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bueckets · 20 days ago

Text

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Genre: romance (eventually), slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, smut (eventually), cat n mouse

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

WC: 11.2k

Authors Notes: i had first written this for jkxreader on my other blog (whoretan) however plot deviates heavily after the first encounter, um, kinda fuck girly paige, but kind of just a love drunk idiot too

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

Your eyes burned as you stared at the CAD model rotating on your screen, the internal combustion engine you'd been working on for the past—what was it now, eight hours?—still refusing to cooperate.

The familiar workspace of SOLIDWORKS had become both your best friend and worst enemy over the past three years at UConn, but tonight it felt particularly vindictive. You'd been trying to get the timing belt assembly to properly mate with the crankshaft for what felt like an eternity, and your deadline was creeping closer by the minute.

"Did you hear?" Riven's voice cut through your concentration as she burst through the door, her designer backpack hitting her bed with enough force to make your desk lamp wobble.

"Hear what?" You didn't bother turning around, instead zooming in on the problematic area of your model. The project was due in six hours, and you were nowhere near having it stress-tested. Sleep was starting to feel like a distant memory from another life.

Riven paused in her tracks—you could practically hear her jaw dropping in that dramatic way she'd perfected since freshman year. "Paige Bueckers was talking about how Q’s jump shot is worse than a middle schooler's."

The absurdity of the statement finally forced you to tear your eyes away from the screen. Your neck cracked in protest as you turned to face your roommate, who stood there with her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, waiting for your reaction. Three years of living together had taught you that Riven wouldn't let you focus until you properly acknowledged whatever piece of gossip she'd brought home.

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

Riven tilted her head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in that characteristic way of hers. Six seconds of contemplation later (you’d learned to count), she shrugged and pulled out her iPhone, probably to text the women's basketball group chat about the latest drama.

Your roommate, much like all the other Huskies superfans, didn't care whose reputation a particular player tarnished. She'd much rather get on their good side, damaged reputations or not. It was a dance you'd watched play out countless times since freshman year, when you'd first been assigned as roommates.

Back then, you'd thought the random housing assignment would be a disaster—the sports-obsessed sorority girl and the robotics team president seemed like a recipe for mutual hatred. But somehow, your differences had created a strange balance. She dragged you out of your engineering cave occasionally, and you reminded her that there was more to college than chasing after basketball stars.

"Caitlin bought Kate those new custom Nikes." Riven thrust her phone in your face, revealing a photo of Clark's teammate happily posing with pristine white sneakers. The caption read, 'Thanks for the gift bb, @CaitlinClark22'.

You squinted at the screen, trying not to think about how those shoes probably cost more than your entire semester's textbooks. The basketball elite weren't just known for their court skills—their NIL deals were equally legendary. Every starter came from successful programs, the kind that built training facilities and had courts named after their alumni.

"What a lucky bitch," Riven sighed, flopping onto her bed.

Apparently, your roommate wasn't the only one who didn't care for her reputation. Last week, she'd blown up your phone with about thirty—maybe sixty—texts about how her sorority sister had seen Caitlin making out with someone else at The Tavern. Looks like those custom Nikes must've been an apology.

You looked up at your starstruck roommate with pursed lips. Riven caught your expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she's being messy. So what? Those shoes are like two thousand dollars with the custom work, that's my fucking meal plan right there."

"Remind me again how you're a neurology student?"

Riven clutched her chest with an open hand, gasping dramatically. "Wow. I see how it is." She threw herself backward onto her bed with the theatrical flair of a soap opera star.

You couldn't help but grin, even as your eyes darted back to your computer screen. The smile quickly died on your lips.

Oh fuck.

The CAD model still sat there, mocking you with its incomplete state. You'd managed to complete maybe forty percent of the assembly, and the entire thing needed to be fully rigged and stress-analyzed by nine AM.

This was the cost of your procrastination, another dinner sacrificed to the gods of engineering deadlines. At least you had a good excuse this time: you'd spent the weekend helping the robotics team prepare for their upcoming competition. Being vice president meant putting in the extra hours, even if it meant cramming your actual coursework into impossible timeframes.

"I have to finish this tonight. Do not bother me with any more basketball drama." You spun your chair back to face your screen, not bothering to check if Riven was sticking her tongue out at you. You could picture it anyway, she had the maturity of a twelve-year-old sometimes.

Five and a half hours later, you finally pressed the glorious 'Submit' button on Blackboard. You turned off your PC with such violence that the desktop nearly toppled over.

"Never doing that again," you groaned, slumping into your chair and letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your neck felt like it had been replaced with concrete somewhere around hour six.

"You literally say that every time," Riven quipped from her side of the room.

If you had any energy left, you would've gotten up and punched her in the ass. Luckily for her, your eyes had started doing that thing where they drooped shut every few seconds without your permission. You'd decided about thirty minutes ago that your chair was an acceptable substitute for a bed. The walk to your actual mattress seemed about as feasible as climbing Mount Everest right now.

"How do I look? Good enough for the party?"

Fucking hell.

You summoned what little remained of your core strength and groaned as you forced your chair to swivel around. The sight that greeted you was, admittedly, impressive, even through your exhaustion-blurred vision.

Riven wore a black dress that hit just above her knees, with strategic cutouts along her ribs. The laced-up black heels she'd spent twenty minutes struggling with (while whining very fucking loudly) completed the look perfectly. She'd devoted the last hour of your project completion marathon to preparing for KK’s birthday celebration.

“Which party?” you croaked. “The one where everyone’s fighting or the one where they’re pretending nothing happened?”

Her nose wrinkled in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. "You're so annoying."

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

You watched as Riven stumbled toward her drawer, rummaging through three compartments before pulling out a neon orange tiny bag. And when you say tiny, you mean tiny, it couldn't have been more than two inches across.

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

A wicked smile spread across her face as she opened the toy purse, pulling out her student ID and a tube of lipstick. Of-fucking-course. “Minimalist chic, baby. Besides, I don’t need much. Just the essentials. I'm serious. Tonight's gonna be fucking legendary."

“Legendary,” you deadpanned, swiveling your chair back to your desk. “Try not to end up on Barstool again.”

You swore she lunged forward, ready to attack you with her miniature weapon. But her phone rang, which happened to be a far more pressing matter. The assault could wait. Riven pressed the phone to her ear with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

"Are you here? Yeah, I'm ready. You have the Pink Whitney? Okay. Bye."

She turned back to you with that same manic grin. "I'll get you back for that later. Bye!"

And just like that, Riven leaped out of the room, her neon orange bag and its singular tube of lipstick disappearing with her into whatever chaos awaited at the UConn house.

The sudden silence in her wake felt almost oppressive. You sat there for a moment, contemplating your life choices. The clean lines and precise measurements of your engineering models never gave you this much drama. Maybe that's why you preferred spending your nights with SOLIDWORKS instead of at parties—machines were predictable, logical, and they never started drama about anyone's jump shot.

After nearly crawling your way across the room for what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably closer to five), you finally made it to your bed. Or rather, to the base of your bed. The problem now was getting on top of it. UConn, in its infinite wisdom, had given everyone the tallest fucking beds in existence.

Tall enough that all of your belongings fit underneath it so they could make the rooms ten times smaller by doing so. You sat on your ass, glaring at what felt like a sixteen-foot space between you and the mattress. You could, theoretically, just fucking get up and with one last surge of energy jump onto it. But the soft cotton of your fuzzy rug was suddenly hugging your back, tucking you in, cradling you like a loving parent.

Fuck it, the floor isn't even that bad. You've slept on much worse—like that one time freshman year when you passed out in the robotics lab after a forty-eight-hour building session. At least your rug didn't smell like motor oil and desperation.

Your head lay flat on the floor, the hardwood never felt softer. Riven had left hours ago, and you'd managed to successfully knock out on your chair for a bit. That was until you jolted awake, sweating out of every crevice of your body, and made eye contact with your actual bed. You'd said goodbye to the chair and began the voyage to your proper sleeping place. Clearly, that wasn't going as planned.

It was too late now to dwell on what could've been. Tomorrow, you'd start anew. Just like every time she partied, Riven wouldn't be back for two or three days. You'd have a full day to sleep on your actual bed without the mention of UConn and internal combustion engines.

You turned to your side, the fuzz tickling your chin as you nuzzled into it. Sleep was just starting to creep in when—

"Taylor! Tay baby, please open the door!"

The hairs on your arms rose and a fart you hadn't realized you'd been holding in released into the air. Some drunk player had the wrong door.

“Wrong room,” you called, hoping they’d get the hint. With a shaky breath, you nuzzled deeper into the carpet.

Not a second later, a bang erupted through your room. "Tay, please. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Could you not have one night of peace? One night of tranquility to enjoy your own company? One night to enjoy sleeping on the hard floor?

"Taylor, for fuckssake." The asshole nearly knocked the fucking door off the hinges.

First, you're going to knock her the hell out. Then, you'll find out where Taylor lives and knock her out, too. Maybe you could work it into your next robotics project—a robot specifically designed to punch drunk athletes who can't read room numbers.

"Tay, please—"

You jolted upward and ran to the door so fast you probably broke several laws of physics. Swinging the wooden panel open like a madwoman, you yelled, "Listen asshole, I don't know who Taylor is and I don't give a damn. It's late as hell and some of us actually enjoy sleeping!"

Said asshole leaned against the door frame of your room, a Nike-covered foot tapping against the floor as she pressed a finger to your lips. "Shhhhh, baby, I said I'm sorry."

Your throat locked and you nearly laughed at the audacity. Did this fucker really not notice you weren't Taylor? Through your sleep-deprived haze, you managed to register a few details about the intruder: tall, athletic build that made your mouth go dry, honey-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and wearing what looked like exclusive UConn team gear. Great. A drunk basketball star.

Said basketball star happened to also push herself off the door frame and trudge past you, right into your room as if she'd been there a million times.

Much like you wanted to before your carpet trapped you, the stranger leaped onto your bed, stomach flopping onto the cushion of your mattress. She muttered something you couldn't hear as she grabbed your favorite pillow and brought it close to her chest. She was snuggling your Mr. Gummy.

You were going to go to jail for assaulting a Division I athlete. Yeah. This was the end of your girl boss engineering career. Goodbye feminist STEM icon. Hello convict. All those years of suffering to get into UConn just for you to catch a case over the Greek Goddess, Nike, herself. At least you'd submitted your project first, might as well get credit for that before you went to prison.

"Babe, I don't remember your bed smelling this good." She'd gone into a fetal position, kicking off her—yep, definitely team-exclusive Nikes. Maybe, just maybe, you'd knock her out and then sell her shoes on StockX. The proceeds could cover your legal defense.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your palm, wiping away the stress sweat that had accumulated. You swung your head out of your door, looking left and right, then repeat. Empty. Fuck. Fuck, and fuck.

You paced back and forth a few times, biting on the edge of your hand. You can't pick this goddess off your bed. One, she's drunk as hell. Two, she's... You gazed back at the stranger, somewhere on her journey to your bed she'd tossed her UConn warmup jacket to your floor. Leaving her in a fitted tank top that left nothing to the imagination.

Who needs that many shoulder muscles? The definition in the arm that hugged Mr. Gummy was sculpted by years of perfect jump shots. Each shift of her body revealed new curves, like a living Nike ad designed specifically to torment sleep-deprived engineering students.

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

Okay, so you can't drag the basketball star off your bed.

Plan B it is.

You trudged into your room, taking one last look at the hallway. Should you close the door?

If someone did hypothetically walk past would they think you drugged her? She was slurring her words and hugging your favorite bear while you paced back and forth like you happened to "accidentally" slip something into her Gatorade.

You closed the door.

You needed to call Riven. You could care less that she was at the beginning of her three-day rager, you weren't going to wait till the next morning when Nike would wake up and start accusing you of kidnapping UConn's star point guard.

You slowly walked toward your desk, making sure to avoid the panels on the floor that creaked every time someone stepped on them. Empty. You pushed your chair back to see if it happened to fall earlier. Empty.

The air stilled, and you shook your head. No. No. She was laying on it.

You'd chucked your phone onto your bed after deciding to finally start your project. You had to call Riven. There was no other choice but to tell someone. And given the fact that your contact list included your parents and Riven, she was looking like the most optimal candidate.

As silently as you could, you tip-toed toward your bed and did a quick examination. Near her head? Nope. Mr. Gummy? Nope. Legs? Nope. Hip?

Yeah.

Maybe you would go to jail after all, for assault.

You better get an A on that fucking project.

You took a step forward, awkwardly climbing the edge of your bed to get closer to your phone. Which was nicely tucked right under the curve of her ass, your camera barely peeking out as if it was taunting you.

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

Your face contorted as you inched closer to the basketball player, thumb and middle finger clutching the edges of your phone and lightly tugging backward. She huffed out a soft groan. Dear god.

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

Your eyes left the phone and gazed to the floor where your Mr. Gummy lay sacrificed to the floor demons. Uh oh.

You turned back to retrieve your bear when your eyes locked with hers. Her very open eyes.

She was smiling.

"Baby I didn't know you were so handsy."

You stared. That's all you could manage to do—stare at the face of the beautiful drunk idiot in front of you. And holy shit was she beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you question if UConn's recruitment standards included a mandatory photogenic quota for certain players.

The idiot had a playful smile playing across her stupidly perfect face. Taylor must be a lucky girl. Not lucky enough, though, considering her girlfriend was currently in a stranger's bed. How drunk did someone have to be to not recognize they had the wrong person?

"C'mere," she grabbed your arm, pulling you to your side as if you weighed nothing. A strong arm locked around your waist and began rubbing circles on your stomach. The motion sent shivers down your spine that you desperately tried to ignore.

"Missed you, n' I'm sorry baby," she slurred into your ear. Her voice was much softer now, a warm whisper that made your whole body tingle.

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

The words shot straight between your legs. You hadn't been touched in almost two years. Sue me. A gorgeous basketball star was rubbing your lower stomach while she told you—her girlfriend—she missed her. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You spend three years avoiding athlete drama, and now the universe deposits one directly into your bed?

You needed your phone. Pronto.

"Listen— I—" You raised a clammy hand to lift her, attempting to wrap your fingers around her wrist to lift it. Your engineering brain was trying to calculate the exact force required to remove her arm without waking her up further, but all mathematical ability seemed to have short-circuited.

"You're so squirmy tonight," she intertwined your fingers.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You inched your body further away in an attempt to shrug her off. A move that, in retrospect, was about as well-thought-out as trying to integrate calculus while drunk.

Nike thought otherwise. She pulled you closer until her front was pressed firmly against your back, her breath warm against your neck. You could feel the defined muscles of her stomach through her tank top, her body radiating heat that made your head spin.

FUCK.

You'll wake up with a gay panic and a warrant.

"I'm really tired," you squirmed against the death grip around your waist. For someone supposedly blackout drunk, she had the grip strength of someone who'd spent their life fighting through double teams.

Just pretend it's not there. You do not feel anything. Just toned arms and her—

"G'to bed baby. I'll make it up— make it up to you n' the morning." Nike lifted herself to place one last sleepy kiss against your cheek.

Two minutes later, Nike’s light snores vibrated against the back of your neck, warm breath caressing your skin. You wouldn't be able to move her off you. You had no clue where your phone was. Her hip could very well have fully consumed it at this point, creating some kind of phone-eating black hole that physics hadn't yet discovered.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, pretended there wasn't a Division I basketball star sleeping in your bed, and prayed that you wouldn't end up in some viral TikTok before noon. At least if you did become internet famous, you'd already submitted that goddamn CAD project.

Your last thought before drifting off was that Mr. Gummy better not tell anyone about this.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

Are you being robbed? Is someone being murdered? You jolted upwards to see Riven staring at you with an open mouth, her perfectly applied makeup from last night now resembling a raccoon's Halloween costume.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. What's her problem?

She pointed to your bed and you turned your body to the side. Oh.

Oh.

Nike was rapidly blinking, those unfairly long eyelashes fluttering as she was most likely realizing you were not Taylor. The morning light streaming through your window illuminated her features in a way that should be illegal before coffee.

You laughed nervously, hands flailing in front of you like a malfunctioning windmill. "It's not what it looks like."

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

Paige Bueckers? The same UConn Basketball Star Paige Bueckers? No fucking way.

This Paige had cuddled Mr. Gummy half of the night before opting to trap you in the bed with her. There was no chance that this was the same Paige Bueckers that had NIL deals with Nike and Gatorade and had laid waste to half the NCAA.

Paige—definitely Paige—groaned beside you, hands rubbing her face. "Taylor's going to kill me," she mumbled underneath her breath.

"No, we— we didn't. We." You pointed between yourself and Paige, your brain short-circuiting like a poorly wired circuit board.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sure it was the time of your life, but this was a one-time thing." Her voice had that practiced smoothness of someone who'd given this speech before, probably more times than the number of equations in your thermodynamics textbook.

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Was she serious? Did she think you two—? And she was okay with it? Now, this fits the description perfectly of the cocky superstar Paige Bueckers was known to be.

Your face burned hotter than an overclocked processor. "We did not have sex. You came in here drunk off your ass screaming about your girlfriend."

By the time the word girlfriend left your mouth, Paige Bueckers had already jumped off your bed with the agility of someone who definitely wasn't as hungover as she should be. She snatched up her UConn warmup jacket from your floor and was halfway down the hallway before you could blink.

What an arrogant little asshole. Your muscles quivered with the urge to strangle her. That is if you ever saw her again. Which, given your luck and UConn’s campus, was probably inevitable.

"How long have you and Paige been seeing each other?" The empty spot beside you filled with Riven's weight. "Is that why you never wanted to come to the games with me?"

"Riven, you have five seconds to get off of my bed before I strangle you."

"You can't avoid this conversation forever!" she called out as you stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to process the reality that you'd just spent the night cuddled up with Paige fucking Bueckers. The same player whose name had been carved into the unofficial NCAA hierarchy since before orientation.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the memory of how her arms had felt around you, how her breath had tickled your neck, how her—

No. Absolutely not. You were not going to join the ranks of college students who'd lost their minds over a basketball star. You had bigger things to worry about. Like whether your CAD project had uploaded properly. Or if you could ever look at Mr. Gummy the same way again.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, labs, and actively avoiding any location where you might run into Paige. You'd even skipped Tuesday's Engineering Club meeting, sending your vice president a detailed email about needing to catch up on work. It wasn't entirely a lie—you did have work to catch up on, considering you'd spent half your study time calculating alternate routes to class that avoided the usual athlete hangouts.

But by Thursday afternoon, your luck ran out. The library was supposed to be safe—the one place on campus where the basketball players rarely ventured. They had their own private study rooms in the athletic center, after all. Which is why you'd let your guard down, settling into your favorite spot near the engineering section to catch up on your reading.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by two girls settling at the table across from you, their whispered conversation carrying clearly in the quiet space.

"So yeah, I like totally made out with Paige in the team room. We almost knocked over Coach's whiteboard, isn't that hilarious?" The prettier of the two said as she placed her MacBook on the wooden table, her voice carrying that forced casualness of someone trying very hard to seem unbothered.

Her friend laughed and took a sip of her Starbucks, a lemonade, probably sugar-free, because of course it was. "So how was it?"

Paige's latest conquest giggled and opened her laptop, trying to seem as uninterested in the conversation as possible. You'd seen this play before, the carefully crafted nonchalance that masked the inevitable disappointment when Paige moved on to her next target. You'd bet your entire scholarship that she'd gone home crying after being ghosted, only to watch Paige pretend she didn't exist the next day.

By this point, you'd given up all pretense of studying chemical processes and electron movement. You'd reread the same paragraph in your textbook sixteen times, your brain more interested in this glimpse into the life of your unexpected bedmate. So what if you're being nosy? Everyone is nosy, and besides, you'd mentally checked out the moment these two sat down.

"She's such a good kisser.” Her friend's mouth dropped open as she placed her half-empty cup onto the table, grabbing her friend's shoulder with one hand. The former nodded, still giggling, "Sarah, I know. She like totally picked me up against the whiteboard."

Are they not aware that people can hear them? That they're in a public space? You glanced around the library, which was half-empty as usual. So maybe you were the only one eavesdropping. Still, you wouldn't go around a library of all places announcing your hookups to the world.

"Hey buttercup," an eerily familiar voice purred in your ear.

You jolted, arms flailing like a malfunctioning robot, inevitably colliding with your pencil case and sending its contents scattering across the floor. Various writing implements rolled under nearby tables like they were making a break for freedom.

You turned to lock eyes with a very, very familiar pair of hazel eyes. Shit.

"Do I know you?" You asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how good she looked in her fitted Nike training gear. The amount of exclusive team merchandise on her body probably equaled your entire semester's expenses.

Why would Paige, of all people, be looking for you? If you remembered correctly, she was the one to so diligently inform you that whatever happened was a one-time thing—even though nothing had actually happened.

Paige's eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips tugged upward into that infamous smirk. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the edge of the table, the other on the back of your chair, effectively caging you in. "Don't play dumb."

She was in your bubble. Way too close for comfort, especially since you'd been planning on never having to interact with her again. You groaned and leaned backward, roughly pushing your chair back to give yourself space to lean over and pick up your scattered pens. The move was partly practical and partly designed to annoy her.

"Listen, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here either." Paige grabbed the chair to your left and pushed it closer to you, dropping into it with that natural athlete's grace. "I've been to your room every day since Sunday and you haven't been there once."

Welp. Why the hell would she be looking for you?

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to be waiting in my room for you." You shoved the pens back into your pencil case, gripping the zipper and tugging it closed with perhaps more force than necessary. Looks like the library was no longer a safe haven.

"I lost my phone and you're the only person I remember being with that night," Paige groaned, turning her head.

Does she truly remember that night? Remember that you two didn't actually hook up but instead cuddled? You wanted to convulse at the memory of how safe and warm you'd felt in her arms. How right it had—no. Absolutely not.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled, her expression shifting from annoyed to something closer to panic.

Your eyes followed her gaze to see what had caused this reaction.

Ha. Ha. Ha. In your face, superstar. You couldn't help but grin as you realized the two girls were still very much present. Not only present but staring at you and Paige with expressions that suggested their jaws might actually detach and hit the table.

Paige leaned back in her chair, sending them a small wave and a—was that a wink? Your eyes nearly rolled directly out of their sockets. How much more predictable could she get?

You didn't bother to look back at the two girls to see their reaction. You could guess it anyway—probably swooning in their chairs, maybe even planning their own strategic "accidental" encounters with her. You wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning to show up at her next practice session.

"Anyways," Paige turned back to you, her voice dropping to that low register that definitely didn't do things to your insides, "Have you seen it?"

You shook your head, closing your textbook. Time to get the hell out of here. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"Are you mad about what I said? Is that why you're holding my precious phone hostage?" Paige's hand shot out to land on top of your textbook, preventing you from shoving it in your bag—or directly at her stupid, perfect face.

"Mad about what exactly?" You grabbed her hand and tried to shove it off the textbook. She didn't budge. Of course she didn't, you'd seen her arms during all those ESPN highlights Riven forced you to watch. "I do not have your phone."

Within seconds, Paige's hand slid off the textbook only to trap your hand against it instead. She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward until her lips were at the shell of your ear. Her warm breath hit your skin and you had to resist the urge to squirm. "About what I said in front of your roommate, sweetie."

Your blood ran cold. Does she think you give two shits about what she said in front of Riven? That she made your roommate think you two were secretly hooking up and that she would undoubtedly eventually let it slip to her sorority sisters? Who will tell the rest of campus? No. Not. At. All.

Asshole. She's a no-good little asshole with too many NIL deals and too little accountability.

You turned your head to face her, ignoring the fact that you were now inches apart. If you weren't so pissed you might've paused to appreciate how her eyes looked up close, how they seemed to hold more mischief than all the troublemakers in Cambridge combined. But now wasn't the time for character studies.

You held her gaze, noting the slight knit in her brow that suggested she wasn't as confident as she was pretending to be. "Listen here Bueckers, whether or not you want to keep pretending like we hooked up or not is none of my business. I do not have your fucking phone, and if I did I would've thrown that shit into the Charles River by now."

You yanked your hand away from her grasp and turned back to your desk. You managed to successfully toss your textbook into your bag and rise from your chair without another word from her.

Before making your very dramatic exit, you turned to face her one last time. Might as well make it grand.

Paige hadn't moved an inch since you'd stood up. She stared at you with a raised brow and that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. She found this amusing? Found humiliating you in the library a good pastime?

You bent over your chair, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning in until you were at the shell of her ear. She stiffened under your touch, and you felt a small thrill of satisfaction. What the fuck are you doing?

You leaned in further, so close that your chest pressed flat against your arm and her body. So close that your lips actually grazed her ear as you whispered, with all the venom you could muster, “This might work on your little groupies, but, I’m not interested.”

The last thing you saw as you straightened up and walked away was the shocked expression on her face, like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Good. Let her be confused for once.

You managed to make it all the way to the library exit before your hands started shaking. What the hell had gotten into you? You'd just essentially declared war on one of the most prominent athletes at UConn. The star player who could probably get you banned from every sports event without blinking.

But as you pushed through the heavy doors into the crisp fall air, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Maybe it was time someone stood up to the mighty Paige Bueckers. Someone who didn't want anything from her except for her to leave them alone.

Your muscles were still tense from your library encounter as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm room. The familiar hallway felt longer than usual, probably because every step reminded you of how spectacularly you'd just antagonized UConn's star player. At least you'd managed to get through your thermodynamics lab without dwelling too much on the way Paige's face had dropped when you'd—

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

You fumbled with your key card, missing the reader twice before finally getting the door open. The first thing you noticed was an envelope on the floor, likely slipped under your door while you were in class. You bent down to pick it up, ready to toss it in the recycling with all the other campus spam, when Riven's voice cut through the room.

"What's that?"

You jumped, nearly dropping the envelope. Your roommate was sprawled across her bed, still in her scrubs from her hospital rotation. She must have gotten back early.

"Nothing," you muttered, but it was too late. Riven had already launched herself off her bed with surprising agility for someone who'd just finished a twelve-hour shift.

"Oh my god," she squealed, snatching the envelope from your hands before you could protest. "These are courtside tickets to Saturday's game!"

Your stomach dropped. Sure enough, two tickets peeked out of the torn envelope in Riven's hands. But what caught your eye was the note attached.

Found my phone in the team room. Who would’ve thought, right? Peace? - PB

"We're going," Riven declared, already pulling out her phone. "I'm texting the group chat right now. Do you know how impossible these tickets are to get?"

You reached for the tickets, but Riven danced away, holding them above her head like a prized trophy. "We are not going."

"Oh yes we are," she grinned, typing furiously with one hand while keeping the tickets out of your reach with the other. "Everyone's going to be so jealous. How did you even get these?"

"I didn't—" you started, then stopped. How exactly do you explain to your basketball-obsessed roommate that these tickets were some kind of weird peace offering from Paige Bueckers? A peace offering that felt more like a challenge, especially given that note.

"Earth to engineering nerd," Riven waved her hand in front of your face. "You're coming to this game. No excuses. I've already told everyone you're finally embracing the Husky spirit."

You groaned, falling face-first onto your bed. Mr. Gummy stared at you judgmentally from his spot against your pillow. Even he seemed to be saying you should have thrown those tickets away the moment you saw them.

"I have to study," you mumbled into your comforter.

"You always have to study," Riven countered. "But how often do you get courtside tickets from Paige Bueckers?"

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

"PB?" Riven held up the note, smirking. "Please. I may be pre-med, but I'm not stupid. Also, her signature is literally on every piece of UConn merch in the campus store."

Great. Just great. Now you had no choice but to go to the game. If you didn't, Riven would never let you hear the end of it. She'd probably drag you there anyway, study plans be damned.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape route from this situation. Instead, all you could think about was how you'd have to sit courtside—courtside—and watch Paige play. Watch her make those impossible passes, sink those perfect three-pointers, command the court like she was born to do it.

And she'd know you were there. That was the worst part. This wasn't just a peace offering—it was a power play. She was making sure you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting the word as it left your mouth. "But I'm bringing my thermodynamics textbook."

Riven's squeal of delight was probably heard all the way in the engineering building.

You grabbed Mr. Gummy and hugged him to your chest, wondering how exactly you'd gone from successfully telling Paige Bueckers to fuck off to having courtside seats to watch her play. The bear offered no answers, but you could have sworn he looked a little smug about the whole situation.

The next two days were a special kind of torture. Riven had taken it upon herself to become your personal "game day preparation coordinator," which apparently meant forcing you to sit through endless highlight reels of UConn's recent victories. By Friday afternoon, you could probably recite Paige's stat line from memory—not that you'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You can't wear that," Riven declared as you pulled out your standard comfort outfit: UConn Engineering hoodie and black leggings.

You glanced down at your clothes, then back at your roommate. "Why not?"

"Because we're sitting courtside," she emphasized the word like you were a particularly slow child. "People are going to see us. The cameras might even pan to us during timeouts!"

The mere thought made your stomach churn. "That's exactly why I should wear this. I don't want to draw any attention."

Riven was already shaking her head, diving into her closet with the determination of someone on a mission. "No way. If Paige Bueckers gives you courtside tickets, you dress for the occasion."

"She didn't give them to me," you protested, even though technically she had. "They were just left under our door."

"Right," Riven emerged with an armful of clothes. "Just like she just happened to end up in your bed that night?"

You threw Mr. Gummy at her head. She dodged, laughing as the bear bounced harmlessly off your desk lamp. "We are not talking about that again."

An hour and approximately seventeen outfit changes later, you finally escaped. Your excuse about needing to pick up materials from the engineering lab wasn't entirely a lie—you did have a project due next week. The fact that the engineering building was on the opposite side of campus from the athletic facilities was just a bonus.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the person exiting the coffee shop until it was too late. Hot liquid splashed across your chest as you collided with what felt like a brick wall of muscle.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" A voice that definitely wasn't Paige's (thank god) exclaimed.

You looked up—and up—into the concerned face of one of UConn's basketball players. The Croatian accent and defensive intensity were legendary enough that even you, perpetually sports-oblivious, recognized her from Riven's endless team discussions.

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it? ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats.

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

930 notes · View notes

goldfades · 8 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄? ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "Omg a fic where Paige and reader have always had this sort of sarcastic bickering borderline mean type of relationship/rivalry but one day the tension suddenly just goes from competitive to sexual and thennnnm ykkkk"

─ word count | 3.7k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! whoo, where do i begin???? paige/reader being a fucking ASSES (like super mean) and lots of insecurity, cc mention and comparison (pls don't come 4 me it's for the plot!!!!!! i didnt mean it!!!!), lots of arguing and fighting, mean!paige (like.... im talking MEAN), fingering (r receiving), so much dirty talk, idk if i missed anything lmk

─ ev's notes | the chokehold the pic in the middle has on me IS INSANE, also finishing a smut at 11 am should be a crime 😭 (but i’m feeding yall so be grateful)

THE GAME COULDN'T have gone worse.

The opposing team seemed to effortlessly dominate every aspect of the game. Shots that normally found their mark clanked off the rim, passes were intercepted with unnerving frequency, and the defense resembled more of a sieve than a fortress. Your entire team was quiet in the locker-room and Geno had told them that they needed the night to regroup, and they'll talk about it when they got home.

You made your way upstairs with Azzi and Aubrey, both trying their best to make you feel better. You played like shit, plain and simple and despite what your teammates were telling you, it was true.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of letting your team down. In the game, you were a shadow of your usual self. Your shots seemed to lack both the usual power and precision. Your attempts to drive to the basket were easily thrown by their defense, leaving you frustrated and angry.

Even your usually reliable defense broke under the pressure. You found yourself out of position more often than not, leaving gaping holes for the opposing team to exploit. Your reactions were slow, your movements sluggish, as if your body refused to respond to the commands of your mind.

"Hey," Azzi grabbed your arm so that you could meet her gaze. "We win and lose as a team, alright? This isn't all on you, we all played like shit tonight."

"But we always come back, Y/N." Aubrey added as you met her gaze as well. Their words would've made you feel better if this wasn't the worst you'd played all season, maybe even your entire college career.

You didn't bother to respond, you stayed quiet as you walked in your Azzi's hotel room and in there was Nika and Paige. They were seated on the bed, Nika looking more defeated than Paige, she looked more pissed than anything.

Paige didn't even acknowledge you as you walked in as she greeted Azzi and Aubrey, but you didn't even care right now. You were not in the mood for her shit, not after the game you just played tonight.

You sank into a chair in the corner of the room, the weight of the defeat pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. Nika's defeated expression mirrored your own feelings, while Paige's indifference grated on your already frayed nerves.

You listened as Azzi and Aubrey exchanged small talk with Nika and Paige, their voices a distant murmur in the back of your mind. But you couldn't bring yourself to join in the conversation, couldn't muster the energy to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay.

Instead, you sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. The events of the game replayed in your mind like a nightmare, each mistake magnified in the harsh light of hindsight. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the game, to push it to the back of your mind and move on, but the sting of defeat lingered like a stubborn stain.

"You okay, babe?" Nika's voice rang out as you got pulled back into reality. All the girls attention was now on you, feeling a bit self-conscious.

You forced a weak smile, attempting to brush off Nika's concern. "Yeah, just... processing everything, you know?" Your voice sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

"What's going on?" Nika asked, the concern evident in her face. "Talk to us, please, Y/N."

Nika knew how hard you were on yourself, she had seen you weather victories and defeats alike, always striving for perfection. Her gentle prodding encouraged you to open up, even if it meant admitting your own vulnerabilities.

