the need to just have this game end so she could go see Azzi. It feels like every crevice of skin is burning with a fire that can only be doused by holding the brunette in her arms again, touching and re-memorizing every part of her to give her the reassurance that she’s okay. 

When the buzzer does finally ring, Paige couldn’t possibly care less about the win and if she hadn’t been media-trained since practically the age of 15, she wouldn’t have even bothered with the formalities of going through the handshake line. But she knows the media is watching every move -that they’d spin some ridiculous controversy out of her not shaking hands with the player who had been the catalyst to Azzi’s injury. So she rushes through it, not so accidentally squeezing said player’s hand just a little too tight before she’s ignoring the entire world and running towards her girl. 

The crowd is rambunctious still but it’s all white noise to Paige as she weaves through the people -players and managers and all of that- trying to get off the maroon and white court. She’s almost there when the now more clear sound of familiar crying stops her in her tracks and she feels her heart plummet into her stomach as she comes to a quick freeze. Paige had been so consumed by her own emotions, by her own fear when she’d seen Azzi on the ground that she hadn’t considered that there was someone else in the crowd -someone else who’s world revolved around Azzi just as much as hers did- that had been witness to the scene as well. 

Paige turns around slowly, her eyes scanning the stands right behind the Valkyries bench. With everyone on the move as the crowd thins out, it takes a second before she finally finds who she’s looking for and as soon as she does, it feels like her feet have a mind of her own, speed walking and then almost running towards the sobbing little girl in the stands. Paige almost kicks herself for not having thought of Stephie first, for not having considered that whatever fear she was feeling -the innocent child was likely feeling twofold of that. 

As if sensing Paige beelining towards her, Stephie looks up from where she’d been crying into Katie’s neck just in time to spot the blonde. The puffy-faced girl’s eyes widen, her lips forming words that Paige can’t quite decipher -still too far to properly see them- but then Stephie’s wriggling out of her grandmother’s arms, trying to race down the stands towards the blonde. Paige feels a panic course through her veins, not wanting the little girl to get lost in a sea of people trying to leave the arena and she picks up her pace. For a brief second, she loses sight of Stephie and her already rapidly beating heart seems to somehow quicken even more, like it might just beat out of her chest. 

She swears she doesn’t breathe again until the little girl comes into view, pushing through the much larger people in front of her. There are still tears streaming down Stephie’s face but it’s clear the little girl is determined to get to Paige who can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief, almost having reached the steps leading up to the section Stephie had been in. But that relief quickly turns into anger as she watches her little girl being stopped in her tracks by a tall burly security guard, who grabs Stephie with far more force than necessary. The little girl’s eyes shine with fear as she tries to fight his grip and Paige feels a newfound fire -one that burns stronger than any other sense of protectiveness she’s ever felt before- simmer in her stomach as she finally reaches Stephie. 

“Mommy,” the little girl calls out as soon as she spots the older woman -her tone terrified- and Paige feels something snap. 

“Get your fucking hands off of my daughter,” she snarls, pulling Stephie out of the security guard’s grasp and into her own arms instead. 

“Mommy,” Stephie whimpers again, her voice uncharacteristically scared as she burrows her head into Paige’s neck, her tears wetting the collar of the blonde’s jersey.

“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you sweetheart,” Paige whispers quietly. 

“I- I’m sorry. I- I- I didn’t- know-,” the security guard- splutters but Paige ignores him, already turning away she rubs her hands up and down Stephie’s back. 

“It’s gonna be okay sweet girl,” she soothes gently, “I’ve got you.”

“Mommy, is Mama okay?” Stephie asks, her voice muffled against Paige’s skin, “can you take me to her? Please Mommy. Wanna see Mama. Please. I wanna see her”

“I know sweetheart. I know,” Paige tries to calm the shaking girl in her arms, her feet moving as fast as they can while holding her, “we’re going to her right now okay?”

“Wanna see Mama,” Stephie continues to repeat, her voice quivering.

And logically Paige knows Azzi’s okay; she’d seen her get back up with her own two eyes. But still, she doesn’t think that fear, the one that had consumed her the second she’d seen the other woman lying on the ground, that’s consuming both her and Stephie right now, will be quenched until they see Azzi, until they’re both securely wrapped in the safe arms of the woman who feels like their home. 

“Almost there baby,” Paige says softly as she turns the corner towards the medical room, her steps getting faster in anticipation of almost reaching her destination. 

“Mommy I was so scared,” Stephie confesses, her face still firmly tucked into the blonde’s neck, “so scared for Mama. She- she didn’t get up for so long. Made me so scared.”

“Me too sweetheart,” Paige admits as she comes to a stop right outside the door, “but she’s okay. Look sweetheart,” she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, as she slowly opens the door, crossing her fingers that she hadn’t just told a lie. 

Azzi’s leaning back against the bedrest, a cold compress pressed against her forehead with her eyes closed. But they flutter open at the sound of a door opening, going wide as she catches sight of Paige first and then the little girl in his arms, whose bottom lip trembles as soon as she sees her mother. It’s like the air rushes back into Paige’s lungs as she slowly walks towards the other woman’s bed, that fog of worry muddling her brain slowly starting to clear as she takes in the fact that her Azzi is okay. 

“Oh sweetheart come here,” the woman in question coos immediately, holding her arms out for Paige to place Stephie into them. 

“Are you okay Mama?” Stephie asks worriedly, tiny little hands cupping her mother’s face, “you’re really, really, really okay?”

“I am baby,” Azzi reassures softly, nuzzling the little girl’s nose as Paige perches on the bed next to the two of them, “just a little headache but I’m fine. I promise. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You scared me a lot,” the little girl says slowly, her eyes brimming with fresh new tears as she burrows her head against the crevice between her mother’s neck and her head, “it was so scary Mama. You were on the ground for so long and you weren’t moving and even Mommy looked so scared and Mommy never looks scared cause she’s the bravest of them all right.”

Mommy. 

Paige freezes. She’d been so caught up in the stress and anxiety of it all that she hadn’t even registered the word that had been falling so naturally out of Stephie’s mouth. But now- now that she can process it all -can let that word seep into her veins and make itself home in her heart- it feels a little bit like a magical spell has been cast over her, shrouding her in an indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her entire body.

“And-and-and the secu-ty guard wouldn’t let me come see you,” Stephie continues to babble, still oblivious to the impact of her own words, “and he- he tried to stop me but Mommy didn’t let him. She told him to get his-” the little girl pauses, eyes widening when she remembers exactly what Paige had said to the security guard. 

“What did she say? What did Mommy say Steph?” Azzi’s eyes twinkle as she briefly glances at Paige over Stephie’s head, clearly having also noticed the little girl’s use of the new term. 

“She told him to get his” Stephie lowers her voice to a whisper, “bad word hands off of her daughter.”

“Her daughter huh?,” Azzi repeats, looking back at Paige who flushes slightly. 

It had slipped out in the heat of the moment but really, that’s how Paige has seen Stephie since the minute the little girl had crawled into her lap that first day at the Valkyries facilities. Or maybe even before that, when she’d met her at All-Star Weekend and the little girl had spoken to her for the first time.. Or maybe it was after the semi-finals when she’d first held her in her arms and Stephie had smiled at her for the first time. Or maybe it was even earlier than that. Maybe it was the day of her wedding, when she’d spoken to Azzi’s stomach -to Stephie- for the first time. Because the truth is that Paige has always subconsciously thought of Stephie as hers, as theirs. 

Tears -happy ones, fucking ecstatic ones- prickles against Paige’s waterline as the little girl slowly turns around in Azzi’s lap to face her. 

“Mommy you said a bad word so you owe me a ki-” Stephie stops as notice the little droplets of water dripping down the blonde’s cheeks, “why are you crying Mommy?” she asks concernedly, “are you still scared about Mama? She’s okay Mommy. See-” she points back towards Azzi, “Mama’s okay.”

“I know- I know she’s okay baby,” Paige wipes at her tears, trying and failing to keep the shakiness out of her voice. 

“Then- then what’s wrong Mommy? Why are you crying?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose with a mixture of confusion and worry. 

“Because you-” Paige swallows, “you called me Mommy.”

“Oh,” Stephie says quietly, biting her lips as she looks up at Paige, suddenly looking even smaller than she really is, “is that- is that okay? Can I call you Mommy?”

“Is it okay? Oh sweetheart,” Paige holds Stephie’s face in between her hands, “it’s the best thing anyone’s ever called me.”

“Even better than Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks coyly. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh and she thinks she’ll miss that little nickname -it had become an innate part of her in a sense- but it can’t be compared to being called Mommy, to being called a name that makes Stephie completely and wholly hers. 

“Even better than Miss Buecks,” Paige confirms, causing Stephie to shriek as she launches herself onto the blonde, making the older woman laugh as she almost falls backwards, squeezing the little girl -who slots into her arms like the missing piece of a puzzle- as tight as she can. 

“And you called me your daughter,” Stephie remarks gleefully. 

“Did I? Hmmm I don’t remember that,” Paige teases, tapping her chin like she’s pretending to think deeply about it. 

“Don’t be silly Mommy,” and there’s that word again and the blonde feels her heart flutter against her ribcage as Stephie flicks her nose, “I heard you.”

“Oh you did, did you?” she asks, flicking the little girl’s nose right back. 

“I did,” Stephie grins triumphantly as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, “because you’re my Mommy and I’m your daughter.”

She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, a universal truth that destiny itself had written for them and Paige feels her breath hitch at the sincerity in the little girl’s tone as she brushes a loose strand of hair out of Stephie’s face, before her eyes trail over the child on her lap to meet with Azzi’s over her head. The brunette’s gaze is fixated on the two of them, unshed tears dancing on her waterline as she takes in the scene, watching intensely -a contrastingly soft smile on her face- as if she’s trying to take a mental image of it to keep it safe in the treasure chest of her most precious memories forever. 

Paige looks back down at the little girl latched onto her body, “I like that,” she whispers as she nuzzles her face against Stephie’s, “I’m your Mommy and you’re my daughter.”

***

It hits Paige again that night when they’re back at the hotel suite. Stephie’s fast asleep in her bedroom, the sound of her soft breathing filtering in through the small crack in the door. Azzi’s curled against Paige’s chest, one arm thrown around the blonde’s waist, the other pressed against her own body. Despite the scary fall, the concussion symptoms didn’t seem to be anything too severe but had made her adequately exhausted and as soon as their little girl had been tucked into her bed, Azzi was pulling Paige down into theirs and wrapping herself tightly around the blonde’s body so they could go straight to sleep as well. 

Their little girl. 

God, Paige can’t help but goofily grin up at the ceiling as she replays Stephie calling her Mommy over and over again in her head. She’s won a lot of things in her life. The individual accolades, the championships and a game-night or two here and there but they all seem to pale in comparison to the high of this win. Because really Paige has considered the little girl her daughter for a long, long time and even though she’d always known that Stephie loved her back just as much as she did, she hadn’t been sure if the little girl saw their relationship through the same lens as Paige did. 

And now she knew she did. That Stephie considered her, her mother, just as much as Paige considered her, her daughter. The thought makes her giddy and Paige almost giggles out loud. 

“Baby, I can literally hear you thinking,” Azzi mumbles against her chest and Paige bites her lip, her arms tightening around the younger woman’s body. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m just so excited,” Paige whispers -still in awe of the whole thing- and she feels the woman on top of her sigh into her neck at the the way the blonde's entire body is buzzing, “Az did you hear what Stephie called me? She called me Mommy, Azzi. Can you believe it? I’m her Mommy.”

“Well she wasn’t gonna call you Miss Buecks forever,” Azzi concedes, her voice still heavy with sleep as she keeps her head comfortably buried against the warmth of Paige’s skin. 

“I know- it’s just- I just-” Paige swallows, the emotions suddenly just a little too heavy against her throat, “I’m just so fucking happy Azzi. I’ve just- I’ve wanted this for so long. You and her. It’s all I wanted. And- and there were so many times- so many fucking times I wasn’t sure I was ever gonna get it and now- now I have you and I have her. And it just- it means everything to me. The two of you- you guys mean everything to me.”

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, her hands tightening around her waist as she draws her impossibly closer to herself, “you mean everything to us too Paige.”

Paige places a featherlight kiss against the crown of Azzi’s head, letting their words hang soak in the air for a second before speaking. 

“I used to imagine it, you know,” she says slowly, “what it would be like to be with you two. I- I’d stare at the pictures you’d post -even if you posted barely any- but whatever you did post of the two of you, I’d stare at it for ages. And I’d- I’d imagine myself with the two of you. Wherever the two of you were- whatever you two were doing- I just- I imagined myself there too. I’d think about what it would be like- to be in whatever picture you posted. Holding you- holding Stephie. It’s all I wanted. To be with you guys.”

There’s another moment of silence and the only sound is that of the  two of them breathing -almost perfectly in sync- echoing throughout the room. Paige uses her thumb to trace circles around the younger woman’s waist as Azzi props herself up on her chest, her face -as beautiful as the first time Paige had seen it from all the way across the court- illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. 

“The first time Stephie smiled,” Azzi begins, her hands fidgeting with the collar of Paige’s nightshirt, “she was in her crib and I was standing over her. And as soon as she smiled, I turned to look next to me. But there was no one there. When she said her first word, I did the same thing. And when she started crawling- when she started walking. All of her little firsts- every time she did anything, I’d- I’d look next to me and there was never anyone there,” Azzi draws in a shaky breath as she looks back up at Paige, “and I- I imagined it too. What it would be like if I could turn next to me and see you there. What it would be like for you to be with us. I wanted you there with us so fucking much baby.”

“I wish I had been,” Paige says wistfully, bringing her hands up to cup Azzi’s face as her thumbs gently wipe at the younger woman’s tears.

“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters,” Azzi moves her body up so her face is hovering right over Paige’s and she’s smiling that smile that Paige loves, the one that’s filled with promise and reassurance and hope, “you’re here now and you’re ours and we’re yours.”

“All mine,” Paige whispers back as she tugs Azzi down onto herself, making sure every part of her skin is touching the brunette’s as she melds their lips together in a slow and lazy kiss. 

They can’t escape the regrets of the past, can’t escape the moments they’d missed out on but there’s still so much life left to live -so much left to do together- and Paige thinks she’ll never take any of it for granted. No matter how much time has passed in this journey to get here, to get her girls, to get her family and make them hers, she has them now and she intends to keep them like this until the end of time itself. 

***

December 2033 

Azzi doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of watching Paige and Stephie together. It’s a sight she sees every day now and yet, every time she sees the utter gentleness with which the blonde treats the little girl, every time she sees the complete adoration with which the little girl looks at the blonde, it almost feels like Azzi’s heart might just explode with how much she loves the two of them together. And every day she finds herself thanking her lucky stars that she gets to be the third piece of their mosaic, the three of them fitting together perfectly like they were always meant to be. 

There’s a fond smile on Azzi’s face as she watches the two of them now, Stephie propped up on Paige’s feet as the older woman sways the two of them around to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers. The two of them are in contrasting shades of green to match Tallulah’s chosen color scheme for the wedding. Paige is in a dark bottle green suit and Stephie flower girl dress is in the same pastel green shade as Azzi’s bridesmaid one. It had been the little girl’s idea, once Paige had picked out her suit, for the two of them to have matching bottle green bows around their waists that matched the blonde’s outfit. And as they’d all gotten ready together, when Azzi had glanced at the mirror, she couldn’t help but think they looked like the perfect little family she’d always dreamed of having for herself.

There’s a crowd of people on the dancefloor and while most other spectators are likely either not paying attention, or watching the lovely bride and groom, Azzi’s sole focus is on her daughter and her girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It almost feels like too mild a term for what Paige is to her. Even when they’d been girlfriends the first time, Azzi had still thought the word did little to encapsulate just how much Paige meant to her. And now that they’ve been through so much more, the word feels even more inadequate for the brevity of their relationship than it had the last time around. Because really, Paige is the love of her life, she’s an innate part of Azzi’s being and the years without her had felt a little bit like trying to live with a part of her soul missing. She thinks the word girlfriend just doesn’t quite capture all of that. 

“Hey,” Azzi’s broken out of her reverie by a body sliding into the empty seat next to hers and she turns her head to find Drew sitting next to her. 

