#pazzi angst

[lupinqs]

SAFE AND SOUND (1/2) ━━ pazzi

☆ ━ summary: in which azzi fudd forms an unexpected alliance with paige bueckers as they fight for survival in the hunger games.

☆ ━ word count: 10.1K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing yet really, should all be in the next chapter lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, ao3 link

☆ ━ author’s note: if i had a nickel for every time i wrote one of my ships going to the hunger games together, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice 🧐 obviously this is a hunger games au so if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie or are not familiar with the premise, i don’t know how well you’ll be able to understand. alsoooo this part is lowkey very much buildup and not actual pazzi just mostly azzi; it was meant to be one whole part but it would’ve been too damn long so i split it!

“AZZI FUDD.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything stops. The world around her seems to freeze in time. Lucia Bliss, the escort from District Nine, says the name with a certain flair, her voice high-pitched and breathy, as if this is a celebration instead of a death sentence. Lucia’s purple hair gleams under the harsh midday sun, her too-bright smile a sick contrast to the crowd’s silence.

Azzi stands rooted to the ground. Her heart slams in her chest, and her vision narrows as shock seeps through her bones. She can’t move, can’t breathe. Her body is disconnected from her mind, numbness spreading through her limbs. She vaguely registers the weight of the stares from the girls around her—some wide-eyed with horror, others carefully blank. Azzi blinks. Is this real? She swallows hard, but her throat feels like sandpaper.

She never let herself think about this. Never allowed the possibility to take root. She spent the whole week worrying about her little brothers, Jon and Jose, her anxiety circling around them like a storm cloud. Jose, especially. It’s his first Reaping, and he’d been so scared he couldn’t sleep the night before. Azzi had promised him it’d be okay, that the odds were in their favor. She’d lied. And now it’s her name that hangs in the air.

Her legs feel heavy, like they’ve been weighed down with stones, but somehow, she forces them to move. One step. Then another. Each movement is stiff, mechanical, her body obeying while her mind is still reeling. The faces in the crowd blur into a mass of pale colors, and Azzi avoids looking at any of them directly. The sun presses down on her back, making her skin feel tight, suffocating, but she barely registers it. Her heartbeat thuds in her ears, a dull roar that drowns out everything else.

I have to do this. She repeats it in her head, over and over, as if it will numb the panic creeping up her spine. I have to get up there.

The platform is higher than it looks. It looms above her as she approaches, and the closer she gets, the more she feels the weight of the district watching her. Her hands tremble at her sides, but she keeps them balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She can’t afford to show fear. Not now.

She steps onto the stage, the wooden floor creaking beneath her shoes. Lucia Bliss beams at her, all synthetic kindness and hollow enthusiasm, like she’s completely oblivious to the fact that she’s sending a sixteen-year-old girl to her death. Azzi wants to scream, to shout at her, to demand to know how she can smile like that. Instead, she stands there, stiff as a board, staring blankly into the crowd.

She doesn’t look at her family. Not yet. If she lets herself see them—really see them—she knows she’ll fall apart. And she can’t afford to break down, not in front of everyone. Not here. The numbness is the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

“Now, for the boys!” Lucia announces, with that same bright cheeriness, like this is all just a grand spectacle and not a nightmare come to life.

The second name is pulled, and Azzi barely registers the sound of the boy’s name. “Kellan Ryder.”

Her eyes catch a glimpse of him as he stumbles forward—a scrawny boy with messy red hair and too-thin arms. He looks no older than fourteen, maybe fifteen at most. His face is pale, his mouth set in a tight line as he walks toward the platform like a condemned man heading to the gallows. There’s no strength in him, no fire. He’s shaking like a leaf, and Azzi knows his fate immediately. Anyone with a brain should. He won’t make it.

Kellan’s knees wobble as he climbs onto the platform, nearly tripping on the last step. His frightened eyes dart around, but when they meet Azzi’s for a fleeting moment, she sees it—the absolute terror, the resignation that’s already settled in him. He knows he’s dead. And now, she’s tethered to him.

Lucia claps her hands together, looking as if she expects the crowd to erupt into applause, but no one moves. District Nine never claps at the Reaping. There’s nothing to celebrate here.

Azzi’s jaw tightens, her hands still clenched at her sides. What now? What happens next? She can’t feel anything except a dull, creeping fear gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. It’s been less than five minutes since her name was called, but it feels like an eternity has passed. She feels lost, unmoored, floating in a space where time no longer makes sense.

As the anthem blares across the square, she chances a glance into the crowd—just for a second. Her gaze locks onto her family. Her mom is there, her face pale but strong. Azzi’s dad stands right next to her, an arm around her waist. They wear the same firm expressions—like they may actually believe their daughter can make it through this. Azzi can’t find Jon and Jose—they’re somewhere within the rest of the relieved crowd of boys who have been spared this year.

Lucia is speaking again, but Azzi barely hears her. The words are muffled, distant, as she’s ushered off the stage and into the cold interior of the Justice Building. Her chest feels tight, her throat burning from holding back everything that’s clawing at her insides, threatening to break free. She can’t let them see her cry.

Inside the Justice Building, it’s quieter, but the silence only makes her pulse race faster. She’s taken to a small room to wait. The goodbyes. They give her only a few minutes with her family before she’s whisked away forever.

Her mother is the first to come in, and the second the door closes behind her, the stoic mask she’s been holding up crumbles. She rushes forward and pulls Azzi into a bone-crushing hug. Katie Fudd does not shed any tears, but Azzi can feel her shaking against her shoulder. Trembling, but trying to fight it.

“You’re going to come back,” her mother says firmly, as if she’s manifesting it into existence. And then, more choked: “Please, Azzi. You have to come back.”

Azzi stands stiffly for a moment, then wraps her arms around her mother. She wants to promise that she’ll come back, that she’ll survive, but the words stick in her throat. How can she make a promise like that when she doesn’t know if she can keep it?

“I’ll try,” Azzi says instead, her voice hollow. I’ll try. It’s all she can offer.

Her brothers come in next, Jon leading Jose. The second Jose sees her, he runs to her, clinging to her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. His face is streaked with tears, his breath coming in ragged sobs.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Jose’s voice is small, broken. Azzi’s reminded that he’s only twelve. “You have to come back.”

Azzi pulls away slightly, brushing the hair out of his face. “I’ll do my best,” she whispers, her voice trembling. She can’t say anything more than that. She wishes she could lie, give him something more hopeful, but the truth is all she has.

Jon is much quieter, and he stands back, his face hard as stone. But his eyes—his eyes are full of pain, full of everything he’s trying not to feel. When he finally steps forward, he pulls her into a tight hug, whispering in her ear, “Please try to come home.”

Azzi nods, her throat too tight to respond.

And then it’s her dad that gets her last, his arms wrapping around her softer, less firm. He rubs a hand along her back, rests his chin on top of her head. It makes Azzi want to cry. But she doesn’t. She keeps the tears in. Tim tells her, “Be smart. Don’t trust anyone.” And then he pulls away, meeting her gaze. His eyes aren’t sad, they don’t memorize the lines of her face as if this is likely the last time they’ll ever see each other. Instead, they’re firm, a fire burning in them, a fire that believes Azzi has enough spark in her to win. “You’re strong, Az. You find what you’re good at, and you stick to it. Just like shooting.”

Azzi nods, though his words don’t truly reach her. She’s good at basketball—great, even. The best shooter in her district. But the Hunger Games isn’t basketball. It’s entirely different.

The goodbye is over too quickly, the Peacekeepers ushering her family out of the room, their voices echoing down the hall. As the door closes behind them, the reality of the situation hits her with full force. This is happening. This is real. There’s no way out of it. In just a few days, she’ll be in the arena, and all that will matter is survival.

Azzi takes a deep breath, her hands trembling. She has to survive. For her family. For her mom. For her dad. For Jon and Jose. I have to win.

But as the cold emptiness settles into her chest, she knows it’s not going to be that simple. Not even close.

THE ROOM in the Capitol’s Remake Center is pristine and clinical—too clean, in fact. The walls are bright white, and the overhead lights are too harsh, casting everything in an almost sterile glow. The faint hum of machinery buzzes in the background, and Azzi sits stiffly on the plush chair in the center of the room, her back straight and hands clenched in her lap. She can feel the cold, unfamiliar air of the Capitol against her skin, a far cry from the familiar, earthy smells of District Nine. The whole place feels wrong.

Azzi’s mind is still spinning from the events of the past day, from the Reaping to the train ride to the Capitol. Everything feels like a blur—one unending nightmare she can’t escape from. The vibrant, colorful city that’s supposed to be awe-inspiring feels nothing more than a glittering cage, trapping her in a world that doesn’t belong to her.

A knock at the door startles her from her thoughts, and she straightens, her heart thudding a little harder in her chest. The door opens, and in walks a tall, slender woman with dark, shimmering hair cut into a sleek bob. Her skin is flawless, glowing in the artificial light, and she’s dressed in an outfit that’s both futuristic and elegant, all smooth lines and shimmering fabric.

She strides into the room with the kind of confidence Azzi has only ever seen in Capitol citizens, her heels clicking against the floor. When she reaches Azzi, she extends a perfectly manicured hand and offers a soft, warm smile.

“Hello, Azzi. I’m Seraphine,” she says, her voice gentle, as though she knows how jarring this experience must be. “I’ll be your stylist for the Games.”

Azzi stares at Seraphine’s hand for a second too long before realizing she’s supposed to shake it. Her fingers feel cold as she grips the stylist’s hand briefly, then pulls away, her eyes flickering nervously to the floor. She hasn’t said a word since entering the Remake Center, and even now, her throat feels tight, like it’s closed off from the weight of everything around her.

Seraphine seems to notice Azzi’s discomfort and doesn’t push her to speak. Instead, she walks around the chair, studying Azzi with a critical yet kind eye, taking in her features as if she’s a sculpture being examined for the first time.

“You’ve got very strong features,” Seraphine says, her voice soft as she moves to stand in front of Azzi. She lifts a hand, her finger tracing the air just in front of Azzi’s face as if imagining her canvas. “A really beautiful face. Great symmetry. Your nose is perfect—straight, but with just a little softness at the tip. And your lips,” she smiles, “plump and well-shaped, the kind people pay for here in the Capitol.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to say. She swallows hard and forces out a quiet, “Thank you.”

But the words feel hollow in her mouth. Two days ago, she probably would’ve flushed at the compliment and grinned at the woman before her. But it doesn’t matter now. Being beautiful won’t keep her alive. It won’t stop a sword or a spear. It won’t protect her when she’s standing in the arena, staring down a tribute who wants her dead. She doesn’t care about her looks. She cares about surviving.

Seraphine seems to sense the tension in her, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she steps back and claps her hands together, her expression shifting into something more professional. “Well, we’ve got a lot to do before the Opening Ceremony tonight. The tributes from District Nine usually get an agricultural theme, but we’re going to make sure you stand out. You’ll need something that catches the eye, something that makes people remember you. The Capitol loves a good first impression.”

Azzi tries to focus on what Seraphine is saying, but her mind keeps drifting, her thoughts pulling her back to District Nine, to the faces of her brothers, her parents, their small home nestled in the farthest corner of the district. She feels like she’s been dropped into an alien world, surrounded by people who don’t understand what it means to fight for survival. Here, everything is about image—how you look, how you present yourself. But in the Games, none of that matters. At least, not to Azzi.

Seraphine motions for Azzi to stand, and she does so stiffly, her muscles aching from sitting so rigidly for so long. The stylist begins to circle her, appraising her figure and murmuring to herself. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Seraphine snaps her fingers, and a team of assistants rushes in, carrying bolts of fabric and strange devices Azzi doesn’t recognize.

Seraphine smiles softly, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s shoulder. “We’re going to make you look incredible. Trust me, Azzi. I’ve been doing this for years.”

Azzi doesn’t respond. She lets the team of assistants work on her, trying not to flinch as they run strange tools across her skin, smoothing it, shaping it. They tug at her hair, pulling it back tightly from her face, and apply makeup to her cheeks and eyes. She’s never worn anything like this before, and the sensation of it all feels foreign, uncomfortable. The air smells heavily of perfume and hair products, nothing like the open fields and fresh earth of her home.

Seraphine watches closely, making small adjustments as the assistants work. “We’ll keep it simple but striking,” she says as she examines the fabrics. “District Nine is about agriculture, the backbone of Panem’s food production. So we’ll lean into that, but in a way that makes you look powerful. Strong. Like someone the Capitol will want to root for.”

Azzi barely nods, her mind half-absent.

The assistants pull out a long, flowing piece of fabric, the color a rich golden hue that shimmers in the light. It’s embroidered with intricate patterns, resembling the fields of grain District Nine is known for. The material clings to her body, forming into a fitted jumpsuit that accentuates her athletic build. The design is sleek and modern, with a slight flare at the shoulders, giving her the appearance of strength, while the fabric flows behind her like a cape made of golden wheat.

Seraphine steps back, admiring the final look, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “You look incredible, Azzi. Absolutely stunning. This will make the audience remember you—beautiful, but more importantly, formidable.”

Azzi stares at herself in the mirror, her reflection almost unrecognizable. The girl looking back at her is a Capitol version of herself, someone polished and made to look like she belongs here. But Azzi can see right through it. She doesn’t belong here.

“How do you feel?” Seraphine asks, stepping up beside her.

Azzi hesitates, her eyes lingering on her reflection. She looks strong, she looks like someone people might fear. But the question gnaws at her, the same thought that’s been looping in her head since she arrived at the Capitol.

“Being beautiful won’t help me in the arena,” she says quietly, her voice low, as if the thought escapes her without permission.

Seraphine’s expression softens, and she places a hand gently on Azzi’s shoulder. “It’s not just about beauty. It’s about presence. The Capitol citizens, the sponsors—they want someone they can believe in. If they believe in you, they’ll help you. They’ll send you things you need. And that could be the difference between life and death.”

Azzi doesn’t know how to respond to that. She’s never thought about it that way—never considered that people watching her might care enough to help. She doesn’t know if she likes that idea, though. It feels too distant, too detached. How can she trust that some faceless audience in the Capitol will care enough to keep her alive?

But she nods anyway, her jaw tight as she looks back at her reflection. “I guess.”

Seraphine gives her a reassuring smile, but Azzi can see the flicker of something else in the stylist’s eyes. Maybe a recognition of the bleakness that comes with the Games. Or maybe just sympathy. Either way, it doesn’t change the reality.

And then Seraphine is clapping her hands again, signaling the rush of assistants and stylists bustling back into the room. They tidy up the last few details, adjusting the cape of shimmering gold fabric that flows behind Azzi, smoothing out any wrinkles in the intricate embroidery of her jumpsuit. The noise, the movement, all of it feels overwhelming, but Seraphine stays calm and poised, giving Azzi a reassuring smile before gesturing toward the door.

“Come, Azzi. We need to head downstairs. Your chariot awaits,” Seraphine says.