"I played like shit," was all you could get out as you leaned forward, feeling their gaze on you. "I don't know what was so different about tonight but I just felt like the weight of the entire team was on my back and I didn't know I was carrying it until the end, and I just crumbled to the pressure."

"We all have our moments, Y/N." Azzi spoke up, empathy evident in her expression. But before anyone else could respond, Paige scoffed as she met your gaze.

"Carried the team? We all did what we could tonight and we don't need your shit." Paige's voice dripped with contempt, her words like a slap in the face.

You felt a surge of anger rising within you, fueled by the frustration of the game and now mixed by Paige's bitter words. How dare she dismiss your struggles so callously?

"What's your fucking issue, Paige?" you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

Paige's eyes narrowed as she glared at you. "My issue? Maybe if you didn't choke every time the pressure was on, we wouldn't be in this mess," she shot back, her words cutting like a knife. "You're always making excuses for yourself, Y/N."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair to glare at her. "I'm not making excuses, I'm acknowledging reality. We all had a bad game, Paige. It's not like you were lighting it up out there either."

"I did better than you, that's for fucking sure." Paige's voice came out bitter as you felt yourself let out a quiet scoff. You couldn't fight with her anymore, you were exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Guys, stop it." Azzi's voice cut through the tension like a knife but neither of you acknowledged her, you both just kept glaring at each other.

"You're a bitch, Paige. You're just jealous because at the end of the day, you're just a burnt out star who can't handle not being in the spotlight anymore. Sorry that Caitlin's out there doing better than you, and that you feel the need to be a fucking ass all the time," you retorted, your words dripping with venom.

The frustration of the game, mixed with years of simmering animosity, boiled over into this heated argument that neither of you seemed willing to back down from. You didn't know why you brought up Caitlin, but all you knew was that you'd definitely get a reaction.

Paige's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she glared up at you. "The fuck you have to bring Caitlin into this? At least I was a star, you'll never make into the WNBA with that attitude, I promise you that. You're just a selfish brat who can't handle criticism-"

"Hey!" Nika's shout rang out as she glanced in between the two of you. "One more word from either of you and I'm telling Geno, you guys are teammates and you need to act like it."

You glanced at Nika, seeing the disappointment etched on her face, and then back at Paige. Despite the rivalry between you, you knew that Nika was right ─ however, you weren't quite ready to admit that.

You scoffed as you exhaled, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You didn't acknowledge any of them as you left the hotel room, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears. You were embarrassed, Paige had always been hard on you for seemingly no good reason but it's never gotten this bad.

You two had always been good sports, even when the other played like shit. She never brought anything up that would actually hurt your feelings, unlike tonight. You didn't know why, you tried to think back at what could've changed tonight but came up with nothing that made sense. You just hoped it wouldn't affect the way you played with her, you didn't want it to effect the team more than it has.

You walked into your hotel room, locking the door behind you as you walked into the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to drown out the rest of the world.

──

"Who is it?" You asked as you heard the knocking on the door. It was nearing two in the morning and you had just stepped out of the much-needed shower, clad only in your robe.

"It's me," Paige's voice was quiet as she spoke, your whole body tensing up just at the sound. You sighed deeply as you walked up to the door, opening it to reveal a slightly disheveled Paige.

She looked really, really good; she had her hair up in a loose bun, her gray sweats were slightly rolling off her hips and her shirt fit her just perfectly. Goddamnit, Y/N ─ focus. You tried to hide the tug of attraction you felt towards Paige, pushing the distracting thoughts aside as you met her gaze.

"What do you want?" you asked, your tone guarded as you leaned against the doorframe.

"Let me come in," Paige's statement didn't come off as a question, more like a demand. You sighed and leaned backward so that she could enter.

Before you could say anything, Paige started talking. "I don't appreciate you comparing me to Caitlin, especially after the season I had."

You scoffed in disbelief as you closed the door. "You came in here just to say that?"

Paige turned so she could send you a glare. "I came in originally cause I was gonna apologize. But then I remembered the whole Caitlin thing-"

"What's up with you and Caitlin?" Your words came out with the same intensity as hers did. "I don't know why you took that comment to heart because you started this whole damn thing."

Paige's expression hardened, a defensive edge creeping into her demeanor. "What do you mean by that?" she snapped, her tone sharp with irritation. "I had the most terrible season, and everyone has been comparing me to her-"

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the tension between you and Paige reaching a boiling point. "And what about everything I've been through this season?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger. "You think this season has been a cakewalk for me? You think I don't know what it's like to struggle?"

Paige's jaw clenched, her gaze hardening as she met yours head-on. "This isn't about that," she retorted, her voice low and tense. "This is about you and Caitlin suddenly being all buddy-buddy after the Iowa game. The comments under your posts, the calling and the texting. It's obsessive and annoying, I don't like it and I don't want you hanging around her anymore."

You paused for a second, trying to process her words. Paige's accusation caught you off guard, the weight of her words sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. Was she jealous? You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Paige's eyebrows furrowed.

"The fuck you laughing for? You think this is funny?" Paige's eyebrows furrowed even further, her frustration palpable as she waited for your response.

"Aww, are you jealous?" Your words came out amused as Paige kept glaring at you. "I'm not replacing you or the team, she has a boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," Paige's glare intensified, her jaw tightening with frustration at your teasing remark. "Don't flatter yourself, Y/N. I couldn't care less about your little fling with Caitlin."

"Then what's your problem?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to push her buttons further. "If it's not jealousy, then why are you so worked up about it?"

Paige's nostrils flared slightly as she averted her gaze for a moment, before looking back up at you. "Cause it's no damn comparison. At the end of the day, you're on my team and you're mine," she paused as she shook her head. "My friend," she quickly clarified.

You blinked in surprise at Paige's sudden intensity, the weight of her words sinking in like a heavy anchor. The possessiveness in her tone left you feeling flustered, unsure of how to respond.

"Paige..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. But before you could even process anything, her lips were on yours and your back was pushed up against the wall.

Instinctively, your arms found their way around her shoulders, pulling her closer as you responded to her kiss with equal fervor. The heat of the moment consumed you, erasing any doubts or reservations as you lost yourself in the sensation of her lips on yours.

Her lips on yours sent a shiver down your spine, electrifying every nerve in your body as you surrendered to the passion that consumed you. All thoughts of the past were forgotten as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating enticement of Paige's lips.

Her hands slide up your body and hold your neck as you let out a soft whimper, causing your head to fall back against the wall. Paige's lips began leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, as her hands explore your body.

This couldn't be happening, you kept thinking to yourself. After playing on the same team as Paige for almost three years now, it felt like this was a fever dream ─ but you didn't mind it, not at all.

Her lips found yours again, kissing you roughly as your hands gripped her head. With ease, she lifted you up into her arms, your weight feeling insignificant against her strength. She kept her lips on yours as she carried you toward the bed, dropping you swiftly as your hands found her face.

Paige's hands had easy access to your body due the robe, that she quickly slid off as her lips stayed on yours. She pulled away for a second, breathless, as she took in your body with admiration in her gaze. You felt self-conscious for a moment, but you had no time to dwell on it as Paige pulled you down on the bed.

"You're fucking gorgeous," she mumbled as she pressed kisses all over your neck. "I hate how gorgeous you are."

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as Paige's words and actions washed over you. Part of you wanted to resist, to question the sudden intensity of this moment, but another part of you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you and Paige.

But as her lips trailed along your neck, you found yourself unable to resist the pull any longer. With each kiss, each touch, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the utter need that surged through your body.

"I hate how you make me feel," Paige whispered against your skin, her voice husky with desire. "Every time I'm near you, it's like I lose control. Like I can't think straight."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each moment. You reached up to cup her face, guiding her lips back to yours in a desperate kiss, hungry for the taste of her against your skin.

You reached out to her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pulled her closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew you together. "I hate how much I want you," Paige groaned, her voice tinged with frustration as she pressed her lips against your neck with force, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

"I hate how much I need you," Paige spoke as she gazed into your eyes, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you closer. "But I'm not gonna fight it anymore. I'm done pretending like I don't want you, okay?"

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at her confession swirling in the pit of your stomach. In that moment, all you could think about was Paige completely, letting her consume you with her passion and desire.

"I want you, too, P." You finally let out, your voice quivering as she began to caress your thigh.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head at your words. "I know, I know you do."

She pushed her lips into yours again, a needy moan escaping your lips as she pushed you onto the bed. She straddled your hips as she kissed all over your neck, feeling yourself pulsate beneath her. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your mind was complete mush as she kept kissing all over your neck and jaw.

Paige mouth traveled down toward your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys all over it. Your hands found her blonde hair, tugging as she teased you. Her blue eyes were completely focused on you, every reaction and every sound that you made, fueling her desire even further. With each kiss, each touch, she seemed determined to leave her mark on you, to brand you as hers in every way possible.

And you welcomed it, craving the intensity like a starving soul. With each tug of your fingers in her hair, Paige responded with a groan of satisfaction, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across your skin.

She pried open your legs slowly, her gaze still lingering as your breath hitched. "Fuck," she mumbled as her eyes flickered toward your soaking cunt ─ she was at a loss for words.

Paige fingers teased your entrance, pulling needy whimpers from your bruised lips. "You're so wet for me, baby," she finally plunged a finger into you, causing a borderline pornographic moan to leave your mouth.

Every sensation was heightened, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as she thrusted her finger in and out of you. She wasn't gentle by any means, you could practically feel the anger radiating from her body as she watched you.

You leaned further into the bed, covering your face with your arms as a string of moans left your mouth. Almost immediately, Paige gripped your arm and pulled it off of your face. "I want you to look at me while I fuck you, alright?"

You couldn't reply with any words, you weren't even sure you were conscious at this point ─ the exhaustion from the game, the anger from the earlier argument and now the utter pleasure of you were feeling was fogging up your brain, you couldn't even think straight anymore; all you could do was sit there and take it.

You tried your best to keep your eyes on her, but you felt yourself slipping as you arch your back. She added another finger, causing a new sensation jolting down your body ─ you hadn't even orgasmed yet and you feel beyond overstimulated.

"Does Caitlin do this better than me, huh?" She mumbled as she leaned forward to press a sloppy kiss to yours lips. "Fucking answer me," she groaned as she pulled away.

You shook your head fervently, the only words you were really understanding were "Caitlin" and "better". Her movements became faster and deeper with your answer, causing another loud moan to slip out of your lips.

"Fuck, please," you cried out as you leaned back into the bed. Paige quickly pulled you down by your hips, making sure to pin you down as she continued to finger-fuck you. "Please,"

"So polite, baby. Fucking three years, it took me three years to realize that they only thing you needed was a good fuck for you to be nice, huh?" She spoke harshly as she felt you tighten around her fingers, your face contorting into utter pleasure as you shut your eyes. "Now I know whenever I need you to shut up, all I need to do is fuck you, right baby?"

Her words all blurred in your mind as she began rubbing your clit, and you were cumming all over her fingers ─ the knot snapped hard, you were crying out so loudly, Paige was worried the neighbor's were gonna call the office.

She helped you ride your high as you caught your breath, before she pulled out her sticky fingers from your cunt. Before you could even process it, she stuffed them inside your mouth roughly as her blue eyes analyzed you.

You sucked them clean as you finally came back down to Earth, finally (kinda) being able to think straight. You were breathless, your legs were shaky and you were sweaty all over again. You finally opened your eyes to meet Paige's eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest at the look of utter admiration on her usually disinterested face (at least, when it came to you).

Before either of you could revel in the moment any longer, Paige's phone began to buzz in her sweatpants. She sighed loudly before picking it up, "What's up?"

You could recognize Nika's voice as she spoke but you couldn't quite understand what she was saying. However, when Paige's expression turned cocky as she took another look at you, you had a couple ideas on what it could be about.

"Yep, we made up. We're fine now, don't worry. Yeah, we're good, y'all can head to bed," she nodded along with whatever Nika was saying, a cocky ass smirk on her lips.

"You wanna talk to her? You sure?" Paige took a look at your disheveled appearance, laughing as your eyes went wide. Before you could protest, she handed you the phone. "Here you go,"

"Hey, babe," she spoke softly through the phone. "I made P go and apologize, I hate seeing you fight like this and-"

Her voice slowly became background noise as Paige leaned back into the bed, pulling you into her chest. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you relaxed into her embrace.

"-And I just love you guys, okay? Y/N, you still there?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'm just sleepy, we love you too, Nika," you got out as Paige smirked at you.

"Okay, okay," Nika replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Get some rest, okay?"

You said your goodbyes before handing the phone back to Paige, who ended the call with a satisfied grin. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Paige, only she would fuck your brains out then make you answer the phone.

You laid on her chest quietly as she pulled the blanket over your body, pulling you even closer. You guys sat in silence, both of you knew there was a lot of debrief ─ however, both of you were too tired to bring it up.

"I'm sorry for bringing up Caitlin, that was a bitch move," you began as you closed your eyes, getting comfortable beside Paige.

Paige's hand gently traced patterns on your back as she sighed softly. "No, I'm sorry too," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity. "For being a bitch, and saying all that stuff about you not making it into the WNBA,"

"I know you didn't mean it," you mumbled as you felt yourself drift off into sleep. Paige leaned over slightly to turn off the lights, and you both slowly drifted off the sleep.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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lupinqs · 4 days ago

Text

SANTA BABY ━━ wnba!paige bueckers x reader

𝜗𝜚 ━ summary: during your christmas trip to NYC, you have a surprise waiting for paige back at the hotel.

𝜗𝜚 ━ word count: 4.9K

𝜗𝜚 ━ warnings: sexual content (munch p, scissoring)

𝜗𝜚 ━ links: my masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ━ author’s note: my christmas eve gift to y’all …. it was almost taken away tho because of that usc game ask the gc man i was crashing out

THE CITY is buzzing even at this hour, cold wind cutting through the streets as Paige makes her way back to the hotel. She tugs her coat tighter around herself, her hands jammed into her pockets to ward off the sting of the December chill. New York City is magical this time of year, but it’s also freezing, and she can’t wait to get back to the suite, where it’s warm—and more importantly, where you are.

This trip has been a mix of business and pleasure. She had a couple of sponsorship obligations to knock out and a media appearance scheduled for tomorrow, but mostly, it’s just an excuse to spend a few uninterrupted days with you. Both of your schedules have been so hectic lately—hers with the grind of off-season and the stress of Unrivaled about to start, and yours with work—and carving out this time feels like a luxury. It’s the last weekend before Christmas, and since you’re both gonna be spending the holiday with your families together, this is your time to celebrate just the two of you.

Paige hurries into the hotel, rubbing her hands together as she steps into the elevator. She flexes her fingers, still stiff from gripping a basketball for hours during her workout with Stewie and Sabrina. She promised you that she wouldn’t let it run late, and, as she glances at her phone to see the time, she’s satisfied that she fulfilled it.

Her sneakers hit the polished floor with soft thuds as she unlocks the door to the suite. The space is lavish, the kind of indulgence she spent because one, it’s the holidays, and two, she wanted this weekend to be perfect for the two of you. The warmth of the suite embraces her immediately, the city’s chill feeling miles away here. She shrugs off her coat, tossing it over the couch, and kicks off her sneakers.

“Baby, I’m back!” she calls, her voice echoing faintly in the spacious suite. When she came in, she assumed that you’d be in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and whatever Netflix show you’ve been binge-watching. But the living room is empty, the TV off.

Her brows furrow as she looks around, scanning for signs of you. “You in the bedroom?” she calls out, though there’s still no answer. Her pulse picks up, not in worry, but in curiosity. She hums, wondering where you’re hiding.

The hallway feels quiet as she moves down it, pushing open the door to the bedroom. The sight that greets her makes her stop dead in her tracks, feet planted in the doorway.

The lights are dim, the warm glow casting a soft, golden hue across the room. A bottle of wine sits on the nightstand, one glass already poured and in your hand. But it’s you that holds her attention, that makes her brain short-circuit entirely.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a smirk that could stop traffic. And you’re wearing—Paige feels her throat go dry—this tiny, ridiculously sexy Christmas lingerie set. The red satin clings to you in all the right places, barely covering what it’s meant to, and the white fur trim is so playful, so sinful, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. The ribbon on the front of your bra is tied in a neat little bow, teasingly undone just enough to look like you’d barely bothered. The matching panties sit high on your hips, connected to sheer thigh-high stockings by the tiniest garters she’s ever seen.

She doesn’t even realize she’s standing completely still until you grin at her, your voice playful and sweet as you say, “Hi, baby.”

Paige blinks, her brain struggling to catch up as she stares at you. Her heart is pounding, adrenaline giving way to something much more visceral. The way you’re looking at her, the way the light catches the curve of your body—it’s like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again. She lets out a low, shaky breath, her hand running through her hair as her eyes continue to rove over your figure. Her stomach constricts, her whole body coiled so tight she’s not sure if she wants to drop to her knees or throw herself at you. Maybe both.

“Fuck, ma,” she finally manages, her voice low and husky as she steps forward. Her hands flex instinctively, wanting to touch you, needing to touch you. “You tryna kill me?”

You giggle, the sound light and sweet, but the glint in your eyes is anything but innocent. “No,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you take a slow sip from your wine glass. Your smirk widens, and Paige swears her knees almost buckle.

She exhales sharply, inching closer to the bed. “You look…” Her voice trails off, her gaze roaming over you like she’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. “Jesus, baby, you look insane.”

You’re still grinning as she reaches the edge of the bed, her hands resting on the mattress as she leans down slightly, bringing her face level with yours. Her pulse races, her body buzzing with anticipation as her eyes lock with yours. “You did this for me?” she asks softly, though she already knows the answer.

“Who else?” you ask, grinning, your voice a teasing lilt that makes Paige’s chest tighten. You set your wine glass down on the nightstand, your eyes never leaving hers.

Paige is already leaning forward, her hands sliding to your thighs, the warmth of your skin and the delicate fabric of your lingerie making her head spin. “You’re gon’ be the death of me,” she murmurs, shaking her head a little as her lips brush against yours lightly, hands tightening on your legs. And God, if this is how she goes, she’ll thank you for it.

Her lips finally lock onto yours, slow at first, like she’s savoring the moment. The kiss is soft, tender, but there’s an edge to it—like she’s holding herself back, barely. Her hands tighten on your thighs, sliding higher, the heat of your skin burning through the thin satin, and she swears she feels you shiver beneath her touch.

You kiss her back, your arms looping around her neck to pull her closer, and that’s all the invitation Paige needs. She shifts, climbing onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress as she presses herself against you. The warmth of your body sends a rush of heat through her, and she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours as she loses herself in the taste of you.

“You’re fuckin’ unreal,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning. Her lips leave yours only to trail down your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

Her hands roam as her mouth works. One slides up to cup the back of your neck, her thumb brushing over your jaw to tilt your head just the way she likes. The other settles firmly on your hip, her grip strong enough to keep you exactly where she wants you, though her fingers twitch like she’s desperate to touch you everywhere at once.

The scent of you—the faint lotion you always wear, mixed with the wine you’ve been drinking—fills her senses, and Paige feels drunk on it, drunk on you. Her lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, and when she hears the soft, breathy sound you make in response, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through her.

“Damn,” she mutters, her teeth grazing your skin lightly before she soothes the spot with her tongue.

Your hands tug at the hem of her long-sleeve shirt, and she sits back just enough to let you pull it over her head. You toss it somewhere behind her, leaving her in her sports bra. Her abs flex slightly in the cool air, but the way your eyes roam over her makes her feel anything but cold. She watches you, her chest heaving, her pupils blown wide as you reach out to touch her, your hands sliding over her shoulders and down her torso, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

And then she’s diving back in, her kisses lower now, lips finding the delicate line of your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses there like she’s starving for you—which, she is. Her tongue darts out to taste your skin, her teeth scraping against you enough to leave you shivering. She feels your fingers tangle in her hair, undoing her ponytail as you pull her closer. Her breath quickens slightly, chest heaving with just how much she wants you.

Her fingers find the ribbon on your bra, tugging at it gently as her lips brush over the swell of your cleavage. “This,” she mutters, her voice muffled against your skin, “is fucking killin’ me.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over the satin. “You tied it so pretty for me, huh? Knowing I’d lose my damn mind?”

You laugh softly, breathily, fingers tangling further in her hair. “Maybe.”

“Slut,” Paige mutters, grinning as she tugs the bow loose with one sharp pull, letting the fabric fall open, your perky tits popping out of it. Her breath catches as she sees you fully now, blue eyes darkening with something heavy, something primal.

“Goddamn, mama,” she breathes, her hands sliding along your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs. She leans down again, her lips brushing against the curve of your breast. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy, so perfect, baby. It ain’t even fair.”

And then her mouth closes around your nipple, her tongue swirling over the sensitive skin as she sucks gently, and the sound you make in response sends a jolt straight through her. She groans softly, her free hand sliding up to cup your other breast. She alternates between kisses and soft bites, her lips tugging gently at your nipple before soothing the spot with her tongue. Her breath is hot against your skin, and she presses closer, hips grinding against yours just a little as her mouth moves.

“Such perfect tits,” she murmurs against your cleavage, her teeth grazing you again as she switches to your other breast.

She licks a slow, careful path across your skin, savoring every inch of you as she begins to lower once more. Her mouth leaves a wet trail down your stomach, her tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the faint salt on your skin. Her hands slide down from your chest, settling on your waist. She grips the skin hard, pinching slightly. Her lips brush over the curve of your belly, then down to the soft plane just above your hips, like she’s mapping every part of you with her tongue.

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to lift her head and admire the way the red lace hugs your skin. The fabric is delicate, so inviting, it’s like it was made to drive her insane. The sheer material leaves almost nothing to her imagination, and the sight of it—of you and your perfect pussy—sends a rush of wetness to her own core.

She just shakes her head a little, as if in disbelief, before lowering again, her lips grazing the edge of the lace as her fingers grip your hips tighter. She can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body tenses slightly beneath her, the way you say her name, and it makes her head spin.

Her tongue flicks out, tracing the edge of the fabric, teasing. She presses a kiss just below your navel, then another, breath warm. “You got any idea what you’re doin’ to me, baby?” she asks slowly.

You don’t even get the opportunity to answer before her teeth catch the edge of your panties lightly, tugging just enough to make you gasp. And then she lets it snap back into place with a soft, playful grin. She glances up at you, eyes dark and blazing, blonde hair falling into her face as she leans closer again. The way you look back at her—pupils wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed—spurs her on.

Her lips hover just above the lace, and she kisses you there, slow and careful, her mouth pressing over the thin barrier like she can’t stand not to be closer. “So pretty,” she murmurs against you, her fingers brushing over the lace now, testing the material as her tongue flicks out once more, tasting you even through the fabric.

Her big hands slide from your waist to your thighs, spreading them just enough to give her room to work. Her teeth catch the edge of the waistband, tugging gently, and she groans low in her throat as the fabric gives way slightly under her pull.

“Fuck,” Paige mutters, and it’s muffled as she grips the lace between her teeth. She pauses just long enough for you to whimper, “Paige,” before she tugs again, this time pulling the panties down your hips with deliberate slowness.

She moves inch by inch, her teeth grading the lace lower, and she’s completely transfixed. The garters make her work for it, the straps pulling taut against the tension, but she doesn’t mind—if anything, it drives her wilder. Her lips slide along your skin as she works, kissing the sensitive spots where the panties leave a faint imprint.

As she reaches your thighs, Paige shifts, letting the fabric slide past her lips and catching it with her fingers instead. She tugs it the rest of the way down with her teeth again, dragging it along the curve of your legs, her mouth brushing your inner thighs as she goes.

When the panties finally slip off completely, Paige lets them drop from her teeth to the floor, her breath shallow as she grips your thighs, holding them apart. Her eyes rake over every inch of you—the way your face has gone bright pink in a flush, the way your tits peek from the opened lingerie top, the way your cunt is absolutely glistening for her.

She licks her lips slowly, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk as her gaze flicks back up to your face. “Shit, mama,” she says lowly. “Look at you. Fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Paige doesn’t waste any more time. She slides down on her elbows, lowering herself between your legs, her mouth attaching to your clit with an intensity that makes you cry out. She sucks and licks with fervor, her tongue working you over with a skill that leaves both of your lungs aching, Paige’s face buried so deep in your folds she has to fight for air. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and desperation that has you writhing beneath her, hips bucking.

“Babe… mmm, shit,” you whimper, voice trembling as you reach down to grasp at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort to hold on. You can barely keep your eyes open, pleasure so intense it’s nearly blinding. “Please, fuck, don’t stop.”

Paige has no intentions of stopping. She moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you in place firmly as she devours you like a woman starved. Her tongue moves expertly, flicking and swirling across your clit before laying it flat, shaking her head from side to side messily, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, ma, you taste so good,” Paige groans, pulling away just long enough to let a glob of her spit land on your cunt. She leans back in, lapping it up, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Could eat you out all night, baby…”

Your back arches off the bed at Paige’s words, causing the lingerie top to slide down your shoulders a little more. Your hips buck involuntarily as you chase the pleasure Paige gives you, one of your hands coming up to knead your own tit, mouth dropping open at the way Paige’s tongue slides along your wetness effortlessly. You’re desperate, every nerve ending in your body tingling with need. “Paige, baby, ‘M so close,” you choke out.

Paige only intensifies her efforts, her tongue flicking against your clit faster, her mouth working you over with an urgency that has you teetering on the edge. She’s relentless, giving you exactly what you need, pushing you closer and closer until you’re trembling, your thighs quivering around her head.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Paige pulls back slightly, her mouth leaving your clit. You let out a desperate whine at the loss, body screaming for more, but Paige is already moving. She slides two fingers inside you without warning, thrusting them in deep, hard, and fast. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, hands flying to Paige’s shoulders as you cling to her, body trembling with the force of Paige’s thrusts.

“Mmm, mama,” the blonde breathes out lowly as she pumps her fingers into your cunt with a brutal pace, the slick sound of her digits moving in and out echoing in the otherwise quiet hotel room. “So fucking tight, so wet for me. Shit, baby.”

She glances up, gaze on you as your head falls back against the pillows, your eyes squeezing shut as you let out a strangled moan, hips moving to meet Paige’s thrusts. She feels a rush of wetness flood her own boxers and picks up the pace even more, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you, a white-hot fire that consumes you from the inside you. “Paige, oh my God… holy shit…”

Paige leans in close, biting lightly at your inner thigh as she whispers, “Think you can take three, baby?”

She watches as your eyes fly open at the question, brows furrowing as you nod frantically. “Yes. Yeah, do it,” you force out breathlessly. “Please, P.”

Paige smirks at your reaction, but doesn’t need to be told twice. She pulls her fingers out briefly, adding a third finger before thrusting back inside, her movements deliberate and rough, stretching you out. Your hips buck up to meet Paige hand, chasing the pleasure. Paige scissors her fingers inside you, making you choke a little on your own whimper, nails digging into her skin, gripping the strap of her sports bra.

“Such a—God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” Paige groans, eyes locked onto your face, watching every single expression of pleasure that crosses your features. “Wearing that lingerie, knowing I’d lose my goddamn mind. Shit.”

Your entire body is one fire, senses overwhelmed by the combination of the relentless pace of Paige’s thrusts and the dirtiness that coats her words. You can feel every inch of Paige’s fingers inside you, can feel the way they stretch you, the way they hit that perfect spongy spot deep inside that makes you see stars. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum. God, I’m—” You cut yourself off with a loud moan.

Paige leans forward, her mouth finding your clit again, tongue swirling slick circles over the sensitive nub as she continues to thrust her long fingers in and out, faster and harder, pushing you to the brink. “Shit, ma, do it,” she urges roughly, humming against you as she laps at your pussy. “Cum for me. Cum all fucking over me, mama.”

That’s all you need to hear. With a strangled cry, your entire body tenses, back arching off the bed as you come hard, walls clenching around Paige’s fingers, gushing against her face. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Paige keeps thrusting her fingers, lapping at your wetness lazily, riding out your orgasm with you. She prolongs the pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, panting mess beneath her. When your body finally goes limp, Paige slowly withdraws her fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your trembling thighs.

And then she starts crawling back up your body, her lips trailing over the lingering marks she’d left along her descent. Your eyes meet, a shared intensity overtaking the laziness you were just feeling, Paige’s lips finding you’re once more in a searing, desperate kiss. It’s messy and heated, tongues tangling, hands grasping and pulling at each other. You can taste yourself on Paige’s lips and it only makes you kiss her harder.

You let Paige flip your positions with her strength, your thighs now straddling Paige’s waist. She groans a little against your mouth as her hands find your bare ass, fingers digging into the skin and kneading it, your bodies pressing together.

“Ma,” Paige breathes out when you pull away slightly, sliding her sports bra up and over her head. Her hands reach down for her sweatpants and you help her yank them—and her boxers beneath—down in one swift motion. Paige’s hips lift off the bed, and the two of you finally rid of the barrier. You toss the clothing aside without a second thought.

Paige’s lips curl into a smirk as her eyes lock with yours again, pulling you closer with her hands on your ass, bodies flush against each other. “C’mon,” she murmurs thickly.

Your breath hitches at the feel of Paige’s hands on your hips, guiding you to align your cunts together. The sensation is sinful, and you can’t suppress the moan that escapes your lips as you feel the heat and slickness of Paige’s wetness against your own.

“That’s it, mama,” the blonde encourages, sending a shiver down your spine. “Ride me, grind on me. Lemme feel you.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You start moving your hips in slow, careful circles, your slick pussy sliding against Paige’s with every movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and your head falls back as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure, hands gripping Paige’s shoulders for support.

Paige’s eyes are glued to you, tracking every move, every expression. She’s mesmerized by the way your face contorts with pleasure, your mouth falling open slightly as your hips move with increasing urgency. Paige’s hands tighten on your hips, helping to guide your movements, pushing you down harder against her own aching cunt.

“Shit,” Paige groans, blue eyes flitting between your flushed face, the way your tits bounce slightly with every thrust of your hips, and where your pussy grinds against hers. “You look so fuckin’ hot riding me like this.”

You whimper at Paige’s words, pace quickening as the heat between you builds to an almost unbearable level. The friction of your clits rubbing together is enough to make you lose control, unable to hold back the desperate sounds that escape your lips.

“You like that, baby?” Paige rasps, voice dripping with lust as she watches you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You like grinding that pretty pussy against me, yeah?”

Your only response is a choked moan, body trembling as you lean forward, hands sliding up to grip the headboard for support. The new angle allows you to press down even harder against Paige, and it sends shockwaves through both of your bodies.

Paige’s eyes roll back in her head at the increased pressure, her own hips bucking up to meet the roll of yours. She’s completely entranced by the sight of you riding her, chest heaving as she helps you, gripping your ass and pulling you quicker against her.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groans roughly.

You whimper at her words, body moving faster, more desperate, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. You’re both so close, bodies trembling with the effort to keep going, to chase the high that you both desperately need.

“Paige,” you gasp, breathless and needy. “I’m almost there.”

Paige’s grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as she urges you on. “That’s it,” she encourages, your folds so slick against hers. “Cum for me again. Need it right fuckin’ now.”

You cry out, your entire body tensing as you reach your peak, hips grinding down hard against Paige as you finish with a shuddering moan. The pleasure washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless as you ride out your orgasm.

Paige isn’t far behind, the sight of you coming undone above her enough to push her over the edge. Her own orgasm hits her hard, her hips jerking up as she lets out a low, guttural moan, her fingers digging into your ass and hips as she rides it out.

You collapse onto her, your body melting into hers, every muscle in you soft and spent. Her skin is warm beneath yours, slick with the same thin sheen of sweat that glistens on your back. Paige’s chest rises and falls erratically under your cheek, her breath heavy and labored, matching your own. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pounds faintly against your ear, grounding you.

Her arms come around you almost instinctively, wrapping you in a hold that’s firm yet gentle, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other lazily circling between your shoulder blades. Her fingers drag lightly over your skin, soothing and possessive at once, as though she’s trying to memorize every inch of you. She shifts slightly beneath you, her body fitting against yours with an intimacy that feels effortless, as though this is where you’re meant to be.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft, uneven breaths you’re both still trying to catch. Paige’s head tilts back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets the tension drain from her body, your weight on top of her a comfort she never realized she needed so much.

And then, with a low, raspy chuckle that vibrates through her chest, Paige breaks the silence. “Damn.”

The single word, said with so much raw awe and disbelief, makes you laugh. The sound is quiet, breathy, but it shakes through you, your shoulders trembling lightly against her. Paige feels the warmth of your laugh against her neck, and a lazy smile spreads across her face, her lips curving up in a way that makes her look soft, completely undone.

Her hand moves from your back, trailing slowly upward, the tips of her fingers grazing your spine before they find your jaw. She cradles it gently, guiding your face upward so your eyes meet hers. There’s something so special in the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that exists in her world right now. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and then she’s leaning in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and lingering, deep and unhurried.

She hums softly into it, the sound vibrating against your mouth, and when she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is low and rough. “Did so perfect for me,” she murmurs, her eyes scanning your face as if committing it to memory.

Your lips curve into a small, sleepy smile, and you let your head rest against her shoulder once more. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

Paige’s arms tighten around you in response, her fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your shoulder. She doesn’t say it back immediately, but the way she holds you—the way her lips press a gentle kiss to your temple—says it louder than words ever could.