“Hi Drew,” she says softly, a little surprised at him having approached her. 

Since that dreadful night at Paige’s, Drew has made a handful of appearances in their lives. He’d been at a couple of their games and he’d definitely been there when they’d won the championship but he was a busy guy and with the WNBA season ending just as the NBA season began, time barely permitted him from staying for more than a night. And when he did, Stephie -enamored with the idea of having another uncle- had consumed most of his time and the two of them had bonded quickly with the little girl, as she did most people, having him wrapped around finger. It had taken a little bit but one or two awkward conversations at games they’d sat together in later, Drew had fit right back in with Jose and Jon (and Katie and Tim of course) too and it had been a no-brainer that he’d be invited to the wedding. 

But despite all of that, there’s still a lingering awkward tension between her and Drew’s relationship, which Azzi hates. They’re civil of course -Drew seemingly having less reservations about her Paige’s relationship now- and they’ve even been able to share a laugh here and there in group situations but she misses the little boy who’d once been her menace-mischief-making partner in crime. She misses the way they’d conspiratorially giggle non-stop over nothing, the way they’d tease their siblings in tandem, the way they’d always take each other’s side (much to everybody else’s chagrin) no matter what. And she misses being another person Drew could confide in, being another version of his older sister that he could come vent to about anything and everything. She misses him being like another little brother to her that had once looked up at her with so much adoration, instead of this guarded, hesitant expression he seems to wear around her all the time now. 

“Paige’s feet are gonna hurt like hell tonight,” Drew remarks, his eyes fixated on the same scene Azzi’s had been. 

The brunette chuckles, watching as Stephie continues to happily dance on Paige's feet, the blonde smiling down at her, showing no sign of the likely discomfort that would eventually hit her after a night of carrying the little girl’s weight on her toes. 

“I told her not to,” Azzi shakes her head fondly. 

“Of course you did,” Drew’s lips curl into a half-smile, “but Stephie’s enjoying herself and there’s nothing Paige wouldn’t do to make her happy. She really loves your little girl.”

“Our little girl,” Azzi corrects gently and Drew’s smile seems to deepen at that, “and Stephie loves her back just as much.”

“I know,” Drew says softly, “I knew from the first time I met her. It’s why I was so scared that night.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “Drew-”

“It wasn’t just about Paige,” Drew continues on, “I mean I was scared for her too of course but- I know what it’s like you know. To be really attached to someone when you’re little- to think of someone like family and then one day they just- they’re gone.”

Azzi swallows, her hands fisting on the table as guilt inches up her spine. 

Drew’s eyes are still trained ahead of him as she speaks, “and you’re so young -even if you’re not that young- that no one even really tells you what’s happening. All you get is vague answers and you have to figure it out yourself- figure out why someone you used to see all the fucking time just isn’t there anymore. It hurts and I-” his voice cracks, “I didn’t want that for Stephie.”

“Drew,” Azzi whispers again, her voice filled with raw emotion as she look at the young man -who for as much as he’s grown up, is still just as reminiscent of the little boy she’d once known. 

“Do you remember that one summer you guys had like a family reunion barbecue type thing? And of course Paige and I were invited cause we- we were family too,” Drew asks slowly. 

Despite being a little confused by the change in topic, Azzi nods her head, “summer of ‘23.”

“Yeah and there was music and everyone was dancing. Well I don’t know if you could call what Jon was doing dancing,” Drew winks and Azzi laughs at the memory of her youngest brother doing the most ridiculous moves on the dancefloor. 

“Thank God he’s gotten better since,” she grins, briefly glancing over to where Jon is dancing normally with his date. 

Drew chuckles, “yeah thank God indeed. And you and Paige were dancing, but I wanted to dance with you too, do you remember?”

“Yeah I do. I think you cut right between us and Paige was NOT happy about it,” Azzi smirks, remembering the way her girlfriend had pouted at the interruption. 

“No she wasn’t but you said yes to dancing with me anyways. You always said yes to me no matter what. And I wasn’t nearly as tall back then so you-” Drew finally looks at him, that neutral expression having finally given away to something far softer, “you let me stand on your feet just like Paige is letting Stephie do right now. And we danced for god knows how long and now that I think about it, I’m sure your feet really fucking hurt too. But it didn’t matter, you kept dancing with me anyways.”

“You were having so much fun,” Azzi chokes back a sob, “that’s all that mattered, “ the brunette pauses, “Drew I-” she hesitates for a split second before reaching for his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Drew is silent for a moment, his head downcast as he plays with the edges of the table-covering, before finally looking back at Azzi with watery eyes, “I’ve really missed you Azzi.”

“I missed you too, pookie,” Azzi whispers, squeezing his hand tightly as they smile wistfully at each other.

They stay like that for a little while, basking in each other’s company as the hum of chatter and music drawls on around them. 

“Hey Az,” Drew says after a while as he stands up, a smirk on his face as he reaches his hand out towards her, “you wanna dance with me? No stepping on toes is necessary this time I promise.”

Azzi giggles, grinning ear to ear as she accepts his outstretched hand, “I’d love to dance with you Drewski.”

She lets Drew drag her out to the dancefloor, skillfully maneuvering them around the other guest until they’re right by Stephie and Paige. A surprised laugh rumbles from her throat as Drew twirls her around, the sound of it causing Paige to catch sight of them. The blonde’s lips part slowly as she takes in the sight of the two of them dancing, shock gradually morphing into something happier, like she’s been waiting for this moment. Azzi knows how important her and Drew’s relationship has always been to Paige, and even if the older woman hadn’t said anything about it, Azzi knew -Azzi always knew when it came to the blonde- that the distance between two of her favorite people in the world this time around, had been bothering her. 

Azzi’s not sure how long they dance for -she just knows she’s completely at peace right here in this moment- but it catches her off guard when Drew spins her again, making her stumble a little as she goes crashing into a solid body and familiar arms come to steady her waist. 

“My turn?” Paige asks softly, her blue eyes glittering with love and adoration as she smirks at Azzi. 

“Won’t your date mind?” Azzi teases, referring to Stephie -who after having been explained the concept of a plus-one- had been adamant that despite Paige having her own invitation to the wedding, that the blonde was going to be her date. Sorry Mama, you’re just gonna have to go alone, cause Mommy’s going with me, the little girl had said, her arms wrapped around a beaming Paige from behind, as she’d stuck out her tongue at Azzi, who had of course played along with a dramatic gasp. 

Paige laughs, her arms tightening their grip on the younger woman, who in turns fastens her own arms around her neck, “she’s abandoned me for my brother.”

“Oh I see, so I’m your second choice?” Azzi raises her eyebrows, trying to hide the smile on her face when she sees Stephie giggling as Drew lifts her and up and spins her around. 

“Baby, you are the only choice,” Paige whispers as she brushes their lips together. 

Azzi sighs contentedly, pulling the blonde in closer so she can deepen the kiss as their mouths move expertly against each other, and for a while it feels like that cliché feeling of when the world fades away and it’s just the two of them. 

“Can we go home yet?” Paige murmurs against her lips, her hands sliding dangerously low against the silk material of Azzi’s dress. 

“It’s my brother’s wedding. We can’t leave till the rest of the guests do,” Azzi pats the older woman’s cheeks, giggling softly to herself when Paige lets out a low disappointed groan, letting her head fall onto the brunette’s shoulder. 

“Have I told you how much I love that dress on you,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s collarbone, causing her to shiver at the sensation, “think you should keep it on tonight.”

Azzi’s eyes widen at the implication, heat pooling in between her thighs as Paige places a series of subtle kisses against her neck, “Paige, we’re in public.”

“I know. I don’t care,” Paige says and as if to prove her point, she lets her hands drift downwards to quickly squeeze Azzi’s ass. 

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately and she can feel the blonde’s cocky smile against her skin, clearly pleased with herself. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it Az,” Paige’s teeth lightly graze against her jaw and Azzi tries her best to swallow the whimper threatening to spill from her lips, “I know you baby. I know your body- know what you like.”

And it’s true. Paige knows Azzi’s body like it’s a treasure map and she’s a treasure hunter on the search for gold. She’s memorized every little detail of it -marked every crevice with her name- could navigate it with her eyes closed if she wanted to. Paige is nothing if not a diligent learner when it comes to Azzi and even the little things that have changed over the years, the blonde has already vigorously committed them to memory. 

“Paige stop,” Azzi says again, reluctant yet firm, as Paige bites just a little too hard in a way that’s likely to leave a tenuous but still spotable mark, “our daughter is right there.”

That seems to do the trick as Paige finally pulls away. Not completely of course, her hands are still gripping tightly onto Azzi’s waist but enough so the brunette can see her face. It blows Azzi away sometimes, the sheer amount of love reflected in Paige’s face; she can’t quite believe that she gets to be the recipient of it all, that Paige and her love are all Azzi’s. It makes her want to kiss the blonde all over again. 

“I like when you say that,” Paige softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “our daughter.”

Azzi grins, her fingertips playing with strands of blonde hair, “it’s what she is, isn’t it? Ours.”

“This isn’t fair Az,” Paige huffs and Azzi raises an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Why not?”

“Because now I wanna kiss you again and if I kiss you again-”

Azzi doesn’t let her finish because fuck it, she really wants to kiss Paige again too. So she does. Because she can. Because Paige is hers, hers to kiss, hers to hold and hers to love. Besides, they’re making up for eight long years of being apart, it’s only fair they get to indulge in a little bit of PDA. 

Clearly, Jana doesn’t agree because no sooner have they started getting lost in each other again, when there’s the sharp sound of a throat clearing behind them. They withdraw from each other breathlessly to find their younger teammate looking at them with an amused smile. The separation lasts for about two second as Paige turns Azzi around and pulls the younger woman’s back flush against her chest, hooking her chin over the brunette’s shoulder as she keeps her hands fastened around her waist. Jana rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh. 

“Something you need El-Alfy,” Paige asks pointedly. 

“I need the two of you to be less gross,” Jana supplies snarkily, “you’re gonna scar the children. And anyone who’s single,” she says the last part under her breath, eliciting laughter from both Paige and Azzi which only makes her scowl deepend, “it’s not funny. Some of us are sad and lonely and having to watch you to be in love is sickening.”

“Well why are you watching us?” Paige says cavalierly, “it’s wedding Jana. It’s literally hookup central. Go find someone hot to fuck.”

“There's not a single man over six feet here,” Jana bemoans miserably. 

“José’s got some 6’7 friends,” Azzi supplies helpfully, raising her hands in surrender when Jana glares at her. 

“Lemme correct myself, not a single attractive man over six feet,” the Egyptian amends. 

“I mean you could always hook up with a woman instead. Trust, women are much better and there’s plenty of pretty girls here,” Paige says casually and Azzi sideyes her. 

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” she asks slowly. 

“Oh um-,” Paige stutters nervously, “well I couldn’t tell you that of course. I mean like- I haven’t looked or anything cause you know you’re the only one I look at baby- only you I swear- but like you know girls in general are pretty so like- I’m sure she could find someone pretty. Just nobody as pretty and gorgeous and beautiful as you of course.”

Azzi laughs as she presses a quick kiss to her silly girlfriend’s cheeks, “you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“You think I’m cute?” Paige waggles her eyebrows at Azzi, clearly not satisfied with the chaste kiss on the cheek as she steals one from the brunette’s lips instead, “I think you’re cute too baby.”

“And I think you guys are nauseating,” Jana cuts in, pretending to barf, “but please I’m begging, when y’all get married, please invite me some attractive tall men.”

It’s only for a second but Azzi still feels the way Paige tenses against her teammate's words. The blonde recovers, the stiffness gone as fast as it had come but it sends a ripple of confusion and worry down Azzi’s spine. 

“We’ll try our best. Just for you J,” Azzi promises their younger teammate and even though Paige nods along, there’s something almost half-hearted about her agreement. 

“Thanks you guys. Knew I could always count on my mother’s to get me laid,” Jana winks as she pulls both of them in a quick hug before bounding over to the bar. 

Azzi turns herself around in Paige’s arms, her eyes scanning the blonde’s face as she tries to piece together what’s going through her mind. The older woman smiles but there’s something unspoken hidden behind it, like she wants to say it but isn’t sure how. 

“Hey,” Azzi whispers, hands reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “what are you thinking? Talk to me baby.”

“Nothing I just-” Paige takes in a deep breath, her thumbs rubbing circles against Azzi’s waist like she’s trying to ground herself in the brunette’s presence, “Jana said- she said when we get married. Like it’s a given or something and we- we haven’t really talked about it so I just- I don’t know Az- I guess I just- is it a given?”

And Azzi can see the carefully camouflaged insecurity in Paige’s eyes, that flash of you didn’t want to marry me that the older woman won’t say out loud but is still clearly running through her thoughts. They’ve worked through a lot of it, had countless conversations even after finally getting together so that they could overcome the past but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still some things lingering between them -some lesions that are still waiting to be healed. That familiar sting of guilt spurns in her stomach as Azzi presses herself even closer to Paige and there’s a thousand things she wants to say -and she’s sure she eventually will- but for now, she keeps it simple and hopes it’s enough to reassure the blonde who’s looking at her with hopeful eyes. 

“Yeah,” she says softly, tapping her forehead against Paige’s, “I think it’s a given.”

*** 

February 2034 

Paige had assumed that being home for the weekend would mean spending every second with her girls. Throughout the course of the last two months, it had been Stephie and Azzi who had visited her down in Miami to cheer her on for Unrivaled but it just so happened that the schedule had been set up perfectly for to take this weekend off and Paige was ecstatic about finally being home for a little bit. Her plan had been to do nothing but laze around, arms wrapped tightly around Azzi with Stephie cuddled right between them where she belonged as they talked or watched movies or played board games. Whatever they did, as long as they did it together, it would be perfect for Paige. 

After a very much perfect morning, where Azzi had woken her up with slow i missed you in our bed morning sex and then the two of them had taken Stephie out for brunch, Paige had been looking forward to a very perfect afternoon with her girls as well. Instead, it’s very much not perfect and somehow Paige finds herself driving back from a bakery all the way across town, alone. It had started with Stephie insisting that she just had to have her favorite chocolate cake from that one bakery that they’d gone to that one time that just happened to be an hour drive away from their house. Much to Paige’s surprise, Azzi had almost immediately agreed with the little girl but knowing the brunette’s sweet tooth, it wasn’t really that shocking. And if both her girls -with their identical dark brown doey eyes staring up at her expectantly- wanted something, who was Paige to refuse. 

So of course she’d happily agreed, telling the two of them to get ready so they could come here and that maybe they could even stop by the park right next to the bakery after. And that’s when it had happened, both mother and daughter up in arms in protests about how they absolutely could not go with Paige because Stephie was oh-so tired and Azzi had a killer headache, followed by but Mommy I swear the chocolate cake would wake me up and yeah baby I think some chocolate cake could really help with the pain. Paige had stared at them wearily, confused by their antics but still unable to say no.

And now Paige is driving back, grumbling under her breath about they’re lucky I love them with the chocolate cake securely fastened into the passenger seat that should be occupied by her girlfriend. She pulls into the driveway still grouching but it quickly morphs into an expression of confusion when she notices a big purple sticky note -that definitely wasn’t there when she’d left- taped on their door. Frowning, Paige slowly gets out of her car, going around it to grab the cake before slowly making her way up the porch steps until she’s right in front of the door and can fully make out the words -written carefully in Azzi’s handwriting- on the sticky note. 

Welcome back home baby <3 

Thanks for getting our favorite chocolate cake. Since that day when you showed up on our porch, you’ve gone above and beyond for us and we love you for it. Thank you for always doing everything we ask and for doing the things we don’t. But more importantly, thank you for always coming back. 

Love you always, 

Stephie and Azzi <3

A wobbly smile stretches across Paige’s face as she reads the letter, her heart fluttering at the sincerity behind the words Azzi had written. Suddenly desperate to have her girlfriend and her daughter in her arms, Paige rushes to open the door, ready to see the two of them waiting for her. 

But they’re not there. 

Instead there’s a beautiful path of rose petals winding down the floor and Paige’s mouth falls open at the sight.