Azzi’s legs feel unsteady as she follows her stylist. There’s a gnawing anxiety low in her stomach, a knot that’s only been growing tighter since her name was pulled. She walks behind Seraphine, out of the room and down a long, marble hallway that echoes with the click of the stylist’s heels. The air feels heavier here, the anticipation hanging thick in the space around them as they make their way to the first floor.

The elevator doors open, revealing the Remake Center’s ground floor—a massive, gleaming stable. The smell of horses hits her first, a sharp contrast to the sterile air of the upper floors. The space is wide and open, filled with row after row of chariots, each one assigned to a different district, waiting to carry their tributes into the Opening Ceremony. It’s loud, too, with the sound of people bustling around, prepping the tributes, adjusting the horses’ harnesses, and giving last-minute instructions.

Azzi’s eyes dart around, searching for Kellan, her district partner. She spots him off to the side, standing next to one of the chariots, his eyes wide with fear and his shoulders hunched as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. He looks terrible, Azzi thinks, her heart twisting in her chest. Kellan is so young—fourteen—the same age as her little brother Jon.

In fact, Kellan could’ve been Jon. Could’ve been Jose. The thought makes her feel sick. He’s just a kid. And now he’s about to be thrown into a fight to the death.

Azzi’s stomach churns as she approaches Kellan, trying to think of something to say, something that might ease his nerves, but nothing comes to mind. What can she say? You’ll be fine? It won’t be that bad? It would be a lie. There’s no comforting truth here.

Lucia is already there, too, flitting around with her usual enthusiasm. Her bright purple wig bounces as she talks, gesturing wildly with her hands. She’s all Capitol—flashy and clueless, too caught up in the spectacle of it all to realize what’s really at stake.

“Ah, Azzi! You look fan-tastic!” Lucia exclaims, clucking her tongue and clapping her hands together. “Seraphine has really outdone herself this year.”

Azzi gives a stiff nod, but her attention is drawn to the figure standing next to Lucia.

Their mentor—Cyrus.

A tall, grizzled man in his mid-forties, Cyrus won the Games when he was seventeen, Azzi knows that. His hair is streaked with silver now, and his face is lined with years of bitterness and loss—an expression she’s come to recognize in former victors. Cyrus isn’t the warmest person, but he knows what it takes to survive, and that’s all that matters to Azzi now.

He steps forward, eyeing her and Kellan critically, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You both look good,” he says, his voice gruff, as if the compliment costs him something. “But this isn’t about just looking good. It’s about making the Capitol love you. You need them on your side, or you’re dead in the water.”

Kellan swallows hard, his eyes darting nervously toward the chariots. Azzi can see his hands trembling slightly at his sides, and again, that pang of guilt hits her. He shouldn’t be here. He’s too young.

So is Azzi. So is every other tribute here.

Cyrus doesn’t seem to notice Kallan’s behavior—or if he does, he doesn’t care. He steps closer, his voice dropping into a low, urgent tone. “When you get out there, you smile. You wave. You make sure they see you, like you’re already a victor. The crowd loves confidence. They love tributes who look like they’ll win, not ones who are scared to death.” His eyes flick to Kellan, lingering for a second too long. “So you both smile. Got it?”

Azzi nods, even though the last thing she wants to do is smile right now. But Cyrus is right. They have to play the game, even here.

She turns her head slightly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment when something—or someone—catches her eye.

Just across the stable, standing next to another chariot with her district partner, is a girl. She’s tall for a girl, like Azzi is, with long blonde hair that’s been braided back into a bun. Her outfit is clearly themed around District Seven—lumber—and it’s made of rich brown leather, like freshly cut wood, with patterns that resemble tree bark. But what stands out most to Azzi isn’t the outfit. It’s her face.

The girl’s features are sharp but soft in all the right places. She has a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and a pair of piercing blue eyes that seem to flicker with something unspoken. She’s pretty—beautiful, even—but not in the overdone, Capitol way. There’s something natural about her beauty, something real.

Azzi’s breath catches in her throat as their eyes meet. For a moment, the noise of the stable fades into the background, and all she can hear is the pounding of her heart in her chest. The girl holds her gaze, her expression unreadable but intense, like she’s studying Azzi just as much as Azzi is studying her.

This girl is another tribute. Another person Azzi might have to kill. But the thought doesn’t stop her from staring a second too long, from letting herself get caught in the girl’s gaze.

It’s only when Cyrus barks something at them that Azzi snaps her head back around, her cheeks flushing as she tries to focus. This isn’t the time for distractions.

She forces her attention back to Cyrus as he continues giving them last-minute instructions. “Smile. Wave. Make them love you. Got it?”

Azzi nods, though her thoughts are still jumbled. She glances at Kellan, who’s biting his lip nervously, his eyes darting around the stable like a rabbit caught in a trap.

And then they’re being ushered toward their chariot. Azzi takes a deep breath, her legs feeling wobbly as she steps onto the platform, Kellan following behind her. The horses, sleek and muscular, are restless in front of them, their hooves clattering against the marble floor. She grips the edge of the chariot tightly, her knuckles turning white.

As the chariots begin to roll out, Azzi takes one more deep breath. She can hear the roar of the crowd growing louder, the excitement building as the tributes are about to make their grand entrance.

The moment they roll into view of the massive audience, the noise is deafening. The Capitol citizens cheer and shout, their brightly colored hair and outrageous outfits blending together into a sea of vibrant chaos. Azzi forces herself to smile, just like instructed, letting her dimples show through as she waves to the crowd, her arm moving mechanically as if on autopilot. She hates it—the way their eyes are all on her, the way they’re watching her as if she’s nothing more than a piece in their twisted game.

She’s never wanted attention like this. The only way she’d ever dreamed of being noticed was by playing basketball, maybe one day making it big enough to play in the Capitol’s professional leagues. But that was a stupid dream—something far out of reach for someone from a District. Even if she won the Games, even if she became a Capitol darling, she’d never be allowed to play. The basketball leagues are for Capitol citizens, not for tributes. Not for people like her.

Azzi keeps smiling, keeps waving, even though every second of it feels wrong. The crowd’s cheers grow louder, their excitement palpable, but Azzi feels nothing. All she can think about is the girl from District Seven—the girl whose eyes she can still feel on her, even now, as the chariots roll forward.

IT’S THE second day of training. Yesterday, Azzi found her strength—throwing knives. It was quick; the dagger was the first weapon she picked up and tried. And it just… worked. It surprised her at first, but as the blades left her hand, spinning in the air before sinking into the target with a solid thud, it felt almost familiar. The motion, the precision, the focus—it all reminds her of shooting a basketball. In her mind, it’s the same concept: aim, release, make the shot. Whether it’s a knife sinking into a dummy or a ball swooshing through a hoop, the goal is the same. And it comforts her in a strange way, turning something deadly into something she’s used to, something she can control.

Now, Azzi stands several feet away from a dummy, gripping a knife, the handle cool against her palm. She lines it up with the target. Her muscles tighten as she flicks her wrist, releasing the dagger. It slices through the air, embedding itself into where the heart of the dummy would be with a satisfying thud. A perfect hit. She lets out a slow breath, allowing a small flicker of satisfaction to cross her face. The trainers don’t miss it either, nodding with approval as they observe her from across the room.

Cyrus, her mentor, has been watching her closely since she got here. And, after Azzi informed him of her successes with the daggers last night and his compliments of her physique, the true muscle she has, it’s been clear he’s placing his bets on Azzi this time around. It seems there’s just no point in trying with Kellan.

As for Kellan, he hasn’t said much of anything since they were whisked away to the Capitol. He’s just a boy, and Azzi has watched the fear in his eyes grow with each passing day. Cyrus has tried to train him, to offer him advice, but Kellan’s barely even listened. It’s as if he’s already given up. Azzi sees it in the way his hands tremble whenever he holds a weapon, the way he flinches during combat drills, and the way he refuses to meet anyone’s gaze. He’s already dead in his mind, and Azzi knows that mentality will get him killed in the arena.

“Focus on yourself,” Cyrus had told her bluntly last night after dinner. “Kellan’s not gonna make it. You need to accept that now.”

Azzi had nodded, the truth of Cyrus’ words sitting like a heavy weight in her chest. She tried talking to Kellan once, offering him a few words of encouragement, but he barely even acknowledged her. After that, she stopped trying. She can’t afford to waste time or energy on someone who’s already checked out. It isn’t like she doesn’t feel guilty—she does—but she has to survive.

She can’t focus on anyone else’s survival but her own.

Today, Cyrus has her focusing on something other than knives. “You’ve got those down,” he’d told her before the session. “Learn how to survive the elements now. Plants, food, water. You need to know what’s safe and what isn’t. Most tributes die from hunger, dehydration—not all of it is blood and guts.”

So Azzi finds herself crouched in front of an information station, its holographic displays showing various plants, fruits, and fungi. She taps the screen, cycling through images of plants she might find in the arena, trying to commit them to memory. Which ones are edible, which ones are poisonous, which ones could be used to heal wounds. It’s not as exciting as knife-throwing, but it’s necessary, and she knows it.

She’s absorbed in her study, staring intently at a particularly nasty-looking mushroom, when she senses someone approaching from the side. Her muscles tense instinctively, and she glances up, prepared to brush off whoever it is—until she sees Paige Bueckers standing next to her.

Paige Bueckers. District Seven. Azzi knows who she is. She’s memorized all the tributes’ names and districts by now—it’s smart to know who she’s up against—but Paige was the first one she committed to memory. Maybe it’s because of the way Paige caught her eye before the opening ceremony, their silent exchange of glances lingering in Azzi’s mind longer than she’d like to admit. Or maybe it’s because she’s watched Paige train over the past two days and realized just how dangerous the girl really is. Azzi saw her with a sword earlier, moving with a deadly grace that sent chills down her spine. Paige might be one of the most skilled tributes here, and that’s saying something.

Paige is tall, even a little taller than Azzi, and her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a thin, black headband resting over it. Her sharp, blue eyes meet Azzi’s as she stops next to her, wearing a grin that seems completely out of place in the tense, competitive atmosphere of the training center.

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige says, her tone casual, as if they’re not preparing to kill each other in a matter of days. “District Nine.”

Azzi glances back at the screen, her brows furrowing slightly. She doesn’t know how to feel about Paige approaching her. She doesn’t know what she wants. This could be some kind of strategy—get close to your enemies, make them lower their guard. Azzi isn’t stupid. She knows better than to trust anyone here.

“Bueckers,” Azzi replies, her voice neutral, not giving anything away. She keeps her eyes on the screen, scrolling through more plant images.

But Paige doesn’t leave. She shifts her weight, bouncing slightly on her heels, like she can’t seem to stay still. The grin on her face widens, and Azzi feels even more confused. Why is Paige so friendly? Why is she smiling like they’re just two normal girls having a chat?

“So, you’re, like, really good with daggers, huh?” Paige says, her voice light. “I saw you throwing earlier. Pretty impressive.”

Azzi doesn’t look up. She sighs instead, her fingers hovering over the screen. “Guess so,” she mumbles. In the back of her mind, she knows she should probably be nicer. Paige might be trying to form an alliance, and with Kellan being a dead end, Azzi could use one. But trust is a luxury she can’t afford right now, and Paige’s enthusiasm throws her off.

Paige doesn’t seem fazed by Azzi’s short response, though. She keeps standing there, grinning like an idiot, her eyes twinkling with some kind of amusement. It’s unnerving how at ease she seems, how… happy. It’s probably a mask. She’s probably as terrified as the rest of them, and she’s just getting through it in her own way.

Nevertheless, Azzi can’t take it anymore. She turns her head slightly, locking eyes with Paige. “Why are you talking to me?” she asks bluntly.

Paige blinks, her grin faltering for just a moment. For the first time, she looks a little unsure of herself. “Um… I don’t really know, actually,” she admits with a small, nervous laugh. “Just… wanted to, I guess.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, studying her. She has no idea if the girl before her is being honest. But the sincerity in her voice catches Azzi a little off guard, and for a second, she’s not sure what to say. This is the Hunger Games. No one talks to someone just because they “want to.” Everyone has an angle. Yet Paige stands there, looking oddly genuine, like she really doesn’t have a reason. Like she just wants to talk to Azzi, no strings attached.

For a moment, Azzi’s walls start to crack. She considers the possibility—however slim—that Paige is just… a good person. It doesn’t make sense, not in a place like this, but the warmth in Paige’s smile makes Azzi’s suspicion waver.

“Well,” Azzi finally says, her voice a little softer than before, “maybe you shouldn’t.” She doesn’t look away this time, her eyes lingering on Paige’s, almost like she’s testing her.

Paige’s grin returns, softer this time, but still there. “Maybe,” she says, “but I’m here anyway.”

Azzi shakes her head a little, gaze returning to the screen. She needs to focus on this, not the girl beside her.

Paige doesn’t seem to be deterred, though, still watching Azzi with that easy smile, her eyes bright. “You’re pretty serious, yeah?” she says, tilting her head, almost like she’s teasing but not quite. “Locked in. I get it. Gotta be. But… we’re all here, y'know? Same boat.”

Azzi shifts her weight, feeling her jaw tighten. “I have to be serious,” Azzi mutters, her fingers swiping across the screen, though she’s not really paying attention to the plants anymore. Her heart beats a little faster under Paige’s gaze. “You can’t survive if you’re not.”

Paige leans in just slightly, and Azzi catches the faint scent of something sweet on her, like flowers. “I know that,” she says, her tone softening for a moment. “But you might need some help in there—if you wanna win.”

Azzi’s shoulders tense. The suggestion makes her uneasy, and her instinct is to push back. Help. From anyone, it feels too dangerous. It feels like relying on someone she can’t control. She barely trusts herself in this place, let alone a girl from another district who, let’s be real, could very well end up as an enemy.

“I don’t need help,” Azzi says, her voice firmer than before. “Especially not from people I don’t know.”

Paige’s smile fades a little, but there’s no frustration in her expression. If anything, she just looks… thoughtful, almost curious about Azzi’s reaction. It’s like she’s trying to figure her out, trying to see beneath the guarded exterior.

Azzi hates that. She doesn’t want to be studied or analyzed, especially not by Paige Bueckers. She’s already doing too much of that herself—constantly assessing everyone, weighing their strengths and weaknesses, trying to predict who’s a threat and who might just fade into the background.

“I’m not trying to get in your way, Azzi,” Paige says quietly, her voice losing some of its earlier lightness. “But, y’know, maybe we don’t have to be enemies. I’ve seen you, and you’re good. Like, real good. And neither of us are Careers and both our district partners are kinda duds, so I just thought…”

Azzi cuts her off, turning to face her abruptly. “Thought what? That we’d be allies? Friends?” She shakes her head, ignoring the strange knot of tension building in her chest. Paige might be trying to help, but Azzi doesn’t want it. She can’t want it. Not here. “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t work like that. Sorry.”

Paige stands there, still watching her, and for a second, Azzi thinks she sees something flicker in Paige’s eyes—disappointment, maybe, or understanding. But Paige doesn’t push back. She just nods once, a slow, thoughtful thing.