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the moment settling around you like a warm, comforting blanket. Paige’s breathing steadies, her chest rising and falling beneath you in a rhythm that feels calming, almost hypnotic. When she finally moves, it’s only to reach for the nightstand, her fingers curling around the bottle of wine that’s been sitting there, untouched until now.

She pours herself a glass first, then grabs yours, her hand steady as she offers it. “Here,” she says softly, her voice still husky.

You take the glass from her with a small smile, your fingers brushing hers, and Paige feels that familiar spark, that electric current that always seems to buzz between you. She watches you as you take a sip, the way your lips curl around the rim of the glass, the way your eyes meet hers over the edge of it.

After a few minutes, Paige sets her empty glass aside and leans over the edge of the bed, her hand brushing against the discarded lingerie top. She picks it up, holding it up in the dim light, letting it dangle from her fingers as she turns back to you with a lazy grin. “This,” she says, her tone playful but still thick with awe, “was crazy.”

You smile at her, wide and teasing, your head tilting slightly as you reply, “You loved it.”

Paige laughs softly, shaking her head as she leans down to kiss you again, her lips lingering against yours as she murmurs, “Course I did.” Her voice is warm, sincere, and when she pulls back, the grin on her face is so full of love it makes your chest tighten.

The two of you settle back into the bed, the wine forgotten on the nightstand as Paige tucks you against her side, her arm draped over your waist. The city hums softly in the background, but all Paige can hear is the quiet sound of your breathing, the steady rhythm of your heart against hers. And in this moment, with you curled against her, Paige thinks there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #uconn #wbb #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #wcbb x reader #wnba #wlw #wlw smut #lgbtq #christmas fic

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saylorsuniverse · 12 days ago

Text

BAD AT LOVE --- paige bueckers

summary: you’re uconn’s golden girl, paige bueckers, next victim. but this time, things don’t go as planned – for either of you.

Warnings: pining (mainly paige) playgirl!paige, paige being cocky, reader is hard to get, also reader and paige are two years apart in age

author’s note: lmfao sorry this is so long, and a little all over the place, but yeah. i might write a part 2 of this.

word count: 4.8K

—

Paige Bueckers had it all: the talent, the fame, the spotlight, the money. And girls—so many girls.

Even before you arrived at UConn for your first semester, you’d already heard the stories from your older sister: how Paige would have her arms around one girl at her game, then kiss another at a party later that night. How she’d spread a few well-placed rumors about a boyfriend, only to swoop in as the comforting shoulder to cry on—and inevitably end up in bed with her. How she wielded charm and sweet talk like a weapon, effortlessly getting anyone she wanted.

Your sister’s warning was simple: you were her type—young, naïve, beautiful. But Paige Bueckers was toxic, and you were to stay far away from her at all costs.

It was easy to avoid her. Paige was a couple years older than you, so the odds of crossing paths in the classroom were slim to none. While you spent hours at the library, she was either at the basketball courts showing off or out partying with her teammates. And when you visited your sister at her off-campus house—which, coincidentally, she shared with one of Paige’s teammates—she always made sure to get you in and out as quickly as possible before she had the chance to even see the back of your head.

You’d never seen the blonde. Not in person. And you were certain you never would.

But bliss can make you careless. It can blindside you at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and with the wrong person.

It all started one afternoon before English class. You sat alone near the front, like always, your nose buried in a book, when Paige approached your desk—casual, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d ever spoken to you directly.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

The request wasn’t unusual. Different people sat next to you all the time—but only if they were fifteen minutes late. Paige, on the other hand, was five minutes early.

“Sure,” you replied coolly, your eyes flickering up to meet hers—striking, attractive, impossibly blue.

She flashed a brief, effortless smile, and that’s when you realized you were looking at her a second too long. Heat rose in your cheeks as you quickly returned to your book, pretending not to notice as she pulled out the chair and sat beside you.

“You’re KK’s roommate’s little sister, right?” Paige asked casually—too casually for your liking, as if she already knew the answer but wanted to hear you confirm it.

Your eyes shifted from your book to hers, locking onto those piercing blue ones. You blinked, caught off guard by how she knew that. “Yeah, I am.”

“I knew it,” she said, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Thought I was seeing double the last time I was at KK’s house.”

Your stomach twisted. The last time you were at your sister’s house, you stayed over the night, and apparently you both were unaware of the basketball star’s presence.

“You always this quiet when someone’s talking to you?” Paige laughed, her voice light, teasing. She waved a hand slightly in front of your face, snapping you out of your daze.

“No, sorry,” you muttered, quickly slipping your book into your bag just as the professor started class.

It wasn’t much—hardly even a conversation—but it was the first real interaction with Paige, and more than enough for her to continue these interactions.

After that, it was the little things: a nod of acknowledgement in the halls, a quick “hey” whenever you both happened to be at your sister’s house. Your sister wasn’t thrilled about it. She warned you not to fall into Paige’s so-called “trap,” and you assured her there was nothing to worry about. You weren’t going to fall for her. It was nothing, you told yourself. Nothing at all.

But deep down, you couldn’t deny it.

Paige was absolutely stunning—tall, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was captivating. And the truth was, you couldn’t help but notice the way her attention made you feel.

It wasn’t long before those brief interactions turned into something more—like you were actually friends. Paige started sitting next to you in junior-level English, sliding into the seat as if it were hers all along. She’d impatiently doodle on your notebook or pass notes to spark a conversation, her handwriting a mix of careless loops and sharp edges.

On the days she wasn’t in class, she’d wait outside afterward, leaning casually against the wall with that undeniably attractive smirk, ready to catch your eye as you walked out.

The day she started showing interest in you felt inevitable, though you wouldn’t have admitted it then.

You found her in her usual spot—leaning against the wall, one hand tucked in the pocket of her tracksuit, the other gripping her bag strap. And there it was: that little smile, just for you, as your eyes met.

“Game day?” you asked, glancing at her blue basketball tracksuit that somehow fit her too perfectly. She nodded, her gaze steady on yours, as if waiting for something you weren’t quite ready to give.

You had to admit it: Paige was magnetic. The more time you spent around her, the easier it was to see why everyone else fell so hard. She wasn’t just stunning—she was sharp, charming, and knew exactly how to hold your attention. The way she looked at you when you spoke, her eyes dipping from yours to your lips, was enough to make your pulse quicken.

“Well, good luck today, player,” you said, forcing yourself to break the spell. Her silence was too heavy, and her stare too dangerous. “I’ll see you around.”

Her smile faltered instantly. “Wait, you’re not coming?”

You hesitated, and Paige pounced on the crack in your resolve. She stepped closer, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face—so brief you wondered if you imagined it. “I was really hoping you’d be there,” she said, her voice softer now. “It would mean a lot to me.”

Her words landed harder than you expected, and it threw you off balance. This was her game, wasn’t it? The sweet talking, the subtle charm, the way she made you feel like the center of her world. You’d seen the aftermath of Paige’s attention before—heard the stories about the girls she left behind. You weren’t naive enough to think you’d be different.

But there was something unsettling about the way she looked at you. Like she wasn’t just playing this time.

You sighed, trying to steady yourself. “I can’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the pull you felt toward her.

Paige blinked, her smile slipping away completely now. For the first time, her confidence wavered. “Why not?” she asked, the words quieter, almost hesitant.

And just like that, you felt the shift. Paige Bueckers wasn’t supposed to look like this—unsure, uncertain, even vulnerable. The cracks in her polished exterior made her all the more dangerous, and for a moment, you wondered who was really laying the trap here.

“Good luck tonight, Paige,” you said, stepping past her before the heat of her gaze could melt your resolve.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel her eyes on you as you walked away, and it sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite explain.

It wasn’t that you needed Paige’s attention. You were never the type to chase after it—in high school, people offered it freely, drawn to you for reasons you never quite understood. But you hated to admit it: the thought of having UConn’s golden girl wrapped around your finger was exhilarating.

And yet, there was danger in that thrill. Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was magnetic, larger than life, and the kind of person who always seemed to be in control. But what would happen if the tables turned?

The idea stuck with you, lingering like the heat of her gaze even as you tried to brush it off. Maybe it was her charm, or maybe it was the challenge she posed—a test of your willpower against hers.

You didn’t need Paige. You told yourself that over and over. But maybe… maybe you wanted her to need you.

The thought made you pause, and you felt the weight of your own hesitation. Was this what she wanted all along? For you to think about her, to wonder what it would feel like to have the upper hand? Or was it something else—something she wasn’t used to feeling herself?

Later that evening, as you sat in your dorm, her voice echoed in your head. I was really hoping you’d be there. It would mean a lot to me.

Three rhythmic knocks on your door broke your concentration, pulling you away from your computation analysis homework. You turned from your desk, ready to answer, when you noticed something sliding under the door.

A blue sticky note was attached to an envelope: Got these for you. Please come to my next game. - P.B.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you opened the envelope. Inside were two courtside tickets to her game against Notre Dame, each adorned with a little heart drawn in the corner. Typical Paige. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

As you slipped the tickets back into the envelope, another set of knocks came—slightly firmer this time. Slowly, you opened the door to find Paige standing there, one hand holding a single red rose. She wore a plain white t-shirt and black sweats, her hair loose and slightly messy, like she’d just come from her game.

“Paige,” you said, instinctively peeking your head out to check for any wandering eyes in the hallway, “what are you doing here? How did you even know where my dorm is?”

She gave you that signature smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I have my ways,” she said, twirling the stem of the rose between her fingers. “Besides, I figured if I couldn’t get you to come to my game with tickets, maybe this would help.” She held the rose out toward you.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing hers as you took it. “You do realize you can’t just show up to my dorm unannounced, right?” you said, lowering your voice but unable to mask the mixture of annoyance and curiosity in your tone.

Paige shrugged, her smirk softening into something almost genuine. “I figured it was worth the risk. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and I’m not great at subtlety.” She glanced past you, into your room. “Can I come in?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the question, and the weight of her gaze felt heavier than ever. You could feel the choice pressing against you like a double-edged sword: let her in and risk falling into whatever trap she’d laid—or shut the door and risk the regret of never finding out what this could turn into.

The consequences of the first option would have to wait.

You stepped aside, holding the door open as Paige slipped past you into the room. She moved with that same effortless confidence you’d come to expect, glancing around like she was taking in every detail. Your desk covered in notes and open books, the unmade bed in the corner, the pair of sneakers tossed haphazardly by the door—your space laid bare before her.

Paige turned to face you, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “Nice place,” she said, the rose still in your hand catching her eye. “Aw, you kept it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I just got it, Paige. What was I supposed to do? Throw it out in front of you?”

Her laugh was low and warm, and for a second, you felt the room shrink, the air between you both growing heavier. “I guess not. But I’d like to think it’s more than just politeness.” She stepped closer, her hands tucked into her sweats pockets, and you could feel her presence in a way that made it hard to focus.

“What are you really doing here?”

Paige shrugged, leaning her shoulder against the wall near your desk. “I meant what I said. You’ve been on my mind. And, well…” Her eyes met yours, searching. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s not something I’m used to.”

Her honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. This wasn’t the smooth, overly confident Paige you’d expected. There was something vulnerable in her gaze, something real.

“And what happens if I say I don’t feel the same way?”

Paige tilted her head, her smirk returning faintly. “Then I guess I’ll have to work harder to convince you. I’m not giving up that easily.”

You shook your head, trying to fight the small smile forming on your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, stepping closer. She was close enough now that you could smell the faint hint of her shampoo, something fresh and sweet. “But you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“No, I haven’t,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip nervously as you took a small step closer to her.

You could practically hear the faint voice of your sister yelling in your head, telling you to get her out of her room before you become another one of Paige Bueckers’ victims. But the warning felt distant, muffled by the way Paige was looking at you now—her gaze steady, almost hypnotic.

And the truth was, you liked where this was going. The spark of tension, the thrill of standing so close to her, and maybe—just maybe—you were starting to like Paige too.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her smirk melting into something softer. She reached up, her fingers lightly brushing against yours as she took the rose from your hand and placed it on your desk. “I knew you’d let me in,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught as she leaned closer, her hand lifting to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The air between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken and undeniable. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, and without thinking, you tilted your head slightly, closing the space between you.

Just as her lips were about to brush against yours, you raised your hand and gently pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her. Paige froze, her eyes widening in surprise.

“You need to leave,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with reluctance.

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

You stepped back, breaking the spell as you pointed to your desk. “I have a computation analysis exam tomorrow. And I need to study.”

A slow grin crept across her face, and she let out a breathy laugh, stepping back as well. “You’re serious?”

You nodded. “Dead serious.”

Paige shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she smiled at you, her confidence quickly returning. “Alright,” she said, her voice light but teasing. “But just so you know, this isn’t over.”

You rolled your eyes, walking toward the door and holding it open for her. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” she said, pausing in the doorway. She glanced back at you, her smirk softening into something almost tender. “Good luck on your exam, by the way.”

You shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. Your sister’s voice echoed in your head again, louder this time, but all you could think about was how close you’d come—and how much you already wanted it to happen again.

That was when it all started.

The whole rollercoaster.

You had just played yourself right into the hands of Paige Bueckers.

The realization hit you like a perfectly timed crossover, leaving you unsteady, off balance. Paige Bueckers had a knack for pulling you into her orbit, and you’d just handed her the ball. You knew better—at least you thought you did. But there you were, caught between wanting to stay in the game and knowing full well she’d leave you in the dust if it suited her.

It wasn’t like she did it on purpose. Not really. Paige was... Paige. She had this quiet confidence, this magnetic energy that turned heads and made hearts trip over themselves. When she smiled, it wasn’t just a smile. It was a weapon, disarming and dangerous. And when she looked at you—really looked at you—it was like she could see right through you. Past every defense, every carefully constructed wall you thought you’d built to keep people like her out.

It started innocently enough. A few casual conversations. A couple of late-night texts that turned into marathon calls. You’d talk about nothing and everything—her games, your struggles, the kind of stuff you never expected to share with someone like her. She had a way of pulling you in, making you feel like you were the only one who mattered, even if just for a moment.

And maybe that’s what scared you the most. Because Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was Paige Bueckers. The golden girl. The star everyone wanted a piece of. And here she was, making you feel like you were something more than just another fleeting connection in her whirlwind of a life.

But that was the thing about whirlwinds—they didn’t last. They blew in, caused a mess, and left just as quickly. You told yourself you wouldn’t get swept up in it. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it go beyond what it was. But you also told yourself a lot of things.

And then there was that night in your room.

The one where her hand brushed yours, lingered for just a second too long. The one where her eyes held yours a question in them you didn’t know how to answer. The one where she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath on your skin, and said your name like it was something sacred.

You should have walked away. You should have never opened the door. But instead, you didn’t. You let her get closer. You let her in. And now?

Now, you were in over your head.

You hadn’t seen Paige in a few days, not since the night in your room. Your English professor canceled class because he was out of town, which meant no more doodling her name in the margins of your notebook, no more stolen glances when she wasn’t looking, and no more Paige waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall like she owned the place.

This was good, you tried to convince yourself. The time apart gave you space to concentrate on your studies, to focus, and to practically forget about the tall, muscular, attractive blonde who made your mind reel at the simplest thought of her.

But the universe, as it turned out, wasn’t about to make it that easy.

The party wasn’t your scene—too loud, too crowded, too much of everything. You’d only come because your roommate had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill” and that you’d “have fun for once.” Instead, you found yourself tucked into a corner nursing a half-empty cup of something vaguely alcoholic, counting down the minutes until it was socially acceptable to leave.

And then you saw her.

Paige.

She was across the room, laughing at something one of her friends had said. Her head tilted back slightly, her smile brighter than it had any right to be under the dim party lights. She looked... effortlessly perfect, as usual. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, and she was wearing a fitted sweatshirt and jeans that somehow looked better on her than they should on anyone else.

You froze, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Part of you wanted to turn around, disappear before she saw you. But it was too late.

Her eyes found yours.

The laughter in her expression softened, replaced by something unreadable. She said something to her friends and started weaving her way through the crowd toward you.

"Hey, stranger.”

"Hi."

Paige glanced at your cup and grinned. "Is that what they’re calling ‘liquid courage’ these days?"

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the hint of humor to break the tension. "It’s more like ‘liquid regret.’ This stuff is terrible."

"Yeah, I’m not surprised," she said, crossing her arms and leaning slightly closer. "So, what’s a studious Computer Science nerd like you doing at a party like this?"

You shrugged. "Roommate dragged me here. Said I needed a life."

"And do you?" Paige asked, her tone teasing but her gaze steady.

"Do I what?"

"Need a life."

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. "I guess that depends on who you ask."

Paige stepped closer, her smile fading slightly. "I would’ve asked in class, but... you weren’t there."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. "Yeah, well, in case you don’t check your email, no class this week. Guess you’ll have to doodle in your own notebook."

Her lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Guess I will. But it’s not as fun without you sitting there, making it obvious you’re trying not to look at me."

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced away. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Sure you don’t," Paige said, her voice softer now. "Always playing games with me."

You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes at her comment. "Don’t even right now, Bueckers. I know the rumors about your little reputation. I know the effect you have on all the girls like me."

Paige raises an eyebrow at your words, her lips curving into that confident, knowing smile she always wore when she was about to push your buttons. She leans down, her face inches from yours, and whispers in your ear, "And what effect do I have on you?"

The air around you feels charged, every word she speaks a spark that ignites something deep inside. You try to pull away, to keep your cool, but it’s hard when she’s this close—when the warmth of her breath brushes against your skin, making your pulse quicken. You swallow, trying to steady your racing heart, but the words come out before you can stop them.

"T-that’s not what I meant to say–” you try to explain.

��Mhm, sure it is,” Paige intercedes, her smirk still remaining.

“No, seriously, I didn’t mean that. What I meant to say was–”

“That you’re in love with me?”

The feeling of alcohol coursing through your system and Paige’s insistence ticks you off slightly.

You scoff, rolling your eyes once again, but you feel a rush of something you can’t deny, something that’s been simmering since the moment you two first crossed paths. Without another word, you push past her, your heart pounding harder than you’d like to admit. You make a beeline for the door, desperate to put some distance between the heat building up inside you and the air in that crowded house.

But Paige follows you, steady, unrelenting, like a predator following its prey. She was not going to give up on you that easily.

"Hey," she calls from behind you, her voice more serious than the playful, teasing one. "Where are you going? Was it something I said?"

You ignore her, picking up your pace. Your mind is spinning, and your head feels a little dizzy from the alcohol. But you have to leave. You need to get away from Paige before you do or say something you’ll regret.

Paige was a player, you remind yourself. You’ve heard the rumors—your sister had made sure to fill you in on the stories. Paige was a heartbreaker, someone who never stuck around, who used people for a good time and then moved on without a second thought. And as much as you liked her now, as much as she made your chest tighten and your heart race, you knew how this would end. You’d be just another girl who’d fallen for her charm, only to be left behind in the dust.

You repeat the warning to yourself like a mantra: You will end up like one of those girls.

But then, her voice calls out again, softer this time, a touch of desperation in it.

"Hey, wait up."

Before you can react, you feel a firm hand grab your arm, spinning you around to face her.

"What are you doing?" Paige’s expression is a mixture of confusion and something else—something that might be vulnerability, but you can’t be sure. "Why are you walking away from me? What did I do?"

You want to push her away, keep the distance between you two, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s trying to understand, trying to make sense of your actions—it makes it harder to breathe.

You yank your arm out of her grasp, taking a step back. "I can’t do this, Paige. I can’t be just another... another person you mess with."

Her brows furrow, her lips parting like she’s about to argue, but you’re not finished.

"I know the stories. I’ve heard them. And I’m not stupid, Paige. I’m not going to let myself fall into whatever this is and get my heart handed to me like all those other girls you left behind."

There’s a long pause, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, she takes a slow step forward, her voice low, almost careful.

"I’m not…" her voice drones off, trying to put her words together. "I’m not here to break your heart, if that’s what you think."

You shake your head, feeling your chest tighten. "Then what are you here for? Because I don’t see anything else, Paige. You don’t stay. You don’t do commitment, and I don’t want to be your next... your next victim."

For a moment, it feels like the ground beneath you has disappeared. You’ve never seen her like this—quiet, almost... hurt.

"You think I don’t care about you?" she asks, her voice sharp now, but there’s an underlying pain to it that makes you freeze. "You think I’ve been trying to play you this whole time?"

You don’t answer, unable to find the words. Your stomach twists painfully at the thought that maybe you’ve misjudged her—that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this than you’ve been willing to admit.

Paige steps closer again, but this time there’s no teasing, no playfulness in her movement. She’s serious, her eyes locked onto yours.

"I’m not perfect," she admits, her voice steady now. "I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m the ideal person, but what I’ve been trying to tell you is that I want something real. I want you."

You blink, unable to process her words. "What do you mean? You don’t do real."

Paige takes a breath, as if steadying herself before continuing. "I know I’ve got a reputation. I’ve messed with people. But I’m not that person anymore. Not with you."

Your heart hammers in your chest as her words sink in. You want to pull away, want to keep the distance between you, but everything inside you is telling you to listen, to give her a chance to prove that she’s more than just the rumors.

"But why me?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly, a mix of disbelief and longing. "Why now? Why would you want me when I’m just another girl you don’t need?"

Paige’s expression softens, and she reaches out, gently cupping your face in her hands. "Because, for once, I don’t want something casual. I want this—us." Her eyes search yours for any sign of doubt. "You may not believe me, and hell, I don’t even know how I ended up here. But right now, with you, I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I want something more than what I’ve been doing."

Your breath catches in your throat, and for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, Paige Bueckers isn’t the heartbreaker you thought she was. Maybe she’s just... scared. Scared of what this might become, just like you are.

"I don’t know if I can believe that," you whisper, voice trembling. "But I don’t want to run away from this anymore, either."

Paige’s eyes soften, her lips curling into a small, hesitant smile. "You don’t have to believe it all at once. But please… just... give me a chance."

You hesitate for a beat, then nod slowly, letting out a shaky breath. "Okay. One chance. But if you mess this up, I’m out."

Paige laughs softly, relief washing over her features. "Deal."

Without another word, she steps in close, brushing her lips softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, a promise that maybe, just maybe, you can figure this out together.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it.

#paige bueckers #wlw #sports #uconn wbb #wbb #wbb x reader #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #lgbtq

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taurasiluvr · 6 months ago

Text

BABY IT AIN'T REALLY CHEATING IF HE DON'T SEE ── BUECKERS⁵

how you can help palestine prequel part three

★ based on dope love by gucci mane. you have an annoying boyfriend who always seems to be jealous of paige. and you've never even given him a reason to not trust you . . . of course not!

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. smut with a little plot, cheating (on irrelevant bf), asshole!paige, fingering, exhibitionism (sorta if that's what you can even call it).

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 3.6k

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

"you're embarrassing me," the words came out of your mouth, your tone annoyed as you glared up at your boyfriend. you couldn't believe that he asked paige for a 1v1 – and on top of that, he lost.

now he was acting all pissy, pacing back and forth on the court with his hands on his hips. paige, your best friend since forever, stood a few feet away, trying to hide her smirk. obviously, she shouldn't be intimidated by your boyfriend, who was supposed to be confident and supportive, not a sore loser.

"maybe if you hadn't underestimated her," you continued, your voice cutting through his grumbling. "you know how good she is, she's literally d1."

paige smirked slightly as she shrugged, taking a sip out of the red solo cup. "it's just a game, guys. it's not a big deal,"

your boyfriend shot her a glare, then turned to you. "why are you taking her side?"

"cus you're acting like a damn child," you snapped back. "it's not her fault you lost."

your boyfriend’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red. he stopped pacing and turned to face you, his hands still on his hips. the music and laughter from the party around you seemed to fade into the background as his eyes searched yours for any sort of validation.

"i just... didn't think she'd take it so seriously," he mumbled, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. "i didn't take it seriously, man. it's just a game," she repeated, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement as she glanced at you, licking her lips slightly.

"just a game?" he repeated as he glared at the blonde. "i just got beat by a girl! i'm gonna get absolutely flamed in the groupchat,"

"hey, she's also d1! you don't even play basketball," you retorted, feeling your frustration rise. "it's not like you lost to someone off the street. paige is amazing at this."

"whatever," he muttered, looking away and crossing his arms. "still feels like shit, specially cause you're my girl and shit,"

paige raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the interaction more than she should. "dude, it's just a game. and besides, who cares what your friends think? they'll get over it."

"easy for you to say," he snapped back, his voice growing louder as he began walking toward her. "you didn't just embarrass yourself."

you stepped between them, your patience wearing thin. "enough. you're acting like a sore loser and it's not a good look."

he glared at you, the hurt evident in his eyes. "why are you always defending her? it's like you take her side over mine every fuckin' time."

"because you're acting ridiculous!" you shot back. "paige is my best friend, and you're being unfair to her and to me. this has nothing to do with sides and more to do with you and your weird competition with her."

he clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and paige. "weird competition? baby, it's obvious she has a thing for you, i mean jesus-"

you immediately let out a groan. "are we really gonna talk about this now, again? i told you-"

"i don't care, she obviously does!" he finally snapped. you grabbed his arm as he continued shouting about whatever he thinks is going on between you the blonde.

paige watched as you dragged your boyfriend to the side, letting out an amused laugh as she shook her head. she went back inside to get a refill, finding aubrey and nika.

"you gotta stop playing with him," nika stifled a laugh as she glanced outside, watching you and your boyfriend laughing. "i feel bad. we all watched him get absolutely obliterated by you."

aubrey laughed, nodding. "that was so fucking embarrassing, my god. i got an ick and i don't even like him."

paige shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. "can't help that i'm good at basketball. and it's not like i'm doing it on purpose. he's the one who keeps trying to prove himself."

nika shook her head, still grinning. "well, he's definitely not doing himself any favors."

aubrey took a sip from her cup, raising an eyebrow. "you think she's actually gonna stay with him much longer? i mean, look at them."

they all glanced outside where you were still talking animatedly with your boyfriend. his face was red with frustration, while yours was a mix of exasperation and annoyance.

paige sighed, her expression softening a bit. "nah, probably. she deserves someone who doesn't get all insecure and jealous over nothing."

aubrey and nika exchanged looks, their faces entertained. nika spoke up, "paige we're not dumb, we know you've fucked before."

paige shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "yeah well... they were on break," she look a sip of her drink as she glanced up at her friends, their expressions unconvinced.

nika raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "on a break, huh? and does he know about this?"

paige hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "nah, he doesn't."

nika let out a low whistle. "that's risky, paige. he looks like the type to not mind... you know, beating your ass."

paige laughed as she shrugged. "yeah and he's also like, 5'8."

"if he tried, he'd get humbled," aubrey glanced toward her blonde friend, a smirk playing on her lips. "again," she added.

paige chuckled, her confidence unwavering. "exactly. i'm not too worried about him. besides, it's not like it was a regular thing. it was a one-time thing."

nika leaned back, her expression thoughtful. "still, you should be careful. if he finds out, things could get messy."

paige nodded, acknowledging the risk. "yeah, but it's done, and i can't undo it, i just have to handle things as they come."

aubrey took a sip from her drink, her eyes glinting with mischief. "you know, if you play your cards right, you might not have to worry about him for much longer."

"yeah, i know," she smirked as she glanced at you, you were still arguing with your boyfriend. "i know,"

as they continued talking, you and your boyfriend reentered the house, your faces still showing signs of the recent argument. paige watched as you tried to shake off the tension, joining your friends and attempting to immerse yourself in the party's atmosphere.

nika leaned in, whispering to paige, "think she'll be okay?"

Paige nodded, her eyes following you as you made your way to the group. "she's a big girl, i don't think she cares as much she pretends to."

you approached, giving paige a grateful smile. "hey, guys. sorry about that."

aubrey waved it off, her demeanor light and carefree. "no worries. we're just glad you're back."

nika chimed in, "yeah, we missed you. come on, let's have some fun."

you felt a wave of relief wash over you as your friends welcomed you back with open arms. paige stayed close, her presence a steady comfort. the rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and camaraderie, the earlier tension fading into the background.

⠀ ── ⠀

"and he's so damn clingy, it gets on my nerves," you resisted an eyeroll as you spoke, doing your night time routine in the foggy mirror. paige stood behind you, her hands on your hips and her chin on your shoulder, watching you through the reflection.

"yeah?" she mumbled as you nodded. her hair was wet from the shower, her eyes were red from the exhaustion of the whole day but right now – she didn't feel a tinge of weariness.

you sighed, putting down your toothbrush and meeting paige's eyes in the mirror. "yeah, it’s like he always needs to know where i am, what i’m doing, who i’m with. It’s suffocating."

paige grip on your hips tightened slightly, her presence grounding you. "sounds exhausting," she murmured, her voice gentle. "you deserve to feel free, not like you’re constantly under surveillance."

you nodded, leaning back into her embrace. "exactly. and tonight... all that jealousy over a basketball game? it's just too much."

paige pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin. "you deserve better than that. someone who trusts you and supports you, not someone who’s always questioning you."

you turned to face her, her hands sliding around to rest on the small of your back. "i know. it’s just hard. we've been together for a while, and i don’t wanna hurt him. but i can’t keep going like this."

paige's eyes softened, her thumb brushing gently against your side as her hands slid down them. "you have to take care of yourself first. it’s not selfish to want to be happy."

you smiled as her eyes dilated, her tongue sticking out to wet her lips. "he needs to trust you, cause... you know, you are," paige's voice came out teasing.

you let out a playful scoff as you pushed her away, a smirk playing on your lips. "gonna bring that up again, p?"

"what?" she laughed as her hands made their way back to your hips. "really gonna tell that i didn't rock your world? you were crying and everything, my ego's never gonna that go."

"i know," you felt your cheeks heat up, a blush creeping up your neck. "don't need to remind me every chance you get."

paige's laughter was warm and genuine as she pulled you closer again, her forehead resting against yours. "just making sure you remember,"

you rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. "how could i forget? you never let me."

"and i never will," you turned back around, continuing your routine. "i still think about it, you know?"

paige's smirk widened as she saw the seriousness in your expression through the foggy reflection. "yeah?"

"yeah," you repeated as you met her eyes through the reflection. "all the time."

there was a moment of silence as you continued your routine, paige was lost in thought as she zoned out. "does he fuck you like i do?"

the question came out of nowhere and you almost choked on the mouthwash. you spit out and paige watched your expression carefully. the air in the bathroom seemed to thicken as you processed her words, unsure of how to respond.

paige's gaze held yours steadily, her expression unreadable yet intense. she seemed to be searching for something in your reaction, her smirk fading into a more serious demeanor.

"no, he doesn't."

paige's smirk immediately came back with the answer, her hands pulling you into her chest. "yeah, i knew that."

she didn't any more of an answer, her lips found your shoulder as she began kissing up to your neck. as her lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, your head spun with a whirlwind of emotions. the familiarity of her touch, coupled with the depth of your connection, ignited a fire within you that burned brighter than ever before.

paige's hands roamed gently over your back, her touch leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake.

her breath tickled your skin as she whispered against your ear, her voice husky with desire. "gonna do you so good, baby,"

as paige’s breath sent shivers down your spine, her words were a promise, igniting a flame of anticipation within you. you turned in her embrace, your eyes meeting hers with a mix of longing and uncertainty. paige's gaze softened, her fingers trailing lightly up your arms to cup your face.

“i’ve missed you,” she murmured, her thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek.

“i’ve missed you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

the tension between you was palpable, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging in the air. paige leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that sent a rush of warmth through your body. you melted into her, your hands finding their way to her damp hair, pulling her closer.

paige's kiss deepened, her hands sliding down your back to grip your hips, anchoring you to her. the taste of mint lingered on your lips from the mouthwash, mingling with the familiar flavor of her.

with a gentle push, paige guided you back against the sink, her lips never leaving yours. her hands explored your body with a familiarity that made your heart race, every touch a reminder of the history you shared. as her kisses trailed down your neck, you let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in her hair.

“oh p,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and desperation.

she paused, lifting her head to meet your gaze, her eyes dark with desire. “tell me what you want, baby.”

“want you,” you confessed, your cheeks flushing with the raw honesty of your words.

paige's lips curved into a satisfied smile, her hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your waist. “you’re going to have me, princess.”

with a swift motion, she lifted you into her arms as she carried you to your bed. her mouth claimed yours again, the kiss hungry and demanding. your fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt, desperate to feel more of her as she dropped you on the bed.

paige broke the kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head, her eyes never leaving yours. her bare chest pressed against yours as she kissed you again, her hands working to slide off your shorts. you arched into her touch, the sensation of her hands on you sending waves of pleasure through your body.

as your shorts hit the floor, paige's fingers found their way to your core, teasing you through the fabric of your underwear. you gasped, your hips bucking against her hand, craving more. paige's smirk returned, her thumb circling your clit with agonizing slowness.

she pushed you further up the bed, her body following closely as she settled between your legs. paige's eyes never left yours, her gaze intense and filled with desire. her fingers continued their slow, torturous teasing, making you writhe beneath her.

“paige, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

her smirk softened into a sweet smile, and she leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “love hearing you beg,” she murmured against your mouth before trailing kisses down your neck, her hands slipping beneath your underwear to finally touch your bare skin.

with a gentle but firm touch, she slid your underwear down, her fingers finding their way to your wetness. you moaned, your head falling back as she began to pleasure you, her movements deliberate and skilled. paige knew exactly how to drive you insane, her fingers curling inside you in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge.

you let out a shuddering breath, your body arching into her touch. she set a steady rhythm, her thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts of her fingers. every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, each one more intense than the last.

your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as she kissed her way down your body. her lips left a trail of fire on your skin, each touch igniting a deeper desire within you. when she reached your breasts, her mouth closed over one nipple, sucking and nibbling gently.

the dual sensations of her mouth and her fingers had you spiraling quickly towards the edge. your breaths came in short gasps, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

then, your phone began buzzing next to you. you let out an annoyed huff – you already knew who it was. you chose to ignore it, but paige had other plans.