“Azzi! Stephie. I’m home,” she calls out, her eyes searching for her two most favorite people in the world -and answer to what the hell is going on- but instead of them she finds another large sign, this time written in Stephie’s uneven handwriting.

Follow The Flowers Mommy!

Paige laughs at the smiley faced heart that Stephie had placed in the corner, can practically imagine the concentrated look on the little girl’s face when she’d been drawing. She has no idea what all of this is but she knows she’s excited to find out. 

“What are you two up to,” she mutters under her breath as she does as the sign had said and follows the path of flowers. 

It leads her into the kitchen first and Paige immediately notices a purple envelope on the counter. Gently putting down the chocolate cake she’d been cradling in her arms, she reaches for the letter. 

Hi again baby,

Paige Bueckers you are good at a lot of things. But cooking? Definitely not one of them. If I had a dime for everytime you burned something in this kitchen, I would probably have enough dimes to pay for one of your old college NIL deals (well maybe not that much cause damn baby you were expensive). But that’s okay my love, you’re still the only person we’d spend our mornings flipping pancakes with. 

(Stephie wants me to remind you that chocolate chips are definitely better than blueberries though!) 

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige’s lower lip trembles as she finishes this letter, holding it closer to her heart as she continues to follow the trail of roses into Stephie’s bedroom. There on the little girl’s bed is another purple envelope, almost camouflaged against her lavender bed sheets. Taking a deep breath after having slowly caught onto the fact that these letters are going to kill her in the best way possible, Paige reaches for the paper on her daughter’s bed. 

Hi Mommy! 

Mama’s still gonna write this for me because writing is so tiring but it’s me Stephie speaking (Azzi’s note: your daughter is just as lazy as you are Bueckers.) 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as she continues reading. 

Do you remember when you went back to Dallas before you moved here, and you used to facetime me and Mama every night and you’d stay on the phone while Mama read me my bedtime story until I fell asleep? Mama says that if you make a wish right before you fall asleep, there’s a really, really, big chance it might come true. She was right because Mama’s all right and guess what Mommy? My wish came true! I wished that instead of facetime, you’d be here with us in real life for my bedtime story. And now you are and you always will be. 

Love you always, 

Stephie and Azzi <3

Paige catches a brief glance of herself in Stephie’s vanity mirror as she finishes reading the letters. Her face is a little blotchy and red, big fat happy tears cascading down her cheeks as she tucks the paper back into the envelope. She remembers that first night on facetime like it had happened yesterday; remembers making the same wish that Stephie had time and time again. And she thinks her daughter is right -or really that Azzi’s right as per always- wishes do come true. 

  Hurriedly wiping away her tears, Paige rises back onto her feet, ready to continue on this journey that Stephie and Azzi had set out for her. She follows the roses into the guestroom -which could basically be rebranded as Jana’s room with the amount of times she’s started to stay over- and almost trips over her feet in her quest to get to the next letter. And next to it is an unclear package that confuses Paige but she figures the letter would tell her all about it. 

Back to me again baby, 

This is the room where it all began again. I know technically we started a little before and we officially didn’t start again until a little later but that night is when I knew. I knew that whatever I felt for you eight years ago, hadn’t gone away. Not at all. In fact, if anything, it had gotten even stronger, even deeper. Loving you comes as naturally to me as breathing. It always has. And I loved you before- of course I did- but it’s nothing compared to how much I fucking love you now. 

“I love you too,” Paige whispers into the room. She’s not sure if Azzi can hear her -still doesn’t quite know where exactly her girls are- but she’s certain that they’re connected enough that her girlfriend can feel her emotion no matter where she is. 

Anyways baby time to take your clothes off in this room again! 

Wait, wait, wait don’t get too excited Bueckers. I know you’ve got a one-track mind but baby first of all, Jana might never come over again if she finds out we’ve fucked in this room and second of all, we’ve got plenty of time to do that after. I promise. 

Stephie and I picked something out for you to wear tonight. It’s in the parcel next to you. Put it on and come find us. We really hope you like it!

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie (even though she has no idea what this letter says for obvious reasons) <3

Placing a quick kiss against where Azzi had kissed it herself in red lipstick, Paige puts the letter back in the envelope before grabbing for the package next to it. She tears it open gently, to find a light purple vest with matching pants. The outfit is familiar and Paige vaguely remembers lying next to Azzi, browsing through an online catalog when the fit had caught her eyes. 

“Can’t get nothing past you huh baby?” Paige remarks with a fond shake of her head. 

Once she’s put the vest and pants on -and shaken her hair out of her ponytail for good measure because Azzi loves when her hair is down- Paige embarks down the path of flowers once again. This time it leads her to their bedroom. Paige had basically moved in the day they’d gotten back together -a stream of her stuff slowly and steadily building up in what had then been Azzi’s room- but they’d never really had a proper conversation about and it had basically been an unspoken agreement till the day Paige had casually mentioned that the lease on the house she’d initially rented in the Bay Area had ended. So I guess I’m officially moving in with you guys, she’d joked to which Stephie had wisely pointed out that she did in fact already live here. And that was that. This was Paige’s house just as much as it was Stephie and Azzi’s. 

Her eyes scan the room, taking in all little bits of PaigeAndAzzi that are scattered throughout it, until she finally finds another purple envelope tucked into a book on the bedside table next to Azzi’s side of the bed. Paige’s left hand flies to her mouth when she gets close enough to see the cover of the novel, a strangled noise escaping her throat. Because the book isn’t the one Azzi’s currently reading. 

No, this is their book. The one that had been left unfinished years ago and Paige had been so convinced they would be left to the same fate, that they’d be left incomplete. 

With trembling hands, she picks up the book, leafing through it to open it to the pages that have the letter eased between them. But before Paige can take out the envelope, her eyes swim with tears when she notices the words that Azzi had circle -in purple highlighter of course- scratching out the character’s name for Paige’s own. 

I’m in love with you, Sutton Paige Terrifyingly, irreversibly, life-alteringly in love with you.

Paige brushes her thumb against the words, like she’s trying to let them sink into her skin and become a part of her bloodstream. They might be someone else’s words but she knows they convey everything Azzi feels for her. Taking another shuddering breath, Paige finally opens the envelope. 

Hi again baby, 

I’m sorry for how much I know I’ve made you cry (don’t even try hiding it Paige Bueckers I know you’re a sobbing mess right now) and I can’t wait to see you and wipe your tears away. You’re almost there P!

We never finished this book. Ironic that it’s called those who wait and baby I think we’ve waited enough. You know, I’ve come across this book many times in the years we’ve been apart and I’ve considered if I should buy it- if I should finish it by myself. But it never felt right. 

Not without you. 

Because baby you have been there for the beginning of almost every story in my life and I want you to be there for the ending of every single one. Mine. And Stephie’s. 

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige catches her teardrops in her palms before they hit the letter, not wanting the water to damage it. She intends to treasure every single one of them for the rest of her life; thinks it’ll be the perfect memorabilia when she’s eighty years old and her and Azzi go rummaging through their storage and find this bundle of purple envelopes and Paige gets to relieve this day -the one she’d been worried not too long ago wouldn’t be perfect- all over again. 

Antsy to finally see her girls, Paige finds herself almost running towards the next stop on the trail of roses, which happens to be their living room. There, hidden behind the newly customized cushions with their names -Paige, Azzi and Stephie- embroidered on them, is another purple letter that she immediately snatches up. 

This is our last letter to you baby. 

And I think it’s fitting that you should find it here, in our living room, where everything came back together for us. I can’t lie to you Paige, I was so fucking scared you’d make a different decision. I was so scared that you’d walk away from us- that our present and the possibility of our future together wouldn’t be enough to overcome our past. 

I don’t know if I would have survived that. I guess I would’ve had to learn to. For Stephie. And she would’ve learned too, for me. But there would have always been a little part of us missing. 

Because you complete us Paige. Stephie and I- we aren’t whole without you. You’ve always been our missing piece baby, and we’re so grateful that you came back to us, that you made us whole again. 

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige holds the final letter against her heart for a while, letting her head replay all of the beautiful words her girls had written for her. She doesn’t know when they’d planned this, can’t imagine how they’d somehow pulled it all together within the two hours it had taken her to get to the bakery and back but she knows she’ll cherish this day forever. 

“I’m the luckiest fucking woman on this planet,” she whispers to herself as she follows the final trail of roses that lead her out to the garden in the back. 

It’s golden hour outside and it feels like their backyard is shrouded in a golden hue that makes it feel like everything -the trees and the leaves and the flowers and the sky are shimmering in drops of gold. Paige is almost blinded by it for a second, blinking her eyes rapidly to adjust to the blazing sunlight as she finally catches sight of her girls. 

They’re standing in the middle of the garden -in the middle of a heart to be precise but Paige can’t quite tell what the shape’s been made out of- Stephie in a dress and Azzi in a pantsuit that’s the exact shade of lavender as the outfit they’d picked out for the blonde. The two of them wear matching exuberant smiles and Paige thinks if she could pick the last image to flash through her mind at the end of her life, she’d pick this one. 

“Hi Mommy,” Stephie waves excitedly with one hand, her other carrying a bunch of papers that pique Paige’s interest, “did you get our chocolate cake?”

Paige laughs as she starts to make her way down towards, “you know I did sweetheart.”

“Do you like our surprise?” the little girl asks, almost vibrating with enthusiasm as Paige gets closer and closer to them. 

“I loved it-” the blonde cuts herself off with a gasp when she finally realizes what the heart had been created out of.

Carefully curated photographs, some with all three of them and some of just Paige and Stephie or Paige and Azzi, have been perfectly set up around them. All their beautiful memories aligned in the shape of a heart with Stephie and Azzi right in the middle of it, just waiting for Paige to join them inside. 

“You guys. This is-” Paige chokes back a sob as she finally reaches the two of them, “this is perfect you guys. I can’t believe you guys did all of this.”

“Sorry we made you drive all the way across town,” Azzi says sheepishly, “we wouldn’t have had time to set this up otherwise”

“It’s perfect,” Paige repeats as gently brushes her hands through Stephie’s hair before placing a chaste kiss against Azzi’s lip, “it’s everything.”

“You’re everything,” Azzi counters and Paige notices her shuffling her feet nervously before she speaks, “and we- wanted to show you that.”

“You did so good, baby,” Paige reassures, reaching out to squeeze the brunette’s hand, “all of it. The letters, the outfit, the book. God baby, it’s all just- it’s all perfect.”

“That’s not all though Mommy,” Paige feels a tiny tug on her arm and she turns away from Azzi to look down at Stephie who’s staring shyly up at her.

“There’s more?” the blonde asks softly, as she kneels down in front of the little girl, hands rubbing up and down her shoulder. 

Stephie bites her lip as she nods, holding out the elusive papers that Paige had previously noticed in her hands, “these are for you.”

Paige takes them from her slowly, keeping one hand wrapped around he little girl’s bicep as she takes in the words -printed in big bold jet black letters- on the document. Her eyes widen in shock as she swivels her head around to look at Azzi. 

“These- there are-” Paige swallows roughly, “these are adoption papers.”

“Yeah they are,” Azzi confirms quietly, “I um- I tracked down Stephie’s-” she pauses, clearly unsure of what term to use for the man that had abandoned the two of them -the man Paige thinks is the dumbest person in the world for having abandoned the most wonderful two people in the entire universe-, “I tracked down Stephie’s donor and I uh- I had him sign away any and all parental rights.”

“Az,” Paige whispers in awe, knowing just how much strength it would’ve taken Azzi to have even considered reaching out to that man. They haven’t spoken much about it beyond when Azzi had told her the full story but Paige had realized quickly that there was a lot of resentment there and it fills her with warmth to know that Azzi had overcome all of that, just to do this for Paige. 

“Mommy,” Stephie calls out softly, tiny hands gently cupping Paige’s face to bring her attention back to her, “you’re already my Mommy. You do everything a Mommy’s supposed to do. You pick me up from school and you get me ice cream and you give me cuddles when I’m sad and you give me tickles to make me happy. You watch movies with me and teach me how to play bask-ball and you dress me up in your clothes and you tease Mama with me and you give me goodnight kisses. And you love me, just like Mama does,” the little girl sniffles and Paige’s own eyes are watering as she brushes away Stephie’s tears, “but Anya says that you’re not my Mommy of-shaly because- because we’re not related. I think that’s really stupid and I told Mama that too and she said she agreed but that- that you could become my Mommy of-shaly too if you- if you adopt me. So Mommy-” Stephie takes a deep breath and Paige feels herself shiver with anticipation, “will you adopt me?”

“Yes,” Paige says as soon as the little girl finishes her sentence and then she’s pulling Stephie into her arms, kissing all over her daughter’s face as she keeps repeating herself, “yes, yes, yes. Of course I’ll adopt you sweetheart. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Stephie giggles in Paige’s arms, wriggling slightly as the blonde continues to pepper sloppy kisses all over her skin, “you have to sign the papers first Mommy.”

“Right, right of course. I need- I need a pen,” Paige manages to blabber out as she looks around as if willing for a pen to appear magically out of thin air. 

“Here,” Azzi's voice breaks in through the excitement, holding out a ballpoint for the blonde to use and as Paige reaches for it, she can see every emotion of her mirrored in the brunette’s eyes. 

Her gaze locks back with Stephie’s as she signs the papers, watching the little girl’s smile deepen with every flick of her wrist. 

“Done,” Paige exclaims as finishes off her signature, setting the document aside as she swings Stephie into her arms, standing up and twirling the girl -her daughter almost officially- around in circle as the two of them whoop with delight. 

She’s so caught up in the moment -in the peals of Stephie’s vibrant laughter- that she almost misses when it happens. Everything around her seems to freeze as Paige stops abruptly, her eyes fixated on Azzi- Azzi who’s kneeling in front of her, Azzi who’s holding open a velvet box with a diamond ring. 

“Baby,” Paige breathes out as she slowly lowers Stephie back onto the ground. 

“I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you,” Azzi begins slowly, her voice trembling as she repeats the familiar words, “so you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too. Because I just- I just couldn’t find the right words- the right phrases to tell you everything that you mean to me. And then I realized that I- I don’t need to think that hard because you- you already found the perfect words and I-” she gulps emotionally, “I was an idiot for saying no to them.”

“No- no I was an idiot for not understanding why you did,” Paige says with a shake of her head as she falls to the ground to be level with Azzi. 

“We were both idiots,” Azzi concedes and next to them Stephie giggles a little at the repeated use of the “bad” word, “but that- that doesn’t matter anymore. And I- I don’t need a speech. I don’t need to say a hundred words. Because you already know them- you already know me. You know my heart and I hope you know that it beats for you- the two of you. Because I love you. I love you so bleeping much Paige Bueckers and I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you more,” Paige says, unable to wait to say it as she cups Azzi’s face, “ask me Azzi. Don’t make me wait anymore baby. Please.”

“Paige Madison Bueckers, the love of my life, the mother of my child,” Azzi’s voice breaks and Paige isn’t faring much better as the tears freefall down her cheeks, “will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes I will,” Paige nods through her sobs as she holds out her hand for Azzi to slide the ring -a simple cushion cut enshrined against a diamond encrusted infinity band- onto her fingers. 

And it’s unclear who moves first, but they surge towards each other, lips meeting a kiss that holds the weight of all the emotions they’re feeling right now. They’re a tangle of limbs as they lick into each other’s mouth, giggling as they fall back into the grass, still holding onto each other. This is a long time coming, the forever they’ve been searching for since they were just little girls who barely even understood what forever was. And it hasn’t been easy but every second spent apart has led them back to this, back to each other- and forever feels like it’s finally here. 

“MAMA AND MOMMY ARE GETTING MARRIED,” Stephie shrieks as she throws herself onto Paige and Azzi, the two adults laughing at her excitement as they open their arms for her to fit in perfectly in between them. 

In the sky, the sun is beginning to set as golden hour comes to an end. But it doesn’t matter. Because the love between Paige, Azzi and Stephie -as long as they get to be just like this, safe and content in each other’s arms- shines brighter than gold itself and that incandescence will glow forever. 

[itsaintmebabe]

when it matters most

summary: when y/n is gravely injured and brought back to town, joel must confront his feelings and the fear of losing her.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

notes: something about hurt to comfort is just my fav

Jackson was quiet until the yelling started.