“Okay,” Paige says, stepping back a little, giving Azzi space. Her smile returns, softer, but still there. “I get it. Just… keep doin' what you’re good at.”

Azzi feels a strange pang in her chest as she watches Paige step away, like maybe she’s made a mistake. But no—she can’t think like that. She needs to stay focused, stay sharp, stay alone. That’s how she’ll survive.

Without another word, Azzi turns on her heel and walks away, her heart beating faster than before.

THE PINK dress hugs Azzi’s figure, its soft blush fabric shimmering under the bright lights of the dressing room. It’s not something she’s ever imagined herself wearing—not this shade, not this tight. She looks almost like a Capitol citizen now, polished and flawless in her own right.

The dress has a high neckline and delicate straps that crisscross her shoulders, falling in elegant folds down to her ankles. It’s simple, yet the color makes her stand out, glowing softly against her dark skin. Her hair is styled in loose waves, not unlike the Capitol’s obsession with effortless beauty, with the font pieces pulled back into braids. The makeup is light but dramatic—plump lips, accentuated cheekbones, and eyes that pop with a subtle pink shimmer.

Seraphine steps back, admiring her work with a satisfied smile. “You look stunning, Azzi. Like a dream.”

Azzi nods, not fully meeting Seraphine’s gaze. She knows she looks good, but it doesn’t feel like her. The face staring back at her in the mirror is a version of herself she doesn’t recognize. It’s not the Azzi from District Nine; it’s not the girl who shoots hoops with her brothers or helps her dad tend to the crops. It’s someone else—someone made for the Capitol’s stage. Someone for their entertainment.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, though her voice lacks enthusiasm. Seraphine doesn’t seem to mind. She knows by now that Azzi is serious, focused. There’s no time for compliments when the Games are looming.

Seraphine’s assistant adjusts the hem of Azzi’s dress one last time before stepping aside. “You’ll knock them dead,” she says with a wink, though the words sit heavy with the weight of their meaning. Knocking them dead. That’s quite literally what Azzi will have to do soon enough.

As she’s led out to the waiting area before the interviews, Azzi’s mind begins to drift. She thinks back to the training evaluations, how she had scored a 10—one of only four tributes to do so. A 10 is good, she knows that, but the competition is fierce. Both the girl and boy from Two scored 10s and Paige managed a 10 as well. There are other tributes with 9s, plenty who will be formidable in their own right. But Paige? Paige is different. She’s unpredictable, unnervingly skilled. And something about her makes Azzi feel a pang of unease.

As Azzi settles into her seat backstage, waiting for her interview with Caesar Flickerman, she watches the other tributes’ interviews on the screen. The Careers are all flashy and confident, playing up their deadliness to the crowd’s delight. Caesar eats it up, grinning and laughing as they boast about their skills and charm the Capitol audience. The boy from District Four also stands out—tall, muscular, and intimidating. A strong swimmer, no doubt. He’ll be dangerous, especially if the arena is at all water-based.

But none of them hold a candle to Paige.

When Paige steps onto the stage, it’s as if the entire room shifts. She looks stunning, effortlessly cool, in a crisp white suit that contrasts sharply with the frilly dresses most of the other girls have chosen. Her hair is down, styled in soft, wavy locks, with the top half pulled back in a way that highlights her sharp features. She looks more masculine than the other girls, but somehow that works in her favor. It’s not just that she’s different—it’s that she owns it. The Capitol loves different.

Azzi watches, unable to tear her eyes away, as Paige charms the entire crowd. She’s funny, confident, and just the right amount of cocky. Caesar practically beams at her, and the audience is eating out of the palm of her hand.

“You’re quite the swordswoman,” Caesar says, raising his eyebrows in admiration. “I saw your score, Paige—a 10! That’s incredible.”

Paige just grins, shrugging casually. “You know, I try.”

The crowd laughs, and Cyrus begins to mutter under his breath. “Damn it,” he says, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “She’s going to have sponsors lined up around the block.”

Azzi knows he’s right. Paige isn’t just skilled—she’s magnetic. People want to root for her. She’s dangerous, yes, but she’s also got this charm that makes you want to see her win, even if that means she’ll be killing people to get there.

Azzi swallows hard, feeling a knot form in her stomach. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s drawn to Paige, too. There’s something about her that pulls Azzi in—her confidence, her grace under pressure, her ease in the face of what’s to come. It’s not just attraction, though she can’t deny that Paige is beautiful. It’s more than that. There’s something about Paige that makes Azzi feel like she’s… alive. Like she’s not just surviving, but living fully in the moment, despite everything. Ironic, considering Paige could be the one to kill Azzi in that arena—or vice versa.

And Azzi hates that she feels this way. She shouldn’t be drawn to Paige. She shouldn’t be thinking about how Paige’s eyes had locked onto hers back at the opening ceremony, or how Paige had approached her during training, trying to talk like they were friends. None of it matters. Paige is just another tribute, another obstacle standing between Azzi and survival.

But still… there’s something about her.

As Paige’s interview wraps up, the crowd erupts in applause, and Caesar gives her a hug before she leaves the stage. Azzi watches as Paige walks off, her suit practically glowing under the stage lights. For a brief moment, Paige glances in Azzi’s direction, their eyes meeting across the room. It’s quick—just a fleeting second—but Azzi feels her heart skip a beat before she looks away, reminding herself why she’s here.

Just two interviews later, Azzi is taking a deep breath as the lights hit her, stepping forward onto the stage. The crowd is massive, louder than she imagined, and their cheers seem to echo in her chest. Her eyes land on Caesar Flickerman, who’s grinning wide at her as she approaches him, his flamboyant suit sparkling under the stage lights.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Azzi Fudd from District Nine!” Caesar announces, and the crowd’s cheers grow even louder.

Azzi sits down next to Caesar, her fingers resting awkwardly in her lap. Despite the excitement around her, she feels the familiar nervousness bubbling up inside. This isn’t her element—talking, being the center of attention. She’d rather be on the sidelines, unnoticed, but here, there’s no avoiding it.

“Azzi, you look absolutely radiant tonight!” Caesar says, his voice warm and enthusiastic. “Tell me, how does it feel to be here in the Capitol, getting all this attention?”

Azzi smiles politely, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “It’s… different,” she says softly. “I’m not really used to it. But it’s nice, I guess. Everyone’s been very kind.” Very kind because they probably know I’ll be dead in a couple weeks.

Caesar nods, leaning in slightly. “I can imagine it’s quite a change from life in District 9. Tell me, what’s life like back home?”

Azzi pauses, her mind drifting back to the open fields and the quiet days of working alongside her family. “It’s simple,” she says. “We work hard, but it’s peaceful. Most of my days I’m just spending time with my family, doing the chores or playing basketball. It’s nothing like here, but it’s home.”

Caesar smiles warmly, sensing the connection she has to her district. “Family, huh? I bet they’re watching right now, rooting for you. Tell me, do you have a big family?”

Azzi shrugs a little. “Not too big, not too small, I think. There’s my parents, and then I have two younger brothers. And we’re still very close to my grandparents. I just… love my family, they’re very supportive. They’re great.” She feels her throat get choked up by the end of the sentence, not wanting to think too much about her family, how much she misses them. Even though, truthfully, she knows she should be thinking about her family because that is what needs to be her motivation. She needs to win this for them, no matter how impossible it may seem.

The crowd gives a soft murmur of approval, and Caesar’s grin widens. “That’s wonderful. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of people cheering you on back home. And speaking of support…” He pauses dramatically, the audience clearly hanging on his every word. “Any special someone out there you’re hoping to impress? Perhaps a crush back home?”

Azzi’s eyes widen a little at the question, feeling her face heat up. A crush. That is quite literally the last thing on her mind right now. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not sure how to answer without sounding awkward.

“I, um… no,” she says with a laugh that’s more nervous than she intended. “Not really. I’ve been focused on training, so… no time for that.”

Caesar laughs good-naturedly, waving a hand as if to brush off the question. “Oh, I get it, I get it! Training comes first, of course. But I’m sure there are plenty of admirers in the Capitol who are wishing they could get your attention.”

The crowd cheers in agreement, and Azzi can’t help but smile a little at their enthusiasm, though she still feels her nerves fluttering in her stomach.

“But let’s talk about something fun,” Caesar continues, changing gears smoothly. “You’ve been in the Capitol for a little while now. What’s your favorite part so far? The food? The fashion? The luxury?”

Azzi takes a moment to think, glancing down at her dress. It’s true, everything in the Capitol has been overwhelming—lavish and excessive compared to the modest life she’s known back in her district. But there’s one thing that stands out to her more than anything.

“The food,” she answers with a small smile. “I’ve never seen so much of it in my life. And it’s all so… colorful. I didn’t even know you could make food look like that.”

Caesar chuckles. “Colorful! I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” He hits his knee as he laughs, the audience giggling with him. “But, yes! The Capitol chefs do love their extravagant dishes. Has there been anything in particular that’s caught your eye?”

“Honestly, the desserts,” Azzi admits, her smile widening. “There was this cake we had the other night, and it was shaped like a swan. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was so good.”

The crowd laughs once more, clearly charmed by her innocence, and Caesar claps his hands together. “A girl after my own heart! Who can resist a good dessert, right?”

Azzi relaxes a little more, finding it easier to talk now that the conversation has shifted to lighter topics. Caesar’s friendliness helps, and she realizes that, for the first time, the crowd isn’t as intimidating as she thought they’d be.

“You know, Azzi,” Caesar says, his tone softening just a bit, “you’ve got this quiet strength about you. I think a lot of people are really drawn to that. You don’t need to be loud or flashy to make an impact. And clearly you have made an impact—you scored a ten in the training. I mean, come on!”

Azzi smiles a little bit at the validation, her dimples poking through. “Thank you,” she says, nodding. And then she shrugs, her lips quirking up a little further as she adds, “I try.”

Caesar and the crowd chuckle at the action. “Well, you’ve certainly done well,” he tells her earnestly, before adding, with a wink, “And I have to say, your smile is absolutely infectious. I think you’ve got the whole crowd wrapped around your finger.”

The audience cheers again, louder this time, and Azzi feels her face heat up.

“Well, Azzi, it’s been an absolute pleasure talking to you tonight,” Caesar says, standing and offering his hand to help her up. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re all rooting for you.”

Azzi stands, shaking Caesar’s hand and giving the crowd a small wave as they erupt into applause. As she walks off the stage, back to where Seraphine, Lucia, and Cyrus are waiting, the adrenaline from the interview still buzzes through her.

Lucia beams at her as she approaches, her hands rushing to cup Azzi’s cheeks. “You were perfect, Azzi! Absolutely perfect.”

Seraphine nods in agreement. “The crowd loves you. You’re going to get so many sponsors, I just know it.”

Even Cyrus gives her a rare grin, clapping her on the shoulder. “You did good out there, kid. Real good. I think you’ve got them in the palm of your hand now.”

Azzi lets out a breath, the tension slowly leaving her body as she realizes she’s done it. She got through the interview, and didn’t just survive it—she actually made a connection, made herself heard and liked. The Capitol might not feel like home, but for now, at least, she knows she’s done everything she can to stand out in the best way possible.

THE MORNING is unnervingly quiet. Azzi walks beside Cyrus, the soles of her shoes barely making a sound on the sleek marble floors of the Capitol building. They’re headed toward the hovercraft, the final step before the arena. The place where everything will change. Each step closer feels heavier, the weight of what’s coming settling into her bones.

Cyrus walks just ahead, his brow furrowed in thought. Azzi knows well enough that he’s not the type for overly emotional goodbyes, but there’s a seriousness to him today that wasn’t there during training. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and Azzi notices the faint lines of tension in his jaw. She’s quiet, still processing the fact that in just a few hours, she’ll be fighting for her life.

As they near the docking area, Cyrus stops abruptly, turning to face her. His eyes are sharp, cutting through the nervous haze that’s settled over her.

“Listen to me, Azzi,” he begins, voice low but firm. “This is it. From here on out, it’s all strategy. Everything you do, every move you make—it has to be calculated, smart.”

Azzi nods, her throat tightening as she listens.

“I know it’s not in your nature to trust easily, but in the arena, you’ll need to be even more cautious,” he continues. “Don’t form alliances unless it’s strategically sound. I don’t care if they seem friendly or if they remind you of someone from back home—trust no one unless it gives you an advantage.”

His words cut deep, and she swallows hard. She hasn’t really thought much about alliances, but it’s clear that Cyrus has. He knows this game inside and out.

“And whatever you do, keep your emotions in check,” Cyrus adds, his gaze hardening. “The moment you start caring too much about anyone in there, you’ve already lost. I know you’re good-hearted, Azzi, but that’s not going to save you—not in the Games.”

She doesn’t say anything, just nods again. The lump in her throat grows as the reality of what’s coming washes over her.

“And the bloodbath.” Cyrus pauses, before his voice lowers slightly. “The moment those platforms rise, it’s going to be chaos. Don’t linger. Don’t get caught up in the fight unless it’s unavoidable. Get what you need and get out. Do you understand?”

Azzi meets his eyes, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. “I understand,” she says softly.

He studies her for a moment, and for the first time since they arrived in the Capitol, Cyrus’s tough exterior seems to soften. His hand reaches out, resting on her shoulder, and the squeeze he gives is firm, reassuring.

“I believe in you,” he says quietly, his voice sincere. “You’re smart, and you’ve trained hard. I’m going to do everything in my power to help get you home.”

Her eyes well up slightly at his words, but she quickly blinks back the tears. She can’t afford to be emotional right now. There’s no space for it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, barely able to get the words out past the lump in her throat.

Cyrus nods once, and then he’s stepping back, his hand falling away from her shoulder as they reach the hovercraft. Seraphine is already there, waiting for Azzi, her usual cheerful demeanor muted with the solemnity of the day. The metallic hiss of the hovercraft’s door opening sends a shiver down Azzi’s spine. This is it.

Without another word, Azzi steps inside. Seraphine follows, offering a small, reassuring smile as the door slides shut behind them. The hovercraft hums softly as it lifts off, heading toward the arena.

Inside, the sterile, clinical atmosphere makes her stomach churn. A Capitol medic approaches her almost immediately, a small syringe in hand. Azzi barely flinches as the needle pierces her skin, injecting the tracker into her forearm. She knows it’s necessary. They need to know where she is at all times. It’s standard procedure, but it still makes her feel like livestock.

Seraphine sits beside her, her usual flair for Capitol fashion stark against the dull surroundings of the hovercraft. She doesn’t say much, just watches as Azzi rubs her arm where the tracker was inserted. The silence is heavy, filled with unspoken words, and it’s not long before they arrive at the underground facility just outside the arena.

Once inside, they’re led into a small room where Azzi is handed her arena outfit—a black, water-resistant suit that fits snugly against her frame. It’s durable, sleek, and clearly meant for endurance. The material feels odd against her skin, foreign compared to the simple, looser clothes she’s worn most of her life.