"answer it, princess," she mumbled as she sat up, meeting your gaze.

you stared at her, bewildered, your body still trembling from her touch. "paige," you whispered, a mix of frustration and disbelief in your voice.

paige's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "answer it," she repeated, her voice low and commanding. "want him to hear how good i make you feel."

your heart raced, both from the lingering pleasure and the audacity of her request. with trembling hands, you reached for the phone, your eyes never leaving paige's. she watched you intently, her fingers still moving slowly inside you, maintaining the agonizing pleasure.

you hit the answer button, bringing the phone to your ear. "hello?" you managed to say, your voice shaky.

your boyfriend's voice came through the line, filled with concern and irritation. "where are you? why haven't you answered my texts?"

paige's smirk widened, and she pressed a kiss to your shoulder, her fingers quickening their pace slightly. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, your head falling back against the pillow.

"'m... busy," you replied, your voice strained.

"busy? doin' what?" he demanded, suspicion lacing his words.

paige’s other hand moved to tease your nipple, her thumb flicking over it with expert precision. you let out a soft gasp, unable to hold it back. "just... with friends, we're at my..." you managed to say, your breath hitching. "apartment,"

there was a pause on the other end of the line, your boyfriend clearly picking up on the unusual tone in your voice. "you okay? you sound... different."

paige's lips curled into a wicked smile, her fingers curling inside you, hitting just the right spot. you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching into her touch. "oh fuck," you let out before you sighed, putting a hand over your mouth.

"i'm fine," you lied, your voice trembling. "just... having a good time."

Your boyfriend’s voice grew more insistent. "where are you? i want to see you."

paige leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "tell him you're with me."

you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the conversation despite the overwhelming sensations. "'m with paige," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"paige?" he repeated, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration. "what the hell is going on?"

"nothing!" you shouted, the frustration overtaking your senses. "my god, let me fucking breathe. we're just watching a movie and we're tired, can't get a second alone,"

paige's smirk grew as she listened to your conversation, her fingers still teasing you, maintaining a torturous pace that kept you on the edge. she nibbled gently on your neck, her breath warm against your skin, and you fought to keep your voice steady.

on the other end of the line, your boyfriend’s frustration was palpable. “why didn’t you just say that? you’ve been acting so weird lately.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to focus on the words and not the intense pleasure paige was giving you. “i’m not acting weird. just need some space sometimes.”

“space? is that what you call ignoring my calls and hanging out with paige all the time?” he snapped.

paige fingers quickened slightly, pushing you closer to the edge, beginning to completely finger-fuck you. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, your hips bucking involuntarily. “’m not ignoring you,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to sound convincing. “i think i just… need a break.”

“a break?” he echoed, his voice growing louder. “what kind of break?”

paige leaned in, her voice a whisper in your ear. “tell him you’re taking a break from him.”

you swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat. “think we need a break,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“what?” he shouted, disbelief and anger mingling in his tone. “are you fucking serious?”

“yeah,” you said more firmly, finding your resolve.

he began shouting but you were too engulfed in her fingers, your breaths coming out in shudders. the phone fell out of your hand as you moaned, your back arching into her touch.

paige chose that moment to push you over the edge, her fingers and lips working in perfect harmony to send you spiraling into a powerful orgasm. you cried out, your body shaking with the force of it, the annoyed shouts still coming from the phone.

paige caught the phone, her eyes locking with yours as she brought it to her ear. "she busy right now," she said, her tone unapologetic and firm. "she'll call you in the morning,"

with that, she ended the call, tossing the phone aside as she gathered you in her arms. you were still trembling, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. paige's touch was gentle now, soothing as she held you close.

"you gonna call him in the morning?" she teased as you laid on her chest. you stifled a laugh as you shook your head.

"probably, he's probably crying right now."

she shrugged, "i would too if i lost a bad bitch like you,"

you couldn't help but smile at her words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "you're ridiculous," you murmured, nuzzling closer into her embrace.

paige's fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, her touch comforting and tender. "yeah, but you love it," she replied, her voice soft.

you sighed contentedly, letting the calm after the storm wash over you. "yeah, i do."

you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and your eyes grew heavy.

"get some sleep," paige murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby. "we'll figure everything out in the morning."

you nodded sleepily, feeling safe and secure in her arms. "goodnight, p."

"goodnight, beautiful," she whispered, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

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girlokwhatever · 7 months ago

Note

can i request a paige smut where like the reader had pissed her off BADDD (in whatever way you see fit) and so paige fucks her with the strap BUT the reader keeps like pushing at her abs and ahitbtryna het her to slow down which in return pisses her off more…pls :)

i love you 😭

₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘ you can take it,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

“i don’t wanna talk to you dude.”

paige was absolutely furious. you missed one of the biggest shots of her career— a score-tying buzzer beater that ended up saving her team and securing them a win in overtime— all because you were talking to a guy in the stands. she was so excited to talk to you about it, for the both of you to share that excitement. so you could imagine her disappointment in hearing that you didn’t see it.

“paige are you serious? i’m sorry alright? i got to see it on the replays, it was really good.”

you try to reach out for her but she shrugs you off again, and now you’re pissed too. the guy was your classmate that spotted you in the crowd and wanted to say hello. you had apologized about a trillion times for missing the shot, still affirming to her how awesome it probably was in the moment.

it only made her feel worse when the guy approached you again at the end of the game. hadn’t he taken enough of your attention already?

“just leave me alone. if you want to be entertained just go talk to that guy again anyway. let him stare down your shirt for all i care.” paige throws her shirt into a corner of your room, littering her sweaty garments around your room.

“is that was this is about? a guy?”

she rolls her eyes, flopping onto your shared bed. she scrolls through her phone to avoid your gaze because she doesn’t want to say something she regrets. her legs are spread, creating space that in any usual situation you’d gravitate towards.

you stupidly decided to tease paige after finding out the true root of her anger. half-naked, you crawl towards her legs on the bed and seat yourself right on her lap. your hand pushes her phone away for her undivided attention.

you were probably going to regret this later.

“you know what we were talking about?”

she knows she shouldn’t give in just by the look in your eyes, but she does anyway. she’s a sucker for you.

“well he kept asking if i wanted to leave with him. i told him i had a girlfriend but he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” you lean closer, lowering your voice, “you know what he told me paige?”

“what?” she’s near breathless, anger still lingering because this guy seems like a douche.

“he told me he’d fuck me so good if i left with him. said he’d fuck me better than you ever could.”

“fuck off. don’t fucking piss me off.”

“he was cute. maybe-”

“paige!”

she’s rutting into you relentlessly, the same way she has been for the past hour. you’ve been squeezing around her strap like a vice the entire time from one position to the next.

after you teased paige earlier all she saw was red. she knew it wasn’t true, but the fact that you even uttered the words had some insane affect on her. she instantly had you on your back, purple strap heavy between your thighs. ever since then she’d been thrusting into you, never stopping or letting up unless she was finding a new angle.

she’d effortlessly coaxed you through three orgasms already and you were definitely feeling the effects. your thighs shook as she held them flush to her body, eyes glued to your face that was twisted together with pleasure.

you were so fucked out you hardly realized your girlfriend’s hand trailed down to the heat between your legs. her thumb rubbed sloppily against your throbbing clit, your eyes shooting open with a pornographic moan. the feeling was overwhelming and made your body shake even worse because, how many times had she done this?

“oh fuck- paige i can’t..”

“yeah you can baby. want you to cum for me.”

your orgasm feels different this time, sensitivity heightened and you can’t control it. she’s so deep and she’s filling you so good, thrusting hard and with so much purpose.

“bet that guy couldn’t make you feel this way huh?”

you’re nodding at her words because she’s right. no one has ever or could ever make you feel better than she does. she knows it.

paige continues stimulating your already over-sensitive bud, pressing harder and faster to match the pace of her hips. you moan out a high-pitched screech and mumble incoherently as your back arches off the bed so much paige has to push you back down. the pressure on your stomach sends you over the edge, sheets tight in your grasp as you finish.

she soothes your sides by running her hands up and down your body, slowing her thrusts but never stopping. you’re attempting to push your body up the bed but her grasp on you is firm and bruising.

“one more baby.” you’re still delirious from the last orgasm and she’s already speeding up her pace.

fuck her and her cardio.

you finally let go of the sheets, reaching out to push at your girlfriend’s abs. “paige please, i can’t. s’too much p.”

she’s immediately pulling your hands away, pushing them above your head as she leans over to whisper in your ear, “you can take it.”

she’s offended that you even suggested you couldn’t. her large hands find your hips again, pulling your body further down the bed and onto her silicone dick. your mouth fell open with a moan and you didn’t know if it was from the feeling of her splitting you in half or her persistence. probably both.

“tryna push me away,” she groans, “don’t be stupid baby.”

she pulls your legs over her shoulders with urgency as she snaps her hips against your own. the burn is finally catching up with her but she doesn’t even care because all she can focus on is you and the way you’re moaning her name.

you gush around her, cum dripping and soaking your sheets. the shake of your body vibrates against paige and encourages her to thrust impossibly faster, a whine escaping past your lips. she’s too good.

the all-too-familiar feeling forms deep in your abdomen again. you shift your hips, chasing your release as your hips angle down. paige’s last thrust makes you cry out, the bubble of anticipation for your orgasm popping. even paige moans as she stills because she swears she can feel you throbbing around her.

a sigh escapes you when paige pulls out. you feel incredibly empty after being filled for so long, a quiet whimper sounding through the room at the new feeling.

paige slips the strap off quickly. once she does, she resumes her previous position between your legs. she’s being gentle as her hands glide over your skin to massage the ache away. it’s a large contrast to her harsh thrusts only minutes ago.

“you did so good, ready to go again?”

“again?” you’re in disbelief as her legs slot with your own, leaning back ever-so-slightly so her pussy meshes with your own. the feeling makes your legs twitch and you’re already moaning at the barely-there friction.

“you didn’t think that was it, did you?”

₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘

i hope i did this request justice!!

actually partially spell-checked this time 🤗

#paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lesbian #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers imagine #paige x reader #wlw slay #wlw imagine #bisexual

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delusional-day-dreamer · 2 days ago

Text

Sleepy Girl - p.b.

‣ paige bueckers x gf reader!

‣ wc: 2k of smut 😛

‣‣ synopsis: waking up in the morning horny and ur girlfriend is right there tbh (ending is kinda rushed and the fic is not yet edited so please bear with me)

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys... i know i completely ghosted this app for a good while but thank you for all the support even while i was MIA. this idea came to me at 11pm on vacation and i figured i should grind it out and make a return. i have a lot of drafts and ideas i came up with but no idea if i'll be able to write them all. in the meantime enjoy and happy holidays!

The warm sunlight spilling in to your bedroom and directly onto your face from the small gap in your curtains seemed to have it out against you.

It was one of the incredibly rare weekends of the season, where your girlfriend, Paige, didn’t have morning practice, lifting, or any PT sessions for residual pain after coming back home late from a basketball game (UConn won, obviously) and the two of you planned to make the most of it.

Having been in a relationship for almost a year now, the two of you had gotten to know each other pretty well over time. From working with the basketball team as a photographer to sharing a class with Paige, to running into each other literally everywhere every single day, metaphorically and physically, the universe seemed to have an intricate plan to bring the two of you together. And with such insistent force, who were the two of you to rebel?

The past ten months dating Paige had been a small roller coaster, the days spent together blissfully were obviously accompanied by the occasional argument of time management or messy rooms or even slight jealousy, but it was nothing the two of you couldn’t work through.

And of course, it was all accompanied by the mind blowing sex you couldn’t stop having. Bent over the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the living room, standing up, from the back, you name it.

But, there was one thing you and Paige had discussed exploring, but never gotten the chance to pursue, and it seemed like this morning was the perfect chance to test it out.

Depending on who woke up first, the two of you often liked to wake the other up with gentle kisses, roaming hands, and sweet nothings. But your synced ovulation cycles brought on a new possibility: morning head.

Although the concept of fucking your girlfriend while she was asleep seemed… well, odd to say the least, the two of you had discussed consent extremely thoroughly, and you weren’t going to sit (or lay in this instance) here and pretend that the sight of Paige laying in your bed right now wasn’t actively turning you on.

She had come to your off campus apartment immediately after her game at XL center and crashed pretty fast, only stopping to shower change into an old, oversized yet cropped off the shoulder sweatshirt of yours and a pair of boxers she left in your drawers.

Currently, she was conveniently splayed out on her back, her left arm stretched above her head raised the hem of your sweatshirt upwards, exposing the curve of her chest and the slightest glimpse of her pink nipples, which were already slightly peaked from the cold air radiating from your fan.

It didn’t take long for you to make up your mind, softly crawling over to rest in between her legs as you leaned over her sleeping figure, using your left hand to gently lift the fabric over her perky tits, exposing her creamy skin to you. You slowly peppered kisses on her boobs, not wanting to create too much stimulation that would wake her before you got to the more exciting part. Although, you weren’t sure you would have to worry about that. Paige could sleep through a hurricane if she was tired enough.

You nipped and sucked at her chest, making sure to pay special attention to her nipples before beginning your descent down her toned abs, bringing your hands to rub at her thighs simultaneously.

Paige groaned softly in her sleep, unconsciously spreading her legs out wider as your fingers danced over the waistband of her boxers.

Deciding that there was no reason to be a tease, especially with the growing ache in between your own legs, you hooked your fingers in her boxers and pulled them downwards, being extremely careful when taking them off her body fully and throwing them off into a corner of your room.

You shift lower, aligning your face with Paige’s already wet cunt as you grip her thighs and blow into her folds lightly, gently arousing her.

You start softly, small kisses and hickeys leading inwards before you finally allow your tongue to lick a long stripe from her entrance up to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her breath slightly hitch.

Even in her sleep, Paige’s body was actively reacting to the growing pleasure as you circled her clit with your tongue and hummed into her, sending shockwaves running through her body, legs spreading, mouth dropping open with low moans, and back arching.

And yet, she was still asleep. You had no interest in waking her up forcefully, it would defeat the whole purpose of morning head. So, you dutifully detached your lips from her clit, opting to replace it with your thumb as you run your fingers through the slick she had accumulated before inserting your middle finger into her, curling it upwards in the way you knew she loved, which seemed to do the trick.

Her eyes began to flutter open the moment you added in your ring finger, mouth dropping with a groan as her right hand reaches out to cup the side of your face.

"Good morning," you rasp out, your breath hot against her sensitive cunt as you smirk at the already fucked out expression on her face.

"Fuck baby, God I didn’t think it would be this good when we talked about-”

Her sleepy whines were cut off with another loud moan as you reattached your lips to her clit, pressing into her g-spot with your fingers while simultaneously sucking her clit, small laughs vibrating through her core as you watched her body shudder at your actions. Her hand immediately moved up to your scalp, placing a firm grip in your head as she secured your spot deep between her legs, anchoring you in place.

"Aw shit ma, fuck you're so good at that, right there just like that, such a good fucking girl for me, don't stop mama you're gonna make me cum," her breathless rambles were endless as she used her left hand to play with her already exposed nipples.

The added stimulation pushed her closer to the edge, and it wasn't long before her muscular thighs began to shake around your head, closing around the sides of your face as she began to grind her hips into your mouth, chasing every second of her orgasm as her mouth hung open with cries.

She eventually let up after you finished licking her clean, even making a show of pulling your fingers out of her and sucking her juices off of them. Her gaze darkens as she pulls you up and over her body once again, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

She nips at your bottom lip before pulling away, feigning annoyance in her tone. "As much as I loved the little stunt you pulled just now, shit pissed me off too. Brought this up in the first place cause I wanted to surprise you."

"Actin' like it's that big of a deal P, you can just do it a different morning," you teased, hand running up and down her side.

"Mm, whatever. All I care about right now is gettin' you right ma," she mumbles against your lips, reconnecting your lips as she slips her tongue into your mouth, grabbing your ass and rolling your hips into her at the same time.

"Nuh uh, it's your day to pillow princess. Lemme spoil you a little bit. You're still tired and sore from your game yeah? Besides, I have a better idea," you insisted, rising up and straddling her waist.

You shoved your sweater off her body before Paige's large hands pulled your grey tank top up and over your head, tossing it somewhere either of you couldn't be bothered to check. Her hand pressed into your mid back, forcing you to arch over her, conveniently placing your perky tits right over her mouth.

Her teeth scraped against your stiff peaks as her other hand, which had quickly returned to its place resting on your ass, began rocking your hips back and forth over her abs, drawing out deep sighs of pleasure from the multiple sources of friction and stimulation.

"Fuck Paige," you whined out, "why you gotta make it so hard for me to take care of you sometimes," you half-heartedly reprimanded, pinching her nipple roughly as you tore yourself away from her, shimmying your basically non-existent thong off as you resettled yourself in between her legs.

"Crawl up to the headboard," you demanded, raising your eyebrow at her inquisitive expression.

"Please," you added in with a soft pout, satisfied when she complied with your request. You eagerly followed her body, stationing your hands on her shoulders as you draped your right leg over her left, maneuvering her right in order to rest over your own left before gently lowering yourself down, hissing the moment your cores met.

You rolled your hips forward tentatively, moving your left hand down to Paige's right thigh while you sank forward, circling your other arm around her neck as you moaned against her lips.

The kiss was a needy, open mouthed mess of saliva and moans as you continued to roll your hips into Paige's with the help of her guiding hands, shocks of pleasure licking your spine every time your clits aligned.

As you approached closer to your orgasm, your head tipped back, mouth hung open with desperate, borderline pornographic whines constantly spilling out, impairing your ability to kiss Paige back. Though, she would never complain and simply kept her mouth busy by sucking hickeys along your neck and chest, whispering filthy words of encouragement into your skin.

"My girl's such a slut for me, huh? Riding me so good, pussy so wet she's dripping all over me, 's basically crying for me ma. You like that?"

Her gravely voice added to the fuzzy feeling that had taken over your brain, driven only by the tight coil threatening to snap any second in your belly. From the feeling of yours and Paige's warm slickness coating your entire cunt, to the deep throbbing you clit was experiencing.

You moved your left hand from Paige's thigh up to the headboard, using it to grind down harder against Paige's center, and the pressure on your clits had moans ringing out from both of you.

"God, Paige. So close baby, fuck I'm so close," you whined near incoherently, eyes screwed shut from the way your entire body was on fire, on the edge of immense pleasure.

She moved her mouth to the sweet spot behind your ear, nipping at the skin as she her fingers deftly began tweaking your nipples. "Cum for baby, give it to me. Please need it so bad."

You cry out as a freight train of an orgasm hits you, Paige's words and hands sending you over the edge, and the sight of you coming undone, not to mention the sounds you were letting out, left Paige no choice but to follow your lead.

Your body shuddered against hers, the pleasure slowly washing over you, leaving you breathless and extremely sensitive. You untangled your legs from Paige, collapsing on the bed next to her and pulling her down with you.

You kissed her sweetly, intimately, a far cry from the sex you were just having.

"I love you so much you know that?" You muttered against Paige's lips, cracking your eyes open to see the lazy smile set on her face.

"I love you too, even though I'm pissed you stole my surprise," she whispered defiantly.

"What you don't think those two orgasms made up for it? We can go for round two if you really insist," you smirked, knowing that there was no way your body could handle another orgasm immediately.

Before she can even answer, your stomach growled loudly, inciting loud laughter from both of you.

"How about we take care of that first yeah? We can go for round two in the shower after breakfast," she responded slyly, pulling you up and out of bed with her to get dressed and have breakfast together. To you, nothing in the world could beat mornings like these with Paige.

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ohbueckers · 4 months ago

Text

EXTRA POINTS. blurb!

pairing, paige bueckers x fem!reader. notes, glasses p fic per request of a few queens… MAMA WORKED AS FAST AS SHE COULD! @thaatdigitaldiary @absolutelydreadful & credits to @justliketoreadsowhat ‘s anon for the detail. warnings, none just fluff? sexual jokes as well because who am i without them, like…

the night air is still pretty warm, the scent of freshly cut grass still tingling your nostrils after the soccer game you attended with paige and her teammates. it had been a long night—filled with cheering, concessions, and paige’s arm constantly draped around your shoulder as she proudly showed you off. she somehow convinced you to tag along, but watching her light up during the game made it worth it.

now, you’re walking back to the dorms, the sound of sneakers and laughter being the only thing heard off the empty sidewalks as the team stalks a few yards in front of the two of you. paige has her hair slicked back into a messy low bun, a few strands falling loose, and her purple glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. the lenses catch a subtle blue tint from the streetlights, a little detail you can’t stop staring at—honestly, she looks so good, it’s borderline unfair. you never thought purple glasses could be your weakness, but here you are.

“you enjoying the ice cream, or are you too busy staring at me?” paige teases, glancing over with that signature smirk. she knows exactly what she’s doing, making it impossible to look away from her.

“shut up, paige,” you reply with a scoff, although there’s no ruthless intent as you nudge her with your elbow. “i’m just enjoying the quiet now that your fan club’s calmed down.”

“oh, you love it!” she laughs out, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t love watching me be all famous and stuff. plus, you looked cute taking all those pics with me. so i ain’t complainin.’”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping up on your face. paige had been asked for a picture more times than you could count on your hands, and obviously the tiktoks came with that. she’d dragged you into most of it, keeping you close the whole time, making sure everyone knew you were hers. it was chaotic and you were used to it at this point, and you could admit there was something fun about watching her be in her element.

“alright, maybe it was kinda fun,” you say, taking a bite of the spoonful of ice cream she’d held out for you so casually. the cold hits your tongue, and you savor the flavor for a second before narrowing your eyes at her. “but you still owe me.”

paige jerks her head back, grinning and clearly enjoying herself. “owe you? i’m literally spoon-feeding you right now. how do i still owe you?”

you quirk an eyebrow up at her, leaning in a little as you held her gaze, and it was the kind of look that said enough.

she chuckles, leaning back slightly, still holding the spoon in front of you like she’s ready for round two. “aight, fine, i’ll give you that. but let me get you back at home, baby—i got some ideas.” her voice drops a little lower, clearly playing but also half-serious. she may be all jokes, but she definitely knows how to back them up.

before you can even respond, she takes her own spoonful of your ice cream, the nerve, flashing a cheeky grin before planting a wet, playful kiss right on your lips. the cold of the treat and the warmth of her mouth clash, leaving you squealing and half-laughing, trying to push her away. “paige!” you protest, wiping the ice cream from your lips, but there’s no hiding the wide smile breaking out across your face. she’s such a menace sometimes.

as if one cue, everyone seemed to have glanced back at the right time, catching sight of something straight out of a rom-com.

“yo! they really can’t keep their hands off each other.” kk’s voice cuts through.

“really can’t take them nowhere…” aubrey quips.

sarah laughs, chiming in. “oh, we see you, paige! real smooth,” and morgan practically doubles over in laughter beside her.

paige smirks, and you swore she would’ve thrown up those rizz hands if her hands weren’t full. “what can i say?” you smile yourself, shaking your head at her and leaning into the blonde’s side as the banter from behind fades into the background. as much as paige plays around, the way she’s been with you tonight—keeping you close, showing you off, feeding you ice cream like it’s the most natural thing in the world—it’s those little moments that make it so easy to fall for her. every laugh, every teasing smile, even the way she annoys you, it’s like she knows exactly how to keep your guard down. and honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

“you know, you didn’t have to buy me ice cream,” you say softly, looking up at her.

“nah, i did,” paige replies, her voice gentle. “had to make sure my girl knows i take care of her. plus,” she smirks again, looking away like she’s cooking up some mischievous ass reply. “i’m tryna’ score some extra points for later.”

you laugh, shoving her off of you yet she barely flinches. “yeah, okay, keep dreaming.”

paige pulls you even closer, kissing the side of your head as your arms fall to your sides. she murmurs, “dreaming? nah, i’m ms. make it happen.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers uconn #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige x reader

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cosmopretty · 3 months ago

Text

Jealous Girls

Synopsis: You can’t help but be jealous of how much time your girlfriends Paige and Azzi were spending together without you

warnings: smut, nsfw

Ever since basketball season started both of your girlfriends have been spending so much time together practicing and you’ve been feeling left out. You know it’s for basketball and they’re just trying to get better but it still bothers you.

So recently you’ve been avoiding the two of them since your feelings were hurt. And you knew you should have just talked to them but you were way too petty to confess that you were jealous.

Now it’s been two days since you have talked to either of them, and it drove them crazy. The three of you all lived in an apartment together so you’ve just been staying at your friend’s dorm. Both of them have been texting your phone but you just kept leaving them on seen. Today was their first day off since the season started and the fact that you weren’t with them right now pissed them off.

“You where the fuck is our girl?” Paige groans throwing her phone across the couch. Her and Azzi came home this morning after a workout to surprise you, they had flowers and chocolates but you weren’t there. Both of them had texted your phone multiple times and have gotten no answer back.

Azzi gets up and grabs Paige’s keys and opens the door “Let’s go grab her and bring her back here, come on” she waves her hand and walks out the door with Paige behind her.

They drive down to the dorms where your friend stayed and parked the car. Hopping out of the car they immediately spot you sitting on the bench your knees in your chest while you speak to a blonde girl next to you. They didn’t know who the hell that was, and it was not your friend.

Storming over to you Paige stops infront of you, towering over you as she crosses her arms “So who’s this?” she asks you. Azzi stands behind her staring at you waiting for your response. They knew you would never cheat on them, but you haven’t talked to them in days and now they see you with someone random girl, who looks a little to similar to Paige. It made them assume something was going on.

“This is my friend’s cousin she’s having boyfriend problems so I’m helping her” You tell them crossing your arms while you stare up at Paige, challenging her. The girl next to you stands up and pats your shoulder “I think I should go, good luck with that and thank you” she says before walking away not giving you a chance to respond to her.

Azzi’s eyes soften when she looks at you, she could tell something was wrong she could read you like a book.

Paige sucks her teeth “So you can’t talk to us for days but can talk to some random bitch” she scoffs while Azzi grabs her arm, giving her a look.

Sitting on the bench you shrug and look away from the two, staring at the flowers on the grass to your left. Paige grabs your jaw, turning your head and making you look at her “Get your ass up and get in the car I’m not playing with you lil girl” she says through her teeth before abruptly letting go and walking away.

You walk to the car quietly not saying a word to with of them while Azzi can’t take her eyes off of you. She couldn’t understand why you were acting like this, you wouldn’t even look at them when you all sat in the car. No one said a word as Azzi drove you all back home, you sat in the back your arms crossed as you stared out the window, Paige watching you.

Once you all got back into the apartment you tried to go to the bedroom, but Paige dragged you to the couch. She sat you down and stood infront of you with Azzi by her side, both of them staring down at you.

“What’s wrong with you? What happened baby?” Azzi asks in a sweet voice bending down infront of you. Her hand comes to hold your knee and instead of leaning into her touch like always you flinch away bring your knees to your chest.

Finally making eye contact with Azzi, you blink away tears “You guys are what’s wrong, it’s not fair” you mumble pouting.

Both Paige and Azzi look at one another confused before Paige comes and sits down next to you “I dont get it, tell us what’s wrong” she says concerned, staring at the side of your face.

“You guys always together all the time and then there me. It’s not fair why am I always left out” You grumble crossing your arms across your chest.

Paige looks at you dumbfounded “The only time me and Azzi are together without you is for basketball” she tells you as if you were a child and not junior in college.

You ignore her and roll your eyes Azzi grabs your chin and makes you look at her “Don’t roll your eyes you sound like a brat right now. You’re mad because we were spending too much time playing basketball then with you. Even though you know how important this season is” she scoffs standing up and towering over you once again.

Scrunching your eyebrows “No- I’m not- well” you stutter and Paige laughs at you grabbing your arm and pulling you up. She drags you to the bedroom with Azzi following behind “Babygirl just wants attention, since you want attention baby we’ll give you attention” she smirks.

The blonde lets go of your arm and pushes you down on the bed and starts stripping you of your clothes. Once you’re bare infront of her and Azzi, she leans down kissing down your body till she gets to your core.

She blows on your folds and your body jerks up so Azzi climbs next to you holding you down “Poor baby just needed some attention huh” she teases you holding your waist down against the bed.

Paige’s big hands hold your thighs apart as she dips her head down into you. Her tongue licks a stripe through your folds and you moan your back arching. She smirks and starts sucking your clit, her teeth pushing against you.

A feeling a euphoria washes over you when she pleases you. So Azzi bends down and starts kissing your chest, her mouth comes down to suck on one of your nipples. Your hands come to her head trying to pry her off of you. So she grabs both your hands with one of hers and holds them above your head. She pulls away from your boob with a pop “Nuh uh baby bad girls don’t get to touch you’ll just take what we give you” she says sweetly her big eyes staring at yours distracting you from Paige.

Before you can realize Paige has let go of one of your thighs she shoves two of her long fingers into you.

“Fuck- fuck Paige” You whine moaning your back arching from the stretch her fingers were causing you.

She starts pumping her finger in and out of you, her fingers pushing through your gummy walls. No matter how many times she stretches you out, you’re still so tight for her.

Azzi stared down at you in awe, she thought you were the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Her other hand comes to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin “Your so beautiful, pretty thing” she whispers leaning down and kissing your lips.

Being stuck under the two of them, you could barely talk or move. They did whatever they wanted to you, you were at their mercy.

Your stomach tightens at her words and Paige’s fingers pushing inside you. You were about to cum and Paige could tell by the way your thighs were starting to close around her head. She starts sucking on your clit harder and curling her fingers inside you.

Azzi dominants the kiss sliding her tongue in your mouth pushing it down your throat. Her hand moves from your cheek to your neck squeezing slightly as you gasp. Pulling away from the kiss you moan your head falling back “Mm gonna cum, please- please” you beg your walls squeezing around Paige’s fingers. You felt like something was about to snap inside of you, the pleasure becoming too much for you.

Her fingers push deeper into you, harder than before hitting that sweet spot inside you. Paige’s pulls away from your clit and rubs your clit with her thumb “Aw pretty baby wants to cum” she teases “Come on then baby cum for us” she tells you as her fingers speed up inside if you.

Your hips jerk up as you gush all over her fingers soaking her and the sheets. Paige smiles to herself slowing down her pace “Damn baby” she says staring down at you. Azzi turns around and sees the mess you made and she shakes her head “Poor girl really needed this huh” she teases you turning back around to face you as you cover your face embarrassed.

Laughing a bit Azzi lets go of your neck and moves her hand to pet your head “You fucking squirted baby that’s so hot” Paige says coming up and kissing you roughly, pulling her fingers out of you.

That night ended up with the three of you in sheets, showing each other how much you really missed one another.

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bueckets · 27 days ago

Text

The Prophecy | Part 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Parts: Part One (you're here) | Two

Description: They call her The Prophecy—basketball’s impossible phenomenon, rewriting what it means to be perfect on the court. With a near-flawless shooting record and a mind just as sharp in aerospace engineering as it is in breaking down defenses, her name sparks awe, envy, and relentless scrutiny. But perfection has its cost.

But even legends have weak spots. When a high-stakes matchup against LSU draws the attention of Paige Bueckers—the golden face of college basketball—The Prophecy’s flawless world starts to crack. On the court, they’re rivals, locked in a battle for supremacy. Off the court, late-night texts and shared moments blur the lines between competition and something much harder to define.

WC: 11.9k

Authors Notes: Slow Burn, Competitors to Lovers, SLOW, I'm heavy into world building so expect a lot of story, SMUT in next chapter. I've like proof read 70% there's already 40k words written and I've changed shit up like 40 times by now lol

They say there are two kinds of impossibilities in basketball: the ones you laugh at, and the ones that make you hold your breath. Your entire career has been about the second kind.

The numbers shouldn't exist: 847 shots attempted in college. Two misses. A percentage that makes statisticians check their math and then check it again. The first miss was a seventy-footer your freshman year that hit the rim so perfectly the sound echoed through the arena like a bell. The second? Sophomore year, caught an elbow to the face that had blood streaming down your jersey—the shot still almost went in.

Two misses in three years. They call you The Prophecy because watching you miss is like seeing a meteor strike, so rare that people mark their calendars by it.

Every sports network has tried to explain you. ESPN did a special called "The Prophecy: Breaking Down Basketball's Perfect Player." Sports Illustrated put you on the cover: "The Future Came Early." The New York Times ran a feature: "Harvard's Double Threat: Engineering the Perfect Game." They all tried to capture what makes you different. None quite managed it.

Because how do you explain someone who turned down every basketball powerhouse in the country—UConn, Stanford, South Carolina—to study Aerospace Engineering at Harvard? How do you rationalize someone who spends mornings in advanced fluid dynamics classes and afternoons making impossible shots look like a simple routine?

Your teammates get it, though. They've nicknamed you "Rocket”— partly for your major, partly for how you launch yourself through defenses. You're the heart of a Harvard team that's won three straight championships, turning the Ivy League school into a basketball dynasty that no one saw coming.