“Open the gate! Open the gate!”

Joel’s heart slammed against his ribs as the urgency in the voices hit him. The panic in them twisted something deep and cold inside him. He didn’t think — he just ran.

Since he and Ellie had arrived in Jackson, Joel and Y/N had been at odds. They clashed over everything — patrol schedules, supply counts, even the best way to fortify the gates. Their arguments were loud and frequent, and everyone in Jackson had learned to steer clear when the two of them were in the same room.

But when the other wasn’t looking, it was different.

Joel’s eyes would soften when he caught a glimpse of her laughing with the kids in town. Y/N’s gaze would linger when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, watching the way his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Neither would admit it — not even to themselves.

One of their worst fights had happened just days before.

“You act like you’re the only one who’s ever lost someone, Joel!” Y/N’s voice cracked with the force of her anger. “You shut everyone out like it’s some kind of punishment!”

“You don’t know a damn thing about my losses,” Joel shot back, his face hard. “So don’t stand there and act like you understand!”

“I understand more than you think! But you’re too busy pushing everyone away to see it!”

“Maybe I push you away because you keep pushin’ in where you’re not wanted!” The words lashed out before he could stop them, and the second they did, he regretted them. But it was too late.

Y/N’s face fell, the fire in her eyes dimming. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

But now — now she was stumbling toward Jackson, covered in blood.

Joel’s heart dropped.

Her steps were uneven, her body swaying like she could barely stay upright. Blood streaked her face, her jacket was soaked with it, and her arms hung limp at her sides. There was no horse. No patrol group. She was alone.

“Y/N!”

His voice cracked as he sprinted toward her.

Her eyes lifted when she heard him, and even through the exhaustion and pain, she tried to move faster. But she didn’t make it far. Her knees buckled, and Joel reached her just in time, catching her before she hit the ground.

“Joel…” her voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “Stay with me, baby, just stay awake, alright? Keep your eyes on me.”

She was trembling violently, her skin far too cold, and without thinking, Joel shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her. The fabric drowned her, but it was warm, and that was all that mattered. She curled into it instinctively, her fingers weakly grasping at it as if she could pull his warmth closer.

“Stay with me,” Joel pleaded again, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please.”

People rushed around them, calling for help, but Joel barely heard them. His world narrowed to the woman in his arms.

When they finally took her from him, Joel didn’t let go — he carried her himself, his arms tight around her, as if holding her close could keep her safe. She went still against his chest, and his heart pounded with fear.

The waiting was agony.

He stood outside the infirmary, his hands still stained with her blood — and the blood of others. It was impossible to tell which was hers, and the not knowing made his stomach twist. His fingers trembled as he stared down at them — the blood of the woman he cared about more than he could admit, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do to stop it.

Ellie found him pacing the hallway. “She’s tough,” she said quietly. “She’ll pull through.”

But Joel couldn’t shake the cold fear lodged in his chest.

It felt like forever before the door finally opened and Maria stepped out. “She’s stable,” she said, and Joel’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

When he finally saw her, she was pale and bandaged, but breathing. Alive.

Joel sat beside the bed, his rough hand brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered. “I— I didn’t know if—” he swallowed hard. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, tired but focused on him. “Why… why are you here?” she asked softly.

“Because I care,” Joel said, his voice thick. “More than I ever wanted to admit. And I’m sorry, for every damn thing I said. For every time I pushed you away when all you ever did was try.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You… you pushed so hard, Joel. It hurt.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know it did. And it was never because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much. I was scared, Y/N. Scared of losin’ you before I even had you.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You have me,” she whispered.

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “But I swear to you, I’m not pushin’ you away again.”

For the first time, her hand reached for his, their fingers tangling together. And when he climbed onto the bed beside her, she didn’t let go. She rested her head against his chest, and Joel pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised, his voice a soft vow.

And this time, she believed him.

[darksturnz]

──── ⋮ ⌗ TASTE. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut-heavy plot ・star!reader x artist!chris・oral (f! receiving)・slight overstimulation + more WC: 2.2k+

this pairing is from this series, but it can be read alone :3! + everyone scream n shout & thank @bernardsbendystraws for proofreading mwah <333

It starts slow, like everything between them does.

Chris isn’t one to rush. Not when it comes to this with kind of stuff with her. He’s too good at reading her—at knowing when she’s hesitant, when she’s unsure, even when she tries to play it off like she isn’t.

And tonight, she’s past nervous.

It’s in the way she hesitates when he tugs at the waistband of her shorts, the way her fingers twist in the sheets as she swallows hard. It’s in the little breaths she takes, the way her lips part like she’s about to say something, only to stay silent with a small exhale.

Chris is patient, though. Always has been with her. Always will be.

“You okay?” His voice is low, lazy, like they have all the time in the world. Because he made sure they would, it was like an unspoken rule to him that he made sure to savior any moments like these with her. 

Star nods, but she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Chris tilts his head, catching that. His hands, large and warm, press against the tops of her thighs. A slow rub of his thumbs, attempting to soothe her nerves. “We don’t have to, y’know,” he murmurs, lips dragging against the inside of her knee. “Ain’t gonna make you do shit you don’t wanna do.”

“No— I know, I want to” she says quietly. She does. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t trust him.

His mouth curves against her skin. “Then why you so nervous, huh?”

She exhales sharply, cheeks heating. Chris watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her pulse fluttering beneath her skin. He dips his head lower, dragging his lips up the soft inside of her thigh, feeling her breath hitch.

“It’s—” Star stops, shakes her head. Her voice is small when she admits, “No one’s ever, um…”

Chris stills. Then, he looks up at her, brow arching. “What? Ain’t nobody ever ate you out before?”

She huffs, trying to roll her eyes, but the effect is ruined by how flustered she is. “Nevermind.”

His grin is slow, lazy. “M’just askin’, baby.”

Star lets out a shaky breath. “…Well no.”

That shouldn’t make him as smug as it does, but fuck—he can’t help it. Something warm and possessive unfurls in his chest, making his stomach tighten.

His hands spread her thighs wider, and this time, she lets him. “Yeah?” His voice drops, mouth pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses up her inner thigh. “Guess I gotta make it real good for you, then.”

She shivers, stomach tensing. “You—” Her breath stutters when he hooks his fingers in her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her panties, leaving her bare beneath him.

Chris watches the way she squirms, like she’s resisting the urge to snap her legs shut. Like she’s feeling a little too exposed, a little too vulnerable.

“Jus’ relax for me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below her navel. “Gonna take such good care of you, promise.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does force herself to unclench her hands from the sheets.

Chris takes his time. He trails his mouth over her skin, his breath warm as he presses slow, teasing kisses along the crease of her thigh, just close enough to make her squirm. His hands, rough and steady, slide up her thighs, thumbs dipping into the soft flesh.

Star lets out a quiet, shaky breath. Then another.

Chris doesn’t move too fast, doesn’t push too soon. He wants her to settle into it, to ease into his touch, into the way his mouth feels against her skin.

And when he finally drags his tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate, she gasps.

He groans against her at the taste—warm and slick and so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” he mutters, more to himself than her. He licks into her again, dragging his tongue through her, savoring every fucking drop. His fingers press into her thighs, holding her still as she squirms.

She’s so sensitive, so reactive, every little flick of his tongue is making her body twitch.

Chris could quite literally stay here all night.

He licks into her, slow and steady, mapping out every inch of her with his mouth. The little gasps and breathy moans she tries to hold back just spur him on, make him hungrier.

He flattens his tongue against her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper. Then he pulls back, dragging the tip of his tongue over the swollen bud, teasingly.

Star’s thighs twitch, hands gripping the sheets, and he knows she’s trying so fucking hard to keep herself together.

Chris hums, sending vibrations through her. “Feels good, don’t it?” His voice is thick, laced with something almost reverent.

She doesn’t answer.

Chris smirks, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he dips lower, lapping at her entrance, groaning as her taste floods his tongue.

He’s already thinking about next time she’ll let him do this.

“Chris,” she breathes, and that’s when he knows he has her.

She’s unraveling beneath him, piece by piece and he slides his arms under her thighs, locking her in place as he buries himself deeper. His tongue moves in slow thorough strokes, his nose brushing against her clit as he works her open with his mouth.

He’s relentless, and she can’t do anything but take it. 

Her hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling tight. He groans into her, the sound vibrating through her, making her hips jerk.

“Chris—” Her voice breaks, her body trembling. “Too much, I—”

But he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t slow down..

He knows she’s close—he can feel it in the way her thighs tense, the way her breaths come quicker, sharper. He licks into her, sucking her clit into his mouth just to hear the way she gasps, the way she chokes out a moan that sounds almost pained.

He keeps going, even as she trembles beneath him, even as she tries to push at his shoulders, her body too overwhelmed.

She’s sensitive, he knows, but he doesn’t necessarily care.

“Jus’ one more, baby,” he murmurs against her, voice low and coaxing. “You can do that for me, yeah?”

She whimpers, back arching off the bed, her lips parting to suck in a sharp breath. 

Chris doesn’t wait for an answer, He slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she lets out a choked gasp, a broken whimper—her entire body seizes as Chris works her open, his fingers pressing deep, curling just right.

“Oh—” Her voice cuts off into a sharp moan, thighs trembling around his head.

Chris groans against her, his cock throbbing painfully at the way she sounds, at the way she clenches so tight around his fingers. “Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his mouth slick against her, words nearly lost between deep strokes of his tongue.

Star’s hands are everywhere—fisting the sheets, tugging at his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. She’s falling apart so fucking hard, it makes his stomach twist with something molten.

“Chris—” Her voice is nothing more than a desperate plea, breathless and wrecked. She pulls at his hair, her hips jerking up into his mouth. “Chris, I—fuck, I can’t—”

He hums against her, the vibrations sending a jolt up her spine. He presses his fingers deeper, rubbing against that spot inside her that makes her whole body jolt, makes her head toss back into the pillows.

“Shh, baby,” he coaxes, his lips dragging against her clit, his fingers never stopping. “You can. You are.”

She sobs, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. “It’s too much—”

Chris hums, voice rough, low. “That so?”

She nods frantically, breath hitching, but she’s still pushing into his touch, her hips rolling into the steady drag of his fingers, chasing more even as she whimpers about how much it is.

Chris watches her from below, his lips swollen, his chin slick. His dark eyes, heavy-lidded and hungry, flicker up to meet hers. “Then why are you still fuckin’ on my fingers like that, huh?”

Star’s eyes flutter shut, a noise catching in her throat, mortified by the way her body betrays her.

Chris chuckles, the sound rich and warm, sending another wave of heat straight through her. “You want more?”

She doesn’t answer. Can’t. Her mind is melting, everything spiraling too fast, too much.

Chris doesn’t like that. He pulls back slightly, his fingers still deep inside her, but his mouth hovering just out of reach. “C’mon, Star. Say it.”

She shakes her head, blinking fast, tears pricking at her eyes. “Chris—”

He gives her a slow, indulgent pump of his fingers, his thumb circling over her clit, and her back arches off the mattress with a strangled cry.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dropping to something darker, something more demanding. “Tell me you want more.”

Star’s head rolls to the side, her lip trembling, her body shaking. “Chris, please—”

His fingers curl again, dragging against her walls in that way that makes her legs quake. “That ain’t what I asked, baby.”

A sob rips from her throat. “I—I want—” She shakes her head, chest heaving, her entire body tightening around him. “I want more—fuck, I want more.”

Chris growls against her, his mouth latching back onto her, his tongue flicking over her clit just as his fingers press deeper.

Star chokes on a scream, her whole body locking up as another orgasm crashes over her, violent and unrelenting.

He just keeps going, keeps licking, keeps fucking her with his fingers, working her through every pulsing wave of it.

Star sobs, her hands shaking, her thighs trembling around his head. “Chris—Chris, I—”

Even as her voice breaks, even as her hands tremble where they clutch at his hair, even as her body jolts with every flick of his tongue—he still doesn’t stop.

“Wait—” Her voice is a wrecked sob, her entire body quivering, fingers twitching as she tries—fails—to push him away.

He doesn’t listen.

Instead, he slides his hands up, locking her thighs in place, keeping her spread open for him. His mouth moves softer now, slower, guiding her through it, helping her ride the waves crashing over her.

She whimpers, body twitching as another aftershock shudders through her.

Chris watches her from below, completely transfixed. She’s a fucking mess—her skin is sticky, her chest heaving, her lips parted around shaky little breaths.

And she’s beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

His tongue sweeps over her one last time, savoring the way she quivers beneath him, and then—finally—he pulls away.

The gasp that rips from her is sharp and startled.

Chris kisses the inside of her thigh as he watches the way her legs twitch, still trembling, her body completely fucked.

“Shiiiit,” he rasps, voice thick with something he can’t quite name. “You okay?”

Star nods, but it’s weak, her breath still coming in uneven stutters.

Chris smirks, pressing another soft kiss to her thigh. “Did so fuckin’ good for me,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice like warm honey. His hands trace slow, gentle circles over her hips, up her waist, grounding her back to earth.

She sniffles, blinking up at the ceiling, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris watches her for a moment, then slowly moves up her body, pressing lazy kisses along the way—up her stomach, over her ribs, along the curve of her shoulder. His lips graze her collarbone before he finally reaches her face, tilting his head to catch her gaze.

Her eyes are glassy, and a tired smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“You still with me?”

She swallows hard, nodding, but still doesn’t speak.

Chris huffs a quiet laugh. He tucks a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his touch impossibly soft. “Didn’t mean to break you,” he teases, but there’s something fond in his voice, something careful.

Star scowls, or tries to. “You didn’t.” But her voice is wrecked, and Chris grins.

“Yeah?” He presses a kiss to her cheek, then another to the tip of her nose. “Y’sure ‘bout that?”

She huffs, but it’s weak, her legs still trembling where they lay spread across the sheets.

Chris notices, eyes flickering down. He trails his hands over her thighs, rubbing slow, steady circles into her skin. “Still shakin’,” he murmurs, more to himself than her.

Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but then she just shakes her head softly.

Chris smiles, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the inside of her thigh. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs against her skin, voice thick and slow, like he’s drunk on her.

She giggles softly but turns her head to the side, like she’s embarrassed.

Chris just hums, nuzzling against her. “Too much?” he asks, but there’s no teasing in his voice now. Just genuine curiosity, genuine care.

Star hesitates, then nods, “only a little.”

Chris watches her for a second, then presses soft kiss to her temple. “Next time, I’ll be gentle, yeah?”

Star’s breath catches. Next time.

She blinks up at him, lips parted.

Chris raises a brow, amused. “What?”

She shakes her head, looking away, cheeks flushed. “Nothing.”

Chris huffs a laugh, but again doesn’t push. He just keeps rubbing her thighs, helping her come down, whispering incoherent things against her skin.

authors note: me when i say “blurb” and it’s very much not that LMAO, anyways

👥: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife

@pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken

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[sinofwriting]

Burning Satisfaction - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic) (Part One)

Words: 1,177 Summary: People always said that Charles would do the right thing, they just never actually expected him to do it. Note(s): Slightly Dark Fic, Age Gap of 7/8 years (Reader is 20), Gasly!Reader, Reader is Pierre’s younger sister, barely any physical descriptors are given for reader so she could be adopted (as is usually the case for all my sibling!reader fic). Also Charles calls her ‘Petit’ because she is the youngest aka littlest Gasly. There will be a part two!

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“Cha?” He turns at the nickname, beaming at the girl.

“Petit! I didn’t know you would be coming today.” He’s unable to stop himself from looking her up and down, wishing the marks he left on her just yesterday were visible.

Her eyes dart downwards, fingers tugging at the hem of her top. “I need to talk to you.”

The quietness of her voice makes his smile drop and he sets his drink on the bar, wrapping an arm around her and ushering her into his bedroom on the yacht. Happy that everyone is still out on deck while he had left to grab himself a drink while taking a quick call.

“What is wrong, petit?” Charles asks, voice as gentle as he can make it as he guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, easily joining her, so he doesn’t have to remove his arm.

She takes a shaky breath, eyes focused on her hands that are now resting her lap, fingers twitching and he reaches with his free hand, stilling the nervous movements.