She glances at herself in the mirror. The suit is practical, but its design tells her something about the arena. Water. The Capitol is hinting that water will play a significant role in the Games. Maybe a jungle, maybe a lake, or something more treacherous. Her mind races with possibilities, but she pushes the thoughts aside. She’ll find out soon enough.

As she pulls the last of the suit into place, Seraphine watches her carefully, her eyes glassy. The usually confident stylist seems suddenly small, fragile, as if she’s struggling to keep herself together. She steps forward, her hands gently smoothing the fabric of Azzi’s suit, her fingers trembling slightly.

“You’re going to be alright, Azzi,” Seraphine says softly, her voice cracking just a little. “You’ve been so strong. You’re going to make it back—for your family. I know you will.”

Azzi’s chest tightens at the words. Seraphine’s sincerity, her belief that Azzi can survive this—it’s almost too much to bear.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispers, her voice barely audible.

Seraphine pulls her into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around Azzi’s frame with surprising strength. It’s brief, but Azzi feels the weight of Seraphine’s worry in that embrace. It’s like she’s saying goodbye.

When they pull apart, Seraphine’s eyes are red-rimmed, though she’s trying her best to hold it together. “Good luck, Azzi,” she says, her voice shaky. “You’re going to be okay.”

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat and nods. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she just gives Seraphine a small, grateful smile.

The door to the launch chamber opens, and it’s time.

Azzi steps into the glass cylinder, her heart pounding in her chest. The last thing she sees before the platform begins to rise is Seraphine, standing in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer.

And then the ground shifts beneath her feet, and she’s lifted upward, the glass tube carrying her toward the surface. Toward the arena.

The first thing she notices is the intense humidity. The air is thick, almost suffocating, and it clings to her skin. As her eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, she realizes why—it’s a jungle. Dense, tangled vines hang from towering trees, their massive roots weaving through the ground like some ancient network. The ground beneath her platform is slick with mud, and just beyond the edge of the platform is a large body of water—a vast lake, its surface calm and unnervingly still. It stretches out as far as she can see, bordered by the dense jungle on one side and the metallic glint of the Cornucopia in the center.

Water. She was right.

Azzi’s gaze darts to the other tributes. There’s movement all around her, platforms rising as the others are pulled into view. Some faces are familiar from the training center, others not so much. She spots the Careers first—the boy and girl from District Two, standing tall and confident, both of them dangerous and ready. Their eyes are already locked on the Cornucopia, clearly prepared to kill anyone who stands in their way.

A few spots down, she sees Kellan. His face is pale, his eyes wide with fear. He looks like he’s barely holding it together, his body stiff as if he might bolt the second the gong sounds. He’s trembling slightly, and Azzi’s heart tugs at the sight. He’s not going to last long, not with that kind of fear weighing him down. But she can’t afford to think about him—about anyone, really. Cyrus’s voice echoes in her mind: Don’t get too close to anyone.

She swallows hard, her gaze shifting back to the Cornucopia. The metallic structure gleams in the sunlight, stacked with supplies—everything they’ll need to survive. Weapons, food, water. But it’s a death trap. The Careers will get there first, and they’ll cut down anyone who tries to take something they’ve claimed.

Azzi’s eyes flick to the jungle behind her. It might be safer to head for cover, to avoid the bloodbath entirely. But then again, if she doesn’t grab something now, she could be left empty-handed, vulnerable. She forces herself to breathe deeply, trying to focus on her strategy. It has to be quick, precise. She’ll grab something—anything—and get out. That’s it. Nothing fancy.

The countdown begins, the metallic voice booming over the arena. Sixty seconds.

Azzi’s heart races as the clock ticks down. She glances around once more at the other tributes, trying to gauge their movements before it’s too late. Some are already tensing, their eyes glued to the Cornucopia. Others, like Kellan, are frozen in place, terrified to move. Far across from her, Azzi thinks she sees a flash of blonde hair. Paige. She wonders if she’s scared right now.

Thirty seconds.

Azzi’s hands ball into fists at her sides, every muscle in her body tightening. The humidity, the jungle, the water—it all presses in on her, but she pushes the fear down. She can’t afford to freeze up. She won’t.

Fifteen seconds.

Her pulse pounds in her ears, the world around her narrowing to just the Cornucopia and the water at her back. She feels the weight of everything—Cyrus’s words, Seraphine’s hope, the Capitol’s eyes—bearing down on her. It’s overwhelming, but she won’t let it break her.

Ten seconds.

The other tributes are crouching now, their bodies taut, ready to sprint the moment the gong sounds. Azzi glances at the Cornucopia again, her mind calculating every possible move, every route.

Five seconds.

Her heart hammers in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Three.

She digs her heels into the platform.

Two.

Her hands tremble.

One.

The gong sounds.

The Sixtieth Hunger Games have begun.

[azzibuckets]

them kissing at the top of the ferris wheel i BEG. and maybe throw in some angst if u feel like it, adding flashbacks to them doing this every year even when they were just “friends” or the line between friends and something else…?

state of us

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: i wrote this in one setting omfg so this is very unedited but i hope you guys love this just as much as i do!!! enjoy :)

word count: 2.6k

masterlist

August 2017

Azzi has always looked forward to the state fair; it’s one of the few times a year she gets to see her extended family in Minnesota and gorge herself on cookies and corn dogs and all the likes. But something about this year is special, and Azzi would be lying if she said it wasn’t due to the blonde girl whose hand she’s currently holding.

“I still can’t believe I’ve lived in Minnesota my entire life and I’ve never been here,” Paige marvels, jaw slightly dropped in awe as she takes in her surroundings. Azzi is usually like Paige, letting herself get lost in the exhilarating combination of the smell of greasy, buttery foods and the cheery sound of lively music and the smiles on everyone’s faces, but for some reason this year she’s fully and entirely captivated by Paige.

“It’s like the one time of year my parents let us eat whatever we want,” Azzi informs her friend, nodding towards her little brothers who are stuffing themselves with cotton candy. Her and Paige both look at each other and share a giggle before quickly averting their eyes. It’s a novel feeling, the butterflies in Azzi’s belly that erupt every time she holds Paige’s gaze for a little too long. It’s the same feeling she gets when their knuckles brush, or when Paige is being annoying and insists on putting her head in Azzi’s lap whenever they’re lying on the couch. And it’s a scary feeling, so far from what she feels towards all of her other friends, but it’s one that makes her lightheaded and dizzy in the best way possible, a feeling she desperately chases after.

Even now, Azzi tightens her fingers around Paige’s. Her palm is starting to collect sweat, but she prays to the gods that Paige won’t notice. She’s not ready to let go just yet.

Azzi clears her throat. They’ve been silent for a little too long, and the air between them is tense. “I buy a huge bucket of cookies every year,” she continues. “Maybe if you’re nice to me today I’ll let you have some.”

Paige scrunchs her eyebrow in feigned indignation. “I’m always nice to you.”

“Well I guess you gotta be especially nice today.” Then Azzi lets go of her hand, throwing Paige a wink over her shoulder before running to catch up with the rest of their family. Paige doesn’t have enough time to figure out what Azzi’s words mean before Katie starts calling for her too.

They’re in line for the ring toss when Jose pokes Paige hard in the back. The blonde whips around, ready to jokingly give the 11 year old a piece of her mind. But before she can even get a word out, Jose says, “That guy in the very back of the line wants me to tell you that he thinks you’re cute,” then skips away to find Jon.

Paige is confused. She glances towards the huddle of teenage boys 50 feet away and sees one of them, a lanky boy with a mop of unruly brown hair, give her a smirk. Cheeks hot, she turns back to Azzi. “Um,” she stutters, seemingly unable to find her bearings. The topic of boys has certainly come up in her and Azzi’s conversations before, but only when gossiping about their teammates or their friends. In the year she’s known Azzi, Paige hasn’t brought up a single of her own crushes, and neither has Azzi. It’s like an unspoken rule floating between them, a rule now irreparably broken by a boy too bold for his own good.

Azzi’s staring at the laces of her shoes. “You should go talk to him,” she says. She tries to keep her voice casual, calm, but she knows by the shift in Paige’s body language that it was too strained, too forced.

“Why?” Paige’s eyes are burning a hole into Azzi’s forehead. “I don’t even know him.”

Azzi shrugs, toes the dirt with the tip of her shoe. Her heart is beating erratically, and she doesn’t know why. “He thinks you’re cute.”

Paige takes another look at the boy. He is handsome, with striking blue eyes and dimples in his cheeks. But when she looks back at Azzi’s frowning face, she wishes it was her dimples that she could see and not his. “I don’t want to,” Paige says decisively, narrowing her eyes at the boy to show that she’s not interested.

Azzi’s head snaps up. “Why not?”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away. “I dunno. What if we hang out and he tries to steal my first kiss or something?“

Azzi’s body grows hot at the idea of imagining Paige’s first kiss. “Would that be so bad?”

“I want my first kiss to be special,” Paige responds. She takes in Azzi, who’s wearing a neon blue tank top and workout shorts. Her cheeks are a little flushed from the late summer heat. There’s a little curl of hair that escaped from her bun, damp from the humidity of the day. Paige wants to brush it behind Azzi’s ear. So she does. She leans forward and lets her thumb trail across Azzi’s cheek before swiping at the curl, moving it away from Azzi’s eyes. “I don’t wanna do the ring toss anymore,” she says.

Azzi swallows. “We could go on the ferris wheel?” she suggests timidly.

“Okay.”

And before she knows it, Paige’s hand is in Azzi’s again, the older girl letting the younger girl guide them through the maze of bodies. And although Azzi’s hand is a little bit damp and Paige has always hated sweaty hands, not for a single second does the thought of pulling away cross her mind.

Paige drops into the bench across Azzi’s, and the operator shuts the door behind them. The car rocks unsteadily, and Paige glances around nervously.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures. “These things are stronger than they look.”

“I hope so.”

Azzi cocks her head curiously. “Come sit with me.”

“Are you sure?” Paige asks tentatively. “What if it makes the car go off balance?”

With a roll of her eyes, Azzi gets up and plants herself next to the blonde. She rubs her hand across Paige’s back, noting the tenseness of her shoulders. “Are you scared right now?” Azzi snickers.

“No!” Paige says defensively. “I’ve just heard stories about fair rides.”

“I didn’t know you were a pussy.”

“Shut up,” Paige demands, but she finds herself leaning into Azzi’s touch. She blames it on her slight fear of heights, but deep down she knows it’s because she’ll never be able to get enough of Azzi.

“I didn’t like it,” Azzi confesses after a brief moment of silence. “Knowing you could’ve left me to hang out with some guy.”

“I would never leave you.” Paige’s eyes are bright in the falling light of the evening, and they hold a promise that Azzi doesn’t yet know will stay true for the rest of their lives. But for now, the soft way Paige is looking at her gives her the boldness to say, “I haven’t had my first kiss either.” She drops her hand from Paige’s back. “I’m too scared.”

“What’re you scared of?” Paige’s voice is barely a whisper.

“That I won’t like it. That they’ll be too rough. Or they’ll say I’m a bad kisser.”

“They?”

Azzi looks down.

“I like girls too.” The words take a second to register in Azzi’s brain, but when they do, she feels defensiveness rise in her chest. “I never said I liked girls,” Azzi said, her voice holding slight traces of panic.

Paige’s lips twist in a frown. “It’s not wrong to like girls.”

“I know, I just….”

“It’s my first time saying it out loud.” Paige cracks a smile. “If that makes you feel better.”

Azzi lets out a breathy laugh. “It’s just hard to tell, sometimes, ya know?”

“I know.” Paige worries her lower lip nervously. “But maybe I could help?”

Azzi’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Like…I could help you confirm whether or not you like girls?” Paige sounds uncertain. “And then…and then your first time wouldn’t have to be with some random asshole.”

Azzi stares at her best friend. She flips Paige’s words over in her brain, trying to make sense of it all. “You want me to kiss you?”

Paige looks flustered. “I don’t want you to. I mean, I don’t not want you to, I just-,” she closes her eyes briefly, taking her time to collect her thoughts. “I’m just offering to. You know? I wouldn’t mind. That way my first kiss can be with someone I trust too.”

Paige waits patiently for Azzi’s response. Her knee’s been jiggling against the hot metal of the bench, but the weight of Azzi’s hand from where she’s now placed it on her thigh quickly stops her movements.

Before her doubts can stop her, Azzi leans in, placing a hand firmly at the back of Paige’s neck. She presses her mouth to Paige’s, letting it linger there for a few seconds before pulling away. “There,” she says shakily. “Our first kiss.”

Paige stares at Azzi, dazed, both of them silent and still as the car slows to a stop, back at the bottom. Azzi realizes that she’s forgotten to take a picture of the sunset at the top like she’s done every year. She wonders what she’s gonna say when her mom asks about it later. Fear creeps into her heart as she realizes the gravity of what they’ve just done. It’s hard to make sense of the rapid beating of her heart, the fresh memory of Paige’s lips molded so perfectly against her own, with the growing panic in her chest that nothing will be the same ever again.

The operator opens the door. “You girls enjoy the ride?” he asks, a smile on his face.

Azzi climbs out in a rush, brushing past the operator without saying a word. Paige takes her time, picking up the water bottle that Azzi forgot and clutching it to her body. “Thanks,” she says tightly to the operator as she exits.

“No problem. Hope your friend feels better. The ferris wheel’s feeling a bit rockier than usually a lot today.”

It takes every bit of strength in Paige to not start crying right then and there.

August 2018

Paige has spent every day of the last year thinking about that kiss on the ferris wheel. And now that, almost exactly a year later, she’s in the car again, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of Azzi’s perfume, she can’t help but think about what Azzi’s hands would feel like tangled in her hair.

When Azzi looks up from her phone and meets Paige’s eyes, she knows there’s no use to try and wrangle any self control out of her body. Forcing herself to sit across from Paige instead of next to her this time doesn’t work. Within moments, she’s across the car, her hands on Paige’s waist. Her lips brush ever so gently against Paige, and she pauses, waiting for the blonde to stop her. When she doesn’t, Azzi swipes her tongue gently across Paige’s bottom lip, and this year their kiss lasts just a little bit longer.

August 2019

“I’m not gonna kiss you.”

Azzi has a date waiting for her at home, a handsome football player who she’s been texting all summer.

Paige looks at her coolly. “Okay.”

They’ve been tense all day. Their parents think it’s the heat wave combined with the stress of school starting. Paige wonders what her dad would say if he knew it was because she’s been thinking about the ferris wheel all day, a mix of dread and anticipation pooling in her stomach.

They’ve spent the entire ride sitting across from each other, their knees just barely touching. And kudos to them, they are better this year - they almost make it the entire ride.

But just 15 feet up from the ground, Azzi is on Paige’s lap, and she doesn’t know how she got there, but she’s not complaining, not when Paige is whimpering against her mouth like this.

They break apart when the operator opens the door, both of their chests heaving, neither of them daring to look at each other.

“This is the last time,” Azzi swears.

“The last time,” Paige repeats.

August 2020

Paige almost didn’t make it this year.