But that legacy isn't built on game days alone. It’s forged in moments like these: the hum of anticipation, the camaraderie, the banter that cuts through the tension as the team gets ready to take the court.

They say the silence before a storm is the loudest. But whoever said that never sat in Harvard's women's basketball locker room before a big game.

"I swear to god, if you try to explain zone defense using thermodynamics one more time—" Sierra launches a rolled-up sock across the room that you catch without looking up from your pre-game ritual: left shoe, right shoe, double-knot both, check laces twice.

"That was ONE time," you protest, but Maria's already cackling.

"One time? Girl, last week you tried to break down UNC's press using some dynamic—“

"And it WORKED, didn't it?"

The locker room erupts in laughter, the kind of easy joy that only comes from three years of championships, late-night practices, and inside jokes that no one else would understand. Taylor's already started your pregame handshake sequence; each title has added new moves until it's practically a full choreographed dance.

"Speaking of Carolina," Jasmine pipes up while adjusting her headband, "did y'all see their point guard tried to claim she's almost as accurate as you?”

"How'd that work out for her?" Sierra grins.

"Shot 3-for-15 against Duke." Taylor shakes her head. "Meanwhile, our girl over here—"

"845 for 847," the team chants in unison, then breaks into laughter again.

You roll your eyes but can't hide your smile.

"Yo, check this out though," Sierra's scrolling through her phone. "LSU's talking mad shit on Twitter. Their center says she's gonna 'expose the myth’ tonight."

Tonight's game against LSU has been circled on calendars since the schedule dropped. Defending national champions versus the team that's rewriting what's possible in college basketball.

The banter continues as everyone goes through their pregame routines. Maria's got her headphones in, mouthing the same Drake lyrics she's been using since freshman year. Taylor's meticulously re-taping her ankles for the third time. Jasmine's practicing her crossover in front of her locker, adding a little extra flair each time.

That's when Coach Matthews steps in, game face already set. The room doesn't exactly go quiet- this team's never been good at that, but the energy shifts— focuses.

"Ladies," she begins, but Sierra can't help herself.

"We know, we know, sold out crowd, national TV, time to show them why they call us the best team in the country."

The locker room buzzes with the easy confidence of a team that knows what they're capable of. You've all been together three years, grown from underdogs to unstoppable.

Coach tries to look stern but fails. "I see three rings have made you cocky."

"Nah, Coach," Jasmine grins. "We were cocky before the rings. Now we’ve just proven that we were right all along.”

The team cracks up again, but you catch something in Coach's expression, a mix of pride and concern. Her eyes find yours across the room. You know what she's thinking: LSU's not here just to play basketball. They're here to make a statement. To prove that Harvard's dynasty, your perfect record, all of it, is just smoke and mirrors.

You peek out at the arena as you head to warm-ups. Every seat filled, signs everywhere:

"The Prophecy Has Spoken: Harvard by 20"

"845/847 ≈ Perfection"

"Future WNBA GOAT"

"Rocket Science + Basketball = 🐐"

The student section erupts with enough thunder that you’d think there was an earthquake outside as you step onto the court. Three years, and the roar still hits different every time. Your teammates spread out for warm-ups, but you can feel every eye in the arena tracking your movement.

"Remember freshman year?" Sierra bumps your shoulder as you start stretching. "When you were still trying to convince everyone you were just 'pretty good' at basketball?"

You laugh, remembering that first practice. You'd shown up in glasses and a Harvard Engineering t-shirt, trying to downplay the high school highlights that had ESPN calling you the next Sue Bird. Then you went 50-for-50 in shooting drills.

"Pretty good," Taylor mimics, feeding you the ball. "Meanwhile Sports Center had a ticker counting your made shots."

The ball feels alive in your hands as you start your warm-up routine. Crossover, behind the back, step-back three. Swish. The Harvard crowd counts each made shot, a tradition that started your freshman year. They're at "thirty-seven" when a murmur ripples through the stands like a shift in the air pressure.

That's when you see them.

The entire UConn women's team, filing into their seats behind your bench. Their presence is magnetic, commanding, like the world has suddenly shifted to center on them. Your breath catches for just a moment, but you keep moving. Eyes forward, muscles loose. Don’t look. Don’t look.

Your gaze flickers up, and that’s when it happens. Paige Bueckers—UConn’s golden child, the face of their dynasty—locks eyes with you. The briefest of seconds, but it feels like a spotlight on your skin. She's not just watching; she's studying. Calculating.

Without breaking stride, you add a little extra spin to your next move. A crossover that’s sharp enough to slice, a step-back three so effortless it’s almost insulting. Swish.

"Showing off for UConn?" Maria teases, but her voice feels distant, barely cutting through the thrum in your chest. You don’t answer. The crowd is at "forty-two" now, and so is Paige. You can feel her counting.

"Please," you roll your eyes, draining another three. "They're the ones who showed up to our house."

The arena's practically vibrating now. LSU's warming up on the other end, trying to look unbothered. Their coach keeps glancing your way, everyone knows their game plan will revolve around stopping you. Good luck with that.

"Rocket!" Jasmine calls out. "Give them the space shot!"

It's another team tradition. End of warm-ups, you launch one from near half-court, high enough to clear the International Space Station. The crowd holds its breath as the ball arcs through the air—

Bucket.

The place goes absolutely nuclear. Even some LSU players stop to watch the replay on the jumbotron. You don't celebrate, just turn and jog back to the bench, but you catch Paige Bueckers leaning forward in her seat. Yeah, she felt that one, too.

In the huddle, Coach Matthews keeps it simple. "They're going to try to get physical. They're going to try to get in your heads. But what do we do?"

"Let the scoreboard talk!" the team responds in unison.

You look around the circle—these girls who've become family. Sierra, who's never met a defensive assignment she couldn't lock down. Maria, whose no-look passes seem telepathic. Taylor, who crashes boards like gravity's just a suggestion. Jasmine, whose trash talk is almost as legendary as her three-point shooting.

The starting lineups are announced. LSU's players get scattered applause, but when they call your name, the sound is deafening. "At guard, a junior from Boston, Massachusetts, averaging 32.5 points per game, shooting 99.8% from the field—The Prophecy!"

You high-five down the bench, each teammate adding their own flourish to the routine. The crowd's chanting now:

"M-V-P! M-V-P!"

But you're already in game mode, that familiar calm settling over you. You can feel Uconn’s members watching from the stands, feel the weight of every expectation, every camera, every scout with an NBA team's future in their hands.

The referee holds the ball at center court. LSU's center—all six-foot-five of her—tries to stare you down.

You just smile. They have no idea what's coming.

The game opens exactly how LSU planned: double-team before you even touch the ball. Their guard and forward shadow your every move, leaving gaps all over the court. Rookie mistake.

You catch Maria's eye, give her the smallest nod. She drives right, drawing attention, while you slip backdoor. The defender realizes too late—you're already airborne, catching the lob one-handed. The rim's still shaking as you get back on defense.

"That's my point guard!" you shout, giving Maria her props. The crowd's already going wild, and you're only thirty seconds in.

LSU tries to establish their post game, but Sierra's having none of it. She strips their center clean, and suddenly you're off to the races. The ball finds you at the three-point line. One defender recovers, rushing at you with a hand up.

Time slows. You see every option: the drive, the pass, the shot. But there's something poetic about making the hardest choice look easy. You rise up, release. The defender's hand grazes your wrist—doesn't matter. Swish.

"And The Prophecy strikes first! Two possessions, two baskets!" The announcer can barely contain himself. "She's making this look like a shoot-around!"

Your teammates are feeding off the energy. Taylor's owning the glass, Jasmine's picking pockets, and Maria's threading passes through impossible angles. By the six-minute mark, you're up 18-7, and LSU calls their first timeout.

"They can't guard you for shit!" Sierra laughs as you huddle up. She's right—they've tried three different defensive schemes already.

Coach Matthews keeps it tactical. "They're getting frustrated. Gonna start trying to bump you off your spots. Stay composed."

You nod, taking a quick swig of water. Your eyes drift to the UConn section. KK Arnold shoots you a smile which you return. Sierra’s shown you enough of her Tik Tok’s for you to recognize the Freshman.

Back on court, LSU switches to a box-and-one. Four players in a zone, one dedicated to face-guarding you. Cupcake stuff compared to what you see in practice.

You set up on the wing, let them think they've got you contained. The defender's playing so tight you can smell her shampoo. Maria starts her drive, draws the zone's attention. You wait... wait...

Then it happens. Quick as thought, you plant your back foot, cut hard to the corner. The defender's still turning when you catch and release in one motion. The ball hasn't even hit the net before you're heading back on defense.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" The announcer's losing it. "The Prophecy with another! She's 5-for-5 to start the game!"

The Harvard student section's going ballistic. Even your teammates are shaking their heads—three years, and you still find ways to surprise them.

LSU's getting chippy now. Their forwards are throwing elbows on screens, talking under their breath. You've seen it before: when skill isn't enough, they try to get physical.

"Yo Rocket," Taylor mutters after a particularly hard screen. "They're hunting."

You just nod. Let them hunt. You didn't get here by backing down.

With two minutes left in the first quarter, they try to trap you at half-court. Two defenders, both bigger, trying to muscle you into a mistake. You hit them with a crossover so nasty the crowd gasps. Split the double-team, euro-step around the help defense, and finish with a finger roll that looks like it defies gravity.

The LSU coach is screaming now, face turning purple. Nothing's working. Every scheme, every adjustment, every physical play, you've got an answer for all of it.

Ten seconds left. You let the clock drain, waving off the screen from Taylor. Your defender's in perfect position, textbook stance. Doesn't matter.

You rise up from NBA range, the defender's hand right in your face. The ball arcs high, the crowd holding its breath—

Swish. At the buzzer.

Harvard's bench explodes. Your teammates mob you as you head to the sideline, perfect quarter in the books. 15 points, 6-for-6 shooting, 3 assists. Just another day at the office.

"Show off," Sierra teases as you sit down.

"Actually," you grin, slipping into your best professor voice, "according to my calculations, that was just the warm-up."

The team cracks up. This is what the cameras miss, what the stats can't show. The joy of playing the game you love, with people you love, at a level few have ever reached.

But LSU's huddle looks different now. There's an edge to their expressions, a darkness in their eyes. They're not just losing—they're being embarrassed on national TV.

You've seen that look before. It usually means someone's about to do something stupid.

Second quarter opens with LSU trying something new: they're running a full-court press, getting extra physical on every possession. Their coach has clearly given them the green light to push boundaries.

"They big mad now," Jasmine laughs as she inbounds the ball to you.

You weave through the press like it's a morning jog, finding Maria with a no-look pass that has the crowd buzzing. She drains the three, and you make sure to flex for the LSU bench on the way back. Their coach calls for a substitution, sending in Williams—their enforcer, known for walking the line between aggressive and dirty.

"Heads up," Taylor mutters as she runs past you. "Number 32's got that look."

You've seen players like Williams before. They show up in every big game, thinking they'll be the one to throw you off your rhythm. They usually learn.

The next possession, Williams tries to bump you off your cut. You absorb the contact, spin away like water, and catch the ball in perfect position. She's still recovering when you rise up for three. Nothing but net.

"That's 20 for The Prophecy!" The announcer's voice carries over the roar. "Still perfect from the field!"

The Harvard student section starts a new chant: "YOU CAN'T GUARD HER!"

You spot some NBA scouts courtside, furiously taking notes. There's already talk about you leaving early, being a top pick. But that's future stuff. Right now, there's just this game, this moment, this next possession.

Williams is getting frustrated. Each bump gets a little harder, each screen a little later. The refs are letting them play physical, and LSU's taking full advantage.

"Yo Rocket," Sierra says during a free throw. "Want me to accidentally trip her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "Nah. I got something better planned."

Next play down, you call for a clear-out. Everyone knows what's coming, your teammates, the crowd, even the UConn section leans forward. Williams squares up, trying to look tough.

The move is pure poetry: crossover so quick it looks like the ball's on a string, between the legs, behind the back. Williams lunges, trying to stay in front. That's when you hit her with the step-back, creating just enough space to rise up.

The shot is perfect before it leaves your hands. Williams can only watch as it drops through, pure silk. The crowd absolutely loses it.

"SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Jasmine screams, running past Williams, tongue out in mockery. "But not for her!"

Even some of the LSU players are trying not to smile. What else can you do when you're watching someone operate on a different level?

That's when you notice Paige Bueckers isn't just watching anymore—she's studying. Taking in every move, every counter, like she's downloading your game for future reference. You catch her eye for a split second and there's something there: not just respect, but recognition. Game recognizing game.

The half continues like a highlight reel. You're seeing everything in slow motion: every cut, every screen, every defensive rotation. It's like playing basketball in IMAX, everything crystal clear, every possibility visible.

With three minutes left in the half, Harvard's up 45-28. The game's starting to feel less like competition and more like an exhibition. That's usually when things get dangerous.

You see it coming in slow motion: Sierra bringing the ball up court, Williams setting up for what looks like a normal defensive position. But there's something in her stance, something in her eyes.

Williams launches herself at Sierra, sending her crashing into the scorer's table with a sickening crack. The crowd gasps as Sierra crumples, blood already streaming from her nose.

The arena goes dead silent.

Then everything happens at once. Your teammates rush to Sierra. Jasmine gets in Williams' face. The refs are blowing whistles. But you, you're standing perfectly still, a different kind of calculation running through your mind.

Three years of friendship. Three championships. Countless late-night study sessions where Sierra helped you with orbital mechanics homework while you ice your knees. All those moments flash through your mind in an instant.

You start walking toward Williams, and something in your expression makes everyone—teammates, refs, even the crowd—go quiet.

The silence in Lavietes Pavilion is deafening. Blood drips from Sierra's nose onto the hardwood—each drop echoing like thunder in your ears. Your teammates are surrounding her, but your focus is laser-locked on Williams, who's still trying to act tough, shoving Jasmine.

"Get the fuck out my face," Williams snarls, pushing your teammate back.

You cross the court in long, measured strides. Your teammates part like the Red Sea, something in your expression making them step aside. Williams turns just as you reach her, and for the first time tonight, you see fear flicker across her face.

The crowd holds its breath. Every phone is up, every camera pointed at this moment. Even the refs seem frozen, waiting to see what happens next.

You step right into her space, close enough that only she can hear you. Your voice comes out low, deadly calm. "Touch my teammate again," you say, each word precise as a scalpel, "and I promise you'll regret ever stepping foot in this fucking gym."

Williams tries to maintain her tough act, stepping forward. "Oh yeah? What you gonna—"

"Try me one more time," you cut her off, voice even quieter now, "and when I catch you outside this gym I’ll make sure you don’t get back up.”

The refs finally restore order, whistles blaring. Technical fouls all around. As you check on Sierra—her nose definitely broken but she's insisting she can play—you hear the murmur rippling through the crowd. Nobody's ever seen you like this. The Prophecy's always been about grace under pressure, about making the impossible look easy.

This is something else entirely.

Coach sends you to the bench to cool off. You end up near the Harvard section, your teammates who aren't on the court surrounding you like a protective wall. Behind them, the UConn section hasn't made a sound, but you can feel their attention like a physical weight.

"I've never seen you like that," Taylor whispers, a mix of awe and concern in her voice.

"Nobody touches our people," you say simply, eyes locked on the court where LSU is shooting their free throws.

Sierra's getting patched up beside you, tissues stuffed up her nose. "You know I've taken worse hits in practice," she tries to joke.

“That’s beside the point." Your voice is still deadly quiet. "They came into our house thinking they could punk us. Thinking what—because we're Harvard we're soft? They can suck my dick.”

The energy in the arena has shifted. Your teammates are fired up, talking amongst themselves. The crowd's still buzzing, cameras alternating between you and Williams. But you're not playing for them anymore. This isn't about highlights or SportsCenter or draft stock.

When the buzzer sounds for you to return, your teammates stand as one. "Light them the fuck up," Sierra says through her swollen nose, and the team erupts in agreement.

You step back onto the court, and the ball finds its way to your hands like it's meant to be there. Williams tries to meet your eyes, but she flinches when she does. She knows what's coming.

They all do.

The ball leaves your hands before their defense can set. Swish. 34 points.

Maria screens Williams hard—legally, but with extra emphasis. You curl around it, catch, release. Swish. 37.

"The Prophecy is taking no prisoners now," the announcer's voice carries over the chaos. "This isn't just basketball anymore, folks. This is personal."

Each possession is a message. No more fancy moves, no more style. Just pure, devastating efficiency. Catch and shoot. Drive and score. Again and again until the numbers blur together and the only sound in the arena is the whisper of the net.

Williams tries to guard you on a switch. You look her dead in the eye as you rise up. She knows it's good before you even release. 45 points.

The fourth quarter becomes a massacre. Not just because of your scoring, but the way your whole team moves now—like sharks that have tasted blood. Every screen is a statement. Every cut is a challenge. Harvard basketball isn't just winning anymore; they're sending a message.

With thirty seconds left, Harvard up by 35, Coach tries to sub you out. You wave her off. There's one more thing to do.

You catch the ball at the opposite baseline—ninety-four feet from your basket. The crowd realizes what you're about to attempt and rises as one. Williams is still trying to guard you, bless her heart.

You don't even look at the basket as you launch it, eyes locked on hers the whole way. The ball soars through the air, high enough to scrape the rafters. Time seems to stop as 4,000 people hold their breath.

Swish. As pure as a layup.

The arena explodes. Your teammates storm the court as you take off on a victory lap, tongue out, arms spread wide. The Harvard band is playing, the student section is losing their minds, and somewhere in the chaos, you catch Paige Bueckers standing up, shaking her head in amazement.

December hits Boston like a cold slap to the face. Three months since the LSU game, and Harvard's still undefeated, 12-0, ranked #2 in the country. Tonight's the game everyone's been circling: #1 UConn at Harvard. The Game of the Year, ESPN's calling it. Every headline is the same story in different words: you versus Paige, like the rest of the teams are just here to watch.

You haven't spoken to any of the UConn players since that night in your locker room. Sure, you see the occasional Instagram story when Jasmine reshares KK's posts (they're dating now, apparently, something that started with DMs and turned into weekend visits), but, that's about it. You don't even follow Paige Bueckers on social media. Why would you?

"Earth to ____,” Sierra waves a hand in front of your face during warmups. "You good?"

"Yeah," you snap back to reality, draining another three. "Just locked in."

The arena's packed to the rafters, twice as loud as the LSU game. During layup lines, you catch glimpses of the UConn players, especially Paige, who moves with that same fluid confidence you remember. She's got that look in her eyes, the one you recognize in your own reflection: the quiet certainty of someone who's never doubted their greatness.

Your pregame outfit, fitted black turtleneck under your warmups, gold chain catching the light, has already made its rounds on social media. “She looks SO good!!” is trending on Twitter, complete with fire emojis. Not that you care about that stuff. (But okay, maybe you spent an extra minute on your appearance today. Professional reasons only.)

The game starts like a prize fight, both teams trading blows, neither willing to blink first. Paige opens with a three; you answer with a step-back jumper. She hits a floater; you counter with a drive that leaves her defender spinning. It's not personal, you tell yourself. Just basketball.

By the first TV timeout, you've both got 8 points and the crowd's already losing it. The energy's different from the LSU game, no cheap shots or trash talk, just pure, elite basketball. Almost like you're speaking the same language, even if you're on different teams.

"Yo," Maria whispers during a free throw, "is it just me or is Bueckers playing extra hard when she's guarding you?"

"Everyone plays hard against me," you shrug, but you've noticed it too. The way she locks in, the extra intensity in her defense. Like she's got something to prove.

The second quarter is where you start to take over. UConn tries everything, double teams, box-and-one, even a triangle-and-two. Nothing works. You're seeing the game in slow motion again, every passing lane, every defensive rotation crystal clear. By halftime, you've got 24 points on perfect shooting, and Harvard's up 48-39.

In the tunnel heading back out, you pass Paige. There's a moment— brief but loaded— where your eyes meet. She gives you this little nod, competitor to competitor. Nothing more. (But why does it feel like something more?)

The second half is a masterclass. You're not just scoring anymore; you're conducting an orchestra. No-look passes to Sierra for corner threes. Behind-the-back feeds to Taylor for breakaway layups. And when UConn makes their inevitable run in the fourth, you shut the door with a sequence of moves so filthy they'll probably end up on SportsCenter's top 10.

Final score: Harvard 89, UConn 78. Your stat line: 38 points, 9 assists, still haven't missed a shot this season. The handshake line is respectful, none of that LSU energy, and when you reach Paige, her grip is firm, professional.

"Good game," she says simply.

"You too," you respond, and mean it.

After the media obligations, your phone buzzes. It's Jasmine: 'Bar. Tonight. Both teams. No excuses.'

You consider begging off, you do have that Thermodynamics problem set due Monday, but something makes you change your mind. Professional courtesy, you tell yourself. Networking.

The bar is one of those trendy spots where the grad students pretend they're not drowning in student debt. You show up fashionably late in black jeans, a cream-colored silk shirt, and boots that add an extra inch you definitely don't need. The teams are separate at first, Harvard at one end, UConn at the other. Only Jasmine and KK bridge the gap, wrapped up in their own world.

You stick with your teammates initially, nursing a Moscow Mule and trying not to notice how Paige looks in a baggy jeans and a button up when she arrives with some of her teammates. The groups slowly start to mix as the night goes on, pulled together by Jasmine and KK's gravitational field.

"So," UConn's shooting guard, Emma, ends up next to you at the bar. "You always play like that, or were you just showing off?”

You arch an eyebrow, a light smile tugs at the corner of your lip. "Just playing my game."

"Right," she smirks, ordering another drink.

You change the subject, asking about their upcoming schedule. Basketball is safe. Basketball makes sense.

The night continues, groups shifting and reforming. You end up in a conversation with some UConn players about the WNBA draft, carefully maintaining your distance when Paige joins the discussion. But you can't help noticing things: how she commands attention without trying, the way her laugh carries over the bar noise, how she seems to know exactly where you are in the room at all times.

Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe, you’re just down bad.

"Paige is single, you know," KK says later, appearing at your elbow with the subtlety of a brick through a window.

"Good for her," you say neutrally, even as something flutters in your chest.

"Good for you, you mean," KK mutters, dodging the half-hearted shove you send her way before melting back into the crowd.

The night winds down, groups splitting off for Ubers, some players already making plans for late-night food. You're standing near the door, tugging your coat tighter around you against the Boston chill seeping in, when you hear your name.

You turn, and there she is, bathed in the hazy glow of the bar's neon sign, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. For the first time all night, it's just the two of you, the noise of the bar fading into a distant hum.

"Good game tonight," she says, and it’s almost funny how understated it sounds after the week of media buildup and ESPN countdowns.

"Thanks." You pause, letting the silence stretch. "You too."

Her smile tilts, like she knows exactly what you’re doing. "You don’t have to play it cool all the time, you know."

"Who says I’m playing?" you counter, but the corner of your mouth betrays you, quirking up just enough to give her the edge.

Paige steps closer, the space between you shrinking but still electric. "You’re good, Rocket. Even better than the headlines give you credit for."

"Don’t tell me you came out here just to boost my already inflated ego," you say, leaning back just enough to keep the balance of power from tipping entirely her way.

"Maybe," she says lightly, though the way she holds your gaze feels heavier than that. "Or maybe I just wanted to see for myself what all the hype’s about."

"And?"

Her smile deepens, slow and deliberate. "I wasn’t disappointed."

The air between you crackles, her words lingering in a way that feels deliberate, intentional. But before you can decide what to say—or if you should say anything at all—one of her teammates calls her name from the curb.

She glances back, then at you again.

"Don’t overthink your game plan," you say.

"And you don’t underestimate mine," she calls over her shoulder, her voice light but the glance she throws you anything but.

You stay there a moment longer, the cold biting at your skin but your chest feeling oddly warm. As you finally step outside, something about the night feels unfinished—like a play halfway through its best scene.

As you slide into the car, you realize your heart's racing—and it has nothing to do with the cold.

Maybe KK was right. Maybe this is good for you.

Later that night, lying in bed, you find yourself replaying moments from the game. Just the game, you tell yourself. The way she moves on court, like water finding its path. Her defensive intensity. Her competitiveness that mirrors your own.

Your phone buzzes: a follow request on Instagram from Paige Bueckers on your private Instagram.

You stare at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen. Finally, you press accept. No big deal. Just professional courtesy.

But you can't help smiling as you set your phone down.

March suddenly feels very far away.

That night, sleep feels impossible. The win keeps looping in your mind—every play, every shot, every moment after the final buzzer. You’re still riding the high, but it's the interactions off the court that keep replaying, too. The way Paige’s eyes locked on yours during the game, that quiet intensity between you two. It was almost like there was something unspoken, an invisible thread pulling you together.

You try to shake it off as you lay in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Eventually, you post a late-night story: just you in your Harvard champion sweatshirt, hair a little messy, looking tired but satisfied. Caption: “some nights hit different 🏀✨"

You're not thinking about anyone in particular when you post it. Really. No, seriously.

But a couple of minutes later, your phone lights up with a notification: "paigebueckers viewed your story."

You freeze. Your heart does that annoying skip, the one you wish you could ignore. You try to play it cool, but the small smile on your face gives it away.

Before you can stop overthinking it, another story pops up from Paige. It’s her on the team bus, the weariness on her face somehow just makes her look even more perfect. Caption: “good games make you better. great games change you. 📈"

You stare at the story longer than you should. Three times, maybe four. Then you catch yourself. No, you're not doing this. You’re being professional. Totally. You swipe past it, but not before watching it once more—just for, you know, "research purposes."

Wednesday practice, you’re on the floor with Sierra, trying to explain orbital mechanics while stretching out your legs. The routine’s familiar, your voice calm and focused, like you’re explaining a simple layup. "So basically, if you account for gravitational force and initial velocity—"

"Rocket," Sierra interrupts, "you've been checking your phone every thirty seconds."

You look at her, feigning confusion. "Have not," you protest, but your fingers are already reaching for your phone, like they’re on autopilot. You can’t help it. Paige posted a drill video this morning, just pure basketball content—nothing that special, just her hitting a perfect jumper, maybe some footwork drills, nothing groundbreaking. You dropped an eyes emoji in response. Professional admiration only. That's it. Nothing to see here.

"Right," Sierra raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. "And I'm sure you've watched every other point guard's practice clips fifteen times too."

You give her a deadpan look. "I have no idea what you're talking about," you say, reaching for your foam roller and throwing it at her.

Thursday afternoon finds you in Advanced Fluid Dynamics, usually your favorite class. The equations and concepts feel like second nature to you, but today, your thoughts keep drifting elsewhere. You keep finding yourself thinking about basketball — about how certain players move like water, finding the path of least resistance, flowing through defenses with a grace you can’t help but admire.

You’re not sure if it’s the subject of the class or the strange pull you’re feeling, but your mind is elsewhere.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glance down discreetly. It's a notification from Instagram: Paige has liked your last three posts.

Including one from six months ago.

You blink. The screen feels like it’s glowing too brightly in your hand. You immediately glance around, making sure no one saw you checking, before quickly hiding your smile behind your textbook.

Because yeah, you definitely didn’t mean to feel this giddy. But here you are.

Friday night, you're in bed scrolling through film when you get the notification. Paige posted a new story: her at the gym, late night shooting session. Caption: “late-night grind. gotta stay sharp for what’s ahead. 😤"

Before you can overthink it, you reply: "living rent free in that head huh? 😌"

Three dots appear immediately. Your heart rate picks up.

just practicing for march 😘

You stare at that emoji for a solid minute. Professional rivals don't use kiss emojis. Right?

Saturday morning practice rolls around before you can even process what happened last night. Your mind’s still buzzing, trying to dissect the interaction with Paige, but you push it aside. Focus. You can think about that later.

As you’re stretching before drills, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When Coach catches you grinning at it, she narrows her eyes.

"Whatever’s got you distracted better help us win games."

You quickly stuff your phone back in your bag, fighting to keep a neutral expression. "It’s just a text. No big deal."

"Sure, sure." Coach raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You try to shake off the grin still tugging at your lips. Definitely not in the middle of a debate with Paige about whether Kobe or Jordan had the better footwork. No. Definitely not.

Sunday night in the library, you're supposedly working on your Thermodynamics problem set. But your eyes keep flicking back to UConn's schedule page, calculating when they’ll be back in the northeast. You try to focus, but you find your thoughts drifting back to Paige.

A message pops up: "Shouldn't you be solving rocket equations or something?"

You bite back a smile, tapping out your reply: “shouldn't you be working on your left hand? Saw that weak drive yesterday 😴"

A few seconds pass. The dots appear, then disappear. You try not to let your heart race.

Finally, the response comes: “wow. and here i was about to say your last IG fit was 🔥"

You stare at your screen, biting your lip. The banter is easy, but there's something else there—something electric. Your pulse thuds louder than usual as you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keys. It feels like there's more hanging between you than just jokes. Did she feel it too? You quickly swipe back to your notes, trying to shake the feeling

Something that makes your skin buzz.

Tuesday, 2AM. You can’t sleep. Again. But this time, it’s different. The nervous energy swirling in your stomach isn’t from the game. It’s... something else.

Your phone lights up with a message:

you up?

Your breath catches in your throat. Two words. That’s all it takes.

You hesitate for just a second, fingers poised over the screen, and finally reply: “depends who’s asking 👀”

A beat. Three dots.

just your future march matchup.

You feel a grin tug at your lips, even as you try to keep your response cool.

bold of you to assume you’ll make it that far.

guess you’ll have to wait and see.

You can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out. There’s something about these late-night exchanges that feels different.

You roll over, pulling your blanket tighter, trying to convince yourself it’s just another game, just another rival. But when your phone buzzes again, you’re already looking forward to her next message.

A month after the game, your phone buzzes again as you’re reviewing game film late at night. You glance at the time—1:47 AM. Too late to be analyzing, but you can't help it. The game keeps replaying in your head. Then another message appears:

you always study film this late?

You glance at the reflection of your laptop in the dark screen of your phone. It’s like she knows. You smirk, replying.

how'd you know i was watching film?

saw your laptop reflection in your glasses in that last story

Something warm settles in your chest. You didn't think anyone had noticed those details.

stalker much? 🤨

just scouting the competition 😌

You're about to reply when three dots appear again.

want company? i'm looking at our clemson tape

Your heart skips a beat. You weren't expecting this. You pause before responding, a nervous twinge running through you. "facetime?"

Seconds later, the call comes through. You almost hesitate, but there’s something about it that pulls you in. You accept, suddenly hyper-aware that you're in your oversized Harvard hoodie, glasses perched on your nose, hair tossed into a messy bun.

When her face appears on the screen, you’re momentarily struck. She’s wearing a UConn sweatshirt, hair tied back, no makeup. She’s raw, real—like you’ve caught her in an unguarded moment, and for some reason, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"So," she starts, then seems to lose her train of thought. "Um. Basketball?"

You laugh, some of the tension breaking. “Uh-huh.”

"Listen," she grins, "I'm better at talking with a ball in my hands."

The conversation shifts easily into basketball, the two of you sharing screens and breaking down film together. She catches things you miss, and you point out nuances she hasn’t noticed. The back-and-forth flows—something about it feels natural. Like you’ve been doing this for years.

Hours pass without you even realizing it, and suddenly you’re talking about other things: favorite movies, worst recruiting stories, childhood dreams.

"Wait," she's saying through laughter, "you really wanted to be an astronaut AND a basketball player?"

"Still do," You shrug, trying to play it cool, even as something inside you aches with the lightness of the moment. "Who says I can't be the first WNBA player in space?"

Her expression goes soft for a moment. "You know what? If anyone could do it..."

There's something in her voice that makes your skin tingle. You clear your throat. "Anyway, uh, it's late."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "This was... this was nice."

"Yeah," you agree, not quite meeting her eyes through the screen. "Maybe we could do it again sometime y’know?”

"I'd like that."

Neither of you moves to hang up. The silence stretches, full of things unsaid.

Finally, she breaks it: “Well, goodnight, Rocket."

The nickname hits different in her voice at 4AM.

"Night, Paige."

You end the call, staring at your screen for a moment before you finally fall back onto your bed. The silence is deafening, but your mind is racing. You force yourself to calm down, to let your heart slow to a normal pace.

Then your phone buzzes again:

sweet dreams 🌙

You definitely don’t replay the entire call in your head. Definitely not.

And you certainly don’t dream about the way she looked when she laughed at your space joke.

Definitely not.

You’re sprawled on the couch in the apartment you share with Jasmine and Sierra, supposedly reading your Aerospace Engineering textbook. Actually, you're doing everything you can to avoid looking like you're grinning at your phone. The cursor keeps blinking in the reply box, like it’s daring you to type something stupid.

"earth surface temps are literally insane rn"

"why are you even awake?"

"says the girl who's also awake 🤨"

"homework doesn't count"

"nerd 🤓"

"bet you won't say that to my face"

"bet i will. next time i see you"

"when's that gonna be? 👀"

A part of you knows you should be focused on the problem set in front of you. But instead, your thoughts keep drifting back to the screen, to her messages. You bite your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. There's something different about this—about her—that you can't quite put into words. Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast for it to just be casual.

"Oh my GOD," Jasmine’s voice startles you, making you jolt and nearly drop your phone. She's leaning over the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with that grin that’s a little too knowing for comfort. "You're texting Paige!"

"What? No, I'm—" you fumble your phone, nearly dropping it. "I'm doing homework."

"Mmhmm." Jasmine vaults over the couch to land beside you. "That's why you're making the same face I make when KK texts."