He says her name, her head nearly snapping upwards at it, the sound of him saying it nearly unfamiliar to her. “It is just me. You can tell me anything.” He squeezes her hands.

Another shaky breath exits her mouth and he watches as her throat bobs as she swallows harshly. “I,” she pauses, licking her lips. “I think I’m pregnant.”

His hand that had been unknowingly rubbing soothing circles on her back freezes for a split second.

“It’s just, I’m late. And I’ve never been late. And I didn’t lie about being on birth control, Cha, I promise! I know we used condoms and I don’t think any of them broke, but I’m late, and I’ve thrown up the last three mornings from the smell of eggs.” Tears are streaming down her face, her words growing more frantic, but he’s unable to speak. “But, please Cha, you have to believe me, I take my pill every day. At nine am, no matter what. I have an alarm set.” Her breathing is now choppy and he finds his words, shushing her.

“I believe you. I’ve seen your alarm, it is okay.” He soothes, lifting his hand from hers and wiping away her tears that are still falling. “Have you taken a test?”

She bites her lip, shaking her head. “No. I bought one, it’s in my bag, but I needed to tell someone.”

“So you came to me.”

She nods and it burns how he has to stop himself from looking satisfied at the answer.

“How about, you drink this and we will talk.” He reaches for the water bottle on his nightstand, smiling at the giggle she lets out when he has to lay flat on his back to awkwardly reach it while still keeping contact with her.

“You have options.” He says, the words burning, the idea of all of them burning him, though one for a very different reason.

“I know.” She says, after taking a drink of water. “But I want this baby, if I am. It’s just,” She pauses again, looking so shy and unsure it makes him move closer.

“What? It’s just what?”

She looks at him shyly, fingers back to pulling at her top before he intertwines them with his. “There’s a difference between having sex before marriage and a baby out of wedlock.”

His breath hitches at the words, at the shy suggestion. His want and satisfaction overwhelm him, his grip on her hand tightening, but before she can apologize or take the words back, he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, hoping she can feel his love and devotion to her through the small action. “I would happily marry you if you are pregnant.” The last four words are forced out of his mouth in an odd way.

“I know how much your faith matters to you.” His eyes focus on the necklace she is always wearing, the cross hidden behind her t-shirt, a gift from Pierre when she had turned twelve. “And I would never ask that you sacrifice it like that.”

“It wouldn’t just be the baby if we were to get married. I, I want a real marriage, like my mama and papa.”

He smiles, “we can have a real marriage. I would not mind having one with you.”

“But if you found someone else?”

Charles shakes his head. “I don’t believe that will happen.” His voice is so firm, so certain, that he sees the slight uncertainty leave her eyes. “Now, finish your water.”

She immediately lifts the bottle to her lips and he has to look away before he smiles at the easy way she listened to him.

He is thankful it doesn’t take her long to have to use the bathroom and he watches as she gets up and goes to the small bathroom attached, the door closing with a quiet click.

As soon as it does, he’s unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. Head dropping into his hands as he lets out a silent laugh. It had been a gamble if it would work, getting her pregnant. And really he is lucky, she was unlike Pierre, still unpracticed at sex at nineteen, or rather twenty now, and not realizing she should not feel so much leaking out at the end. But it worked. He had gotten her pregnant. Just barely eight weeks after the first time they had sex.

The flush of the toilet has him raising his head from his hands, body itching to stand and open the bathroom door, to stare at the test and watch as it makes his want for her to fully be his, finally be true.

The bathroom door opens with a small click and he smiles at her, opening his arms for her and she doesn’t hesitate, easily sitting on his lap so he can hold her.

“And now we wait?” He asks, running a hand up and down her back.

She takes a shaky breath. “And now we wait.”

The feeling of her in his arms is enough to stop him from going to the bathroom, to stare at the counter and watch as the test changes. It is all too easy for him to lose himself in her warmth, the smell of her, the brushes of her breath against his neck as she breathes in and out.

“Do you think it’s been five minutes?” Her quiet voice breaks the stillness of the room after a while.

“I think so.”

She’s slow to pull away from him, but before she can try and stand, he grabs her waist, keeping her where she is, before one hand raises to gently hold her face, eyes meeting.

“No matter what the test says, it will be okay. We will figure it out.” Charles tells her, waiting for her to give a nod before pressing their lips together in perhaps one of the most chaste kisses they’ve ever shared.

[starsinthesky5]

is miss yail reader miss possessive????

(pls answer as a blurb of her being possessive)

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

she doesn’t think she is. really, she doesn’t. she’s not the jealous type because she knows exactly who joe comes home to, she trusts him completely and knows without a doubt that joe only has eyes for her.

but that doesn’t mean she likes sharing.

and tonight? tonight was testing her patience.

they were attending a gala/fundraiser for one of the brand partners joe was working with this year, and she had been perfectly content hanging off his arm, sipping her rosé, making small talk with the right people, just being there to support her man while the spotlight was off of her for a bit.

until she showed up.

some woman--tall, gorgeous, clearly interested, wearing that little red dress that caught everyone's eyes--shuffled over to joe, placing a hand on his arm like she had any right to touch him, and started laughing like the joker at every single thing he said. she was practically undressing him with those icy eyes.

what a stupid move to make while his girlfriend was right next to him.

disgusting.

and joe, bless his oblivious heart, just gave her one of those polite little smiles, nodding along as she talked to him and the group you both were standing with.

her grip tightens around her glass when she notices how the woman is gripping his shoulder, digging her ruby nails into the shoulder that was meant for her to lean her cheek on as she laughed at something silly joe whispered to her.

she isn’t mad at him, not really. it’s not his fault he’s so fucking pretty--so stupidly, irresistibly attractive that women throw themselves at him even when she’s standing right there.

but she is so not in the mood for this tonight.

"look at the floor or ceiling...or anyone else you're feeling. i don't care, take home whoever walks in. just keep your eyes off him, bitch," she thought, feeling her cheeks burn from jealousy.

she sets her drink down, smooths out the skirt of her dress, and slides up next to joe, slipping an arm around his waist like it’s second nature. her other hand--her claiming hand--lands firmly on his chest.

joe doesn’t flinch, but she feels the way his muscles tense under her touch.

good.

his attention changes immediately, those baby blue eyes flicking down to hers, and she can see it--the realization. the amusement. the smirk that threatens to pull at his lips because he knows how she's feeling.

but he hasn’t said anything yet. instead, he lets her do what she does best.

she turns to the woman, finally acknowledging her, her smile faker than that knock-off chanel bag the woman had looped around her arm. "hi," she says smoothly, tilting her head just enough to be borderline condescending. "i don’t think we’ve met,".

the girl blinks, seemingly thrown off by the sudden shift in energy. she stammers out her name, something forgettable, before gesturing toward joe. "i was just telling joe how—,".

she doesn’t even let her finish.

"joeyyy," she purrs, drawing his name out like dripping honey, her fingers trailing gently over the fabric of his shirt. she tilts her head up, eyes locked onto his. "aren’t you so tired of talking?".

and joe just dares to grin. "you trying to get me out of here," he laughs before dipping his head down to her ear, his voice a whisper as his breath heats up her skin, "miss possessive?".

"pretty girl has to learn her lesson, baby," she winked, sliding her hand further up his chest to his face. her baby pink nails running across his stubbly chin as she looks back at the woman who looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

the woman awkwardly clears her throat. "well, um—,".

but she's already tugging joe away, her grip on him firm, definitive. and he lets her, of course, because that’s what he always does.

the second they’re just barely out of reach, he leans down, murmuring, "you know I wasn’t interested, right?".

she doesn’t answer him right away. instead, she keeps walking, leading him through the crowd with a confident posture that makes joe smirk. she only stops when they’re in a quieter corner of the venue, away from prying eyes and nosy ears. she turns to face him, her eyes flashing with something dangerous, something possessive. her finger latches onto the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight as she looks up at him.

"i know," she finally says, voice sweet but laced with something else. "but that doesn’t mean i have to like it when some desperate woman throws herself at you like i’m not standing right there,".

joe lets out a small laugh, his hands settling on her hips, thumbs brushing over the silky material of her midnight-blue dress.

"you know you’re the only one for me, right?" he asks, voice dropping an octave, his forehead pressing against hers.

she lets out a content sigh, tension slowly bleeding out of her shoulders. "yeah," she breathes. "but that doesn’t mean i’m gonna let anyone think they even have a chance," her nails scrape lightly against his chest, her body pressing just a little bit closer to his.

joe grins. "mm. miss possessive, indeed,".

she narrows her eyes at him, but before she can say anything, his hands slide down to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

"i like it, though," he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear. "i like when you get all clingy. when you remind everyone i’m yours...when you do more than just wear that necklace with my initial on it,".

her breath catches in her throat, fingers tightening on his shirt.

"damn right, you are," she whispers back, shifting her head up to capture his lips in a slow kiss.

it’s not rushed, not frantic. it’s a statement--a declaration that she doesn’t need words for. he is her's, and he loves every second of it.

when she finally pulls back, joe’s eyes are dark, filled with something heated, something that tells her they won’t be staying at this event for much longer.

"so," he says, thumb brushing over her cheek, "you ready to get out of here? or do you wanna go back and stake your claim some more?".

she smirks, reaching up to straighten his tie. "oh, i think she got the message," she hums. "but just in case…,".

she presses another kiss to his lips; hot, sloppy, pulling his bottom lip, and so intoxicating, before pulling away with a smug glint in her eyes.

joe just shakes his head as he laces his fingers through hers, already leading her toward the exit.

"yeah, definitely not staying much longer,".

[gracie-eilish]

could you write something about billie and reader whos insecure about her body?? with like lots of fluff and comfort🤍

pretty girl🪞

The late afternoon sun stretched lazily across the sky, casting golden hues over the backyard as the warm California breeze rustled the trees. The pool shimmered under the light, inviting and serene. Billie had been practically bouncing at the idea of a spontaneous swim, already clad in her swimsuit and tossing playful grins your way as she urged you to get ready.

You had agreed, laughing at her excitement, but now you stood frozen in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, stomach twisting into knots. The swimsuit you had picked out—one you had loved when you bought it—suddenly felt like the wrong choice. Every flaw you had ever noticed, every little insecurity, seemed to magnify under the unforgiving reflection. Your arms crossed over your stomach instinctively, as if shielding yourself from your own gaze.

Billie’s laughter echoed from outside the room, along with Sharks barking, the sounds soft and full of life. But she must’ve noticed your absence, because a few moments later, the door creaked open, and her voice, sweet and gentle, called out, “Baby?”

You swallowed hard, pressing your lips together. “I’ll be out in a sec,” you said, trying to sound normal. But Billie wasn’t one to be fooled so easily.

She stepped in, already barefoot and slightly damp from testing the water, her hair loose and slightly tousled. The second she saw you standing in front of the mirror, unmoving, a knowing softness melted into her features.

She didn’t say anything at first, just padded across the room and came up behind you, her arms snaking around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. You felt the warmth of her body instantly, her presence grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your swimsuit. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t feel great.” Your voice was quiet, but Billie heard every word. “I don’t like how I look in this.”

Billie frowned, and before you could move away, she tightened her grip, pressing herself closer. “Oh, no. Nope. Not gonna let you do that.” Her voice was light, teasing but firm. “You’re standing here looking like a whole dream, and I’m supposed to just let you talk bad about my girl?”

A soft chuckle escaped you despite the insecurity still lingering in your chest. “Billie…”

“What?” she challenged, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “I’m serious. Look at you.” She turned her head so you could see both of your reflections in the mirror—her arms still locked around your waist, her expression nothing but pure adoration. “You see what I see?”

You sighed, eyes flickering to the reflection before quickly looking away. “I just see me.”

Billie hummed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your jawline. “Mhm. And you are stunning. Breathtaking. The kind of gorgeous that makes my heart race every time I look at you.”

Heat bloomed across your cheeks. “You’re biased.”

“Obviously,” she quipped, grinning. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.” She let her hands slide gently over your sides, her touch slow and deliberate. “You see this?” She squeezed your waist slightly, then trailed her hands to rest just above your stomach. “I love this. So much.”

You swallowed, a little nervous. “Why?”

Billie tsked, feigning offense. “Why? Oh, baby, let me count the ways.” She turned her attention back to the mirror, her fingers tracing small patterns against your skin. “First of all, you fit so perfectly in my arms. Like you were made for me to hold onto. And this tummy right here?” She pressed another kiss to your shoulder. “The softest, warmest, most comforting place on Earth. You know how much I love laying my head here? Feels like home.”

A small laugh escaped you, and Billie grinned, clearly encouraged. “Your thighs?” She let her hands trail lower, squeezing affectionately. “Oh, don’t even get me started. Absolute perfection. The perfect lap for me to sit in, by the way.”

You groaned playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re gorgeous,” she shot back without missing a beat. “Baby, look at you. Every inch of you is so you, and I’m completely obsessed.”

Her hands slid back up, resting over your heart as she nuzzled into your neck, pressing tiny, delicate kisses along your jaw. “You wanna know what I see when I look in the mirror?” she whispered.

You bit your lip. “What?”

“I see my girl.” Her voice softened, full of genuine adoration. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever known, inside and out. I see someone who makes me laugh, who makes me feel safe, who is so damn easy to love that sometimes I don’t even know how to handle it. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

Your eyes stung slightly, overwhelmed by how much love Billie poured into every word. You blinked at your reflection again, and for the first time, instead of picking apart the things you didn’t like, you saw Billie behind you, holding you close like you were something precious. Like you were everything.

She noticed the shift, the way your body relaxed just a little, and smiled against your skin. “There she is,” she whispered. “There’s my baby.”

You exhaled, the tightness in your chest loosening as you leaned back into her hold. “I love you.”

Billie grinned, pressing one final kiss to your cheek. “Love you more.” Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she suddenly spun you around and scooped you up into her arms, making you squeal in surprise.

“Billie!”

She laughed, effortlessly carrying you toward the door. “Enough mirror talk. You, me, pool, now.”

“But—”

“Nope. No buts. The only thing I wanna see right now is you in the water, looking like the goddess you are.” She winked. “And maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you dunk me first.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. With Billie looking at you like that, with love in every inch of her expression, your insecurities didn’t seem quite as loud anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, you were as beautiful as she said you were.

[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

part2 - mdni

June 12th. Laundry day.

The monstrous, all-consuming, never-ending laundry day.

You remember when laundry was as simple as dropping off a bag of clothes at the dry cleaner and picking it up a few days later, crisp and fresh. That was before. Before life became an endless cycle of dirty socks, misplaced jerseys, and sheets that always seemed to need changing.

You start in Nora’s room. Nora, who is what some might call "spirited" but what you would call an absolute tornado. She plays football, like Alexia, but in terms of clothes, she is nothing like her mother. Alexia is meticulous. Methodical. Everything folded in perfect squares, socks matched like puzzle pieces. Nora? Chaos incarnate. At one point, you even wondered if she had ADHD, but then again, navigating a six-year-old’s mind is harder than you ever anticipated.

You strip the bed, replace the sheets, and move to Iris’s room.

The moment you step inside, a memory crashes over you. You and Alexia painting the walls, carefully placing the crib, folding tiny baby clothes. You were so pregnant with Iris that you joked about rolling around instead of walking. So big, so round, so full of expectation. But the reality was different. Harder.

You cried while feeding her, your nipples raw and bleeding. Your body didn’t feel like your own, you were right on the edge—so close to falling into postpartum depression that you still wonder if you actually did. Just a breath away from giving up.

But that was then. And today, you refuse to dwell on it.

You move to your bedroom, stripping the sheets, gathering Alexia’s clothes from the bathroom floor. You wash them the way she likes—because, of course, Alexia has a very specific way she likes things done. You are halfway through making the bed when her phone slips off the mattress, landing right on your foot.

Pain explodes up your feet.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hiss, grabbing your foot before bending down to retrieve the damn thing.

You think about texting one of the girls, letting them know Alexia left her phone at home. But as you glance at the screen, a name catches your eye.

Eva.

There are several messages. You shouldn't look. You know that. You know it’s wrong. But the urge is overwhelming.

Who the fuck is Eva?