She should be at UConn right now, prepping for her first day of college in a few days. But one text from Azzi, one word saying Please, and she’d bought a plane ticket to Minnesota.

This time, Paige is the one to cross the boundary. This time, Paige fists Azzi’s shirt in her hand and pulls her into a searing kiss. Paige hasn’t said goodbye yet, but she hopes that the way she cups Azzi’s face in her hands and presses their lips together is enough.


Paige pulls away. She doesn’t know she’s crying until Azzi’s wiping at her tears with her thumb.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Azzi whispers.

They’ve spent almost half a year together, starting from when Paige moved in with the Fudds to train during lockdown. She’d stayed for most of the summer too, basically living in Azzi’s skin until her dad had forced her to return home.

“Come to UConn,” Paige urges.

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans her forehead against Paige’s. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

August 2021

“We’re gonna look so good on the court together.”

Azzi laughs, poking Paige’s cheek affectionately. “You’re insufferable. I’m gonna get so tired of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s cheek, then begins working down her jawline, her lips burning into Azzi’s skin. “You’re gonna get tired of this?”

Azzi arches into Paige’s touch. “Paige,” she pants.

“Does this count as following our tradition?”

“You gotta kiss me on the mouth,” Azzi, always a stickler for rules, insists, but when Paige’s lips move downward to suck that sweet spot on her neck, she quickly shuts up.

August 2021

“I’m not letting you forget this time.” Paige nudges Azzi with her camera.

“Kiss me.”

Paige obeys.

They spend the rest of the ride arguing over who gets to keep the polaroid.

August 2022

Azzi kisses Paige. It’s short and sweet and all too reminiscent of 5 years ago, when they were young and dumb but still in love.

“Marry me?”

Azzi shoves Paige. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“I mean it. Don’t say it unless you have a ring.”

Paige’s eyes are hopeful. “So you’d marry me?”

“I’ve been willing to marry you since we met, you idiot.” Azzi kisses Paige again, and this time they’re smiling against each others lips.

August 2023

“I’m starting to think your NIL money is good for nothing.”

“Didn’t I just buy you a corn dog?”

“I still don’t see a ring.”

Paige rolls her eyes and shuts Azzi up with a kiss.

August 2024

“One more year, baby.”

“Stop reminding me.” Azzi turns away from Paige, her face pulled into a pout.

“It’s gonna be our year.” Paige nestles her chin onto Azzi’s shoulder. “Best backcourt duo in the nation.”

“Don’t jinx us.”

Paige wiggles her fingers into the younger girl’s ribs. “Stop being so negative.”

Azzi laughs, a beautiful sound Paige has memorized for years now. “Kiss me and maybe I’ll stop.”

Paige’s lips are familiar to Azzi. But Azzi wants more. She wants Paige, all of her. Paige needs to hurry up and buy that damn ring.

August 2025

Azzi: Missing you

Azzi: Attachment: 1 Image

Paige: screw this game

Paige: i swear i’m buying a plane ticket rn

Azzi: Stop, your team needs you

Azzi: Save me that kiss for later

Paige: i love u more than anything else in this world

Paige: so much more than basketball

Paige: i will literally leave this locker room rn all u gotta do is say the word baby

Azzi: Don’t worry, I’ll eat enough cookies for the two of us

Azzi tucks her phone into her pocket, stares out the window. Recently the homesick ache in her heart has become more familiar than the feeling of Paige’s lips, and she hates it. This next year of getting used to long distance will be the hardest year of their relationship so far, but she knows it’ll be worth it.

August 2026

She knows it’ll be worth it because Paige finally bought the goddamn ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Azzi sinks into Paige’s arms. 10 years.

“Fuck yeah.”

They kiss.

[strawberrychampagneglass]

Roses - pt. 1

Paige x Azzi

CW: cursing, implications of domestic violence (ONLY AT THE END), angst, maybe some fluff?, pining

9.3k words DAMN

A/N: holy shit guys I did not think I could pull this off and to think that this is gonna be a series is wild to me. Jokes aside, this took me about 2.5 weeks so expect (somewhat) infrequent updates due to school work and all that. Ik y'all have been waiting so I'll drop the first chapter. Something to be mindful of: initially this thing was in GSV then I changed it to LA last minute and then I changed Nika to Cam and Gabby to Dearica because Gabby and Nika didn't make sense to me at all so yea enjoy AND PLEASE DO GIVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I appreciate it a lot I WILL ADD A MASTERLIST WHEN MY HEART COMPELS ME TO

October 15th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

“Azzi,” her urgent voice calls out to the dark. She nearly trips over the entrance mat as she enters her apartment in the early morning hours. She drunkenly yells for her again as she stumbles towards her bedroom. 

The only response she gets is an echo of her voice.

She lands in her bed with a soft thud, her hand searching for the familiar warmth of another body. When she feels the cold bed sheet under her hand instead, the only thing she can hear is the hammering inside of her head while her heart throbs, threatening to pry itself out of its cage. Tears well in her eyes as she falls asleep. 

When she wakes up and checks her phone, she has one notification: a text message from Curt Miller. While it makes her heart palpitate as she remembers the happy memories, alarms blare in her head, reminding her of the bad that outweighed the good. 

Her excitement quickly turns to bitterness. Paige doesn’t want to play on the same team as Azzi. Not after the incident in her redshirt senior year. Not after their catastrophic argument at the 2025 WNBA draft. Not after she saw a new person with her Azzi. Not after she saw the diamond-studded ring on her fourth finger. 

Most of all, not after she built a stronghold with the most formidable defenses around her heart. 

July 29th, 2018

Minsk, Belarus 

The Belarusian crowd roars during the FIBA U17 Women’s Basketball World Cup final, drowning out the melody created by a screeching flute and deep, dulcet drum. With a very comfortable 32 point lead against the French in the middle of the fourth quarter, Paige is subbed out. She accepts the high-fives from her teammates before taking a seat at the end of the bench. Cheers flood the bench while they watch the clock wind down intently, waiting to relish in the intoxicating adrenaline following the victory. 

The blonde raps her foot against the floor anxiously; her jaw propped up by her clenched fists. From the point of view of her teammates, she is engaged in the game. However, inside of her mind, a storm brews.  She thinks of her best friend, the brunette girl with the number 6 on her back who is sat two seats to her left. Paige indulges in the memory of her fingers lingering on Azzi’s for that extra second after a high-five, their intertwined hands during the national anthem, and even when their shoulders brushed together in the team huddles and neither of them moved.

Her mind continues to wander until the bench unexpectedly explodes with chants of “USA” as the clock winds down into the last minute of the game. Paige springs from her seat on the bench, hollering as the adrenaline pumps through every vein in her body. When the final buzzer sounds, she shakes hands with the opposing team before hurling herself into the sea of navy jerseys. 

The rest goes by in a blur, her adrenaline depletes rapidly. The energetic girl is uncharacteristically quiet during their team dinner and even on the bus ride home where she opts to sit alone in the back, leaning her head against the cool window that soothed her aching head. 

As the bus pulls up to the hotel, Paige and Azzi lock eyes from opposing ends of the bus. The fatigue she once felt is quickly replaced with delight when Azzi gives her a tired smile with softened eyes, making her heart beat erratically. It’s still early in the evening, but the team agrees to celebrate in Cameron Brink’s room, without the coaches’ knowledge. While the team shuffles off the bus in a single-file line, Paige pushes through the never-ending hoard of her teammates until her eyes rest on a familiar brunette. She puts her hand on the brunette’s cold shoulder, catching her attention as she leaned into the warmth of Paige’s hand. Azzi chooses to ignore the pink that rose to the older girl’s cheeks and smiles at her. 

“Are you going to Cam’s?” Paige asks sheepishly, trying to hide her smile. Azzi chuckles before responding with a nod. 

“She is my roommate, so I guess I’m obligated to go.” Paige grins from ear-to-ear as they chat until they reach their respective hotel rooms. She changes into sweatpants and opts for a Hopkins Basketball hoodie. Although it's the middle of summer, the temperatures in Minsk are frigid compared to the Minnesota heat. 

Furtively leaving her hotel room, she spots her teammate, Zia Cooke, attempting to sneak several bottles of cheap vodka into Cam’s room, her shoulders are tense and eyes rove across the empty hallway. Paige giggles before walking over to the shorter girl to offer a hand. When her teammate’s eyes land on her friendly face, the muscles in her shoulders loosen.

“Paige, thank god,” she breathes, relieved. “I was so scared that Carla or Stephen would jump out of their rooms.” Paige laughs at the image of Coach Berube catching Zia while looking like a deer in headlights, juggling 5 bottles of vodka. Feeling bad for her teammate, she takes three bottles from her arms and opens the door to Cam’s room. The two girls are met with 10 pairs of curious eyes who cheer at the sight of the vodka bottles.

***

An hour later, the potent odor of vodka floods the room. Most of her teammates gossip about their crushes back home; others watch the late-night shows on the Belarusian TV channels, a few are even snoring obnoxiously on Azzi’s bed. Paige, who is completely sober, feels irritated from her spot on the floor as she watches the dramatic show that is being projected on the TV. She isn’t sure if it was the lack of alcohol, or if it was the sight of her best friend who presses her body against Hailey Van Lith while an arm that wasn’t hers is strung around the brunette’s waist and resting on her toned abdominal muscles. 

When Azzi notices the blonde’s glare at Hailey, she walks off the bed and carefully treads towards the table of alcohol, pouring a full glass of vodka. Her eyes flick to Paige, who stares at the glass of vodka in her hand. Unamused and frustrated, Paige returns her attention to the show on the TV until she feels a warm hand tilt her chin back. Azzi looks at her, emotionless, as she stands behind her. They stare at each other wordlessly before the older head lands on a soft, toned leg. Her lower lip meets the cool rim of the glass that Azzi filled with vodka.

The brunette moves her face closer before she tips the glass upward while noticing a light streak of red across Paige’s cheeks. “Drink,” she whispers, and Paige complies. She feels the alcohol burn her esophagus as she swallows the oily and bitter liquid. Their faces linger in the close proximity as they breathe in synchronization. It takes every ounce of self control in Paige’s body to not close the distance between their lips. 

“You look pretty,” Paige smiles, hoping for a laugh and a friendly slap across the shoulder from her friend. Instead, Azzi returns a frown with furrowed eyebrows, moving her head away. 

“Paige, I can’t enjoy my evening when you’re glaring at everyone I’m sitting with,” Azzi huffs with an edge to her voice. “Go get drunk and leave me alone.” Paige scowls; she knows that Azzi isn’t exclusive to her, but she wants some exclusivity. At the end of the day, they’re just best friends, nothing more. Nevertheless, the thought of another girl’s body pressing her body flush against Azzi infuriates her. From her spot on the floor, she feels the warmth of her friend’s body disappear as she walks back to her spot next to Hailey. 

She grabs her wallet and phone and leaves the room. 

***

When she returns to her hotel room hours later, she slams the newly-bought bottle of vodka on her nightstand, shaking the entire room. It isn’t a big bottle; it’s around the size of a Gatorade bottle. The cashier at the convenience store didn’t bother checking the 16-year-old’s ID, assuming she was of legal drinking age. She popped the cap off the bottle and brought it to her mouth. Her lips begin to form a suction around the opening as she tilts her head back, swallowing the searing liquid. She throws the rest of the liquid down her throat when the thought of Azzi’s words cross her mind. She tightens her grip on the bottle and her tongue scours for the last few drops of the liquid, hungry for the feeling of the alcohol. She sits on her bed in silence, staring at her feet until she feels the effects of the alcohol course through her veins. Her vision begins to blur and the entire room begins to swirl. Through her blurred vision, she still manages to identify the lamp that sits perfectly still on the nightstand. Her free hand reaches for the dangling chain that serves as a lever for the light. Giving it a slight tug, the light flickers briefly before illuminating the entire room. To her shock, a familiar brunette girl with bronze skin sits across from her.

“Are you done being an alcoholic so we can talk?”

“Azzi, what the fuck?” the blonde stammers, frustrated. She sets the bottle down and stares at her friend in disbelief. When Paige gets no response from her, she stands up and starts stumbling towards the door, nearly tripping over herself.

“Paige, wait,” Azzi catches the blonde, observing the older girl’s cloudy eyes. Even while drunk, her blue eyes remind her of her lake house; her second home. The thought makes her heart flutter despite the agonized look painted across her best friend’s entire face. “I’m sorry, we can talk about this if you want. I know I hurt you, and I take full accountability for it.” 

Paige knows she is in damage control mode, but she has a soft spot for the girl; a part that is willing to forgive her and move on. 

She chooses to ignore it and let her irritation control her words. “You didn’t want to talk before, so you don’t get to talk now,” she hisses. Azzi flinches, unaccustomed to her hostility. “You told me to leave you alone, and now you’re in my room, begging for forgiveness. I don’t understand you.” Her arms fly erratically before reaching the collar of her hoodie, tugging it down to ease her tense muscles.“For god’s sake, we’re best friends. Sure, best friends tell each other everything, but my best friend doesn’t get to tell me to leave her alone and show up in my hotel room 2 fucking hours later.”

“I’m not yours, Paige. You don’t have any right to control my actions.” The retort makes Paige wince. “If I want to be with Hailey, you have to respect that. I have a right to be frustrated because I don’t belong to you.” 

“Okay, how about a heads up next time instead of you getting cozy with someone else in front of your best fucking friend. I thought we agreed that we would ‘see each other later’” 

“She was drunk and she came up to me, and we did see each other. There was nothing binding about that agreement. I can be friends with other people and you can too, unless I’m your only friend.” Azzi’s anger rises as well as she picks at her cuticles. 

“You’re an asshole.” Paige breathes, releasing the hoodie. “You tried to get me drunk while trying to seduce me.” The other girl’s mouth opens before getting cut off. “Then, you went back over and cuddled up to her. I don’t have a problem with you seeing people, but even a short-term notice would’ve been nice. It’s fucking awkward when I’m sitting there–surrounded by drunk people who are all passed out on the damn floor–and my best friend is cuddling up to a person we barely even know.” 

“You know what? You sound really fucking insecure right now. Maybe you should go book a flight back to fucking Minnesota and we’ll never have to see each other again. You’ll never get jealous over me when I go on dates with other people.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes that she can take them back and shove them down her throat. Paige stares at her, emotionless. After a few minutes, Azzi’s voice cuts through the thick air. “Say something, please. You’re freaking me out.” 

“I wish I was yours, Azzi,” Paige whispers softly, so softly that Azzi thinks she mishears. She scowls, but her heart flutters from the confession.

“I need you to tell me that when you’re completely sober. I can’t trust you when you’re drunk.” she sighs, looking at the blonde who has tears brimming in her eyes. However, she can’t shake the warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart from her words. She can’t describe the feelings, and the thought of treading into unexplored emotional territory makes her queasy. 

“I wish I was yours,” Paige urges, with genuine sincerity in her tone despite the alcohol.