"I do not make a face."

"You literally look like this—" Jasmine demonstrates an exaggerated dreamy expression that makes you throw a pillow at her.

"I'm going to KK's this weekend," she says after dodging the pillow. Her voice is deliberately casual. "UConn has a home game Friday. You should come."

Your heart does a little flip. "I have that Physics midterm Monday..."

"Right, because you definitely weren't just texting about wanting to see her."

"I wasn't—" you start, but your phone buzzes again, Paige’s name lighting up the screen in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.

"Girl," Jasmine says, softer now. "It's okay, you know? To want something besides basketball."

You stare at your phone, fingers hovering again over the keys as those three dots show up. Paige is typing, and your chest tightens. Your heart’s racing now, too fast for this to just be some rivalry. You’ve never felt this way about an opponent before.

"It's complicated," you finally manage, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

"When is it not?" Jasmine squeezes your shoulder as she gets up. "Think about it, okay? KK says the whole team's been asking about you anyway."

Later that night, Sierra finds you on the roof of your building. It’s your thinking spot—the place where you go to clear your head when the world feels too loud or when the equations refuse to make sense. Tonight, though, the equations have nothing to do with physics.

"Spill," Sierra says, sliding down to sit beside you.

"What?"

"You've been different lately. Good different, but different." She bumps your shoulder. "And I saw you smile at your phone six times during practice today."

You let out a long breath. The city lights blur below you, and somehow it feels easier to talk without making eye contact.

"I think... I think I like her," you say finally. The words feel huge in the quiet night air. "Paige, I mean."

"No shit," Sierra laughs softly. "I figured that out when you watched her coffee story four times."

You blink, feeling caught. "You saw that?"

"Girl, everyone saw that." She pauses. "The question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

You lean back against the roof, your gaze on the stars that are barely visible through the light pollution of the city. "I don’t know. It’s complicated," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "We’re rivals, and we’ll probably face each other in March. If the media got wind of us, it’d be a circus. Not to mention—" You cut yourself off, because it sounds even worse when you say it out loud.

"Okay, forget all that for a second." Sierra interrupts, her voice quieter now. She turns to face you, her eyes soft. "How does she make you feel?"

Your breath catches in your chest. How does Paige make you feel? You think about those late-night video calls that always start with film study but end with laughing over something stupid. About how she remembers little details about your life—like your favorite late-night snack, your favorite places on campus, or how you sometimes still get nervous before big games.

"Like I can be both," you say finally, the words tumbling out before you even realize their weight. "Like I can be The Prophecy, but also just... me."

Sierra's quiet for a long moment. Then: "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you've spent three years being perfect. Maybe it's time to be happy instead."

You stare at the stars, trying to find your footing in this new reality that feels both foreign and exciting. "I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

Sierra nudges you, her tone playful again. "Then at least try. You deserve it."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. You pull it out, heart skipping when you see the name on the screen: Paige. The message.

miss watching film with you

Sierra leans over to peek at the text, a grin spreading across her face. "Smooth," she says, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Is that why Jasmine invited you to Connecticut this weekend?" Sierra asks, an eyebrow raised.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "She told you?"

"Girl, I’m not blind," Sierra says, standing up. "Please. She’s been planning this whole setup for days. And you know what? You should go."

You look up, your gaze meeting hers. "I don’t know. The physics exam is coming up, and—"

"Physics will still be there when you get back," she interrupts, her voice light but serious. "But this? This might not be here forever."

You chew on that for a moment, the weight of it settling in.

"She’s waiting for you to say something," Sierra says quietly, her gaze flicking between you and the screen.

You hesitate, then smile softly to yourself. This is your chance.

You type back: "guess you'll have to come study in person sometime."

Sierra gives you a teasing look. "Oh, it’s on now."

Your phone buzzes again, and this time, Paige’s response comes quickly: "is that an invitation?"

Your fingers hover over the keys for a moment, and then, with a deep breath, you reply: "maybe. you gonna show me around campus?"

The message comes back almost immediately: "only the important spots. like where i practice my weak left hand drives 😏"

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter, your heart light and carefree for the first time in what feels like forever. Sierra shakes her head, smiling fondly at you.

"You’re totally down bad, huh?"

"Shut up," you laugh, feeling the warmth of it rush through you. But even as you tease her, you feel it too—this rush of excitement, the anticipation of something new, something that could change everything.

Sierra heads for the roof door, pausing just before she goes inside. "Hey Rocket?"

"Yeah?"

"Just... be careful, okay? Not because of basketball or rankings or any of that stuff. Just... because your heart's on the line too."

You nod, your chest tight as the weight of her words settles in. "I will."

She gives you one last look before disappearing inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your phone, and the lighthearted texts you’ve been sending all night.

Another buzz from Paige lights up your phone: "but seriously. come this weekend? i want to see you."

Her response makes your whole body warm: "can't wait 💫"

You stay on the roof a while longer, letting the night air cool your flushed cheeks. March feels both too far away and too close, but right now, in this moment, you let yourself focus on a different kind of countdown:

Three days until Connecticut.

The minute you step onto UConn's campus, you remember why being The Prophecy is complicated.

"Oh my god," you hear someone whisper. "Is that—"

"Holy shit, that's really her—"

"The Prophecy is here—"

You pull your hoodie up, hoping for some anonymity, but it’s futile. Jasmine’s already ditched you to find KK, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos, awkwardly clutching your duffel bag. You check your phone, hoping for a distraction, when you see a text from Paige.

how’s campus so far? are you surviving the hype? 😂

You type back quickly, trying to act casual.

surviving. But UConn is like a zoo. 🙄

Before you can put the phone down, a text buzzes again.

i’m in the quad, come meet me? i’ve got your escape route ready 🏃‍♀️

You smile at her message, your nerves a little lighter now, but that doesn't make the reality of the situation any less surreal.

"Should I just text her when I get there?" you mutter to yourself, typing out a quick reply:

on my way. see you soon.

The crowd's whispers grow louder, and as you move through the sea of students, your phone buzzes again, this time with a message that makes your heart skip a beat.

turn around

You turn, and there's Paige, looking unfairly good in joggers and a UConn hoodie. For a second, you both just stare at each other, all those late-night texts and video calls suddenly feeling very different in person.

"Hi," you manage, hyper-aware of the growing crowd pretending not to watch. "Um. Nice campus."

"Thanks, I—" she starts, just as you say, "Should we—"

You both stop. Laugh nervously. God, where did all your game go?

"Yo, Paige!" some guy calls out. "Is that The Prophecy? Can we get a picture?"

Before either of you can respond, the crowd swarms in like a tidal wave. Students materialize from every direction, phones out, voices overlapping, and it’s all happening too fast. You’re caught in the whirlwind of questions and flashes.

"Can you sign my jersey?"

"Is it true you haven't missed a shot since high school?"

"Are you really majoring in rocket science?"

"Can you do the space shot right now?"

It’s nothing new. You've done this a thousand times, but today, it feels different. You're hyper-aware of Paige standing there, watching, her gaze unreadable. Her eyes flick from the crowd to you, amusement playing at the corners of her lips, but there’s something else there too.

You keep your composure—signing autographs, taking selfies, answering questions—but it’s harder when she’s so close. You try not to look over at her too much, but you catch her looking at you once. And her smile? It makes the whole world feel lighter, even in the chaos.

Then someone from the crowd asks, “Yo, did you come to see Paige?”

You freeze. All eyes are suddenly on you, the crowd waiting for your response.

“Just checking out the competition,” you say smoothly, though your heart skips a beat. But then you catch the subtle curve of Paige’s lips as she tries to hide her smile.

“She's already kicked our ass once,” Paige adds, her voice playful. “Maybe I’m trying to learn her secrets.”

The crowd laughs, and the tension in the air eases. You finally manage to break free from the swarm, and Paige leads you out of the madness, pulling you toward a quieter part of campus. She glances over at you as if to gauge how you’re holding up, and then says, “Sorry about that. I probably should’ve warned you… You’re kind of a big deal here.”

“Here?” You raise an eyebrow. “Not just at Harvard?”

She rolls her eyes with that charming little smirk of hers. “Please, you know what I mean.”

She bumps your shoulder lightly, and for a second, you’re both frozen in that little moment, and then—quickly—she steps away, as though surprised by the contact. She rubs the back of her neck awkwardly before continuing, “The perfect record? The space shot? Your major? You’re like basketball mythology at this point.”

The words settle over you, like a weight that makes you stand a little straighter. It's odd, but you can't deny the truth in what she’s saying. You pass a group of girls, and they absolutely squeal when they spot you. One of them is wearing a t-shirt with your number and "The Prophecy" written on the back, and it's like you’ve stepped into some weird alternate reality.

"That's..." you start.

"Weird?" Paige offers.

"I was gonna say flattering, but yeah, weird works too."

She chuckles, a little breathless, as you continue walking. You can’t help but notice how she looks at you—like she’s caught between admiration and something else.

By the time you reach the athletics center, the crowd starts to thin, but there's still a palpable buzz in the air. Students part for you like you're some kind of celebrity, whispering as they pass.

"—never misses, like ever—"

"—turned down every WNBA scout—"

"—heard she's already got a NASA job lined up—"

"—next GOAT for sure—"

You can’t hear it all, but enough of it sticks to your skin. You make eye contact with a few of the UConn players as you pass, and they do double-takes. The whispers don’t stop. The world still hasn't figured out how to react to you, and you’re still trying to wrap your head around it yourself.

When you get inside the locker room, you spot KK, draped over Jasmine on a bench. She sits up as soon as she sees you, and a wide grin spreads across her face.

“The Prophecy graces us with her presence!” KK announces, her voice carrying through the room.

You and Paige both turn to each other, saying “Shut up” at the same time. You exchange a glance, and immediately, you both look away, your cheeks heating up.

“Oh my god,” KK stage-whispers to Jasmine, her voice dripping with mischief. “They’re actually awkward. This is adorable.”

“I will literally murder you,” Paige threatens, but her face is flushed, the playful tone in her voice not matching her serious words.

You drop your bag, trying to act casual despite your racing heart. "So, this is where the magic happens?"

"Something like that," Paige responds, her voice quieter now. Then, her tone shifts, just a little, as she adds, “Want to see where I practice those trash left-hand drives?”

Her smile is nervous but hopeful, and something in your chest flutters in response. You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes meeting hers.

"Lead the way, Bueckers."

The gym is quiet, empty this late—just the two of you and the space stretching out around you like a vast, hollow echo. The squeak of your sneakers against the court floor seems louder than usual, and the rhythm of the ball bouncing between you is a steady heartbeat in the silence.

You grab a ball, the motion automatic, instinctual. Some habits don’t break just because your heart’s doing backflips.

"So..." you start, dribbling slow, almost hesitant. Your palms feel too hot on the ball, like everything about this moment is too much, too close, but you can’t pull away.

"So..." she echoes, her voice low, mirroring your movements with a fluid ease that makes your pulse pick up a little faster.

"This is..." you trail off, looking for the right word. Something that fits the electric tension hanging in the air.

"Weird?"

She raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. "I was gonna say nice," you add, voice a little softer, but still trying to brush it off, to keep control. "But yeah, weird too."

She laughs—just a soft sound, but it breaks something between you. You feel your shoulders loosen, and the tightness in your chest starts to ease. "Want to play? Or are you scared I'll ruin your perfect record?" Her words are light, playful, but there’s an edge of something else there. Something beneath the surface.

"Please," you scoff, but the words come out softer than you expected, a little breathless. "You couldn’t guard me with a restraining order."

Her smile widens, but her eyes stay locked on yours, sharp, like she can see right through you. "Big talk from someone who's been stalking my coffee stories."

You nearly drop the ball at that. "I— that’s not—" You choke on your words, heat rushing to your cheeks, the sudden shift in conversation throwing you off-balance.

"Four views," she grins. "I counted."

"Professional research," you manage, trying to ignore how your face is burning.

"Right." She steps closer, her body moving fluidly, effortlessly, still dribbling the ball with that same steady rhythm. "And all those late-night texts?"

"Scouting reports," you shoot back, but your voice cracks, betraying the lie.

"The two-hour video calls?"

"Film study," you mutter, voice barely a whisper.

"And coming to Connecticut?" Her tone shifts—lighter, but with a question in it now. A challenge in her eyes, daring you to say something.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding against your chest. "Would you believe advanced aerospace research?"

She's too close now. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, feel the heat radiating off her as she steps forward just enough to close the space between you. The ball’s still bouncing, the rhythm matching your heartbeats, and you can hear the beat of her pulse too—steady.

"Try again." Her voice is soft, but the challenge in it is unmistakable.

You take a breath, the air thick with something unspoken. "Maybe... I just wanted to see you."

The ball stops bouncing. It’s almost like everything around you freezes for a second. The echo of the gym fades out, and all you can hear is the steady thrum of your heartbeat, racing now, too fast, too loud.

Her eyes search yours, the gold flecks in them catching the light, and for a split second, everything feels suspended. She doesn’t move. You don’t either. There’s a moment between you, raw and exposed, like you’re both just standing there, waiting for something to happen.

Then, her phone buzzes, breaking the stillness—KK, asking where you both disappeared to. The moment shatters, and you both step back, like you’ve both just been jolted awake.

"We should..." she starts.

"Yeah," you agree quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Team dinner, right?"

"Right." The word comes out like a sigh, a soft release, but neither of you move for a beat.

You both head back toward the locker room, but it feels like the distance between you has doubled, despite being only a few feet apart. You’re careful to maintain some space, but the air around you still crackles with the memory of the moment.

Just before you reach the door, you feel the lightest touch on your wrist. It’s a shock to the system, warm and soft, and you freeze.

"Hey."

You turn to face her, heart still thundering in your chest, your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm glad you came," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavier than anything she’s said so far.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, your mind a blur, trying to make sense of the shift in the air between you. Before you can speak, though, she’s through the door, vanishing into the locker room, leaving you standing there, breathless.

You stand there for a moment, your heart still racing, trying to collect yourself. The touch of her fingers on your wrist is still warm on your skin, like an electric spark that lingers long after the contact ends. You can still feel the weight of her gaze on you, the way she looked at you just before she left—open, vulnerable, and for a second, everything in you just... paused.

You’re so fucking screwed.

Inside, KK takes one look at your face and starts laughing immediately. "Oh yeah," she says to Jasmine, her voice full of knowing. "March is gonna be interesting."

You throw a towel at her, but you can't help smiling. Because yeah, March is going to be complicated. But right now, watching Paige try not to look at you while she gets ready for dinner, you can't bring yourself to care.

Some things are worth the complication.

The team’s already piled into the upscale Italian place, the kind of restaurant where the hostess gives your group a double-take, eyes wide as she tries to figure out if you’re all really who she thinks you are. Emma starts giggling beside you, and you can’t help but let a laugh slip too. The entire UConn starting five, plus you, Jasmine, and a couple of bench players, fill up the space like a small parade. The table’s enormous, but somehow, fate—or possibly KK—decides that you should sit next to Paige. You know it's not her doing, but the thought of it makes your stomach do flips. Definitely not subtle.

Your knees brush under the table, and you both jerk away so fast it feels like a live wire just zapped both of you. It’s... a weird moment, but it’s over quickly.

"So," Caroline leans in, practically smirking with that devious look of hers. "We finally get to hear how The Prophecy got her name."

"Oh god," you groan, sinking back in your seat, hoping to disappear into the padded booth. But Paige perks up next to you, eyes lighting with interest.

"Wait," she says, "I don’t know this story."

You shoot Emma a glare, but she’s already opening her mouth, ready to spill the beans.

"Nobody tells it," you warn, but Emma's already launching in.

"Freshman year," Emma begins, her voice a little too loud in the suddenly quiet room, "first practice. Coach put her through this insane shooting drill—"

"It wasn't insane," you protest.

"Hundred shots from five spots," Emma continues, undeterred. "Most freshmen hit, like, sixty percent if they’re lucky. She goes perfect. Coach thinks it’s a fluke, makes her do it again. Perfect again."

You can feel Paige’s eyes on you, her attention sharp and focused. You don’t know how to feel about it, but you try not to squirm under her gaze.

"Third time," Emma's building to it now, "Coach says 'What are you, some kind of prophecy?' And right as she says it, this girl—" she points at you, "—sinks a half-court shot backward without looking."

"I was stretching!" you defend, but the table's already losing it.

"The name stuck," Caroline finishes. "Even before the no-miss streak."

"Speaking of," Tessa jumps in, her voice suddenly a lot more serious, "how do you actually do that? The never-missing thing?"

The entire table quiets down, all eyes suddenly fixed on you. Even the waitress, hovering nearby, pretends not to listen, but you catch her glancing over every few seconds.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention on you, but the pressure isn’t all bad. You glance over at Paige—she’s still watching you, her expression unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to focus. She shifts slightly closer, and it makes your heart race.

"I just..." You pause, unsure of how to explain the weird, inexplicable thing that happens when you’re on the court. "I guess I see it differently. Like, you know how some people have perfect pitch in music? They hear things that other people can’t even pick up on?"

Nods around the table.

"I see angles that way," you continue, trying to sound more confident, but you’re still not used to talking about it. "Trajectories, force vectors... like physics and the feel of it—they just... merge in my head, I guess?"

Jasmine, who’s been watching you this whole time, cuts in with a smirk. "She’s being modest. Yesterday, I watched her solve a quantum mechanics problem while sinking thirty straight threes."

You roll your eyes. "Multitasking," you mumble, but Paige’s knee brushes against yours again. This time, neither of you pulls away, and your concentration goes from laser focus to absolute mush. You feel heat rising in your chest, but you try to keep your voice steady.

The conversation shifts, but you’re barely listening anymore. Every little movement from Paige, every time her hand brushes your arm as she reaches for her water, every time she leans in a little closer to hear you speak—your mind is barely keeping up. Her perfume is subtle but intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"Y'all should see her in class," Jasmine's saying. "Professors literally use her as an example in physics."

"One time!"

"Three times," Jasmine corrects. "Remember when Dr. Peterson used your jump shot to explain projectile motion?"

KK, who’s been silently watching you both like this is her personal reality TV show, grins. "No wonder half the team has a crush on you."

You nearly choke on your water. Paige freezes next to you, and you can feel the shift in the air.

"I mean," Caroline chimes in, clearly trying to smooth over the tension, but only making it worse, "who wouldn’t? Best player in the country, genius-level IQ, and look at her—"

"Okay!" Paige cuts her off, a bit too loudly. "Who wants dessert?"

The change in pace is enough to shake everyone out of the sudden tension. But as dessert menus are passed around and people start laughing again, your mind is still racing.

Later, as the group walks back toward campus, you notice how easily the team starts to scatter. KK and Jasmine vanish into the distance almost immediately, making some excuse about practice. The rest of the team drifts off to their own plans—study groups, dorms, whatever—but you and Paige end up walking together, side by side in the cool night air, the sound of your footsteps the only thing breaking the silence.

"So," Paige says, her voice soft but a little uncertain, "the hotel’s that way."

You glance at her. "Yeah."

Neither of you turns toward it.

"I have, um," she starts, then stops. Takes a breath. "I have a single. In my dorm. If you wanted to watch a movie or something."

Your heart goes into overdrive, doing flips and twists like it might just leap out of your chest. The words feel stuck in your throat, but your mind is running wild.

"Or something?"

Even in the dim streetlight, you can see her blush. "I didn't mean— I just thought—"

"I'd like that," you cut off her rambling, and the smile she gives you makes your knees weak.

Her room is exactly what you'd expect - basketball posters, team photos, neat desk with game notes spread out. What you don't expect is how intimate it feels, being in this space that's so completely hers.

"Make yourself comfortable," she gestures to her bed, then immediately looks panicked. "I mean, you can sit— I'll take the chair—"

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Breathe."

She laughs, some tension breaking. You sit on her bed, back against the wall, and after a moment she joins you, careful to leave space between you.

"So," you say.

"So," she echoes.

"Half the team has a crush on me, huh?"

She groans, covering her face. "KK has the biggest mouth—"

"Just half though?" You're pushing it, you know you are, but something about the way she's blushing makes you brave.

She lowers her hands, looks at you directly for the first time since dinner. "You know exactly how many people have a crush on you."

"Do I?"

Her eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second. "You must."

The air feels thick, charged. Your hand is on the comforter between you, and slowly, so slowly, her pinky finger hooks over yours.

Just that small point of contact sets your whole body on fire.

"Paige?"

"Hmm?"

"I didn't come to Connecticut for film study."

She turns her hand, letting her fingers intertwine with yours properly. Your breath hitches.

"I know," she says softly.

You sit there for what feels like hours, neither moving except for her thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles. The touch is so light, so careful, but it feels like the most intense thing you've ever experienced.

"I should..." you start reluctantly.

"Stay," she says quickly, then blushes harder. "I mean, it's late, and the hotel's far, and—"

"Okay."

She blinks. "Okay?"

You squeeze her hand gently. "Okay."

Later, lying in her bed (she insisted, taking the floor despite your protests), you stare at the ceiling in the dark. Your hand still tingles where she touched it.

"Rocket?" her voice comes softly from below.

"Yeah?"

A pause. Then: "I'm really glad you're here."

You close your eyes, smiling into the darkness. "Me too."

Neither of you mentions March. Neither of you talks about rankings or rivalries or what any of this means. For now, there's just this: her steady breathing in the quiet room, the lingering warmth of her touch, and the feeling that something huge is beginning.

Just before you drift off, you hear her whisper something that might be "perfect." But you're already falling asleep, wrapped in her blankets that smell like her, dreaming of basketball and physics and the way her hand felt in yours.

Some equations, you think hazily, don't need solving.

Continue to part two.

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goldfades · 1 month ago

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HER PRINCESS ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | request: P taking care of the reader and being extra sweet to her, like reader is being a pouty whiny baby and p is just laughing and teasing her ab it but also being the sweetest most caring gf doing everything her princess asks for) for @wanderlusturous

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of period cramps, paige being the sweetest gf ever, reader being dramatic, friendly teasing, nothing else but sweetness!

The soft click of the front door opening pulls you from your half-asleep haze. You’re sprawled out on the bed, face buried in the pillow, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets like the pouty, neglected girlfriend you are. Paige’s practice ran late—again—and even though you know it’s not her fault, it’s easier to sulk than to be reasonable.

“Baby, I’m home!” Her voice carries through the apartment, light and a little breathless. There’s a shuffle of sneakers being kicked off and the familiar jingle of her keys landing in the dish by the door.

You don’t answer. Not because you didn’t hear her, but because being dramatic feels like the only appropriate response to spending all day missing her.

Seconds later, the bedroom door creaks open, and there she is. Paige stands in the doorway, gym bag slung over one shoulder, her hoodie a little damp from sweat. Her hair’s pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her cheeks are still pink from exertion. You catch her grin the second she spots you moping on the bed.

“Oh no,” she teases, voice dripping with mock concern. “It’s worse than I thought. My princess is in full-on pout mode.”

You groan, rolling over just enough to glare at her. “Don’t call me that.” The words come out muffled through the blankets, hardly convincing.

Paige just laughs, dropping her bag on the floor before walking over. She leans down, resting her hands on the mattress, her face hovering inches from yours. “You’re right. Maybe I should call you grumpy-pants instead.”

“Paige,” you whine, turning your head away, which only makes her laugh harder. Her familiar scent—something clean and faintly floral—follows her as she crawls onto the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.

“You missed me, huh?” she says softly, tugging gently at the blanket wrapped around you. You try to swat her hand away, but it’s useless—she’s persistent. “Come on, don’t be mad. I’m here now.”

When she finally manages to pull the blanket down far enough to reveal your face, she looks at you with such a warm, adoring smile that it’s hard to stay annoyed. Paige Bueckers, MVP of making you feel like the most loved human on the planet, even when she’s being a total pest.

Paige’s grin widens when she catches sight of your pout. She’s so close you can see the little flecks of gold in her blue eyes, and the way her damp lashes stick together. Her cheeks are still slightly flushed, not just from practice but from the effort of teasing you into a better mood.

“You’re so cute when you’re all grumpy,” she coos, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Her fingertips are warm against your skin, and despite yourself, you lean into her touch ever so slightly. She notices, of course, because she notices everything, and her smirk turns smug. “Aww, see? You can’t stay mad at me.”

“Try me,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest in a last-ditch effort to look unbothered. It’s a weak attempt. Paige knows she’s already winning.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she says, voice dropping into that playful, teasing tone that makes your stomach do flips. She shifts to sit cross-legged beside you, her body radiating warmth, and pulls your blanket fortress down further, exposing your pajama-clad form to the cool air. You squeak in protest, trying to grab it back, but Paige just laughs, easily dodging your attempts.

“Paige! I’m cold!” you whine, dragging the syllables out as dramatically as possible.

“You’re not cold,” she counters, leaning down so her face is level with yours. Her lips are barely an inch from your ear when she whispers, “You just want attention.”

The accusation makes your cheeks burn, but you refuse to admit it. Instead, you turn your head to glare at her, only to find her looking at you with such fondness it makes your heart squeeze. Her teasing may drive you crazy, but it’s never mean—always laced with that endless well of affection she has for you.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll stop being annoying. What does my needy girl want?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you try to decide between staying stubborn or giving in. Paige raises an eyebrow, waiting patiently like she has all the time in the world, and you know she does. No matter how busy her day has been, Paige always makes it clear that when she’s with you, she’s with you—no distractions, no half-listening, just you and her.

Finally, you mumble, “I want cuddles. And snacks.”

“Snacks, huh?” Paige chuckles, but she’s already sliding off the bed, her socked feet making no sound against the floor. “Anything for my princess. Stay here—I’ll be right back.”

This time, you don’t protest the nickname. You watch as she disappears into the kitchen, humming softly to herself. Her hair bounces with every step, the ponytail swinging as she moves with that effortless grace she always has, even when she’s been on her feet all day.

Moments later, she returns with an assortment of snacks balanced in her arms—your favorite chips, a chocolate bar, and even a glass of water because, as she always reminds you, “You need to stay hydrated, babe.” She sets everything on the nightstand with a satisfied grin before crawling back onto the bed.

“Okay, princess,” she says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Snacks, check. Cuddles, incoming. Anything else?”

You pretend to think for a moment, then look up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Maybe... a massage?”

Paige groans dramatically, throwing her head back as if you’ve asked her to climb Mount Everest. “You’re so high-maintenance,” she teases, but her hands are already reaching for your shoulders.

And just like that, the annoyance of her long day away melts into the warmth of her presence, the comfort of her touch, and the steady rhythm of her laughter filling the room.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers #wbb x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wbb imagine #wbb smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers uconn #uconn #paige buckets #wcbb x reader #wcbb smut #uconnwbb

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lupinqs · 11 days ago

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MIGRAINE ━━ paige bueckers x teammate!reader

☆ ━ summary: on big east media day, you’re unfortunate enough to get a migraine

☆ ━ word count: 2.9K

☆ ━ warnings: descriptions of migraines, throwing up

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, based off of this req

☆ ━ author’s note: two fics in one night omg WHO AM I??? also i promise this is not rlly dramatized y’all this is quite literally how my migraines are …….… wish i had a paige during them 😞

BIG EAST media day—it’s today. Usually, you don’t mind media days at all. Actually, you tend to enjoy them. But, clearly, today you’re not meant to.

As soon as the sun broke through the windows of the New York hotel, Paige had woken to the sight of your scrunched-up face, a hand pressed to your temple. You both knew what it meant: you had a migraine, and today of all days, it had to hit with full force.

Paige had immediately rolled out of bed, grabbing your migraine medication from your bag that you’d luckily remembered to bring in a “just in case” situation. However, you’d been resistant to at first, knowing full well that the medicine would upset your stomach like it always does, but Paige had insisted, forcing you to take it. “You know we can’t skip today. Just take it, baby. It’ll help with the pain.” Reluctantly, you’d taken the pills, and with an an hour, just as you were sitting in hair and makeup, the side effects hit. You’d bolted from your chair, leaving the startled makeup artist behind as you rushed to the bathroom to puke your guts up.

Paige had followed immediately, kneeling beside you in the small, cramped bathroom stall, rubbing your back as you heaved into the toilet. The nausea subsided eventually, but Paige was worried you’d thrown up all the medicine in the process. You hadn’t had time to find out, though—there were interviews to do, and you, always the professional, was stubborn enough to push through.

Now, you and Paige sit side by side, a row of reporters in front of you, microphones held up like weapons ready to attack. The lights in the gym are blinding, and the low hum of chatter, camera clicks, and reporters scribbling notes fill the space. It’s the last place you want to be.

Paige, sensing your discomfort, takes the lead in most of the interviews. She fields question after question, her voice steady and charming as she answers everything from season goals to the team’s camaraderie. Next to her, you sit rigidly in your chair, staring at the ground, fingers pressing hard into your palms as if trying to will the pain away.

Every so often, a reporter directs a question at you, and Paige watches closely, knowing that forming coherent, professional sentences is probably the last thing you want to do. Still, you force a tight smile and give a short, clipped response, voice strained but composed. The pain etched across your face is stable, but it’s there—just enough for Paige to notice, though you try your best to keep your expression neutral.

It’s damn near agonizing for Paige to watch you like this, especially when she knows how badly you’re hurting. She can tell that the migraine’s wrecking you, she’s been there for so many at this point that she knows all the little signs like the back of her hand. She wishes she could turn the lights down, quiet the reporters, and just take you somewhere dark and silent to rest. But there’s nothing she can do—you just have to endure it.

As the interview drags on, one reporter, a man who looks younger and more inexperienced than the others and who’s clearly growing impatient with your curt answers, rudely points at you, addressing you by name before saying, “You really don’t look like you want to be here today. I mean, is something wrong with you?”

The words come out sharp and are strictly unprofessional. Your eyes flicker toward the reporter, though you can’t see half of him due to the darkness shadowing parts of your vision. You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say. Your brain is hardly functioning, the throbbing in your skull is unbearable, and you can’t even muster the strength to care about his tone. All you want is for this to be over.

But Paige cares.

Her gaze snaps to the reporter, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her posture shifts, body leaning slightly forward, protective instincts kicking in immediately. Usually, she’d stay more poised, composed, let her media training do the work for her. But she isn’t about to let anyone talk to you like that, especially not today.

“Excuse me?” Paige’s voice is sharp, cutting through the room. She’s sure that there’s a camera recording this right now but she quite literally could not care less. “What did you just say?”

The reporter, startled by Paige’s reaction, fumbles for a moment before stammering, “Um, I just mean that she looks… unwell. She’s not really answering the questions.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “Maybe you should think before you speak next time. She’s here, answering your questions to the best of her ability despite not feeling great, and you should respect that instead of makin’ snide comments.”

The side of the gym they’re on grows even quieter, the weight of Paige’s words settling in the air. You, who’s still staring at the floor, blinks, heart swelling with gratitude. You don’t really have the energy to defend yourself, let alone sit up with your eyes open against the bright lights, ht knowing Paige has your back—it’s everything.

The reporter, realizing he’s on thing ice, mutters an apology, his face turning red under the harsh lights. Paige doesn’t bother to acknowledge it, her focus shifting back to you, her hand subtly reaching out to squeeze your knee under the table.

The rest of the interview continues, but Paige’s attention is divided now. She keeps on eye on the reporters, answering questions with ease, but her other eye is always on you, watching closely. Your face has gone even paler, and every few minutes, your eyes flutter shut as if you don’t even have the strength to keep them open against the blinding pain.

Finally, the session begins to wind down, and as soon as the last question is answered, Paige is out of her chair, gently taking your arm and leading you away from the microphones and cameras. The two of you step into a hallway, away from the noise and lights, and as soon as you’re alone, you lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes with a shaky breath.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “Feel like my head’s about to explode.”

Paige wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “I know, baby. You did so good, though. We’re almost done, okay? Just a little longer, and then I’m taking you back to the hotel. Dark room, no noise, just you and me.”

You nod, though even that small motion seems to cause you pain. And you pray that she does good on that promise, especially as the two of you go back into the gym. You end up sitting on a bench next to Azzi waiting, resting your head on her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to block out the harsh gym lights and constant noise. Your head throbs with a relentless pulse, nausea rolling in waves, and your entire body feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. Azzi’s softly rubbing your arm in a comforting rhythm, whispering little encouragements.

But when Geno and CD approach, apologetically telling Paige that she and you have one more interview to do, Paige immediately starts protesting.

“No. No way. I can do it by myself,” she says firmly, already standing in front of the two coaches, shielding you from them like a protective wall. “She’s not in the right state for this. Just look at her.”

Geno and CD turn their heads to look over at you. You’re still slumped against Azzi, face pale and drawn. Your lips are pressed into a tight line, and your eyes are glossed over, clearly fighting back tears of pain. It’s not a pretty sight.

“I know, Paige,” CD says, eyes soft with sympathy. “We hate this as much as you do. But this interview is important. She’s got to do it, too.”

Paige’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “CD, come on,” she says in what can only be called a plea. “Please—she’s hurting. She’s in pain. You’re tellin’ me we can’t work somethin’ out?”

Geno sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wish we could, kid,” he tells her. “But this is the last one, I promise. After this, you can take her back.”

Paige mutters a curse under her breath, her frustration boiling beneath the surface. She glances back at you, who’s face is so pale and worn-out that it makes Paige’s stomach twist.

“Fine,” she says finally, voice tight with defeat. “But this is the last time I’m putting her through this.”