Your heart pounds as your fingers hover over the screen. You know Alexia’s passcode. It used to be your birthday, then hers, then Nora’s. You try and it works, the messages open.

It’s not a long conversation. Not pages and pages, just a few days’ worth. But it’s enough.

*Where are you? I’m worried.*

*Did your wife give you a hard time for getting home late?*

You didn’t. You pretended to be asleep when Alexia climbed into bed last night.

*When will I see you again?*

Your stomach twists. Maybe Eva is just a friend. A close one, maybe even a best friend. But deep down, you know. You fucking know. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers move.

You type back, pretending to be Alexia.

*Last night was good.*

You hit send. Your heart is pounding.

It takes barely a moment for Eva to reply.

*Oh, just fine, yeah?* she asks, her words dripping with a quiet, simmering edge of something darker.

*Was it just good when you fucked me against the balcony?* she adds, that sharp edge now unmistakable, laced with a daring smirk you can almost hear.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes, the room spinning around you. The words blur. The world tilts.

Alexia fucked someone else.

Eva.

Eva, who?

Eva, the reason she stopped coming home for dinner?

Eva, the reason she stopped tucking the girls into bed?

Eva, the reason she started giving up on you?

The name pounds inside your skull like a drum, like a fucking rock concert reverberating through your entire being. You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

You drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hot tears pricking at your eyes.

Is Eva prettier than you? Does she fuck better than you? Is she hotter? Funnier? Nicer?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to exist in this moment.

A cry pulls you back.

Iris.

You forgot you left her in her playpen.

You wipe your tears, stand up, and go to her. She snuggles into your arms, warm and safe. You hold her close, pressing your lips against her tiny forehead, and think—What the fuck am I going to do?

———————————————

7 PM. Dinner is ready.

You always wait until 7:30 to see if Alexia is coming home. You text Jana, telling her Alexia left her phone behind. Jana just says, Okay.

Alexia arrives on time. Kit still on, hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like the woman you fell in love with. She comes straight to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the girls, lifting them onto the kitchen counter as they sing along to something on the iPad.

She asks where her phone is.

"Upstairs," you say.

She kisses the girls again before heading up.

You had deleted the messages. Every single one. You’re not stupid.

When she comes back, phone in hand, she helps you set the table. You sit next to Iris, feeding her small bites, while Alexia chats with Nora. It feels normal. Eerily normal. Almost like the past.

You eat Dinner. Do the dishes. Put Nora to bed and Alexia tucks in Iris.

After being done you go to your bedroom, with an idea in mind.

Alexia is already there, sitting against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.

"You know what I was thinking?" you say.

She hums without looking up. "Hmm?"

"I bought something for you. Want to see it?"

Her head tilts. She looks intrigued.

You haven’t bought or worn lingerie in years. Not since you stopped feeling like the woman who used to leave Alexia breathless. But you still have some—tucked away in the back of your closet, hidden like a past life.

"Fuck, baby, yes. Show me," she says.

You step into the bathroom, slipping into the black lace. It hugs every curve, pushes up your breasts, makes you look almost unfamiliar to yourself. You barely recognize yourself.

But when you step out, Alexia does.

She stares.

Not just a glance—she looks at you like she used to, like she’s seeing something she forgot she could have. Like you’ve just stolen the air from her lungs.

Her phone slips from her fingers, forgotten.

You crawl onto her lap, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment your thighs settle over hers.

Her hands move without hesitation—roaming, squeezing, claiming. Her breath is heavier, her fingers digging into your hips, trailing up your sides, gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs, her lips dragging over your throat, her voice thick, ruined. "You look so fucking hot."

Her fingers move lower, tracing the lace, teasing the edge of the fabric. You roll your hips against her, slow and smooth, watching the way her jaw tenses, the way her fingers twitch against your skin.

She groans, low and guttural, her hands sliding up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms—like she needs to touch every inch of you. Her lips trail lower, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises into your collarbone, your breast, dragging her teeth over lace-covered skin.

Her hands are on your thighs, spreading you, guiding you against her. You grind down, chasing something desperate, moving against her fingers the second they find you—slick, eager, drowning in want. Her breath hitches as she pushes inside, stretching you, filling you.

Your forehead drops against hers, your breathing uneven, your body trembling. It’s messy. It’s hungry. It’s not enough.

And then—

You lean in, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, and whisper—

"Does Eva fuck like I do?"

Everything stops.

Alexia’s hands freeze inside you, her breath catching in her throat.

She pulls back just enough to see your face, her brows furrowing, her eyes flashing with something dark, something uncertain, something dangerously close to breaking.

She looks at you like she doesn’t understand.

Like she doesn’t want to understand.

You smile.

"Yeah, Alexia," you whisper, voice sharp, taunting, twisting the knife. "I’m not fucking blind."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: No One Fights Alone

Pairing: Reader x Paige Bueckers x Aubrey Griffin

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Warnings: Injury, recovery struggles, emotional distress

Summary: A devastating ACL tear during the Final Four changes everything, but your never alone

I’ve been playing basketball long enough to know what an injury feels like. Twisted ankles, jammed fingers, a couple of bruised ribs—occupational hazards. But nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

One second, I was cutting toward the basket, the ball barely leaving my fingertips on a perfect pass. The next, I was on the ground, pain ripping through my knee like fire.

The arena went silent.

I knew it was bad before I even tried to move. The way my leg twisted underneath me, the way the impact rattled through my bones—I didn’t need to see the replay to know.

Then, before I could process anything else, two familiar voices cut through the chaos.

“Baby, don’t move—just breathe,” Paige’s voice was the first thing I focused on, steady but tight with panic.

Aubrey was right beside her, kneeling next to me, hands hovering over my leg like she wanted to fix it right then and there. “We got you, okay? Just stay still.”

I clenched my teeth, blinking against the bright overhead lights. My heartbeat roared in my ears, drowning out the murmurs from the crowd.

Someone—I think it was KK—was trying to wave off the cameras, but I knew they were on me. It was the Final Four. The whole damn world was watching.

I felt a hand slip into mine, squeezing tight. Paige. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Aubrey, her free hand on my shoulder, nodded. “We’ve been here before. We’ll help you through it.”

I swallowed hard. If there was anyone who knew what I was feeling, it was them. Paige had gone through her knee rehabs. Aubrey had been through it too.

The trainer finally made it onto the court, but I barely registered what they were saying. All I knew was that I was being lifted, carried, and as the pain flared sharper, I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped their hands like a lifeline.

The days after the injury blurred together in a haze of pain meds; morphine and muscle relaxers to be exact, doctor visits, and an overwhelming sense of dread.

I cried when the MRI confirmed what I already knew. ACL tear. Surgery needed.

I cried when I saw my teammates leave for practice without me, leavening e in the PT room by myself.

I cried when I woke up in the middle of the night, my knee throbbing, and felt Paige pulling me into her chest while Aubrey rubbed circles on my back.

“It’s okay to be mad,” Aubrey whispered one night when I couldn’t sleep, my frustration bubbling into tears again.

“It’s okay to be sad too,” Paige added, resting her forehead against mine. “But you’re not doing this alone.”

I didn’t respond, but I let them hold me until I drifted off again.

The first time I tried to put weight on my leg post-surgery, I nearly collapsed.

“Whoa, whoa, I got you,” Aubrey rushed forward, her hands firm on my waist as I struggled to balance on crutches.

Paige, sitting nearby, her own knee bouncing in nervous energy, smiled at me. “You look better than I did my first time.”

I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth as I forced myself to stand taller. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel better.”

Aubrey gave me a soft look. “That’s why we’re here.”

And they were.

Every. Single. Step.

Paige came to PT sessions with me, encouraging me when I wanted to quit.

Aubrey made sure I was eating, stretching, not overdoing it.

They both celebrated the smallest wins, even when I didn’t think they were worth celebrating.

When I managed to bend my knee to ninety degrees, Paige clapped so loud the whole PT room stared.

When I took my first unassisted steps, Aubrey wiped a tear from her eye, even though she swore she wasn’t crying.

And when I finally—finally—ran for the first time, they were both there, waiting at the end of the track, arms wide open.

The Mental Battle

Physical recovery was one thing. The mental part? That was the hardest.

I didn’t realize how much I had tied my identity to basketball until I couldn’t play it. I felt useless. Lost. Like I wasn’t me anymore.

One night, I sat on my bed, staring at my brace, feeling the weight of everything crash down. “What if I never feel the same again?”

Paige, sitting next to me, didn’t hesitate. “You won’t.”

I snapped my head toward her, surprised.

She gave me a knowing look. “You won’t feel the same. You’ll feel stronger.”

Aubrey, standing by the door, nodded. “And we’ll be right there with you when you do.”

I wanted to believe them.

Some days, I did.

Some days, I didn’t.

But they never let me give up.

Not when I hesitated before cutting on my knee for the first time.

Not when I had nightmares about reinjuring it.

Not when I doubted if I’d ever play like myself again.

And slowly, day by day, I started to believe them.

One Year Later

I walked back into the arena, my heart pounding as I took in the court, the lights, the banners hanging high above us.

I had worked my ass off for this moment.

And standing beside me, their hands in mine, were the two people who had never let me fall alone.

“You ready?” Aubrey asked, squeezing my hand.

I exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. I am.”

Paige grinned as we headed to the tip off line. “Then let’s get back to work.”

And just like that, I was home again.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[billiegabbysyd]

you are never here (wife!paige bueckers x wife!reader)

part two to my pretty girl. takes place 3 years after.

cw: no smut just arguing (angst maybe?) , aged up p (she is 26 and you’re 24), and some cursing

you and paige have been together for 6 years, married for 3. you had been with her since her sophomore year and your freshman year of college. this is around the time she started to get really popular like celebrity status but you were happy for her success and you didn’t hurt treat her differently because of it. you and her were really good friends and had been since middle school. she had always been a great friend to you and you to her. until one night, the two of you hooked up after a party. you had a pregnancy scare and paige was with you through the whole thing.she admitted to having feelings for you and said that she would take care of you and y’all’s baby if you were pregnant. from that moment on the two of you were inseparable. you loved paige with everything in you. after a year of dating, she proposed to you! you were speechless, but you said yes nonetheless. however, you and paige agreed to wait until the both of you were graduated to get married.

the one thing that you loved about paige was how considerate she was. she always made time for you even with basketball and all the opportunities she had. she always made you felt loved and appreciated. the two of you got married after her rookie year with the dallas wings. your first year of marriage was good. paige still made time for you but she slowly started to drift away from you. she was present, but it didn’t feel the same. after her 2 year in the w with dallas, she signed to the new york liberty and the two of you moved to new york . that’s when things started to change. paige insisted that you be a stay at home wife. you only agreed to this because you and her wanted to start having kids. however, paige started to become more disconnected from you. when she wasn’t on the road for away games or at practice, she was out doing something to help her fans and/or the community.

first, it was really hard to be mad at her because she was using her time to help others. how could you possibly get mad at that? so one day you delicately brought up how you felt like paige wasn’t giving her all to your relationship anymore and how it felt like she was really distant,. she took this as you were attacking her and made you feel like you were the problem. so you didn’t bring it up for months and the next time you brought it up the two of you fought again, and again, and again…

so here you were celebrating your third anniversary as a married couple and paige took you out to this really nice restaurant. she even got you flowers. however, she spent her whole time basically on the phone. after the “celebration,” the two of you get home to have the same argument that you have been having for months now.

red= paige speaking

green= reader speaking

“are you fucking serious, p?” you said closing the front door to your penthouse.

she stopped dead in her tracks, “what?”

“you know what—i can’t do this tonight.” you said walking past her.

she grabs your wrist. “do what!?”

“this.” you said gesturing to you and her. “the constant arguing over something you haven’t made an effort to change. i-i think we need time apart.

you wiggled out of her grasp.

the fuck are you sayin’ !? paige yelled following behind you.

“i can’t deal this right now, p.” you went into the bedroom, and started to pull out a suitcase from your closet.

“so what you just giving up on me? on us?” she paused, grabbing your hand.

“we are married, you can’t just leave, y/n”

you snatch your hand back.

“exactly! we ARE married and we are buildin’ a goddamn life together.”

“and you just want to give that up?” she said getting close to you.

“no, i never said that! i just think we should take some time apart.” you push her back gently.

“i don’t want time apart. i want to build a life with you, baby”

“really?!” you scoffed. ‘it doesn’t feel like it.”

“tell me what i need to do.”

, “we’ve talked about this before paige. you don’t spend any time with me.”

“i’ve been trying to make time for you. can you please understand that?”

“ i get that paige…i really do but i have been begging you for months to spend time with me.”

“baby, we spend time together. you’re always at my games, we go to award shows together, volunteering, charity events, and other things as well.”

“all those things are for YOU. and i show up to support you. i just want you to spend time with me outside of everything else. even during off season you are always gone.”

“i’ll take a break from everything and we can go on a vacation. just you and me.”

“paige…you shouldn’t have to put everything on pause to please me. i would never ask you to do that, i know how much everything means to you.”

“then, what do you want from me?”

“i want you to care, p. you are making this feel like an exhausting chore you HAVE to do instead of just wanting to spend time with me.”

“well, if you’re so lonely why don’t you get a job?”

“you were the one who insisted i be a stay at home wife.”

“i didn’t ask to give up your career, y/n. you did that willingly.”

“but you did paige…you did” you say turning away from her as tears well up in your eyes.

she sighs, “baby, i’m sorry. please don’t cry, i promise we’ll figure it out.” she comes up behind you pulling you into a hug.

you sniffle. she rubs your shoulder with her thumb still embrace. resting your head on her chest.

“paige, i’m pregnant.” you say.

she let’s go of you, looking at you with her wide blue eyes. “you serious?“

“yes, that’s why i need you to be here. for us. for our baby.”you said rubbing your stomach.

“how far along are you?”

“two months. i just found out last week. babe i need you, i can’t do this without you.”

she nods, “no more empty promises. i will be here for us. for the both of you.” she rubs your stomach, embracing you.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Teamwork - part two

George Russell x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: smutty part two of this

Warnings: 18+!, degradation, double penetration, oral (m receiving), p in v, p in a, explicit language, unprotected sex

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Whooof... I don't know what to say, this idea came today in the morning and it made me feel many things. Sometimes I struggle with words or how to put things together, but I hope you’re gonna enjoy it anyway. Read warnings, because it's filthy and naughty. But you wanted it. ;)

Any feedback is welcomed. :)

---

“It’s too-“ your whines were silenced by Max holding a handful of your hair, pushing his thick cock down your throat. George sat on the bed, palming his hard dick, watching how you were on your knees, your nails digging into Max’s thighs as you tried your best not to gag on his length, which was really not easy task.

“Fuck, I don’t know how can you even think straight when she’s good at this…” Max moaned loudly, his brows furrowed from the intensity of your warm and wet mouth.

George just chuckled darkly, biting into his lip, finding this situation scandalous but arousing at the same time.

“Maybe we should use her more often to clear the bad blood between us.”

You were about to protest, moving your head away from Max’s hardness, but he was in no mood to let you go. 

“Just take it, baby, get used to being our little slut.” Max huffed, sticking himself as far as he could in your throat.

George moved closer to kneel behind you, pulling your skirt over your ass, spanking it, your throat forcing out the gagging sounds, one of your hands trying to pry him off.

He took your hand and placed it around Max’s cock, helping you to pump it while Max was moving your head at a torturous pace.

“Take care of him, nice and slow. Just like you treat me all the time.” George whispered into your hair, looking up at Max to see his shocked expression. Sight of you and George being on your knees for him shot a strange bolt of satisfaction through his body, making him smirk.

Your body shivered, mind filled with many things you wanted to scream out but at the same time you were so turned on, and you started to melt to what is just happening. And the fact that George just ripped your panties off of you wasn’t helping much. 

Pushing two fingers into your gushing pussy, George let out a loud groan. “Love, you’re so freaking wet, unbelievable.” 

Max was still fucking your throat, drool dripping down staining your white shirt. “Prepare her. She’s gonna take us both.” 

Your eyes went wide when you felt George’s thumb circling your butthole. Trying to wiggle yourself away, he grabbed your hips to steady you in place, his other hand still deep in your pussy.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll make you open and relaxed.” George spit on your lower back only for the fluid to get down between your ass cheeks to lubricate his thumb. With a little pressure he started to probe your tight hole.