“Paige–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Paige grabs her wrist and pulls the younger girl into her. The blonde drags her along a premeditated route, stumbling several times. Biting the nails on her free hand, Azzi’s mind swarms with endless possibilities of danger; they could be kidnapped by random Belarusians, the coaches could catch them while getting a midnight snack, or they could get lost and never see their families again. But Paige was Paige, guiding her to their destination. The warmth radiating from the other girl’s body hypnotized her. It felt safe. Too safe. 

Paige leads her through the maze of the city until they reach the edge of a river. Even under the late-night sky, airplanes weave between silhouettes of clouds; their green and red lights blink, bringing life to the sky. The city is calm and serene at this hour, with the occasional passer-byer that ignores the two girls. The solitude is disrupted by cars gliding across the bustling road across the river bank with horns that blare occasionally. Street lights hug the river bank; streaks of yellow and orange rippled back and forth on the water. The breeze is soft, like a baby’s blanket. It carries the occasional, faint scent of cigarette smoke which is unexpectedly comforting. 

The two sit in mutual silence, away from each other. They both avoided the topic of the prior conversation. Paige hums softly, her body warm from the alcohol. “I didn’t know they had fireworks this late at night.” Her speech is slurred, yet Azzi still laughs in response. The sound of her laugh is like a piece of music written by Beethoven to her; a sound that can be played over and over without getting old. 

“They’re not fireworks, they’re street lights reflecting off the water.” The blonde squints, squatting on the large cement block that she had been sitting on. As she cranes her head closer, nearly falling off the block, Azzi scrambles to catch the blonde as she reflexively yanks her waist backwards. They laugh before Paige puts her hand on hers. 

“You’re acting really sober,” Paige declares while studying Azzi’s facial features. 

“I am sober, so I think it’s a good thing that I’m acting sober.” The younger girl chuckles, punching her friend’s arm lightly with her free hand. Flustered, Paige averts her gaze to the shimmering undulations on the surface of the water. Unsure of whether it was the alcohol that was twisting her mind, or if it was the dim, golden lighting that lights up the left side of Azzi’s face, all she can think about is that her best friend is beautiful.  It drives Paige insane; her bronze skin gleams and her umber eyes light up and become a light, almost golden shade of brown. 

“Sometimes I wish that you could be in Minnesota with me all the time.” 

“Well, you could come to Virginia and stay with me…” Azzi proposes before smiling at Paige, but she doesn't meet her eyes. The blonde is scrunching her face with her attention on Azzi’s arms, and not her face. “What’s wrong? Paige?”

“You’re cold,” Paige whispers, shifting her weight so she and Azzi sit facing each other. Trailing her hand up the other girl’s arm, her fingertips dance along the mountain ranges of goosebumps on her tender skin. Paige’s warm touch makes her feel something. Their eyes clash, uncertainty swarming in both pairs. “I meant what I said earlier,” Paige glances at her lips, breaking the eye contact. “I wish I was yours.” Her hand reaches for Azzi’s cheek, cupping it lightly, and the brunette melts into her touch.

Panic rises as a lump in her throat. They’re young–too young. Azzi’s feelings are new and confusing. She doesn’t know what love feels like and it scares her. As a kid, she was told that “love” was when two people cared for each other a lot. It was obvious that they care for each other a lot. They talk for hours, each word flowing effortlessly while they howl in laughter about something that the other said. Every touch they share is electric: sparks fly erratically through every vein of their bodies. After every argument, Paige is the first to apologize because she knows that Azzi overthinks. 

She moves her face closer and drapes her hands on the blonde’s nape. Paige takes the bait.

Her slightly-parted lips meet Azzi’s warm and soft lips. She closes her eyes, pulling the younger girl’s face in before pulling away after several seconds. The kiss is short, but sweet. Azzi looks at her hands, not wanting to meet the blue eyes knowing that she made a mistake, and the kiss shouldn’t have happened. The once well-established boundaries of their friendship are permanently breached. Yet her cheeks flush and she misses the warmth provided by the close proximity of Paige’s body.

“Raise your arms,” Paige mutters shyly as Azzi is enveloped in the warmth of a thick hoodie. Paige’s hoodie. The scent of Paige’s rosy perfume encases her and a contented sigh escapes her lips. 

“Are you cold?” Azzi observed her best friend’s exposed arms. 

“Nah, I’m alright. You can keep that by the way,” she motions to the hoodie that hugged Azzi’s torso. “It can be a souvenir from Belarus from me. Something that can remind you of tonight forever.” The brunette smiles and wraps her arms around the blonde; she is the clay that Paige can shape into anything she wants. They just fit together. 

The girls dance through the city and totter unsteadily to the hotel, where they collapse in the comfort of Paige’s bed, satisfied laughs slipping out of their mouths after sneaking past the rooms of their teammates. 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room, Madame Fudd?” Paige teases before a pillow slams into her face. “Hey! Azzi!” She shrieks, scrambling to grab another pillow before falling flat on her face. Azzi laughs hysterically for a few moments until the room stills into an unsettling quiet. 

“You’re so chivalrous, Bueckers.” Azzi looks around her room, fidgeting with her fingers. “But, uh, since there’s a few drunk bodies on my bed,” The blonde cocks her head at her and smirks; the simple motion makes her heart lurch. “And also because you also don’t have a roommate and I thought that you might be a little lonely tonight, especially because you’ll be hungover in the morning, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.” Paige breaks out into an ear-to-ear grin and tackles her in a bear hug, shoving them to the bed where their bodies melded into each other. 

Amongst the clamor, there is an uneasy feeling in Paige’s gut that she can’t shake, but she chooses to ignore the feeling as she lets her body intertwine with the younger girl’s. 

October 19th, 2028

New York City, New York

Azzi is selfish. 

Anything she gets her hands on, she wants to keep for herself. She is a hoarder who wants to keep everything that she loves forever. 

Unfortunately, when you fall in love with everything, you can’t have it all.

She paces back and forth at the gate, biting her nails and avoiding the gaze of her fiancé. Tugging the collar of her hoodie from her high school days over her head, she allows a satisfied sigh to escape her mouth as she is cloaked with a comforting rose scent. It was nostalgic; it held so many memories that felt so important and so irrelevant at the same time. But the scent made her feel hopeful of something she couldn’t place. 

“Is everything okay, babe?” startled, she drops the hoodie to smile weakly at her fiancé.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little tired. The thought of everything scares me a little.” Azzi chuckles. Instead of a friendly smile from her fiancé, she notices his scowl at the text on her hoodie. Her heart drops into her stomach, knowing that this would prompt an argument from him over a certain college teammate. 

“I’m so happy you finally chose to leave the cesspool of New York,” her fiancé sneers, “and, I’m so excited to soak up the LA sun.” Azzi doesn’t react to his comments, avoiding an argument at all costs. He came to all her games and cheered her on, but he always hated New York City. It was either too cold or too hot, too rainy or too sunny and never the perfect balance between the two. 

As long as he’s happy, I am too. 

Los Angeles, California

Paige is protective. 

She loves her possessions and hates it when people take them. She wants to shield everything she loves from hurt and pain. 

Orange and pink rays of sunlight stream through the tall glass panes by Paige’s bedside, bathing her bedroom in a warm glow. She stirs awake, her sore body begging for 15 extra minutes of sleep. Her throat feels raw and her eyelids are weighted. Instead of fighting against the weight, Paige lets her eyes close while thinking about the consequences of not showing up to Azzi’s welcome party. When she first caught wind of the news, she called Cameron Brink to come to her apartment. She complained to her for hours while blackout drunk before inevitably passing out. When she woke up the next morning to dozens of angry texts from Cam, she apologized profusely, showing up to her apartment with the shoes that her friend had been eyeing for months and bags of Sour Patch Kids.

It was safe to say that Paige wasn’t allowed anywhere near alcohol tonight if she chose to go. At least, not under Cam’s watch. 

The Sparks had an extremely successful campaign last year and capped off the season with a championship title along with Paige’s first league MVP and finals MVP awards. The feeling is still surreal, and the thought of it pumps more adrenaline through her body. Even though the season was extremely successful, the threat of injuries plagued the guards last year. Also, the Sparks were in desperate need of a guard with the ability to knock down shots and step into the role of a strong playmaker.

Was she expecting Azzi to join the Sparks? Eventually, yes. She is desperate for a championship run. 

Did she want to celebrate a piece of her past she let go before her birthday? No. 

Is she happy about it? Absolutely not. 

Her phone began to vibrate violently under her pillow, prying her from her thoughts. She rolls over to scrutinize the contact name with a groan. Her blood runs cold and she taps the green phone icon on the 4th ring.

“Paige! Thank god I got in contact with you.” Katie Fudd exhales. Paige feels the weight of her panic that reciprocates her own through the phone. “I know we haven’t really talked in about, um, three years,” she pauses, unsure of how to continue when she hears Paige’s sharp inhale, “but, have you heard from Azzi recently? She’s supposed to be arriving in LA today, at least that’s what the media says.” 

“No, I…I haven’t heard anything, Katie,” she rasps, her throat ablaze. Her lips run dry. The media?

Paige makes small talk with Katie, catching up on major events in their life while both of them try to avoid the topic of Azzi. It was brought up once and Paige could barely perceive the muffled, yet pained sobs on the other end of the phone.

“I know you have your Unrivaled league coming up in the new year, but it would be great if you could come visit us during Thanksgiving or even Christmas,” Katie proposes as they near the end of their conversation. 

“I’ll take a look at my schedule and try to pull some strings, but no promises. I have plans to visit my dad and Drew over the Thanksgiving weekend in Maryland, so we’ll see what happens.” Paige replies, acknowledging the piece of her that wants to let the past go. The part where she was too close to Azzi and her family. She knows that visiting them means treading into foreign territory. 

“We miss you, Paige. Jon and Jose miss their ‘son’ too,” Katie laughs, relieving Paige of a heavy, bone-crushing weight on her heart. “Happy early birthday too, we could never forget. We love you, you’re still family to us.”

Paige smiles, a genuine ear-to-ear grin. “Love you too, Kaite. Tell the brothers and Tim I say hi as well.” She says before hanging up. 

“You’re still family to us.” The words rang in her head, warming her frozen heart. It wasn’t enough to thaw it, but it was enough to invoke thoughts of hope. She was torn from her reverie by a knock at her door. Humming to herself as she sauntered out of her bedroom, she opened the door to her apartment.

“Woah, I never thought I’d see you smiling like you’re on Disney Channel,” the blonde at the door laughs, surprised. Paige scowls at her words which prompts Cam to laugh harder. “I did bring breakfast though, knowing your current mental state. You look like shit, Paige.” She sets two paper bags on Paige’s kitchen island. They sit across each other on the spinning bar stools Cam loves. 

The two chat buoyantly; Cam tells her stories about her boyfriend, Ben, and his new obsession with cars or whatever. Paige doesn’t really pay attention to her rambling because of a painful ache in her heart. Even though it had been a year since Cam moved to Los Angeles, the two still learn new details about Over the past year, Cam used the fact that the shorter woman struggled to maintain a relationship for more than a few weeks as the butt of all her jokes. Despite being annoyed at first, Paige was quite amused with herself.

“Azzi’s mom called me earlier,” Paige abruptly says, interrupting Cam in her spiel about her brother’s recent breakup.

“...is that why you were smiling earlier? Paige, not even 5 days ago you made me-”

“From what I’ve…figured out, they haven’t been able to get in contact with Azzi. Katie seemed distraught when she accidentally brought her up.” 

“Are you implying that she got kidnapped?” Cam laughs uncomfortably, trying to avoid the weight of the situation. 

“It’s a possibility.” Paige mutters. Cam stops laughing and an uneasy silence drapes the room like a heavy curtain.

“I guess we’ll find out later, but don’t stress about it. You could be overthinking the entire situation. Don’t make that face, I know that you don’t want to go, but out of respect for your future teammate, you need to.” Cam sighs while rubbing circles on her temples. “I’m going to pick her and her supposed fiancé up at the airport. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Cam. Drive safe,” she calls out as the door to her apartment shuts. And suddenly, her mind is thrown back 5 years to the keychain that Azzi bought them in their early 20s as a gift. Drive safe, I need you here with me. I love you. 

***

“Azzi Fudd! This is Kendra Andrews with ESPN. What are your thoughts on the Sparks franchise?” 

“What prompted the move from New York to LA?” 

“How do you plan to integrate yourself into the team?” 

“What excites you the most about the LA Sparks franchise?”

Dozens of reporters and journalists surround her. They fight amongst each other to thrust microphones into her face. Sweat beads down the back of Azzi’s neck as she tries to answer as many questions as she can while being mindful of her fiancé’s limited patience. He had gone on his phone, ignoring Azzi as she drowns in a sea of cheap cologne and felt-tipped microphones. She quickly interrupts the reporters after 10 minutes and bid a polite farewell. Her heart stings with a bit of remorse when some of the reporters in the crowd express their frustration through whisper-shouts to their colleagues because they got a different answer than what they would’ve hoped. As she makes her way to her fiancé, her head hanging low, she mentally prepares herself for the incoming argument. 

“You’re a piece of shit,” her fiancé hisses, “you took ten fucking minutes to talk to some fans.”

“Please, not here. Not while the reporters are still around,” Azzi whispers, frantically scouting for reporters. 

“Save your bullshit for later. Call an Uber and get me out of here.” While leading her fiancé towards the airport exit, Azzi picks at her cuticles. “Oh, and next time,” her fiancé continues, “don’t be a pussy-sucking people pleaser and just give them an autograph. I don’t have the time for this, there are better things I should be doing that does not include waiting for you.” Tears begin to well but she blinks them back, trying to put up a facade for the public as she smiles half-heartedly for selfies. The lump in her throat threatens to roll out of her mouth. The thought of a night in the hotel sends a cold bead of sweat down her back. She doesn’t want to be left alone with her fiancé. She doesn’t trust him. 

A firm hand grabs Azzi’s wrist, pulling her back into the present. She rips her hand away reflexively before processing the familiar face that belonged to her temporary roommate in Belarus. For the first time since she left New York, Azzi breaks out in a full-faced smile and throws herself into Cam’s open arms.

Her mind wanders to the other future WNBA teammate, who she had not seen since the 2025 WNBA draft. The thought of her quickened her heart, but the feeling sours when she becomes aware of her fiancé by her side. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, oh my god,” Cam laughs, punching Azzi’s arm lightly, a gesture from her USA basketball days when Coach Berube made an off-handed comment. She flinches in response, which Cam chooses to ignore. “Oh, and you must be Azzi’s fiancé. I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Cam,” the blonde chirps, turning her attention to Azzi’s fiancé, offering a friendly smile and a hand. “I don’t think I ever got your name.” Her fiancé remains silent, but his jaw muscles tighten and his cold, green eyes look at her with animosity and spite. Not wanting to raise suspicion, Cam plasters a smile and leads them to her car.

Cam makes a mental note to tell Paige about their interaction with an emphasis on the flinch. 

“...This is the Uber you ordered?” her fiancé snarls when the other woman is out of earshot. 