Geno and CD both give a nods of understanding, and Paige turns, making her way back over to you. Kneeling in front of you, she places a gentle hand on your knee. “Hey,” she whispers, her voice soft with regret. “I’m so sorry, baby, but we gotta do one more interview. Just one more, and then you’re done, yeah?”

You open your eyes, and the utter pain in your expression makes Paige’s heart ache. You look like you’re damn near about to cry, eyes brimming with unshed tears, but you nod weakly anyways, ready to do what you need to even though you’ve clearly hit your limit.

Paige sighs, hating this situation more than anything. She leans in, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, hoping in vain that it might ease some of the pain within your cerebrum. “I promise, after this, I’m taking you away, okay? I ain’t letting anyone stop us.”

You nod again, swallowing hard as you fight to keep yourself in check. Paige stands, gently helping you to your feet, and together, the two of you make your way toward the interviewers, you subtly leaning on Paige as much as you can, because if you’re honest, you can’t see most of your surroundings.

The interview itself is a nightmare. The questions seem never-ending, and although Paige answers most of them, there’s still some directed only at you that you’re responsible for. Each time, you know you sound stupid, voice hoarse and response almost incoherent. The lights are too bright, the noise too overwhelming, and by the end of it, you visibly look like you’d rather die than be here.

As soon as the interview is done, you don’t even wait for Paige. You rush out of the gym, once again heading straight for a hallway where it’s at least a little bit darker. Paige hurries after you, catching up just as you half-collapse against the wall, fighting tears.

“It hurts so bad, P,” you cry raggedly. You clutch at your head, hands trembling as you press them to your temples before moving them over to your eyes, squeezing them shut and pressing your palms against them hard. “I—fuck—I can’t—”

Paige’s stomach constricts. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close, pressing your face into her neck to shield your eyes from any and all light. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Paige whispers, making sure to be as quiet as possible, voice filled with soothing warmth. She gently rubs your back, rocking you slightly as you’re near-sobbing against her.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige murmurs thickly. “I shoulda fought harder to get you outta that. But I’mma take you back to the hotel now, okay? I don’t care what the fuck else were supposed to do today.”

You don’t respond with words, just nod weakly against Paige’s neck, fingers clutching tightly at the blonde’s shirt as if trying to ground yourself.

Paige carefully guides you to sit on a bench in the hallway, leaning you back against the cool wall. “Wait here for just a sec, okay? I’mma be right back, just gotta tell Coach and CD we’re leaving.”

You nod again, your eyes fluttering closed as you rest your head against the wall. Paige brushes her thumb over your cheek, her heart splinting all over again at the sight of you in so much fucking pain. Then, with determination in her step, Paige turns and goes in search of Geno and CD.

When she finds them, they’re in the middle of talking to a few other staff members, but Paige doesn’t care. She marches up to them, her expression set in stone.

“I’m taking her back right now,” Paige says firmly, unwavering. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care what else we’re supposed to do here. She’s in too much pain, and I’m not putting her through any more of this. And I’m definitely not sending her back by herself.”

CD looks like she wants to argue, but one look at Paige’s determined face, and Paige can tell the older woman knows it’s pointless. Geno sighs, his shoulders sagging.

“Go,” he says quietly. “Take her. We’ll handle the rest.” He gestures to himself and CD, then over to where Azzi, Ash, and Sarah stand.

Paige nods once, her gratitude unspoken but clear. She doesn’t waste another second, turning on her heel and heading straight back to you. Once she gets to you, she helps you up, wrapping a firm arm around your waist. The two of you head toward the doors and then are out into the cool air of the New York streets. The noise of the city hits you like a wall—cars honking, sirens wailing faintly in the distance, the chatter of pedestrians—but Paige moves quickly, guiding you down the sidewalk.

The hotel is technically within walking distance, but Paige refuses to put you through that. Instead, she stops at the curb, pulls out her phone, and hails an Uber.

“It’s okay,” she whispers as you press yourself against her side, hiding your face in her shoulder as the nausea rolls through you again. “‘M not making you walk, don’t worry.”

The car pulls up almost immediately. Paige helps you inside first, sliding in next to you and carefully pulling you into her side again, buckling your seatbelt for you. It’s probably the shortest car ride of either of your lives, and you don’t say a word for any of it, just continuing to rest your head on her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. Paige presses a soft kiss to your temple, reassuring you you’re almost there.

When the car pulls up to the hotel, Paige thanks the driver quickly, helping you out of the car with her hands steady on your hips. You cling to her without hesitation, your legs barely cooperating as, by this point, the majority of your body has gone numb. She doesn’t mind, though, guiding you through the lobby and toward the elevator. The ding of the doors makes you wince and Paige notices immediately. “I know, baby,” she murmurs softly, guiding you inside and pressing the button for your floor.

The ride up is quiet except for your unsteady breathing, and Paige’s grip never loosens. As soon as the doors open, she’s leading you to the room, swiping the keycard and pushing the door open in one smooth motion.

“Here we go,” Paige says gently, helping you inside. She lets you stumble toward the bed, watching closely as you basically collapse onto it with a shaky breath. Paige then moves to the windows, yanking the curtains shut until the room is bathed in near-total darkness. The relief is instant—you let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing just slightly as the pressure in your head dulls a little without the presence of light.

Paige isn’t done. She rummages through your bag until she finds your medication again, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge before kneeling next to the bed. “Hey,” she says softly, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “You gotta take this, yeah? It’ll help.”

You groan faintly in protest, turning your face into the pillow, but Paige doesn’t back down. “Ma, c’mon,” she coaxes, voice firm but still tender. “I know it sucks, but you gotta take it. Just one more thing, and then you can rest.”

Reluctantly, you crack your eyes open, barely able to see her face in the dark, but you feel the pill pressed gently to your lips. You take it without complaint this time, swallowing it down with a sip of water Paige helps you hold.

“Good job, baby,” she praises, pressing another kiss to your forehead. She sets the bottle on the nightstand before kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed with you, immediately wrapping her arms around you. She pulls you close, her chest flush against your back, one arm sliding under your head to cushion it while the other wraps proactively around your waist.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers softly into your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe. ‘M right here.”

You whimper faintly in response, you body still shaking, but you relax the tiniest bit in her hold.” Paige’s touch is gentle, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over your stomach as she tries to calm you down. She presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, murmuring see ew nothings that you can barely process through the pain.

A small sob escapes you as a particularly harsh stab to your skull hits. Paige only pulls you closer, holding you like she can absorb all of your pain into herself. “I know it hurts. I know,” she says softly, her voice cracking slightly as she wishes, more than anything, that she could take it all away for you. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m here. Always.”

And she means it—Paige Bueckers would hold you through every second of the pain if it meant you didn’t have to face it alone.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #wcbb x reader #wnba #wlw #lgbtq #ncaa wbb

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pboogerswbb · 1 month ago

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TOO LOST IN YOU - part IV

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: smut and i mean FILTHY OK, toxic!paige, kinda cheating, language, etc.

Wordcount: 7.4k (sorry but there's smut ok)

A/N: TY for being so patient with me, i've been feeling sick but slowly getting better and finally got this done. finally some fluff for y'all. also please leave feedback/live reactions I LOVE THAT SHIT! ok enjoy guys mwah <3

“You’re joking, right Paige?” A frustrated voice comes through the speaker as I lean back on the couch, spreading my legs to find a more comfortable position. The game of fortnite me, Aubrey and Ice had been planning on for like a week was turned down, not wanting the phone’s mic picking up the sounds.

“‘M afraid not,” I mumble into the phone, biting my lower lip in concentration. I was so close to getting a kill if I could just finally hang up, but here I still was, fifteen minutes of going back and forth on some topic that didn’t need all this drama with a girl whose last name I’d forgotten.

“But it’s my birthday,” Clara whines into my ear. Watching my character get killed, I groan and tilt my head back, throwing the controller onto my grey sweats.

“I know, baby. Look we can do a lil something next week, lemme make it up to you,” I say into the phone, needing to get this girl to get off my ass. “I promise.” I didn’t mean that though, it was just empty words.

Truth was I just needed some time, after what happened the other night with Valerie I had felt my thoughts chipping away at me. The things running through my head had made sleeping impossible and practice even worse. The lack of control I felt when she was around me was terrifying. I needed a night just with my girls, badly.

I felt tense, distracted.

“Clara, whatchu want me to do? it's an emergency.”

To get away from Clara’s plans for the night Aubrey and Ice had helped me to come up with an elaborate lie about me “pulling a muscle in my wrist and it needed resting”. I hadn’t found it as believable but for Clara it worked.

The girl’s soft sigh comes through the phone. “Fine, ok. But you gotta make it up to me.”

“I will I will,” I mumble, unaware of what I’m really saying, stuffing my mouth with a fistful of popcorn from a bowl on the couch. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Ice lets out a loud laugh, quickly covering her mouth as I give her a scolding look, pointing to the phone. Thankfully Clara doesn’t hear a thing.

As the new game begins I quickly grab the controller from my grey sweats, I needed to wrap up this call quick.

“I wish you’d let me come take ca-”

“Gotta go Clara, happy birthday,” I yell hurriedly into the phone before Clara could even finish, hanging up the phone and throwing it onto the couch which makes Aubrey and Ice snicker.

“Bro you suck at this game!” I yell at Aubrey who looks at me offended.

“Nah, that wasn’t my fault!! It was Ice!!” she scoffs.

The ringing of my phone interrupts the conversation. Before I can pick it up, or even complain about Clara getting clingy, the sound stops. Not to sound too cocky or like a piece of shit but if it was one of the girls on my roster, that ringing wouldn’t have stopped for a minute. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the power I had over some of these chicks, how they stayed up till 4am just to see if I called them up. They didn’t need to let me know it’s what they did, I knew all too well.

I grab my phone and quickly unlock it. With wide eyes and heart fluttering, I dial back.

“Paige I thought we were gonna have a girls’ night,” Aubrey groans but my finger comes up to shush her when I hear a soft voice come through the phone.

“Hey?”

“Valerie?” I ask, I can barely hear her from the loud traffic nearly burying the sound of her voice.

“Wh- why are you callin’ me?” she asks, her words are slurred enough to let me know she’s drunk. Even so, hearing her sweet voice might as well have been a choir of angels singing.

“You called me, mama,” I chuckle softly, walking away from the girls to hear better.

There’s a moment of silence between us as I slide into my own dorm room, closing the door behind me, leaning against it.

“Oh… uh I was trying to call Paige,” she murmurs and loudly gasps. I can hear her slapping her own mouth and a cocky smirk grows on my face. “JAY, JAY I WAS. I was trying to call Jay.”

The bite on my lower lip stuffles the laugh I let out. Honestly, it made me feel a little smug knowing she said my name instead of hers. I wonder if I was really on her mind that much. It had been quite a long time since I had wondered anything like that.

“Ohh right… Justine,” I joke, the name making me giggle each time. This time, Valerie giggles too.

“Don’t make fun P.”

“Alright alright,” I chuckle walking over to my bed and sitting down on it, pulling down my sweats a little so my boxers peak out. Faint screaming in the background of the call reminds me of why Val called in the first place - she’s drunk. “Woah, where you at Val?”

A deep sigh comes through the phone. “I dunno where my friends went, they were my rideee,” she whines, the sound of the cars making it hard to hear her. I lean forward resting my elbow on the knees.

“Did you call ‘em?” I ask, concerned over how drunk she was. How could her friends just dip? I’m gonna need to have a word with them.

“I’m nodding,” she slurs out and groans frustratedly. “Such a long way to walk,” Valerie whines again.

I’m already reaching for my keys when the words come out of my mouth. “Drop your location Val.”

She groans. “I’m walking by the highway.”

“You’re WHAT?” I yell into the phone, throwing on a puffer vest over my grey sweatshirt, struggling to get my shoes on. This girl was gonna get herself killed I swear.

“Relaaxxx.”

“Sit down and drop your location, I’m comin to get you ma.”

“Paige you’re so dr-”

“Sit your ass down. I’m so forreal now Valerie.” I command, without even waving a careless bye to the girls as I rush out, the plans for a girl’s night quickly forgotten. After a whine and a sigh from the drunk girl on the line I hear her set herself onto the ground.

“Fine,” her voice murmurs and I sigh in relief.

All of the fury I felt at her for being so careless goes away when I see her, in boots and a leather jacket thrown carelessly over her skimpy dress, sitting on the ground playing with the ends of her golden brown hair. I pull the car over, quickly rushing to her. How could her friends leave her in a state like that? From now on I should watch over her all the time, just to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.

Nevermind her friends, how could Jay let this happen? If Valerie was my girl she would not be alone like this, yet alone going out without me at all. She needs someone who takes care of her, who truly cherishes every single thing about her.

“Paigeyyy,” she smiles as I reach down and pick her up, her hair was a mess and eyes bloodshot and tired. There’s a strong smell of alcohol as Valerie wraps her arms around me, but I don’t mind. I wanted to be mad at her for being so irresponsible, for making me come get her. But I couldn’t be.

I grin as I help steady her. Anyone could notice she’s gleaming looking up at me. Usually that would make my chest tighten, make me feel sick and claustrophobic. Now, for some reason, I felt like gleaming too.

“C’mon silly girl, before you get in more trouble,” I murmur, opening the door and making sure she gets in the car, helping her with the seatbelt.

“I got it Paige,” she laughs as I reach over her lap, grabbing the belt but I slap her hand away gently, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the way I wanted to smile, the butterflies growing inside me.

“Lemme do it ma,” I tell her hoarsely. She’s grinning at me stupidly as I buckle her in, my fingers running along her neck to fix the belt. When our eyes meet just for a moment, it takes every bit of my self discipline not to kiss her, the way her tongue slides over her lips enticingly.

The drive back is quiet, soft R&B the only sound filling the car. I hum along to the songs, tapping the steering wheel to the beat. Valerie watches as she rests her head against the seat. An involuntary smirk takes over my face, my eyes flicking from her to the road to my speed. I was driving much more carefully than usual, I had something precious to take home.

“You admirin’ the view?” I tease earning a lighthearted scoff from Valerie.

“No I’m… thinking,” she explains slowly, moving her eyes to the road too. Suddenly she wasn’t so giggly, but seemed to be sobering up.

“I got some water in the back if you need,” I tell her, already reaching for it, other hand on the wheel as I lean back on the driver’s seat.

She reaches for it with me, our fingertips brushing against each other as I hand it over. “Thanks,” she murmurs and takes a few big gulps.

Valerie’s shoulders slump as she takes a deep sigh, I know her well enough that something was clearly on her mind.

“I lied P,” she says, her voice small. For a moment a wave of confusion washes over me, and I look at her expectantly. My first assumption is she’s talking about what happened between us in the bathroom, about how she hadn’t told Jay about it.

“‘S okay Justine don’t have to know,” I quickly console but Valerie is shaking her head.

“No I meant… Fuck, I mean I did mean to call you,” she let’s out, frustrated. “It wasn’t an accident.”

I swallow, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks. Was I… blushing? I must be more whipped than I realised.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, my tone a little too needy for my liking - I didn’t want her to think, no, to know I cared. That it mattered to me. Valerie could never know how I felt. I would just end up fucking everything up, at least now I had basketball. That’s enough.

“I just… I dunno I don’t wanna go to my dorm,” Valerie sighs, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap.

“Why’s that?”

“Jay’s waiting for me,” Valerie says with a slight shake in her voice.

Oh.

At first I’d been more jealous than I’d like to admit, the idea of Valerie, my Valerie, with someone else made me sick. But running into them at that party I knew Justine could never do what I could. But most importantly, Valerie didn’t shine the way she did with me with Justine. I had an inkling there was nothing to be jealous of, and got my confirmation in the bathroom. But now, I only felt more validated. She didn’t even want to be around her. She drunk called me, not her.

“‘S that why you got so fucked up? Because of Jay?” I try to sound nonchalant, like I didn’t care. But I needed to know for sure. I needed to know I wasn’t delusional in thinking she couldn’t just move on from me, from us.

“Something like that,” she chuckles and shifts in the seat, sipping her water still. Without thinking it through, what it might mean, what it says about my feelings, the words slip out.

“I can take you to mine,” I suggest, knowing full well my biggest rule was not letting girls sleep over. I guess my rules had gone way out the window with Valerie.

She scoffs and shakes her head, my heart aching at her disapproval. “No P, it can’t happen anymore, I mean it this time.”

A scoff leaves my mouth as I pull up to the campus parking lot.

“I didn’t mean that dumbass, I mean just to sleep,” I groan, parking my jeep. “I’ll even sleep on the floor.”

Valerie looks at me wide eyed and dumbfounded. Guess I wasn’t coming off as nonchalant as I’d have liked. I felt a strange feeling grow inside me that I could only call nervousness. It had been a while since a girl had made me feel anything even close to it.

“Okay,” Val nods and a wave of relief takes over me - I didn’t want her to go yet. Being with her felt good.

“Okay,” I repeat watching her start getting out of the car. I do the same and we head towards my dorm. Without thinking about it much, my hand wraps around her waist, whether to hold her up or to touch her I’m not sure.

Jana and Allie are in the kitchen talking, their heads peeking out when we come in the door. Meeting their gazes I realise I have never introduced a girl to my teammates.

“Yo, uh, this is Valerie,” I say a little awkwardly, the new situation making me unsure of how to act. Allie and Jana share a look that I pray the drunk brunette clinging to my arm didn’t notice. Looking down I see she’s too busy struggling getting her shoes off. Without thinking about it, I kneel down and my fingers unbuckle the strappy heeled sandals she was wearing, my touch on her skin tender and careful.

“Hey girl,” Jana says intrigued, waving her hand at us. As Valerie nearly trips, she lets out a loud giggle, my hand gripping her thigh, steadying her.

“Whoa there,” I chuckle, standing up from the ground as the brunette slaps her face with her hand, bashfully.

“I’m sorry I make a much better first impression when I’m not drunk,” her sweet voice lets out and somewhere deep down I feel my heart flutter at the idea of her wanting to make a good impression on my friends. Jana and Allie both let out friendly laughs as I guide Valerie towards my room.

“She’s gonna sleep here tonight, that cool?” I ask as we pass my roomies, who are both nodding but clearly shocked at the prospect of me letting a girl sleep over.

I bring the brunette to my room by her hips, closing the door behind us as she throws herself face first onto my purple sheets. She looked good like that, in my room, on my bed, burying her nose into my blanket. For a fleeting moment I let myself dream of an alternate universe where she could be here waiting for me, all the time. Only for a moment though.

“C’mon ma let’s get you ready for bed,” I suggest softly, walking to the bed. She groans and flips onto her back, my eyes flickering to her upper thighs where her dress had hiked up. A sudden need to touch her comes over me, but I push it away. It wouldn’t be right like this.

“But your bed’s so comfyyy,” Valerie lets out a whine as she stretches, her pretty eyes fluttering shut. I can’t help the smile that forms on my face, my heart aching at how cute she looked like this - drunk and tired, mascara flaking underneath her eyes and a small pout on her lips.

Throwing her a navy blue Uconn shirt to sleep in is finally enough to get her to sit back up, her eyelids half closed as her hands start pulling her dress down.

With wide eyes I quickly turn my back to her, staring at the wall. As much as I wanted to, it didn't feel right to watch her change. Valerie only giggles, and I hear her stand up and shimmy out of her clothes, my mouth growing dry from the filthy thoughts in my head right now, the way she was completely bare behind me.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before P,” she says teasingly and I almost groan, my mind jumping through memories of the way she looked in just a pair of panties, the curve of her ass, the way her tits sat pretty on her body, that long golden brown hair trailing down her back. Fuck. I felt myself getting wet. I rub my jaw frustratedly, trying to shake my dirty thoughts.

“Just get dressed Val,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with need. Finally, she obliges, throwing on the t-shirt I gave her. It’s not enough to stop my filthy thoughts, seeing her in my shirt and a pair of white lacy panties, thick thighs all on display, nipples hard and visible through the shirt. No. This wasn’t the time.

Valerie is about to crash back into the bed right when I grab her waist to keep her upright.

“Wanna sleep,” she whines as I guide her towards the bathroom.

“I know ma, in a little bit I promise,” I nearly whisper. It was the first time in my life I had promised anything to a girl and meant it.

Closing the bathroom door, I sit Valerie on the counter, her feet dangling off the edge which makes me smile. Grabbing a brand new toothbrush I try to hand it to Valerie, but her head is almost nodding, eyes completely shut now. This girl would be the death of me.

I wet the toothbrush, and gently holding her face, I brush her teeth. My face is only inches from hers as I watch her start to smile, realising what I was doing. For a moment her eyes flicker open and meet mine, and I feel something I have never felt before. I can’t name it, or quite place it, but the warmth in my chest, the blush on my cheeks and the way my breath hitched made itself known.

“Thank you,” Valerie murmurs, her mouth full of foam. She spits it into the sink, rinsing her mouth as I hold her hair, so incredibly softly, as to not hurt or disturb her.

“Let’s get this makeup off mama,” I say mostly to myself, wiping it all off with some micellar water, trying to be as gentle as I could. Her brown eyes roam my face, making me feel flustered.

“What about my skincare routine?” Valerie asks with a furrow of her brows and I chuckle, shaking my head, going over her face with a cotton pad.

“You don’t want me doin’ that, trust,” I murmur as I’m finally done. Watching her, the way her long dark lashes fluttered, her plump lips and soft skin made a shiver run down my spine. She must’ve been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, even more so like this.

I suddenly notice that my hands are rubbing on the skin of her bare thighs as she watches up at me. I can’t help myself when I lean down and press my lips against her forehead, the tenderness of it making my eyes close. Valerie hums and wraps her arms around my neck, her legs doing the same as I pick her up like that, holding her up by her thighs. Her skin was soft and warm underneath my fingertips, sending sparks all over me.

I carry her to my bed as she clings to me, gently laying her down on my bed and tucking the blanket over her, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

“I’mma get you some water and go sleep on the couch ok?” I murmur, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her hands urgently grab my wrist and pull me closer.

“Don’t go,” she whispers and my heart nearly breaks at the way her voice sounds, pleading.

“You sure Val?” I ask carefully.

“Please.”

It doesn’t take more than that to have me throwing off my clothes, leaving me in black boxers and a Nike sports bra and climbing into bed next to her. I carefully lay my head down onto the pillow, studying her features. The curve of her nose, the way her eyebrows arched, the hint of red on her cheeks from the alcohol. Her eyes flicker open, meeting mine as we stare at each other in the dim room. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face, and she inches her head closer, our noses brushing against each other. I nearly whimper at how good it felt, being this close to her.

My blue eyes travel to her lips, the way they glistened as her tongue brushed over them, the way her lower lip was that much more plump than the upper one. In the haze of the night, it’s like I’m outside of my body, unable to control myself when I lean in and kiss her. Immediately Valerie hums, and I think I’m in heaven when her mouth opens to move against mine.

We had kissed plenty of times. But it was never without fucking afterwards. This was completely new, kissing just because. I didn’t know kissing with no end goal could feel this good. I breathe heavy and loud through my nose as our lips move against each other, Valerie’s hand pulling me closer from the back of my neck. My hand on her waist slides underneath the t-shirt and I press my body flush against hers. I feel all of her, the bare skin of her legs wrapping into mine, her breasts against me. But it’s enough for me. Just to have her like this.

“P?” Valerie whispers, as I nuzzle my nose against her, breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah?” I murmur softly, the overwhelming warmth in my chest feeling dizzying.

“I-” she hesitates. “I know you don’t… like when girls spend the night-”

I stop her with a kiss, more for my own sake than hers. It might drive me insane if I have to think about it for longer than ten seconds. The way I was bending all my own rules, the feelings deep inside me. I felt terrified. I didn’t wanna think about it right now.

“You needed me Val,” I whisper against her lips, knowing it wouldn’t be a solution but that explanation would do. It’s not like I was in love, but I did care about her to an extent I guess. And I would never let her be in danger. Ever. I helped because I wanted her safe and because deep down I was a good person. But it has nothing to do with love.

I wrap my arms around the girl next to me, pulling her face into the crook of my neck, her leg swinging over my waist and nuzzling into me. I gently run my hand up and down her back until I feel her go limp in my arms and just for a second I let myself inhale the scent of her, my nose buried into her hair. Maybe, just maybe, if I wasn’t Paige Bueckers, if I wasn’t me, this might have had something to do with love.

As the morning sun shines in through the window I feel myself stir awake, immediately met with a pounding in my head as my eyes flutter open. I feel a tight grip around my waist, holding me tight. For a moment I get the uneasy feeling that it’s Jay, but then I hear the light snore of Paige in my ear. Warmth spreads all over my body when I feel her pull me closer in her sleep, her nose pressed against the back of my neck.

A soft smile spreads on my face as I remember last night, Paige picking me up, driving me back, taking care of me, letting me stay over. My stomach fills with butterflies knowing this isn’t what Paige did for any girl. The only thing that mattered to her was ball and that’s it. Girls were just a distraction, something fun to do. But she didn’t care, right? Then why did it feel like she did, when she took care of me last night?

An incredible thirst from my hungover takes over, and I carefully peel Paige’s hand from my waist. Thinking I was sneaky enough to make my escape, I start to climb out of the bed when the strong arm quickly pulls me back down, pressing my back into her front once more.

“Where you going?” Paige’s voice is deep and hoarse from sleep, words muffled against my neck as she holds me down, nuzzling her face into my skin.

“Need some water,” I murmur trying to flatten my hair and push the hand away but Paige doesn’t fold. All she does is shake her head.

“No,” she murmurs and holds me even tighter. It’s almost overwhelming, the way I was getting affection from her. For a moment I try and figure out why she would act like this, but then she kisses my shoulder through the navy shirt and I forget all about it.

“Paigeee,” I giggle but she only keeps shaking her head, her hands tightening around me.

“A lil longer,” she hums, her voice tickling against my ear.

“But I’m thirsty.”

“Fine.”

With a groan, Paige gives my cheek a kiss and climbs out of bed, putting on her basketball shorts and going out to fetch the water. I scooch up on the bed, quickly fixing my hair and trying to make myself look presentable when Paige walks in, carrying two bottles.

“There you go princess,” she grins. Her hair is matted and blue eyes tired as she gets back into bed next to me but I’m quite sure she’s never looked better. However, a sliver of fear in the back of my mind is nibbling away at me. I didn’t understand why she was acting this way, usually Paige’s motives were clear to me. Not this time.

Before I can spiral Paige leans towards me and presses a gentle kiss on my lips, her hand holding my cheek as she does. I kiss her back softly, my stomach twisting. Could she really be this good to me?

Paige pulls back and smiles. “Good morning Val,” she hums with another peck to my lips. I let myself smile back, deciding to worry about this later.

“Morning P,” I whisper and pull back to sip on my water, it soothing the pounding in my head.

“Hungover?” the blonde chuckles but I shake my head, though maybe I did feel the shakes a little bit.

Paige bites her lower lip not believing a word I said with a knowing smirk. She grabs her glasses, putting them on herself to see me better in the morning light. I can’t lie, she looks fucking amazing in her glasses and it makes it hard to ignore the ache between my legs when she looks like that - silver chain with a cross on her neck, sports bra, shorts and those fucking glasses.

I snuggle back underneath the blanket, pulling it all the way over my head, like that could somehow hide my filthy thoughts.

“Yo, where you going,” Paige laughs hoarsely, pulling the blanket away. I quickly bury my face in the pillow to hide.

“I don’t look good in the mornings,” I murmur, a blush rising to my cheeks from the way she was staring, let alone the dirty thoughts in my head.

Paige snorts and brushes my hair away from my face. “Oh so you care that much what I think huh?” her voice is smug and it makes me slap her arm, making her hiss.

She slides underneath the blanket too, her head resting next to my pillow. I can feel her watchful eyes roaming my face.

“Get outta here with that shit Val, you know you’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmurs, her words lighthearted but to me they mean more. My stomach filling with butterflies, I finally turn to face her, eyes meeting hers.

“You really think so?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. I was a confident woman, someone who took care of herself, didn’t need anyone’s approval. But with Paige I found myself craving it. I hated it

With a roll of her eyes, Paige smirks and pulls me on top of her. “C’mere ma,” she murmurs and her hand drags me down for a kiss by the back of my head. I sigh into her lips, my body against hers and legs straddling her as Paige’s big hands explored my body, slipping underneath the t-shirt and brushing against my side. All the need accumulated since last night, no, since that night in the bathroom finally tips over.

I break the kiss to sit back up and pull off the t-shirt, Paige’s mouth agape as she looks up at me, wetting her lips as her eyes wander around my body, letting out a heavy breath as her gaze lands onto my breasts.

“Perfect girl,” she coos, bringing her hand to cup my breast. Goosebumps cover my skin as I lower myself back to kiss her jaw. I had completely forgotten about Jay at this point, all I saw was Paige.

My hands are quick to find her shorts, pulling them down with urgency while my lips suck on her neck. Usually she reminded me not to leave marks but this time all I hear from her is heavy breathing and quiet groans, bucking her hips up at me. I grin against her neck, testing the waters and sucking a little, enough to leave a little mark. Paige only hums and helps me by throwing her shorts onto the floor.

My fingertips sneak underneath her sports bra, my other hand pushing Paige’s rising hips down, seeking to find contact somewhere.

“Take it off,” I whimper and watch her lust filled gaze never break eye contact as she pulls the bra off, leaving her only in the black boxers. I found my mouth salivating for her, wanting to bury myself between her legs. But I must take my time, I needed to. I needed to drag it out as long as I could.

I watch her hiss and throw her head back as my tongue swirls around her nipple, feeling it turn hard underneath my tongue. Biting on it gently, I grind my clothed core down on her thigh, my wetness growing unbearable.

“Val, you’re killing me,” Paige nearly whines and I giggle, leaving red marks on her breasts, my hands gripping her thighs tight.

“Good,” is all I say as I continue my descent, placing sloppy kisses all over her abs, my mind wandering to the dirty thoughts of what they’d feel like flexing under my pussy, grinding my clit against them. I needed to keep that in mind for the future. But not now, I needed to taste her.

Paige groans frustratedly, and I feel her hands coming to my head to push me down. I slap her hands away, pinning them by her side, lifting my head to look at her. She could easily push my grip away and take me, but Paige was letting me have my fun, my fingers digging into her wrists.

“Baby, c’mon,” she whines, looking down at me with her teeth biting down on her lip, brows furrowed and hips bucking.

“Keep those hands to yourself Bueckers,” I murmur, my lips kissing along the band of her boxers. I hear her groan, arching to my touch. I lift my gaze to her, my eyes wide. “Oh, you want these off?” I ask, acting dumb, slowly beginning to pull down the boxers.

“You’re such a bitch,” Paige says, trying to sound serious but a small whine comes through in her voice, making me grin.

“I think you like it,” I tease, finally pulling the boxers off her. “I think it makes you wet,” I grin seeing the way she’s glistening for me as I spread her legs apart, making room for myself.

“Fuck it does ma,” Paige moans, watching me descend inbetween her legs, her hand finding my brown hair and pulling it off my face. I maintain eye contact, my own core leaking through my panties at this point as I kiss her inner thighs, feeling the way they tremble underneath my lips.

“That’s fucked up, you should go to therapy,” I grin, my mouth slowly inching closer to where she needed me most. “That’s gotta be some kinda- mmph,” suddenly Paige’s hands both pull me to her core, my mouth buried in her cunt as she lets out a guttural moan.

“Ohhhh shit Val that’s it,” she groans as I take the hint, my tongue swirling all around her folds, softly lapping against her clit just the way she likes. Her taste on my tongue feels like heaven and I feel my own eyes roll back from how good it felt to have her like this. My arms wrap around her thighs, pulling her impossibly closer as my lips suck on her clit, earning desperate whines from her.

“Mmmh, that’s it, just like that ma,” she moans and I hear her hiss as my tongue slips inside her, nose rubbing against her clit. Paige is making a mess of my face, and the sheets but neither of us bother to care at this point. She leans up against her elbows to see my ass in the mirrored closet opposite to her bed, letting out a groan as she sees the reflection of me bent over, eating her, a wet spot visible on my panties.

She leans over and I feel a loud smack on my ass as I continue to make a mess of her with my tongue, alternating between sucking her clit and licking sloppily. “Mmph,” I moan against her, it sending vibrations all over her body. That was enough for me to feel the muscles on her thighs start to tighten.

“Taste so good baby, fuck,” I whimper on her pussy, making Paige let out a guttural groan, her grip in my hair tightening further, guiding my mouth just right.

“Such a fucking good girl,” she hisses, watching me in the mirror, her eyes heavy as she found herself getting closer just from the way my tongue is lapping her up. “So fucking- ahh shit, sexy,”

“Yeah you think I’m sexy?” I whimper against her dripping cunt, shaking my head with my tongue buried in her folds. Paige’s eyes flutter shut and she nods, jaw going slack.

“Perfect, so good for me,” she mumbles, barely able to hold herself together. “Gonna make me– shit, gonna make me cum.”

I keep lapping her, listening for her reactions and holding her still as her body started to squirm underneath me, building to her orgasm. “Baby I need you to cum,” I murmur, my jaw hurting but the sounds coming out of Paige’s mouth making it all worth it.

“Please, Paige,” I whine and that does it. I feel her gasp, her hand gripping my hair and burying my face into her. I could barely breathe but I don’t mind as my mouth works tirelessly to get her over the edge.