“She never let me use her ass before. I'm gonna enjoy this so much.” He shot a brief look of excitement at Max, then he averted his attention back to you, to stretch both of your holes.

Overwhelmed and breathless you started to pass out, Max noticing so and pulling your head gently from him to allow you to take a breath. A loud gasp is heard as your body falls against George’s chest, his thumb now deep inside your tight ass. 

“I c-can’t-“ you manage to whisper, your body trembling violently, eyes half lidded. 

Max took off all his clothes, now standing naked in front of you both, watching you. George moved his fingers slowly but firmly, forcing you to moan softly, leaving your cheeks flushed at the embarrassment of how much you love the position you’re in.

“You like it, don’t you? I knew you’d love this. You’re my filthy girl.” George whispered with a victorious smile, his hard dick pressing against your ass cheek, leaking with precum. 

“N-no-“ you tried to oppose but it was pointless since your body craved to be taken like that.

“Don’t lie. I can see it in your eyes.” Max rumbled under his breath, stroking his cock. You shot him a sharp glare, thinking that if it wasn’t for his talking mouth, they wouldn’t be doing this.

While you were distracted by him, George took advantage of it to replace his thumb with his length, pressing it against the tight entrance of your ass, your body reacting by moving away from him, eyes full of tears, a loud panicked squeak leaving your mouth. “George! No-“ 

“Shhhhh. Relax baby. Or I’ll hurt you and I don’t want to do that. Take it easy.” He pressed a kiss against your temple, one of his hands wandering under your drool stained shirt to grab your breast while his other was on your hip, keeping you in place.

You tried to relax, huffing, your brows furrowing, biting on your lip to leave it swollen, after he was finally fully in. It was like something switched inside your brain, you looked up at Max, eyes filled with filth and lust. 

“You just made her so fucking cock drunk, George.” Max chuckled, his fingers sliding along your jaw taking in your expression. 

“F-fuck, mate, she’s clenching like crazy around me. Come on, help me get her up, and you're gonna fill her pussy.” George grunted, trying to get up, while being deep in your ass when Max grabbed you under your thighs. They were now standing, you between them, George holding you up under your knees, your legs parted widely for Max to look at your leaking pussy. 

“I want to hear her say it.” he stared into your eyes with a wide smirk, while George was railing your ass like there was no tomorrow. 

“I’m not-” you were breathless, tears of pleasure smudging your makeup more than it already was, not able to put in a coherent sentence.

“Say ‘Please, Max, fuck me.’” his sinister expression flipped your stomach around.

George bit onto your shoulder and groaned into your ear. “Just say it, love. And let him finally fuck you, hm? He’s gonna do that anyway, you’re not gonna get out of it.” 

Shiver went down your spine, your face twisting in distaste but the feeling of George being so deep inside you, you simply missed another man in your other hole. 

With a frustrated sigh you moaned desperately. “Max, please. Just fuck me.” 

Max nodded, completely ready to fuck your brains out, he stepped closer, slapping his swollen cock against your clit, making you whimper. George behind you groaned at your clenches of pleasure, feeling it tight. 

Within the moment, you were filled by two men at once. While George held you up from behind, Max gripped your waist, grunting with each thrust. You were losing your mind, moaning and gasping for air, your lungs on fire same as your throat. 

“F-fuck… this is… fuuuck….” was all you could muster out of your mouth and it made the two of them laugh softly.

Max and George found the same pace, thrusting in you in unison, ripping through your insides. 

“How’s that baby girl, huh? Still wanna listen to your shit talking boyfriend?” the fourth time champion mocked you, his hand finding a way to rub that sensitive bundle of nerves of yours, which shot a bolt of pleasure through your body and you squealed loudly. 

“Are you for real right now Max?” George moaned breathlessly, his brows furrowed and he pounded into you more and more due to his annoyance.

“I am so real. You’re full of shit, Russell.” Max chuckled viciously, pulling in and out of you, always getting back harder and harder. 

Your mouth was wide open, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you were nearly limp against George.

“Like if you’re any better, Verstappen. Just stop with this nonsense. Focus on making her cum, she may enjoy this to the fullest, but taking her to her high, that's a real challenge.” George smirked, remembering his own hard way to find the right spot to make you come.

“Hm… Easy.” Max grunted, his cock growing even more harder at the amount of sloppines of your pussy. You suddenly came back to your senses, wrapping your hands around Max’s neck, staring deep into his eyes.

“Make me cum, champion.” 

And well, that was like some kind of drug and he obeyed, flicking your clit like crazy along with deep thrusts. You let out a desperate huff, frowning, not really happy with how he was doing it. Even if he was behind you, George could see your face and he chuckled.

“I bet I can make her come just by fucking her ass. You can’t do a shit, Max.” he picked up the pace, abusing your tight hole, the pleasure pooling in your belly. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, no, I'm gonna make her come!” Max nearly yelled in absolute madness, the grip on your waist endless, as he pushed into you with all his might and he stopped in his tracks, twitching inside you, to make you feel how huge he really was, while circling your clit in different angle. That made you nearly see stars, biting into your lip, avoiding his look.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me.” Max gritted through his teeth, and you turned your head to look at him. “You’re a fucking slut, taking us both, look how freaking soaked you are, you’re all over my cock, darling.” 

You whined, rolling your eyes. 

“That’s it, baby, let go, mhm, yes, yes. Just like that.” his devilish laugh rumbled through his chest, and as he flicked your clit again you were done.

Your shameful screams filled the hotel room, your drenched cunt squeezing Max tight the same as your ass did to George. It was so intense, that you all nearly lost it.

“Shit, dude. I’m gonna get there soon.” George groaned, his hips carving into yours. Max only huffed with a nod. “Let’s fill her to the brim together.” 

A few moans and huffs later, they managed to come together, filling you with their seed. 

Standing at the edge of the bed, watching you laying there on your side, their cum oozing from your holes, seeping to the silky sheets, while you were still breathing heavily, your gaze hazed from the overstimulation, George shot a look at his rival.

“Was it worth it?” 

“Absofuckinglutely.” 

While they chuckled, you lifted your gaze at them with an annoyed and croaked voice. “I’m gonna kill you both.”

“I guess that she needs to be reminded again that her words mean nothing.” Max smirked, his cock getting hard again.

George let out a soft laugh, looking at you, grabbing you by your ankle. “You’re right, let's shut that pretty mouth of hers.” 

———

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

-

Tags: @chilling-seavey , @tammyfortis , @gracie23x

[1byhwng]

(Drabble) Honey — jeongin

This is a rework of one of my first posts. if you like this i might do another with a different post i made before.

MDNI, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. (mommy is used in this)

Jeongin lay sprawled across your bed, lazily scrolling through his phone, his fingers idly tapping at the screen. Boredom gnawed at him until an idea sparked in his mind—a mischievous little thought that made him glance over at your laptop, sitting unattended on your desk. A sly smirk tugged at his lips as he sat up and reached for it.

At first, it was innocent. Just some memes, group chats with the other members, a few work emails—nothing too interesting. But then, he stumbled upon a folder of bookmarked links, each one leading to Twitter posts that piqued his curiosity. His brows furrowed as he clicked on the first one, only for his eyes to widen at the sight of a woman riding a man’s cock, her moans filling the screen.

Jeongin’s breath hitched, his body going still. His fingers twitched over the trackpad, hesitation warring with intrigue. Yet, instead of closing it, he clicked again. More clips loaded—choking, slapping, overstimulation, each video pushing his curiosity further until his sweatpants felt uncomfortably tight. His cock twitched against the fabric, heat pooling low in his stomach.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. His hips shifted, searching for relief, but the ache only grew worse. His fingers drifted downward, palming himself through his sweats as he scrolled, unable to stop watching, unable to stop imagining—

He was so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn’t hear the soft creak of the door, didn’t notice you stepping inside, arms crossed as you observed him in silence. A smirk played on your lips as you leaned against the wall, watching his hand move against himself, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The click of your tongue made him freeze.

Slowly, Jeongin turned his head, his wide eyes meeting yours. He sat up abruptly, yanking his hand away as if he’d been burned. “I—”

You sauntered closer, tilting your head in mock curiosity. “So, pretty boy,” you purred, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap, your hands pressing into his chest to keep him in place. “What exactly did you find while snooping around?”

His breath stuttered, his hands gripping the sheets as he swallowed hard. “I—uh…”

You leaned in, your lips ghosting over his ear. “Baby, you know I need verbal answers.” Your fingers grasped his chin, tilting his head back to force his gaze on you.

Jeongin’s lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I f-found your links…”

A hum of amusement escaped you. “Oh? And remind me of rule two.”

His throat bobbed as he looked at you, guilt flickering behind his eyes. “Mommy, I promise I didn’t me—”

“Rule. Two.” Your voice was firm, teasing, yet expectant.

He hesitated for only a second before exhaling shakily. “Don’t masturbate or watch anything sexual without your permission…”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips. “That’s right.” You rewarded him with a brief kiss, barely more than a brush of lips before pulling away. Your nails raked down his chest, tracing over his trembling abdomen until you reached the waistband of his sweatpants.

“What did you watch?” you murmured, slipping your hand inside and wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the warmth of him against your palm.

“I-I can’t say it…” he admitted, his voice strained, his body tense beneath you.

You arched a brow. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer, only looking at you with a mixture of embarrassment and need.

“What a shame,” you mused, withdrawing your hand and sliding off the bed. He whined softly at the loss of your touch, watching as you made your way to the closet. His breath hitched when you pulled out a familiar box, setting it on the bed beside him.

You lifted the lid, fingers grazing over the array of toys inside before plucking out a sleek vibrator. You turned back to him, your eyes dark with amusement and something far more sinful.

“You ready to be a good boy and make up for breaking the rules?”

Jeongin swallowed hard, his body betraying him as he nodded, his breath coming in short, needy pants. His wide eyes flickered between the vibrator in your hand and your face, anticipation and nervousness warring in his expression.

“That’s a good boy,” you praised, reaching out to trace your fingers along his jaw. His skin burned under your touch, his body already wound tight from being caught. “Now, lie back for me.”

He obeyed immediately, shifting until his head rested against the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You watched him for a moment, savoring the way his hands clenched the sheets, the way his thighs tensed in expectation. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down, exposing just how affected he was. His cock sprang free, flushed a deep pink at the tip, a bead of precum glistening there.

You hummed in approval, letting your fingers ghost over his shaft, barely touching him. “So eager,” you mused, watching the way his hips jerked at even the lightest contact. “Did watching all those videos make you this needy?”

Jeongin bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him when you finally wrapped your hand around him. “Y-yes,” he admitted, his voice breathy, tinged with desperation. “I—I couldn’t stop thinking about them…”

You clicked your tongue, tightening your grip just enough to make him shudder. “Such a naughty boy,” you teased, dragging your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum across his tip. His breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillow. “Did you imagine yourself in their place? Being used, touched, fucked until you couldn’t take anymore?”

A strangled moan fell from his lips as his hips bucked into your hand. His fingers dug into the sheets, his body writhing under your touch. “Y-yes, Mommy,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your smirk deepened, your grip on him steady but unrelenting. “Good boy,” you cooed, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Then let’s make sure you learn your lesson properly.”

You clicked on the vibrator, the soft hum filling the room. Jeongin’s breath caught, his eyes locked onto the toy as you slowly dragged it down his stomach, inching closer and closer to his aching cock. His body tensed, his thighs trembling as anticipation curled tight in his belly.

“Tell me, baby,” you murmured, hovering the toy just above his sensitive length. “Are you ready to take your punishment like a good boy?”

Jeongin’s breath came in ragged pants, his body already on the brink. His lashes fluttered, his lips parting as he looked up at you, utterly wrecked and desperate.

“Yes, Mommy,” he breathed. “Please… punish me.”

Your smile was wicked as you finally pressed the vibrator against him, watching as his entire body jolted, a broken moan spilling from his lips.

This was going to be fun.

You increased the intensity, watching as Jeongin writhed beneath you, his back arching off the bed. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, his body trembling under the relentless vibrations. “M-Mommy, please—” he gasped, his voice breaking as pleasure overwhelmed him.

“Please what?” you asked, tilting your head, amusement dancing in your eyes as you toyed with him. “You want me to stop?”

He shook his head frantically, eyes squeezed shut. “N-no! Don’t stop—please don’t stop!”

A slow smirk curled your lips as you leaned in, pressing a teasing kiss against his jaw. “That’s what I thought.”

You let the vibrator trail lower, teasing the sensitive spot just beneath the head of his cock. His entire body convulsed, a sobbing moan ripping from his throat as he thrashed against the sheets. He was so close—so desperate, teetering on the edge of bliss.

“You’re such a mess,” you murmured, watching him fall apart beneath you. “Look at you, all fucked out just from this. Do you really deserve to cum after breaking the rules?”

Jeongin’s breath hitched, his expression twisting into pure need. “P-please… I—I’ll be good, I swear!”

You hummed in consideration, the vibrator still working against him, sending shivers down his spine. “I suppose I could let you cum,” you mused, your voice dripping with false innocence. “But only if you beg properly.”

His eyes fluttered open, wide and desperate as they met yours. “Please, Mommy,” he whimpered. “Please let me cum—I need it, I need you. I’ll be good, I promise. Just—please!”

Your smile softened ever so slightly, a hint of affection flickering in your gaze. “Such a needy boy,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Alright, baby. Cum for me.”

With a broken cry, Jeongin’s body tensed, his release hitting him hard as he spilled over your hand, his entire form shaking from the force of his orgasm. You watched him unravel, pride swelling in your chest as he rode out his pleasure, completely at your mercy.

As he finally collapsed against the sheets, panting and spent, you leaned in to kiss his flushed cheek. “Good boy,” you whispered, stroking his hair gently. “You took your punishment so well.”

Jeongin hummed softly, his eyes fluttering shut as a contented sigh left his lips. “Thank you, Mommy…”

You smiled, reaching over to the nightstand for a warm towel. With careful hands, you cleaned him up, murmuring soft praises as you did. Once finished, you tugged the blankets over his cooling body, wrapping him up in warmth.

“Come here,” you coaxed, pulling him against your chest. He curled into you immediately, his body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. You ran soothing fingers through his damp hair, pressing light kisses along his forehead.

“You did so well for me, baby,” you murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”

Jeongin sighed against your skin, his body finally relaxing completely. “I love you,” he mumbled sleepily, his voice laced with exhaustion.

Your heart softened, and you pressed a final kiss to his temple. “I love you too, sweetheart. Rest now.”

He let out a content hum, his breathing evening out as he drifted into sleep, safe and sound in your arms.

——————

[holylulusworld]

A virgin at a sex store (5) - Boyfriend material

Summary: Your great aunt bequeathed her fortune to you. Her successful store in town. Problem is – it’s a sex store and you are a virgin.

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: age gap (the reader is 25; Dean 34), cocky Dean, fluff, falling in love, flirting, teasing, making out

A/N: It’s been a while…huh?

A virgin at a sex store masterlist

Catch up here: A virgin at a sex store (4) - Caring cuddler

A date. Dean Winchester asked you on a date. Not only did he take you out for dinner, but he also drove you outside of town to stargaze with you.

How could you resist a man like him? A man renaming a star for you and telling you not-funny jokes. The man takes your breath away whenever he looks at you.

Especially when he held your hand the whole time you were looking at the stars, and even on the way back to his car.

“Sweetheart?” Dean murmurs as you stare at him once again. “Is something wrong? Is there something on my face?” He teases as you scoot closer to him on the couch.

“I was admiring all the freckles on your face.” Your answer makes him chuckle. His cheeks pinch, and he gives you a wink.

“You love them, huh?”

“Hmm…” You move even closer to rest your head against his shoulder. “Why don’t we go to my bedroom…”

You lie on top of Dean, bodies pressed together as your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss. It’s slow, your mouths moving in perfect sync. Your fingers thread through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp.

Dean wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepens and grows more passionate.

Dean trails featherlight kisses along your jaw, down the graceful column of your neck. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes.

You sigh and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. Dean presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his grip on you tightening, as if he never wants to let you go.