“You need to calm down. She’s my teammate, and this is a thoughtful gesture,” Azzi retorts before covering her mouth. Her breathing becomes shallow and her face pales as her fiancé inches his face closer to her ear until his hot, rancid breath drowns out her awareness of everything around her. The hustling environment of the airport disappears and her world is engulfed in silence until four words snap her out of her trance. 

“Drop this shit, now.” 

***

The ride to the hotel where the two would be temporarily staying was brisk, although Azzi wished it would have lasted longer. The brunettes reminisced on their college days while laughing hysterically. 

“Have you talked to Geno after he finally retired?” Cam asks playfully, making eye contact with Azzi through the rear-view mirror. Instead of Azzi’s warm brown eyes, she meets her fiancé’s swampy green eyes. The blonde feels a chill run down her spine, unable to detect any emotion on the fiancé’s face. 

“Nope, not at all.” Cam raises her eyebrows, clearly amused. 

“Wow, it’s been two years since he retired. He even went to the draft to support you and, um, nevermind.” The blonde shakes her head, cursing to herself. Azzi laughs awkwardly, trying to lift the guilt off her friend’s shoulders, but her fiancé is unamused. “About time though, I thought that he nearly got a heart attack during the March Madness championship in 2025.” The two erupt in laughter, tears falling from their eyes. Her fiancé glares at Cam through the mirror, prompting her to awkwardly change the topic to the Sparks and their team culture. Azzi ignores the glare and continues her conversation with her friend. 

Her fiancé isn’t completely out of the loop despite his apathy towards Azzi’s WNBA career. He knows who Paige Bueckers is, the national championship they won in 2025, but he only vaguely knows about the relationship that she and Azzi shared during their collegiate campaigns. If their relationship was an iceberg, her fiancé only sees the tip of the iceberg, the visible part that the media shared, the two in a million SLAM cover, their rise to stardom in USA U16 basketball, and most importantly, their adversities through injury together. What she doesn’t know is the true depth and complexity of their relationship, veiled beneath a thick layer of dark, murky water that neither she nor Paige are ready to uncover. As their lives began to diverge, so did the currents in the water; they pushed and pushed on their relationship until it came crumbling down, splitting the iceberg into two parts that are now just Azzi and just Paige. 

Thanking Cam as they slip out of the car, Azzi checks into the hotel room where she and her fiancé sit on opposite sides of the king-sized bed. Her head hangs and she looks at her hands before her fiancé breaks the silence first.

“Hey,” he sighs, walking over to Azzi. When she lifts her head to meet her fiancé’s eyes, branches of tears stream from her eyes and down her cheeks, splitting into multitudes of different directions. 

“Am I not good enough for you? One moment you hate me, and the next you’re suddenly in love with me again.” Azzi sobs, pulling her hair in frustration. “I’m trying my hardest, and it hurts when you don’t reciprocate the feelings.” She wipes her eyes while her fiancé stares at her in disbelief, masking his anger. He paces to the door before walking back to Azzi, feigning an empathetic look. 

“No, baby, you’re perfect.” Her fiancé mutters , pulling the brunette’s head to his chest as he kisses her forehead softly while wiping her tears. “I love you so much. I appreciate everything you do.” Azzi could feel that his words felt wrong and uncomfortable coming out of his mouth. 

“Love you too”

***

Paige walks in circles around her room while Cam summarizes the airport pickup, sprawled out on the blonde’s bed. “You didn’t even get his name. Damn.” Paige’s voice is laced with worry. 

“All you need to know is that her fiancé is fucking weird. He was like ‘I’m so sick of this bullshit’ the whole time without speaking a single word. I introduced myself to him like a normal fucking person and he stood there and stared me down, as if I was competition or something.” Cam breathes, putting her face in her hands. Paige feels the same, unable to piece together the puzzling situation. “This whole situation is  crazy. I was talking about Geno’s retirement and she hasn’t talked to him in years. Isn’t that weird? I feel like he’s also the jealous type. She wore your Hopkins hoodie and her fiancé kept eyeing it the whole time.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat at her words. Her Hopkins hoodie. The one from the night in Belarus: even though it had been over 10 years, Paige remembers it clearly. It was the first time she was in love. “That’s weird. You picked them up from the airport, and he was glaring at you the entire time in the car. Then, you- like, jokingly punched her. How hard was this punch?”

“KK-punching-Ice-after-losing-a-bet-about-your-life hard.” 

“Okay, so not that hard.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard her fiancé call her a stuck-up pussy eater while they argued about the reporters before I picked them up.” Paige raises an eyebrow at the statement before coughing awkwardly, mumbling under her breath.

“Just– be careful Paige. She isn’t yours anymore. I know you’re still not over her,” She winces at her friend’s words, “and it’s the harsh truth, but I seriously think that you need to find someone else to distract you.” 

“We both know that finding someone else hasn’t worked for me either. I’m worried about her. She’s my best friend, my ride or die.”

“She betrayed you. You need to move on. Best friends don’t betray each other like… that.”

***

Flanked by her fiancé, Azzi walks through the large, wooden doors of the restaurant next to her hotel. It was a short walk, but she took in the salty smell of the city. The breeze was sharp and it nipped her exposed arms. She was shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms. 

“You must be Ms. Fudd,” the waitress waiting for her arrival smiles at her, “your table is over here, please follow me.”  The short walk through the labyrinth of tables set with velvety red cloths that had a golden trim on its edges was interrupted by a crimson-colored curtain. The chatter behind the curtains feels daunting, and she wants to turn around and run back to Arlington. The waitress pulls the curtain to the side to reveal a table full with people, her teammates, laughing and talking boisterously amongst themselves. The first person to stand up is Cam, who embraces her in a loose hug. Seconds later, nearly all of her new teammates have thrown themselves into her arms.

The last person to stand up is the blonde. Her wavy, blonde hair, lighter from the Californian sun, is tucked behind her ears and falls down her back like a loose shawl. Her skin glows gold against the yellow lighting of the dining room. She wears a freshly ironed button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose her toned forearms. Only the right side of her shirt was tucked into her brown trousers that hang loosely from her hip, ghosting her ankles. A beige bomber jacket that matches her pants is slung around her shoulders and a watercolor-patterned scarf is draped around her neck. The gold studs and helix ring on her left ear reflect the light of the chandelier that hangs from chains above the dining table. When their eyes meet, Azzi searches her eyes for a sense of comfort in her familiar blue eyes that her dark mascara emphasizes. Instead, she finds nothing in her cold and emotionless eyes. Paige embraces her new teammate in a stiff and loose hug, her muscles tense when Azzi’s hands roam her back. Immediately, she is engulfed in her rosy perfume, the same scent that she finds solace and comfort in. Her stomach churns, yet there is a certain warmth that flickers in her heart. Everything about the blonde screamed Paige, and Paige is beautiful. 

“Welcome to LA,” she says while pulling out of the hug. Refusing to look at her, she turns to the man looming in the corner while offering a hand. At the table, Cam sucks a sharp breath in, casting a warning glance at Paige which is ignored. Azzi stiffens and her heart hammers. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Paige, and you are?”

“I’m Charles,” he murmurs, accepting the handshake and offering a small, sly smile. Azzi’s eyes widen. Her fiancé is rarely friendly, especially not to Paige. They glare at each other for a brief moment before she takes a seat next to Cam. 

Her fiancé and her sit side-by-side at the table, across from Paige and Cam. Charles slides his hand into Azzi’s under the table, squeezing it softly. The small gesture makes Azzi smile as she leans into her fiancé, enjoying his comforting presence. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to take her mind off of the blonde sitting directly across from her, laughing with her WNBA teammates. It annoys her.

Azzi is selfish. 

***

The entire table has some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands or in their stomachs. Paige sits awkwardly, sipping a Shirley Temple whose sugary and overly sweet grenadine has become bitter on her tongue. Nausea seeps into the edges of her head and begins to spread like wildfire and she finds herself rubbing circles on her forehead. She can’t stand the sound of Azzi’s bubbly laughter across the table. The sound that threatened to burn a hole through her heart. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” Dijonai Carrington cocks an eyebrow at the couple while swirling her cocktail in her cup. 

A brief panicked look flashes across Azzi’s face before Charles cuts in. “We met in college.” His answer is curt and dry, yet polite. Several of her teammates cooed at his response, gushing over the couple. The two women jump into a conversation about their college lovers. 

That should’ve been me.

“What a fucking people pleaser.” Paige snickers to Cam while blinking back the unwelcome moisture that began to form under her eyes. She throws back the rest of her drink before dropping her head into her arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want any alcohol? Like, a thousand percent positive?” Dearica Hamby, the star forward of the Valkyries asks Paige while rubbing the taller woman’s back. Through the seemingly innocent image of the question, she notices genuine concern painted in the woman’s softened eyes.

“She’s alright without it,” Cam answers before she could open her mouth. “We made an agreement that she would have no alcohol tonight because I had to clean up after her last time.” The entire table howls in laughter, and Paige joins them with a half-hearted smile while heart fractures. 

If her smile didn’t split into a frown at the corners of her mouth or her chin didn’t wrinkle, Azzi’s heart wouldn’t have stopped and she would’ve been laughing with her teammates. 

“Yeah, I had to show up to her apartment with shoes and a shit load of candy because I felt so guilty.” She sneaks a glance at the brunette sitting across from her. Instead of laughing with the team, she was engaged in a conversation with her fiancé, prompting her to avert her gaze. It takes every piece of her dignity not to stare at the brunette. Her dark, curly hair is braided and hangs just above her shoulders; the same hairstyle that she jokingly called a bob back in their college days. She wears a baby blue knitted tank that reveals her muscular arms and white, flowy linen pants that hug her hips. 

However, when Paige’s eyes pass by the soon-to-be married couple, searching for something, they follow the pattern of their intertwined arms and hands hidden under the table. Looking at Cam, she whispers, “I need to get out of here.” the taller woman waves a hand at her, signaling for her to go ahead. She files through her wallet and grabs a few hundred-dollar bills and hands them to Cam, which she graciously accepts. Dearica flashes her a sympathetic look before returning to her drinking game. 

“I got a call from my mom and I gotta take it. I’ll be right back.” Announcing to the table, she grabs her phone and stands up, stepping over her drunk and overly rowdy teammates. When she finally slips behind the thick velvet curtain, she finally feels as if she can breathe. The curtain has become a barrier between her and a certain pair of brown eyes that burns holes through the back of her head. She knows that man. The blur of dark curls and olive and brown skin became too vivid. She needs to get out. It hurts her. 

Paige is protective. 

*** 

The neat blonde bun disappears behind the curtain with a soft, almost inaudible swoosh. She tries to talk with her teammates, laughing at their jokes, but everything feels forced. The image of Paige's stiff posture and the death grip she had on her phone haunts her. All of a sudden, her fiancé’s once soft hand feels heavy and scratchy against her skin.

“I need some air. I’ll be right back,” She announces as she gets up, dropping her fiancé’s hand. Cam and Dearica pause their argument over their stupid drinking game and stare at her with their mouths agape. There is undeniable panic swirling in both pairs of wide-open eyes, but Cam gives a hesitant nod.  

“Is everything alright babe?” Charles’s voice is soft but urgent. “I can come with you.” Azzi looks at him with a warm smile before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

As she exits the restaurant, she is met with an intricate spectacle of orange, pink, and blue. The light of the day quickly disappears, but she discerns a hunched silhouette on the beach that glows under the golden light. Her attention shifts to the orange circle that barely peeks out through the edge of the horizon as it slowly sinks underneath the water, leaving a trail of orange and pink light rippling across the surface of the water. Waves crash loudly against the shore before they are drawn back to the ocean while laughter and joyful screams from children join the peaceful ambience. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or do you wanna sit?” A tired voice rips her out of her thoughts as she tears her gaze from the astonishing scene in front of her. She glances at the woman sitting next to her who has her knees up to her chest and her head resting on her forearms. Azzi decides to sit a few feet away from her. For a split second, it feels like their fragmented friendship could be salvaged again. 

She slips her sandals off and lets her feet absorb the texture of the flaky sand while shivering when a gust of wind hits her skin. Instead of ignoring the mechanical sound of teeth chattering, Paige shakes the jacket off her shoulders and hands it to her which Azzi graciously accepts. When she wraps it around her shoulders, she is engulfed in the aroma of roses again. 

“I thought you had a call to take,” Azzi remarks, her voice soft. Veins snake down the woman’s arms and hands until they disappear behind her knuckles. Her pale skin had become golden and her biceps protrude from the rest of her arm. The neat braids in her hair are now ruffled and frizzy, and small wisps of hair dance with the breeze. On her wrist is a beaded bracelet that reads “RESILIENCE.” The bracelet from her camp before their explosive argument. The sight of it makes her heart flutter, but when she reaches her face, a cold wave of dread washes over her as she notices the smeared mascara and faint patches of salty skin on her cheeks. 

“Yeah, I did.” Paige answers bluntly, her voice cracking slightly. An uncomfortable silence falls upon them; the air heavy from their unspoken words. Azzi’s heart throbs at her cold tone. “What brings you out here?” she asks after a few moments. 

“I felt nauseous.” Paige scoffs at her response, shaking her head. 

“Bullshit.” 

“Paige, why are you so fucking blunt?” Azzi exasperates, throwing her hands up in the air in surrender. “You hugged me earlier and that whole time, you were stiff as a rock. It’s been 3 fucking years, it’s time to grow the fuck up.” When Paige says nothing in response, Azzi continues. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here and you’re being unfair. I told you that we can stay friends and then you fucking gho-”

“Your fiancé,” the blonde sneers, tearing Azzi out of her rant. Her voice is shaky and dangerously close to breaking. Through the golden light, she can see the tears brimming behind her smudged eyelashes. “He’s the one that you met at Ted’s, right?” Azzi stays silent, giving Paige the confirmation she needed. “You’re not being the bigger person, not at all. You’re only talking to me because you want something out of me. Azzi, you’re being selfish.”  The last word hits Azzi like a cold bucket of water. 

“You’re being unfair,” Azzi says shakily, refusing to meet the blonde’s eyes. 

Paige lets out a strangled sputter before opening her mouth. “I’m being unfair? Me being mad over you getting cozy with another man after our natty suddenly means that I’m being unfair?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re being unfair because you’re hurting him with your comments. Do you think I can’t hear the derogatory names you’ve called him tonight?” Azzi scrunches her face and turns to the blonde, whose attention is on the sand that snakes between her toes. 

“Are you happy?” the older woman finally asks after a period of silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?” Her blue eyes dart towards hers. 

“P.” Paige freezes at the use of her nickname, “I miss you. My offer still stands. We can go back to our friendship.” The last words are quiet, almost as if they aren’t supposed to be spoken. Memories of what they were rush through both of their minds. The women have something unreadable in both of their eyes as they stare at each other. 

“No, we.. we can’t.” Paige finally speaks, tearing her gaze away from her, letting out a shaky breath and gets up to leave, but before she can take a step forward, she feels a forceful hand clasp around her wrist that prompts a wave of panic to flood through her. “Azzi, let me go. You can’t do this. You’re getting married soon for god’s sake.”  