“Valerie, oh fuck,” she groans, her head tilting back and back arching as she reaches her orgasm, grinding herself against my face. It’s so hot I nearly come too. I guide her through it, licking her until her moans turn high pitched and her hands in my hair ease up.

Panting, she brushes her hair off her face as I wipe my face onto her thigh, watching her from between her legs.

“Goddamn baby,” she says hoarsely, trying to catch her breath. Giggling, I climb back up on top of her, Paige’s hand slapping my ass hard enough to make me let out a squeal.

“Stop, you’ll leave a bruise,” I complain, but Paige grins arrogantly, pulling me into a sloppy kiss. I moan hard, feeling the dampness in my panties growing unbearable.

“That’s the point ma,” she chuckles against my lips, suddenly flipping me over and spreading my legs wide as she sits between them, biting her lips and gazing down at me. “Fuck,” she groans looking from my damp panties to my dark eyes. For a moment she looks almost a little flustered, trying to find the words.

“I uh, I got something new,” she says, her cheeks turning even redder. Curious, I lean up against the pillows behind me. “For us, I mean.”

Wait, she knew I was seeing someone, and she was seeing someone too, but she got something just for us two? What game was she trying to play? It felt impossible to figure her out.

Before my mind begins to race further, Paige has dug out a blue vibrator wand and is kissing me more tenderly than before. She pulls away a little, clearly hesitating for a moment.

“I don’t want you using the same toy on me and your other bitches,” I tell her a little offended but Paige quickly shakes her head.

“No no no, Valerie ‘s not like that,” she urgently stops me, kissing me softly. “It’s just for us, for you. No one else.”

Her words sound soft, almost tender against my lips which only makes me grow wetter between my legs. I didn’t know what parts were an act and what were genuine. All I knew is I needed her badly.

The moment I nod, Paige’s hands slide underneath the band of my panties, sliding them down to my ankles tenderly, her kisses soft and sloppy against my lips, moving to my neck. The breathy whimper I let out makes Paige let out a heavy breath as her hands spread my legs wide apart, wetness dripping out of me already.

“So pretty,” she murmurs hoarsely, licking her lips as she grabs the vibrator, the quiet, steady buzzing signalling it was turned on. I watch her wide eyes as she brings it to my thighs.

“Paige please,” I whine out squirming as she kneels between my legs and places her knees on my thighs to hold them wide open and steady. She watches me writhe underneath her, nearly gasping for air from how bad she loves seeing me like this.

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, the vibrator ghosting my cunt to find my opposite thigh, vibrating against it. “You know what to call me.”

Fuck. She had gotten like this once before, made me call her something that drove both her and me wild. She knew I would remember what it was.

“Fuck. Daddy, please,”

With that Paige presses the toy against my swollen, sensitive clit, immediately forcing wetness to drip out of me as I gasp and grab onto the sheets around us. She gasps with me, like she’s feeling it too as my legs immediately start to shake, wanting to close around the toy, but Paige’s legs are pinning me down. It was way too much, overstimulating in every sense.

“Too much P,” I cry out but Paige shakes her head, shushing me as she towers over me.

“Just a lil more ma, you can take it,” she coos, leaning down to press kisses on my open mouth, turning the vibrator on a higher setting. “‘S gonna feel so good I promise.”

I feel my eyes grow teary as the toy vibrates against my soaking cunt ruthlessly, when suddenly all of the overstimulation turns into nothing but pleasure. My eyes roll back and I let out a loud moan.

“Daddy, shit,” I whine, my back arching and my nails digging into Paige’s back as she holds the toy steady on me, slowly starting to circle my clit with it making a quick mess of me.

“You’re so wet baby,” Paige gasps shocked as she glances down at the way her hand and the sheets were glistening. But I barely notice, already feeling that coil in my abdomen start to tighten. I’m gasping desperately now, hands grabbing anything they could, moaning loudly as Paige kissed my jaw and neck groaning against my skin.

“Daddy I’m gonna come-” I cry out, tears spilling from my eyes, Paige moving the vibrator against me sloppily, driving me to the edge.

“Fuck, already?” Paige asks, surprised but impressed, her nose pressing against mine. My legs tremble desperately as her free hand slides up to hold my jaw.

I nod, my eyes squeezing shut as I’m just about to roll over the edge. Suddenly Paige pulls the toy away from me, making my eyes snap open and leaving my core throbbing, no, aching for relief.

“What the fuck?” I ask but Paige just grins down at me.

“You didn’t say please,” she smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“I don’t have to say please,”

“Yes the fuck you do.”

“No I don’t,”

“Fine if you don’t wanna come ma.”

Frustrated, I groan. I simultaneously hated and loved when Paige made me beg for it. I hated giving her the satisfaction. But lying underneath her with my cunt throbbing and tears rolling down my cheeks I would’ve done anything to come for her.

“Please,” I say, my cheeks blushing as I look up into her blue eyes. She was enjoying this a little too much.

“Please what?” Paige teases, pushing the vibrator against my inner thigh again. It makes me moan softly, wanting to buck my hips closer, but it was useless.

“Please daddy,” I finally whine, earning a smile from Paige.

“Good girl.”

The vibrator is pushed against my clit again, now turned up all the way, forcing a moan to spill from my lips as I feel my orgasm quickly start to build once more.

“Open your mouth,” Paige commands and I don’t even think about it when I push my tongue out and feel her spit into my mouth before kissing my lips fiercely, moving the toy in a circular motion against my swollen clit.

“Daddy, fuck, please, please, please,” I plead, not even completely sure what for as my mind turns hazy and my body trembles uncontrollably.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” she praises with a hoarse voice, nose pressed tight against mine as she kisses my open mouth, bringing me to the edge.

“C’mon pretty girl come for me.”

I feel my body ride over the edge, all the muscles in my body tightening, back arching and a high pitched moan leaving my lips as the pleasure finally releases, waves of ecstasy rushing over me.

“Aww shit, look at that ma,” Paige mumbles, looking between our bodies watching the way my cunt was squirting all over her arm, legs and bed. My mind turns completely blank, eyes shut tight as my nails nearly draw blood from her back, the pleasure overwhelming me.

I swear I black out for a moment, only returning to consciousness from how suddenly overstimulating and almost painful the toy felt against my clit.

“Stopp, stop stop stop,” I whine pushing Paige’s hand away as she chuckles but obliges. The quiet buzzing of the toy ends as it’s thrown onto the mattress and the blonde crashes on top of me, nuzzling her nose into my neck.

I take a moment to try and catch my breath before I realise what just happened, and what a mess I had made. Looking down at us and the wet spot we were lying in I sigh, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Fuck I’m sorry P,” I murmur but she pulls away, looking at me shocked.

“For?”

“For, well…” I mumble and point to the mess but she only smugly smiles and shakes her head.

“You’re kidding, ma that’s so sexy,” she arrogantly says.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

Paige licks her lips and nods. “Ye, really. Never made you squirt before.”

I blush a little as Paige presses a soft, tender kiss on my lips - almost loving.

“C’mon let’s go shower,” she murmurs.

I giggle a little, shaking my head. “I cannot stand yet.”

“Oh,” Paige laughs and looks down at my legs that are visibly still trembling.

“I’ll carry you then,” she says and easily scoops me up, walking us both towards the shower.

I rest my head on her shoulder, watching the way her nose turns up at the end, the way her lower lip pouts and how her jawline sharpens as she tilts her head. Something about her had changed. Lately she had been more caring, kind, tender. I didn’t understand it. All I knew is the way my heart fluttered and my mind eased up around her, I was in big trouble with Paige Bueckers.

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch @mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @justliketoreadsowhat @oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her @julieloveswbb @vsz333 @faeries-posts @vamptizm @ellapurnellmybeloved @ivorygoal @onlyhereforpazzi @thelightknight21 @paigeluvvr @absolutelydreadful @imamartini @lupinqs @authentic-girl03 @isurpussygreen @xxloveralways14 (SORRY IF I FORGOT TO TAG)

#too lost in you #lilas writing #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wnba x oc #paige bueckers x female oc

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taurasiluvr · 6 months ago

Text

how you can help palestine

★ req. "(paige x reader) you should play around with protective/ possessive/ jealous reader bc it’s always paige (not specifying ur fics, just in general) being protective/ possessive/ jealous and I need a switch uppp 😝 other than that I have no plot ideas but u always come through with ur fics 🎀🎀"

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. mean!paige, not too rough though, semi-public sex (in a private bathroom), fingering, teasing, praise.

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k

you sat at the bar, your lips curved into a frown as you sipped on your fruity drink. paige had brought you to the bar to watch a game and had been paying no attention to you whatsoever. you'd left her side an hour ago and you hadn't heard from her since ─ she was probably chatting with a group of friends by the pool tables, completely absorbed in the game and the lively conversation.

you sighed, feeling a mixture of annoyance and loneliness. the bar was buzzing with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but it all felt hollow without her attention.

you glanced back to try and find where your girlfriend was, only to find her talking to unfamiliar girl. your eyebrows twisted as you sipped on the drink, trying to figure who paige was talking to. the girl was leaning in close, laughing at something paige had said. a pang of jealousy hit you, and you couldn't help but wonder if paige even realized how much she was ignoring you.

you tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered like a stubborn cloud. the bar's lively atmosphere seemed to mock your mood. uou watched as paige and the girl continued their animated conversation, their smiles and laughter only intensifying your frustration.

you sighed. fuck it, you thought to yourself. deciding you just couldn't sit there any longer, you finished your drink and stood up, making your way toward them. as you approached, paige didn't even notice you.

you laced an arm around hers, giving the girl a condensing smile. "who's this, baby?"

paige finally turned to you, an awkward smile on her lips. "hey," she said, clearly caught off guard. "this is liz, an old friend from high school. liz, this is my girlfriend."

liz smiled politely, though you could sense a bit of tension. "nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand.

you shook her hand, your grip a bit firmer than necessary. "nice to meet you too," you replied, trying to keep your tone light but unable to fully mask your irritation.

paige cleared her throat, sensing the awkwardness. "we were just catching up, watching the game."

"fun, aren't you the little multitasker, paige." you finally met paige's eyes, and they lacked their usual softness her gaze carried. oh, she was pissed ─ but so were you.

"yeah," she let out as she continued to glare at you. you could practically read her thoughts; "stop being so damn bratty."

but you couldn't help it.

"well, it's good to know you're having such a great time," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"y/n,"

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom, so..." you shrugged before meeting liz's eyes. "it was really nice meeting you but i guess i'll catch up with you later, paige."

you knew you were being a bitch but you couldn't help it ─ was it so bad to want your girlfriend's undivided attention? sure, it was probably the alcohol making you more dramatic than usual, but the feelings were real. you turned on your heel and headed towards the bathroom, not waiting for paige's response. as you walked away, you could feel her glare on your back.

in the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to cool down and collect your thoughts. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking deep breaths. maybe you were overreacting, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being sidelined.

you heard a knock on the door, feeling your frustration peak. "taken!"

"it's me, open the door." paige's voice was muffled but you could recognize it. you rolled your eyes, opening the door to meet your tall girlfriend's eyes, which were filled with annoyance.

"the fuck was that?" she mumbled as she pushed herself into the small bathroom. "i don't appreciate your attitude when we're just trying to have fun,"

you scoffed as you crossed your arms, leaning against the sink. "you didn't have to come, you could've just stayed with liz and had fun."

"you're making this really fucking hard, and you know how much i hate bratty attitudes." paige's voice came out low as she stepped closer, her presence filling the small space. you could feel the heat radiating off her as she towered over you, her frustration palpable.

"i don't like feeling ignored," you shot back, not backing down despite the intensity of the situation. "it's like i don't even exist when you're with her."

"jesus, since when are you so needy? is it the alcohol?" paige's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing.

"you are such an asshole! i'm not being needy." you huffed, turning your back to paige.

"seems like it, baby. can't handle me talking to other women, is that right?" paige's hand found your hips as she pressed herself against your back.

you met her eyes through the reflection of the mirror, the bathroom suddenly feeling even smaller. the tension between you crackled like electricity. paige's grip on your hips was firm, her presence overwhelming.

you squared your shoulders, meeting her gaze in the mirror with defiance. "maybe i just expect my girlfriend to care more about me than some random girl," you shot back, your voice laced with venom.

paige's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening. "really pushing it, y/n."

"maybe you deserve it," you retorted, refusing to back down. "you're acting like I don't even matter."

paige's jaw clenched, and in an instant, her patience snapped. "cut the fucking attitude, seriously. or do i need to fuck it outta you?"

you scoffed, feeling your face flush as she spoke. she pressed herself against you, her breath warm against your ear as your stomach twisted in need. the room seemed to shrink even more as the tension between you intensified.

"you think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it?" she whispered, her voice low and dangerous.

your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger, desire, and frustration swirling inside you. "maybe if you paid more attention to me, i wouldn't have to," you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly.

paige's grip on your hips tightened, pulling you even closer. "you want my attention?" she growled softly, her lips brushing against your ear. "fine. you've got it."

paige's hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your flesh just enough to send a shiver down your spine. you met her gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching as her lips brushed against your ear.

"you don't get to act out and then demand my attention," she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous whisper. "you needa learn how to behave, baby."

her hands roamed over your body, teasing and taunting as she spoke. your anger and frustration began to melt into a different kind of heat, one that spread through your veins and pooled low in your belly.

"paige..." you whispered, your voice betraying the conflict within you. you wanted her attention, but not like this, not in a way that made you feel even smaller.

"shh," she commanded softly, her fingers finding the hem of your shirt and slipping beneath it. "you wanted my attention. now, you have it."

her hands were everywhere, overwhelming your senses as she pressed her body against yours. your breath came in ragged gasps, and you felt a surge of need that matched the anger you had felt moments before. paige's grip tightened, her hands moving with a roughness that bordered on punishing.

"you think you can just throw a tantrum and get what you want?" she growled, her lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "gonna learn tonight that it doesn't work like that."

her words sent a thrill of fear and excitement through you, the line between pleasure and pain blurring in the intensity of the moment. you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as paige's hands worked their way over your body, every touch a reminder of her dominance.

"want me to pay attention to you?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper. "you're going to have to earn it."

her words were a challenge, one that you knew you couldn't back down from. you met her gaze in the mirror, your eyes filled with defiance and desire. "fine," you breathed, your voice trembling.

"fix your face, first of all." paige spoke, her voice mixed with annoyance and desire. "gonna fuck all that attitude outta ya, huh?"

she suddenly squeezed your hip, causing an unexpected moan to fall out of your mouth. paige's grip on your hip was firm, her fingers digging into your flesh as she leaned in closer.

her breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "that's better," she murmured, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "let's get rid of that attitude."

her hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other traced a teasing path down your stomach. you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape, but it was futile. paige knew exactly how to play your body, how to elicit the responses she wanted.

"i'm all yours, baby," she growled softly, her lips brushing against your neck. "and you're gonna remember that tonight."

you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the intensity of her presence overwhelming your senses. every touch, every whisper was a reminder of her dominance, and you couldn't help but surrender to it. paige's hand slid lower, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans. you gasped, your body arching into her touch as she found your most sensitive spot.

"oh, paige," you moaned, your voice a mix of frustration and longing.

she chuckled softly, her breath warm against your ear. "that's right, baby. say my name."

paige rubbed your clothed pussy, watching your every move through the mirror. she caged you in with her arms on either side of you, her eyes dark with intent. the small bathroom felt even more confining as she leaned in closer, her presence dominating every inch of space.

"look at you," she murmured, her fingers working skillfully through the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "so desperate for me, is this what you've wanted all night?"

you whimpered, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you tried to steady yourself. paige's eyes never left yours in the mirror, her gaze holding you captive. the intensity of her touch, the way she controlled every movement, left you breathless and wanting more.

"paige, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "can't take it."

a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. "you can take it," she whispered, her fingers pressing harder against you. "you will take it. my princess needs to learn patience, been too nice to you, huh?"

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone only heightening your arousal. paige's other hand slipped under your shirt, her fingers brushing against your bare skin, teasing you further. the contrast between her rough and gentle touches was intoxicating, driving you to the brink.

"please," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "paige, need more."

her smile widened, a hint of sadistic pleasure in her eyes. "i know you do, baby," she murmured, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "but you're going to have to earn it."

she suddenly pulled her hand away, and you let out a frustrated whine, your body aching for her touch. paige's hands found your hips, and she spun you around to face her. her eyes were dark and dilated with desire as she pushed you back against the sink, trapping you with her body.

"you want more?" she asked, her voice a low growl. "show me how badly you need it."

her hands moved to your jeans, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping them before sliding them down your legs. the cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver through you, and you gasped as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down as well.

"look at you, so wet" she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "so ready for me."

paige's hands were everywhere, touching and teasing as she pressed her body against yours. her lips found your neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin as her fingers trailed up your inner thigh, finally finding their way to your core.

you cried out as she touched you, your body arching into her hand. "paige, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "can't take it, i need you."

"good girl," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "now, keep begging."

her fingers slipped into your soaking pussy, they began stroking you with a slow, torturous rhythm that left you gasping for breath. you clung to her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you tried to steady yourself.

"oh fuck, please," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "need you, need you to make me come. please."

"that's it," she purred, her fingers increasing their pace. "keep begging, baby, wanna hear how much you want it."

"want it so much," you cried, your body trembling with need. "need you, paige. please, please make me cum."

"apologize, baby. i didn't get to enjoy the game cause of you," paige mumbled against your lips as you whimpered.

"i'm so sorry, please," you cried out as your pussy tightened around her fingers. "pleasepleaseplease, wanna cum so bad," you rambled.

her eyes flashed with satisfaction, and she leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. her tongue danced with yours, the kiss deepening as her fingers worked you with relentless precision. the intensity of her touch, combined with the passion of her kiss, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"cum for me," she commanded, her voice a low growl against your lips.

with a final cry, you obeyed, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you. paige held you steady, her touch guiding you through the waves of sensation until you were left breathless and spent.

she gripped your face with her other hand before shoving the wet fingers into your lips, humming as you tasted herself on them. "fuck, that's right, baby girl."

paige smirked as she slipped her fingers out of your mouth, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "did so well," she murmured. "now, let's clean you up."

she helped you straighten your clothes, her touch surprisingly gentle after the intense encounter. you could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through your body, your legs trembling slightly as you adjusted your jeans.

paige's fingers lingered on your skin, tracing soft patterns as she made sure you were put back together. she looked at you with a mix of pride and affection, her dominant demeanor softening as she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"you okay?" she asked, her voice low and soothing.

you nodded, still catching your breath. "yeah, 'm okay," you whispered, your voice a bit shaky but filled with gratitude.

"good," she replied, her smile genuine. "let's get back out there and enjoy the rest of the night, the girls are probably where we're at."

she took your hand, leading you out of the bathroom and back into the lively atmosphere of the bar. the noise and energy of the crowd felt like a stark contrast to the intense intimacy you had just shared, but with paige by your side, you felt a sense of contentment.

as you made your way back to your spot, paige glanced at you with a playful glint in her eye. "you gonna behave now?" she teased, her tone light but carrying a hint of the dominance that had just left you breathless.

you smirked, feeling a surge of affection for her. "oh yeah, paige," you replied, squeezing her hand. "i'll behave."

"good," she said, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. "cause the night is still young, and i'm not done with you yet."

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

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girlokwhatever · 6 months ago

Note

okokokok soooooooo bringing it back to battle of the blondes. let’s set the scene shall we? there’s a wnba event where all three are present and they’ve all interacted with reader separately(reader could be apart of the event or a media reporter). everyone’s blonde big 3 are raving about reader to each other (without realize it’s the same person) and when they find out they’re all talking about reader…..the battle begins (def might have to be a mini series but fs has potential)

thoughts? or prayers ig?

-🫧

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ battle of the blondes,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader, emily engstler x fem!reader, kate martin x fem!reader

*just gonna call reader peach bc i don’t want to make an oc, its used like twice for plot purposes.*

oh you’ve really done it now.

you’re attending a WNBA event, something pivotal that would launch your career to the next level if it went well, and you might ruin it for yourself just by the way you’re ogling some of the women.

three women in particular.

you really needed this to go well. like, really needed it. you were planning on becoming a social media manager for one of a few teams you’ve spoken to and you were using tonight to prove yourself. it’d been going really well and you captured such great content for a few different teams but as soon as you saw them, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. just looking at them made you nervous.

kate martin was the first one to approach you, smile wide with a toothy grin that made you blush. she was nervous.

she spotted you as soon as she walked into the space, easily recognizing you from some of the work you’ve done with the aces. she even heard talk that you’d be the new content manager, something she could only pray was true.

she found her way to you quickly. but as soon as you were within arms length and already smiling at her, she realized she had no idea what she was going to say to you. she had no plan, no cheesy pick-up line, and she definitely had zero chill.

“hi kate! you wanna film some content?”

yes. but not in the way you were talking about.

“i mean, should i? i don’t know, i just saw you and wanted to say hey.” oh god, she was definitely sweating through her undershirt.

“oh okay, well it’s good to see you. how’ve you been?”

kate moves closer to you now, leaning down slightly as you talk so she can hear you better. it’s so she can hear you, not because she wants to be as close to you as possible. definitely not. that’s why when her hand hovers over your spine, gently pressing into you it’s not a big deal because she just can’t hear you.

“oh y’know, i’ve been good. i haven’t seen you at any practices recently. i’ve missed you!” she’s saying it with a friendly tone, leaning down and fanning her breath over your ear. her words immediately make you blush, a silly smile spreading on your face. she never fails to flatter you.

“aw really? i’ve missed you too money martin.”

the blonde laughs and you physically feel it. it isn’t until her body shakes your own that you realized you’re leaning into one another. it immediately makes you freeze, eyes scanning the room for disapproving glances because you need to be on your best, most professional behavior.

you don’t find what you’re looking for, extremely thankful that everyone else’s attention is elsewhere. you push away from kate slightly, turning to stand in front of her. her hand reluctantly drops from your spine but her smile never falters because at least you’re still here.

“so.. i’ve heard some rumors you might be the new media manager for the aces?”

“oh yeah, well, i don’t know. i’ve been seeing a couple teams recently.”

“oh?” oh. it’s definitely not kate’s favorite news. she felt like she really bonded with you and she wanted to have you around more, but the lack of confirmation was a little disheartening. you were so talented; all of your photos looked amazing and everyone loved them. plus, you were a sight for sore eyes. really though, kate looked at you like you were the prettiest girl she’s ever seen. but that’s because you were.

“are you jealous that other teams get my attention too?” you joke, poking your finger on her shoulder gently.

kate’s blushing uncontrollably, turning the same shade as her red suit. she feels like her body might be on fire simply because of your playful teasing. she’s so fucking whipped.

“oh, i- i mean, no, of course not. like you’re great so y’know, i’ll miss you and stuff. yeah.” kate curses herself for stumbling over her words, red cheeks turning crimson. you laugh it off though, smiling that big smile you’re known so well for.

“i’m just messing with you kate. i still don’t know where i’ll end up, wish i could tell you.”

she’s about to say something else, maybe compliment your pretty dress or the way your hair is done but she can’t because someone is calling her name. she pretends like she can’t hear it and continues looking at you, but you’re already looking in the direction of the voice calling out to the blonde. kate internally groans, closing her eyes to roll them in annoyance.

“well, i’ll see you around katie. it was really nice getting to talk to you.”

katie. were you giving her a nickname? the simple thought erupts butterflies in her stomach like she’s never felt before. you make her feel like a love-struck teenager again.

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see ya.” she runs her hand down your arm, gently squeezing once she reaches your palm. it feels wildly intimate for your surface level friendship but kate wants you to know. she needs you to. she can’t even help herself anymore, looking back to smile at you as she disappears into the crowd.

you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you’re at a work event, not a tinder date. a few more people approach you after that and vice-versa for some media photos and videos. you take pictures of breathtaking outfits, film funny videos and short interviews, and mingle with team management and owners.

you’re in the middle of conversation with a new york liberty media manager when you feel a familiar presence behind you, a gentle hand gliding over the small of your back.

emily engstler smiled at you as you turned away from the previous and forgotten conversation. you were immediately at ease just by looking at her, pulling her into a swift embrace.

“oh my god emily, it’s so good to see you.”

“i could say the same. there’s so many people here i’m glad i spotted you.”

emily was part of the team you’d been working with the past few weeks, filming videos and pictures of the washington mystics players to put up on their social media. you two bonded very easily and quickly and it made your job much more fun, so you really grew a keen liking for her.

she felt the same, maybe a little something more than friendly though.

“how are you? having fun?”

“oh yeah, loads of fun. everyone is so sweet.” it wasn’t a lie; other than the soft but increased patter of your heart because of how good she looked, you were doing great.

“yeah? i’m glad. you look really nice by the way. i’ve never seen you dressed up like this.”

“i could say the same about you. i’m so used to seeing you all sweaty, this is a big difference.”

on the surface emily is calm and collected. she laughs lightly at your comment because it’s true, but it also leaves her a little flustered because hopefully no one heard that out of context. but a tiny part of her hopes someone did.

“do you want me to snap some pictures of you in your suit?” you offer, pointing to the camera resting around your neck.

now she’s even more flustered. she nods and moves to stand against the wall, giving you her best model-level smile as you take her picture. when you show her the pictures she almost cringes at how noticeably flushed she is. it’s all because of you and your cute dress and your even cuter smile-

“are you alright em?”

em. fuck. she’s totally done for as soon as you utter the nickname. it’s not even anything special, everyone fucking calls her that. but it sounds different coming from you. it doesn’t help that you grip her bicep just hard enough to make her a little dizzy.

“oh yeah. can we retake those? i look like a tomato.”

“for sure. i’m sorry- i think i messed up the lighting setting on the camera or something.”

she poses again, flashing you that same breath-taking smile. her hands buries itself deep in her pocket to hide the clamminess.

you can’t help but adore her from behind your device. your eyes linger on her face, watching as her eyes trace your movements as you pull the camera away. she’s much more pleased with the results this time, leaning in to affirm your media skills. emily complimented you endlessly as you showed her shots from earlier in the day too, trying to navigate her way into your heart.

“so, do you know if you’re signing with the mystics or..?”

“oh, no i don’t, not for sure anyways. i don’t think i’m supposed to tell you this but it’s definitely been talked about with management and stuff. i think they really like me.”

“how could they not?”

emily tried to keep her spirits high and wandering mind positive. if you were signed with the mystics it’d make things a lot easier for emily. things like making very clear moves on you to a possible and eventual romantic relationship, something she was interested in having with you.

she watches you smile at her comment and it only warms her heart further. she noticed you do this thing when you smile and she absolutely fucking loves it- you always tilt your head a little to the left when you smile, shrugging sometimes when it’s because of a compliment. she watches you do it now, only admiration flooding her mind and body language.

“you gotta stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like that. it’s driving me crazy”

you almost go breathless because she’s making you so nervous- was she flirting? it was making your head spin and her cheeky smile doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

you’re about to reply with some nonsense but thankfully the moment saves you, a teammate of emily’s grabbing her attention.

“hey guys! emily c’mere, there’s someone from my college team i want you to meet.”

she reluctantly waves you goodbye as she vanishes back into the crowd of people that’s only grown since she arrived. now you’re left to stand on your own, still flustered by the tall blonde when another one walks towards you, hand gently coming down on your shoulder to grab your attention.

paige bueckers greeted you with a warm smile, a genuine one that reached to her eyes. your eyes went wide with excitement upon seeing her, a smile like her own painting your features excitedly.

“paige! i had no idea you’d be here.”

“y’know i had to show up to see my fav.”

you’d worked with her before, interning with uconn’s media team last year during your last year of college. she was growing to be a big star in college basketball so you worked with her a lot. it was always a fun time, especially since she’s so photogenic.

“i know you’re working with all the pro teams now but i still think you should come back to uconn for my last year.” she teases, squeezing your shoulder as a gentle reminder that she’s still there and still so close to you.

“oh yeah? you gonna win this year?”

“you already know.”

she shoves her hands in her pockets because she realized she can’t stop touching you. even on the retreat, her smirk is relentless and unwavering within your banter together. confidence exudes from her very being and it’s unbelievably attractive, at least she hopes it is.

she’s trying to swoon you.

“really though, what team are you gonna be working with by next year? i need to know where i’m gonna end up.”

you laugh at that, a beautiful laugh that sweeps through your whole body. it’s music to paige’s ears, face heating up at your reaction but she never falters. she’s smiling and laughing with you because your energy is contagious to her, intoxicating enough to where she’s okay with becoming an addict if it means she can be like this forever. with you.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

“yeah i would actually.”

“can’t tell you.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t know. change of subject though, let me do my job and take some pictures of you.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

she confidently finds her way in front of the backdrop, posing in a way you can only describe as incredibly fucking hot. she switches her pose a few times and you capture a multitude of pictures from each moment, admiring her beauty and ease.

she swiftly finds her way back to you after a few moments, not able to deny the magnetic energy that keeps pulling her to you. as you show her some of the pictures her hand loops around your torso, pulling you out of the way of passersby, but also just so she can keep close to you.

it feels like it’s been ages since the draft, which is the last time paige saw you. she wants to soak you in now because she doesn’t know when she’ll see you again. the thought sends a pang through her heart but paige is absolutely determined to make a more.. official, move on you tonight. she pulls back to look at your face, cogs in her head turning to look for the perfect thing to say when someone whisks you away.

you bid your sweet, honey-laced farewell before you’re gone in a flash. paige understands, you’re here to work. she strolls away aimlessly, spotting a few familiar faces seated at a table in the distance.

that’s how the three blondes found themselves all at the same table, all gushing about the same person without a clue.

it started with paige talking to caitlin, who eventually dragged kate into the conversation alongside emily. paige talked about you, a nameless mention of the most beautiful girl ever. she gushed to the other blondes about how happy she was to see you again, how pretty you looked, and how sweet you acted.

“i didn’t get to talk to her for long unfortunately but im still so glad i got to see her. she’s so amazing.” paige spoke confidently, leaving your identity anonymous to the rest of the girls at the table. caitlin pushes kate teasingly at the topic, piping up to add to the conversation.

“kate’s little crush is here too. won’t stop talking about her.”

“uh yeah, i saw her when i first got here. i haven’t seen her since though, i think she’s really busy y’know.” kate’s blushing, nowhere in her nightly plans did she intended to spill her guts to everyone about her massive crush on you.

“oh yeah kate, keep it modest. don’t tell them what you told me, about how pretty she looks and how talented she is and how her hair is up so nicely in a cute little half updo-”

“dude!”

“fine, fine.” caitlin’s eyes drift to the other blonde across the table, motioning to her, “what about you? anyone special here tonight?”

emily nervously clears her throat and sinks into the chair. she can’t help but smile at the simple thought of you. the word vomit comes immediately and she can’t even help it.

“oh yeah. i mean, i guess. i’ve kinda liked her for a little while and i got to talk to her earlier. she’s really cool. bro, she’s got this thing she does when she smiles- i swear it’s gonna kill me someday. i’m fucking whipped.”

“same.”

kate and paige speak in unison, almost alarmingly. caitlin’s eyes flicker between her friends, then to aaliyah as she approaches the table. she occupies the space between emily and paige, grabbing the shoulders of both her former and current teammate.

“paige did you see peach?”

“yeah, i talked to her a little while ago.”

“did you, emily?”

“yeah i did.”

liyah winks at emily, knowing of the crush her teammate has for her friend. it makes emily blush which immediately catches paige’s eye- it’d be impossible to miss emily’s big smile at the mention of your famous nickname shared between close friends. kate doesn’t catch on, too embarrassed from caitlin’s intrusive speech to think properly.

“wait, what was that?” paige is quick to question, wanting nothing more than for her suspicions to be proven wrong.

“nothing?”

“oh my god.” caitlin breaks through the short silence. she’s pieced it all together. caitlin throws her head back in laughter almost manically because, this drama is too fucking good.

“what?” kate asks, confused as to why everyone looks so concerned.

“you guys all have a crush on the same person.”

everyone’s eyes widen; in fear, horror, shock, jealousy, disbelief, you name it. paige finds you amongst the crowd talking to a woman and can’t help but feel possessive over you. you’re hers. a similar thought seems to run through the other two blondes as well. they all grimace, faces turning sour with discontent.

“wait, you guys have a crush on peach too?” kate doesn’t even want to know the answer, heart sinking past the floor when the other blondes nod in confirmation. she wants to throw up, but more than that she wants to find you and confess her admiration towards you in hopes that you feel the same.

she has to get to you before the others.

she stands up and darts across the room as casually as possible. caitlin watches in shock because she’s never seen her close friend act this way, but there’s a first for everything.

“fuck.” paige mutters, pushing away from the table to follow kate’s trail to you. emily does the same. all the blondes have departed from their previous spots, now only concerned with the trivial task of finding you and getting you alone.

it’s no use though, all immediately arriving within the same second. your attention is inevitably drawn to all three of them as they stand before you with pleading eyes.

“guys? is everything alright?”

“no.” kate mutters, eyes shamelessly wandering over your figure with her bottom lip pulled snugly between her teeth.

“what’s.. what’s going on?”

everyone is silent, glancing around at one another before paige bravely breaks the stale silence. “we all like you peach. a lot. basically, you need to pick one. if any of us.”

“oh.”

˚ ༘♡🍓⋆｡˚🏀✧˖°🌼ʚɞ♡🍀

this was 3.1k words…. my longest fic

i really hope it lives up to the hype 😣

yall need to tell me who you want peach to end up with……. maybe all?! 😏

also this long ass fic is not spell checked

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