Tonight is not the night to take the last step. There's no rush. Dean is not in a hurry, and neither are you. There is only an overwhelming sense of connection and belonging.

You reluctantly pull apart.

Dean rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath.

“That was,” you whisper as you lift your head to look Dean in the eyes.

“I know,” he replies, smiling softly. “I know, baby girl.”

You snuggle in his chest, wanting to stay in your little bubble for a little longer.

You lift your hand to trace the lines of his face, your touch soft and tender. He gazes back at you, smiling, while running his hand up and down your back.

“Can you believe it’s only two months since we met?” He asks, watching you lie back down on his chest. “It feels so much longer. Almost as if I knew you all my life.”

“Cheesy,” you giggle, but your heart flutters. “You’re lucky I like cheesy pick-up lines and you.”

“Phew, good to know,” he fake-sighs. “I had hoped you’d fall for my cheesy pick-up lines and good looks. Maybe my car too. She was my secret weapon.”

“You didn’t need a secret weapon, Dean,” you whisper and nuzzle his chest. “You know that.”

“I know,” he smirks. “The moment you stepped inside the shop, you were head over heels for me. You wanted a piece of Dean Winchester.”

“And I got the full meal,” you giggle when he gropes your ass. “Hey, don’t get handsy, sir.”

“Hmm…I love it when you call me Sir, sweetheart,” Dean purrs, already imagining all the things he wants to do with you.

“I…I love you," you whisper, believing Dean didn’t hear you. He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he sighs.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he says a heartbeat later. “I know this is sudden, and we barely know each other, but I do.”

…And in that moment, nothing else matters but the two of you holding each other.

[itsnesss]

Howdy! I saw requests are open and was wondering if you could do JJ maybank x gf!reader? And if you don’t want to or don’t have time, by all means, absolutely no hard feelings and I completely understand!

I was thinking along the lines of gf!reader being a pogue but instead of joining in on all the treasure hunts, she holds down the fort back home and always welcomes JJ back with welcoming and loving arms. Until poguelandia happened and she was worried sick that entire time without word from JJ, so whenever they come back and get settled again she decides she’s fed up with all the treasure hunting and him being gone and being in danger. So whenever the blue crown comes along, she gives him an ultimatum of her or treasure hunting, and he, thinking she’s bluffing, chooses to go with the other pogues. Comes back (bc I refuse to believe he just d!es in szn4) to find that she blocked his number and moved all his things he had kept at her house out and back at the poguelandia 2.0?

(Sorry I know that’s a whole lot and I’m not sure if it even makes sense. Again, feel free to ignore if you’d like! I just love your works!)

𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 | jj maybank × fem!reader

summary | after poguelandia, you reach your breaking point, tired of waiting and worrying while jj chases danger. you give him an ultimatum—you or treasure hunting. thinking you’re bluffing, he chooses adventure. when he returns, he finds you’ve blocked him and erased every trace of him from your life

warnings | angst, heartbreak, emotional turmoil, themes of abandonment, breakup, and implied moving on. no physical violence, but heavy emotional tension

word count | 1.05 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The silence in the house was deafening.

You had spent the past few months consumed by uncertainty, fear eating away at your bones every time you closed your eyes. During all that time, your phone had become an extension of your hand, waiting for a call, a message, any sign of life. But nothing. Poguelandia had taken JJ away, and all you could do was cling to the hope that he would come back.

And in the end, he did.

The moment you saw him again after all that time, relief hit your chest with an intensity that nearly made you cry. You ran to him without thinking, feeling your heart pound so hard it hurt. His arms wrapped around you like always, his scent of salt and sun seeping into every fiber of your being. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Only that he was alive.

"You’re here," you whispered against his chest, closing your eyes and gripping his shirt as if you were afraid he would disappear again.

"Of course, baby. I always come back to you."

You wanted to believe him.

But the euphoria of the reunion didn’t last long.

The first few days felt like nothing had changed. He was back, lying in your bed as if it was still his safe place, telling you with excitement about everything that had happened—the craziness they went through, how close they were to dying, and how incredible it was. You listened in silence, feeling every word stab into your chest like a knife.

You loved him, but every story only reinforced the fear you had felt in his absence. The agony of not knowing if he was still alive, if he would come back, or if that would be the last time you ever saw him.

You tried talking to him, tried to make him understand what you had been through. But every time you mentioned how worried you had been, he would just smile, kiss your forehead, and tell you everything was fine. That he was fine.

As if that made it easier.

As if it wouldn’t happen again.

And then, the Blue Crown came along.

Another adventure, another danger, another reason to leave.

And in that moment, you knew you couldn’t take it anymore.

"JJ, we need to talk."

Your voice was firm, even though your legs were shaking inside.

He was in your room, lying on your bed with his arms behind his head, relaxed as if the world wasn’t about to fall apart.

"About what, baby?" he replied distractedly.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

"About this. About us."

That got his attention. He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, frowning slightly.

"What’s wrong?"

You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto your determination.

"I can’t keep living like this, JJ. I can’t keep waiting for you, worrying every time you leave, not knowing if you’ll come back."

He sighed and stood up, walking towards you with a frown.

"Come on, you know I always come back."

"Always?" You let out a bitter laugh, stepping back before he could touch you. Because you knew that if he did, you would break.

JJ ran a hand through his blonde hair, frustrated.

"What are you trying to say?"

You looked him in the eyes, feeling the air grow heavy.

"Choose."

His expression tensed.

"Choose what?"

You took a breath, trying to ignore the way your heart was shattering in your chest.

"Me or the treasure."

The silence between you was like a punch to the stomach. JJ blinked, as if your words didn’t make sense. Then, a dry laugh escaped his lips.

"You’re not serious."

"I’m more serious than I’ve ever been in my life."

You watched him shake his head, sighing as he looked at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying.

"You can’t ask me that."

"Yes, I can. And I did."

The room felt smaller, colder. JJ ran a hand over his jaw, searching for the right words, but in the end, he did what he always did—he chose the adrenaline, the adventure, the impossible dream.

"Sorry, but I can’t leave the Pogues."

You nodded slowly, letting his answer sink deep into your chest like a blade.

"Okay."

There were no screams, no fights, no begging. Just a quiet goodbye wrapped in those two words.

And just like he had chosen his path, you chose yours.

The next few days were a blur of emotions. You didn’t cry. Or at least, not in front of anyone. You kept yourself together as you packed up his things—every piece of clothing, every object he had ever left in your house, every trace of him that still lingered in your space.

You didn’t call him. You didn’t answer his messages. You didn’t want to know what he was doing or who he was with.

The wound was there, burning with every heartbeat, but you refused to open it further.

When JJ showed up days later, his bike came to a stop in front of your house like nothing had changed. Like he was still welcome.

He knocked on the door. You didn’t open it.

He knocked again, louder this time.

"Come on! I know you’re in there."

You didn’t respond.

You picked up your phone, blocked his number, and walked away from the window, ignoring the weight of his presence on the other side of the door.

When JJ circled around the house, looking for a way in through the window—like he always did when you tried to ignore him—what he found instead was his clothes, his things, everything he had ever left behind… waiting for him outside, packed up, as if he had never been a part of your life.

"What is this?" His voice broke slightly.

But you didn’t come out to answer him. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you hesitate, of seeing you hurt.

Because this time, there was no going back.

You heard him curse, kicking the ground in frustration. Then, the roar of his bike faded into the distance.

You didn’t watch him leave.

You didn’t call him back.

You just closed the door, realizing that for the first time in a long time, you weren’t waiting for him to return.

[cloudtransprncy]

"Get You" Teaser

Male Reader x Yves Coming Soon tags: dom fem, noona kink, older woman, hot as fuck filthy yves

You drink her in—like she’s the only thing that matters, like you’ll never get enough.

The way she perches over you, thighs spread wide, back arched, moving with slow, devastating precision. The curve of her waist shifting with every roll of her hips, her hands sliding over your chest, tracing the ink before pressing down, claiming you. Her thigh-high socks cling to her legs, framing the way her muscles flex with each deliberate movement. Her spiked messy bun barely shifts, stray strands clinging to the sweat at her temples. And then—her nails dragging down, sharp and teasing, before she rips one hand away from your arm. She doesn’t have to tell you to keep it there. You just do.

Yves traces your jawline first, fingers grazing your throat, then down, lower, slow enough to drive you insane. She knows exactly what she’s doing. How easy it is to wreck you. How you’re already fucking gone for her.

Her nails scrape over your chest, just enough to make you shudder, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

"Oh, I can feel how much you need it," she teases, pressing her hips down a little harder. "You gonna be good and let Noona take what she wants?"

Outside, the rain patters against the high-rise window, the scent of burnt-out incense and her skin thick in the air, wrapping around you like she does—like she always does.

You love this. Love her. Love the way she ruins you so effortlessly, love how she looks down at you like you’re hers to break apart and put back together. And you can tell she loves it too—the way her breath hitches just slightly when she sinks down, the way her nails dig in just a little deeper, how she licks her lips like she’s savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath her.

She relishes how you look up at her, how wide your eyes are, how your mouth parts like you want to say something but don’t trust yourself to speak. Loves how your fingers twitch at your sides, how she can see you aching to grab her hips, to pull her down faster—but you don’t.

Because you know better. You know she sets the pace.

"Such a good boy for me," she purrs, nails scraping your chest again. "Stretching me so good—fuck, baby, you feel so perfect like this."

She pushes damp strands of hair away from your face, fingers stroking along your temple, slowly, softer now, like she’s letting herself savor you. And then, just as easily, she leans down, kissing you slow, deep.

It always catches you off guard.

Not because she doesn’t love you—you know she does. But Yves never gives more than she means to. Never lets things spill over. So when she kisses you like this—lingering, unhurried, like she wants to keep you there just a little longer—you don’t just feel it. You believe it.

[starsinthesky5]

what about joe? is he mr. possessive too?

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh, absolutely. joe is just as possessive, if not more. i mean, look at who he's with? millions of men and women had their hearts broken the moment the first photo of joe and her surfaced. plenty of people want her, but they just can’t have her…and joe makes sure of that ;)

the difference is that while she wears her possessiveness and jealousy like a statement piece--subtle but unmistakable--joe’s possessiveness is quieter, more controlled. but don’t get me wrong, it’s there, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to show itself. he was always, and i mean always calm, cool, and collected. on and off the field.

like when some random guy gets a little too comfortable in her space, touching her arm when he laughs at something she said, or leaning in just a little too close. joe doesn’t make a scene, doesn’t immediately pull her away, but his hand finds the small of her back, fingers spreading wide across her skin. he does that to not only calm himself, but calm her in case she ever felt uncomfortable from any of the attention she received, and sometimes she did. sometimes the looks would linger a second longer than they were meant to, sometimes a touch felt more forceful than playful, and sometimes she could sense the unspoken intentions behind a seemingly harmless gesture.

and when joe noticed (which was always) his eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and anyone paying attention would know--he was warning them.

nobody is about to mess with his girl while he’s right there. nope. not happening. her comfort, safety, and happiness was his number 1 priority at any given time.

but he wouldn't always become possessive because he felt the need to protect her, there were some moments when she wore something that makes her look so good it physically hurt, and he believed that only he was meant to see her looking like this. he won’t tell her to change--he loves when she looks good, loves when she feels confident--but his hand stays on her, a silent reminder to everyone else that she’s his.

doesn't matter where, her hip, her thigh, her back, her arm...his hand is there.

and then there are moments when it’s just them--when the world fades away and all that’s left is heat and hunger and him. when he’s pressing her into the mattress, hands everywhere, touch burning and possessive. his breath is hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he murmurs, "mine. say it."

but it’s not just a request--it’s a demand.

his fingers tighten on her hips, holding her there, keeping her exactly where he wants her. his lips trace a slow path down her neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, making her whimper. he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to push her to the edge before he’s even inside her. she’s breathless, dizzy with need, but he won’t move until he hears it.

"joe--,".

his grip tightens. "baby, say it,".

his voice is rough, wrecked, on the edge of losing control. she arches into him, nails raking down his back, eyes hazy with desire as she gasps, "yours. i’m yours, i promise,".

and that’s all it takes.

—

so, yes--mr. possessive is very much alive and breathing. and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

he never took it too far, never made it feel intimidating or aggressive. he was protective over her, and she was extremely grateful for that (mostly because her exes could never come close to how joe was so...man. does that even make sense? like 6'4, muscles for days, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that shined brighter than the rarest jewels in the world. like he was so man. so knight-in-shining armor coded). you know those tweets asking if a celebrities ex could fight because their significant other looked so damn gorgeous and the fans want a piece of that? well, prior to joe, her exes, no matter which one, would easily be mauled by the heard of fans that rode for her. they didn’t stand a chance.

but joe? oh, joey b knew how to fight.

oh, and he knew how exactly lucky he was to have stolen her heart, and she loved knowing that he never took that for granted. he was honestly wrapped around her pretty little finger, but in the best, most precious way possible.

his possessiveness came solely from a place of love, because joe burrow was not keen on the idea of sharing the best thing that quite literally had ever happened to him, with the entire world.

for example:

mr. possessive™ at paris fashion week.

—

she looks stunning. like, jaw-droppingly, heart-stoppingly, paris-just-declared-her-a-national-treasure stunning.

joe knew she would, duh. he’s seen her in everything, and more importantly, in nothing, but there’s something about the way she carries herself tonight--graceful, confident, walking beside him like she belongs on the cover of vogue--that has him feeling some type of way.

or maybe it’s the way everyone is looking at her that's affecting him--because everyone is looking at her.

the event is a who’s who of the fashion world, and they’re here as guests, dressed to the nines, mingling with designers, models, and celebrities. but no matter where they go, no matter who they talk to, joe can feel eyes on her. the cameras flashed like crazy when they arrived, the crowd buzzing with excitement as they made their way inside. she’s a star in her own right, and joe loves that. loves that she’s not just known as his girlfriend--she’s her.

multi-platinum, award-winning singer-songwriter. the pop princess herself.

like, hell yeah. he's her boyfriend if anything.

but with that title and prestige, those looks and eyes came naturally. one guy in particular--some too-pretty-for-his-own-good european actor type--has been looking at her a little too long.

joe notices it when they first arrive. then again during cocktail hour. and now, as they make their way to their seats for the show, pretty boy is back, standing just a few feet away, sipping his champagne and watching.

joe clenches his jaw, his fingers flexing slightly where they rest against her lower back.

she hasn’t noticed yet, too busy talking with the designer of the show they’re about to watch, laughing softly at something she says. joe loves her laugh, loves that she’s having fun, but it’s hard to focus when this guy is still looking at her like she’s up for auction.

and then--get this--he actually makes his move.

what a stupid, stupid mistake.

the guy steps forward, a confident smile on his lips as he says something to her in french--because of course he does.

joe doesn’t even give her a chance to respond. before she can turn to acknowledge him, joe is there.

his arm loops around her waist, pulling her close against his side, his hand splaying possessively across her hipbone. the move is effortless, smooth, like it was always meant to happen, but it’s intentional as hell.

she tenses slightly, finally catching on, and oh, she loves this. she doesn’t get to see jealous, possessive joe be so bold like this, but when she does?

it’s hot.

the actor’s smirk doesn’t falter, so either he was oblivious as hell or he had a death wish. "i was just telling her she looked stunning tonight,".

joe lifts a brow, expression unreadable but voice smooth. "yeah? you and half of pairs,".

the guy chuckles, clearly unbothered by the comment. "can you blame us?".

joe doesn’t answer him, because he's still seething about his smooth, buttery, alluring french accent (even though it did bother joe a teeny bit because of how he remembered her saying she thought accents were cute).

instead, he tilts her chin up and kisses her.

not just a quick kiss--a statement.

it’s sluggish, deep, possessive. a conscious show of who she belongs to. his hands slid up and down her sides, his lips mashed closer to hers, the soft sighs started coming from her mouth. damn.

when he pulls away, the actor is just...gone.

and she? she’s breathless.

joe smirks, brushing his thumb over her lips before murmuring, "you’re mine, baby. and i don’t share,".

she hums, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. "mmm. you like when they want me, don’t you?".

he exhales sharply, because she’s not wrong. "i like reminding them they can’t have you,".