“Our last night in Belarus, I know you remember it. You wear the same perfume, you even gave me your hoodie. Shit, Paige, that was the time I knew that I fell in love with you. Every little thing you did for me felt like you were giving me your entire world. You fell in love with me too. Every argument we had, we made up, and we can make up from this too. I’m asking you to believe in us again. I won’t leave you.” For a split second, Paige’s eyes soften and she lets her walls down. She desperately wants to let go of her "tough guy" facade and let herself taste Azzi's lips again.

“No. You don’t get to say that now. Not when you have a fiancé waiting for you in the restaurant.” The vulnerability that Paige showed is once again blocked by the ramparts of her castle. The remembrance of Charles’s presence hits Azzi like an 18-wheeler. “It’s evident that you can’t own up to any of the mistakes that you made.” 

“You’re not taking any accountability for it either! Do you think I haven’t tried?” Paige flinches, backing away from Azzi who is now screaming. “You had to address it at the fucking draft. For fuck’s sake, let me explain my side of the story.” 

“I tried to give you space because clearly, you wanted to fuck around with him. You don’t get to explain your side of the story. It was the night of the March Madness championship and you ch-”

“Oh, shit.” A new voice joins their argument. Paige whips her head around and sees Dearica and Cameron looking at them with wide eyes. “Azzi, I don’t think you should-” 

“No it’s okay,” Paige feigns a smile before pulling out of Azzi’s grip. “Welcome to the City of Dreams, Azzi. I’m sorry for having to leave so abruptly.” 

And she’s gone. Packed away in the backseat of an Uber. It hurts Azzi more than it should. The doors to Paige’s heart that used to be held open for Azzi are now barricaded off, isolating her. 

“What the fuck happened?” The blonde turns to Azzi with an edge of hostility in her tone. Dearica glares at her, and Azzi’s heart free-falls into her stomach. 

“Azzi?!” Charles’s deep voice calls out, and Azzi is grateful to be saved from the awkward confrontation. When his eyes land on her, they soften and he wraps her into a tight embrace. Every piece of contact between them feels scratchy and uncomfortable, especially in Paige’s jacket. “Don’t fucking leave me again.” He snarls into her ear before glaring at her jacket. 

The other women turn to leave before exchanging an uncomfortable look with each other. 

***

An empty bottle of tequila is the only company Paige has on her bar table. Right as she lets the effects of the alcohol take her consciousness, her front door flies open. Every muscle in her body tenses and she buries her head into her arms in hopes that she will disappear. 

“P?” It’s Cam. Her body relaxes. 

A second pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the table. She stiffens again.

“It’s me, don’t worry. You’re alright” The other voice belongs to Dearica. She exhales and looks up. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the empty bottle of tequila and a heavy breath falls out of her mouth. 

“Again? Seriously, Paige?” When Paige puts her head back down into her arms, Cam’s hands rub her back. 

“Yeah. Again.” Sobs begin to wreck the blonde’s body and she shakes violently. Dearica and Cam exchange a panicked look before embracing their teammate. 

“I’m sorry, Paige. What she did is fucked up” Dearica’s voice is soft and reassuring. “We tried to talk to her but, her, um, we were interrupted.” She and Cam are walking on thin ice; one bad step and their teammate will plunge in the freezing cold water.

“Let’s get you to bed. You have a big day tomorrow, so let’s make the most out of it.” Cam and Dearica carry their teammate, whose body is shaking violently while sobbing to bed.

For the 5th night in a row, she cries herself to sleep. 

I need you.

***

“Charles, why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you baby, and I want to spend every second of my life with you. With us.”

“...Okay.”

“I promise I’ll never hurt you. I’ll be the one to protect you forever.” 

“Azzi Fudd. What the fuck was that?” Charles sneers. His emerald eyes are alive, burning with acrimony. She doesn’t look up from her phone screen where her fingers shakily hover over the call button under Paige’s name. 

“I’m sorry? I told you I was getting some air and I ran into Paige.” Her tone is surprisingly even and steady despite her trembling body. When a dark look falls across his face, she shudders. Suddenly, her phone is ripped from her hands and shattered against the wall with a loud smash that rings in her ears.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me. You saw what happened to your phone, and I know that you don’t want to be next.” He slams the door of their hotel room and stomps down the hall. When she doesn't hear the obnoxiously loud footsteps anymore, she allows her body to collapse and cries into her pillow while she thinks about the promises that they made on their engagement night.

I need you.

[lillchris]

You with the dark curls; You with the water colored eyes (Two Shot)

Chapter One: A Sour Apple Can Spoil The Whole Bunch

Responding to @my-favorite-sign-blog Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: The book title is inspo from the song "Dear Arkansas Daughter" Anyway seeing that this is my first fanfic in a while, I thought it was no better time to start than the present. Most of the plotlines in this book will be ideas from my delusional brain. In this fanfic, Jalen and Paige actually dated so just keep that in the back of your minds ;) I hope you all like this first chapter! <3 TW: Angst, Jalen Suggs, Mentions of cheating and divorce, Swearing, Homophobia

It was Christmas morning in the Fudd household, and with that came Christmas breakfast, it was a tradition the family had yet to break.

It was precisely 8:30am when Azzi looked at the alarm clock beside her bed, and heard the sound of her father's voice ring down the hall as he banged pots and pans that woke up all those who were sleeping.

"Come on everybody up! Rise and shine it's Christmas morning and you know what that means!"

Tim Fudd's morning enthusiasm was not reciprocated as Azzi rolled back over, and pulled the comforter back over her head, in hopes of blocking out the loud ruckus outside her room.

"I'll rise but I sure won't shine." Azzi mumbled groggily.

Just then the door burst open, and she soon felt a dip in the mattress as she groaned from the sudden disturbance.

"AZZI! AZZI! AZZI! Wake up! Come on get up!" The sound of Drew Bueckers voice blared in her ear as she rolled over once again.

"Wow I guess that didn't work, maybe you should try since your besties." Drew shrugged before getting off the bed and walking out of the room.

"Come on you big head, get up. It's rude not to greet your best friend after it took three-plus hours to get here." Paige said in a teasing tone as she attempted to pull the comforter off of Azzi.

"Just five more minutes Paige, pleaseee. You know I'm not a morning person."

"Okay fine, but I'm sitting on the edge of your bed waiting here until you decide to get off your ass and wake up." Paige teased as she picked up a mini basketball that was lying on the floor.

The constant sound of the ball hitting the door and bouncing back, over and over was enough to drive Azzi nuts, she sighed before pulling off the covers.

"When, and how did you even get here? I thought you were going back home to celebrate Christmas with your mom's side of the family in Montana?" Azzi asked sleepily as she rubbed her eyes.

"Well, it took me a minute to realize after I said goodbye to you at the airport a month ago, that I wanted to spend Christmas with you instead. So I bought tickets for the next flight out to Virginia, and viola here I am."

"Paige do you need me for anything else, me and Jose want to play Fortnite," Drew said with a sigh as he trudged back into the room with a PS5 controller in hand.

When Paige didn't respond, Drew took it as a sign, rolling his eyes before leaving once again.

"Come on Azzi I want some of your mom's famous maple apple pancakes fresh off the griddle before your brothers eat them all". Paige says with a long pleading, drawn-out sigh.

"Don't make me force you out of bed".

"Noo Paige Please. Just let me wake up naturally. Jose forced me to watch some stupid ass Christmas comedy movie, and I am so tired." Azzi says with her eyes closed still as an annoyed groan falls from her lips.

"You're getting up whether you like it or not, come on," Paige says mischievously as she swats at Azzi's knee lightly as an incentive.

"Alright guess I'm going to have to carry you out like the princess you are." Paige says before picking up Azzi and slumping her over her shoulder carrying her out.

" Think you might want to carry Azzi more gently, she is Sleeping Beauty." Tim Fudd laughs upon seeing his daughter carried out Fireman's lift-style.

"Well, she is a princess after all," Paige says with a smirk before carrying Azzi bridal style in her arms.

"Wait before you put her down," Jose says laughing, before taking a picture of a sleepy Azzi, as Tim and Katie just laugh.

"Alright, Paige wake up Azzi it's almost time to eat." Katie says with a smile as she sets the last of the pancake on a plate.

"Wakey, Wakey princess, it's time to wake up for real this time." Paige says with a smirk as she bops her best friend on the nose, as she puts Azzi down forcing her to stand up despite how groggy she is.

"I'm up, I'm up! " Azzi says yawning as she puts on one of Paige's hoodies that she's currently "borrowing"

"Hey, that's my hoodie! Haven't you had it for over six months now?" Paige says jokingly with an eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered on her face.

"Whatever Paige. I like it, it's so comfy and it smells like you. I've worn it for the past month since I missed you." Azzi says as she leans against Paige's shoulder, and everyone sits at the table.

"She has hardly taken it off since we picked her up at the airport a month ago." Katie states as she passes the syrup bottle.

"Yeah, she practically lives in it." Tim chimes in, as Drew and Jose give each other knowing looks, as they look across the table at the two girls, who seem utterly comfortable and relaxed in each other's presence.

"Oh? So you actually missed me?" Paige says teasingly to Azzi as she eats her scrambled eggs.

"Of course I missed you! Is that even a question!" Azzi says with her mouth half full of food as she half-jokingly rolls her eyes. She glances over at Paige, before nudging her in the side playfully.

In Azzi's mind, she wanted to say: of course I missed you I always miss you. But she refrained, something in her mind stopped her.

Just as everyone was finishing eating, the sound of the doorbell ringing shifted their attention.

"I'll get it" Tim said as he rose from the table, before heading to the door.

"Is Paige Bueckers here by chance?" A young man says as he stands on the snowy outside steps.

"And who are you?" Tim asks curiously.

"I'm Jalen Suggs, Paige's- friend. I would like to talk to her for a second.

"Oh, so you're- never mind, sure come in," Tim says clearing his throat, letting the young man inside.

"Paige, someone's here to see you."

"Here to see me? On Christmas? I don't know who could possibly want to see m-." Paige's words stopped just as quickly as they had been spoken. Her mouth suddenly goes dry, upon seeing him standing there.

"I need to talk to you, please." Jalen says with a insistent look as she approaches him, firmly grabbing his forearm, and leading him into the living room.

"What the hell are you doing here Jalen on all of the days Christmas! I thought I made myself clear-"

"You did, baby, but I-I want to apologize, for everything." Jalen pleads as Paige's blood almost boils upon hearing him call her baby.

Paige sighs, looking down and shaking her head, before glancing over at Drew who is watching them talk. He quickly snaps his head toward the TV acting like he isn't staring.

"Look, can we just- talk about this outside. The at least decent thing you can do is not have this conversation in front of my little brother." Paige sighs in frustration as she and Jalen walk out onto the small front porch.

-----------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Azzi is helping her mom and dad clean up the kitchen.

"Whoa, what did that plate ever do to you?" Tim jokes as Katie shoots her husband a not the right-time look.

In Azzi's mind, the thought, the sight, the mention of that person, that man- Jalen Suggs, makes her blood boil to no avail. He was a dick, an asshole, hell, every insulting name in the damn book of insults, for what he put Paige through the last year and a half.

She despised him, how could he do that to Paige, Her Paige. She dismissed that thought quickly, as her mind trailed back to Jalen the more she thought about him the more her mind reeled and turned at just how much she disliked him.

"Azzi." The sound of someone's voice and the feeling of her mother's hand brought her back to reality, and it was only then did Azzi realize that she had been washing the same damn pan for over five minutes. She released the death grip she had on the pan before taking a deep breath.

"Azzi, are you alright?" Her mother's eyes met hers as she looked up from her feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. its-just why the hell did he have to show up, right here, right now, on Christmas of all days- I just." Azzi sighed and threw her hands up in the air.

"I'm walking out there, I know it's not my place but I'm giving Jalen a piece of my mind."

Azzi says determined, walking out of the house before Katie can tell her not to.

"ooooh weeeh, man! Watch out! Here comes Azzi. That boy is gonna see some Fudd fury from her! That's my girl!" Tim says proudly as Katie shoots him another unamused look.

"One! You are not calling me baby, and two! Don't you dare bring my parent's divorce into this! I might have been only three but that does not make it irrelevant. " Paige says beyond angry.

Azzi stomped out onto the snowy driveway about to give Jalen a piece of her mind, but she stopped beside the two, seeing that she had come at a bad time.

"And don't bring Azzi into this either leave her out of this!" Paige says before realizing Azzi is standing right there.

"Oh I'm sorry did I hurt your "girlfriend's" feelings." Jalen shoots back.

"Don't talk to her like that don't you dare!" Azzi says stepping in front of Paige protectively.

"Oh does Paige need her best friend- or shall I say girlfriend to fight her battles for her? Is that why you broke up with me just so you could fuck your best friend instead?"

That was it Paige had officially snapped.

"I'm not the one who cheated, with my used-to-be friend Hayley Van Leith! And no that's not why I was going to break up with you! I broke up with you because you kept fucking continuously lying to me!" Paige says with venom in her voice.

"You need to leave now." Azzi says firmly as she once again steps between Paige.

"Yeah alright, whatever Paige, at least I tried apologizing. Yeah, you just have fun with your girlfriend here. She'll never be able to give you what I could." Jalen says mockingly.

Before leaving Azzi and Paige in the snowy driveway.

a/n: lmk what y’all think :)

[onlyhereforpazzi]

HeartBeats: I know what your boy’s like

masterlist

Word count:488

Enjoy the beginning of this.

Warnings: 😡😡😡angst😡😡😡

Paige’s-2 years prior.

“Az?” 

“P.”

Her voice was a murmur in the dark of the room, the blonde stared at her best friend once upon a lifetime but now..

“What are you doing here?” 

Her dark skin was illuminated in the light from the hallway out of the room.

“Came to return something..” Azzi whispered out as if they weren’t alone. 

“Come in…” The blond suggested moving out of the way. Shoving her hands into the depths of her sweatpant pockets.

“I don’t need to..” The younger girl replied as she pushed the pink hoodie into the blonde's hands. “Have fun in LA..”

“Wait Az..” The blonde was too slow, but her tears were fast. She started after her once lover but now just another girl, maybe they would keep contact.

Paige’s-Present. “And another loss for the Sparks..” The commentator announced through the stadium.. “Don’t forget your garbage people!” ‘Garbage’ that's all Paige was seen as now a waste of talent.. Paige's thoughts were rudely interrupted by a too familiar voice. “Good game Bueckers..” The younger woman said, looking at Paige's back and the number 5 printed below her last name. “Yeah um thanks Fudd..” The whole reason Paige was looking forward to this game was right there in front of her but she wasn’t alone. “Paige meet Jonas..” The girl said, smiling up at the man she was with, he grinned back down at her. He must have been 6’ 2 ", maybe 6’ 3”.

“Azzi told me alot about you..” The man said his little bit of facial hair was moving. His lips look rough, nothing like Azzi’s soft pink pillows.. “Oh nice..” Paige replied, glancing over at Azzi, his hand was on the small of her back.. The way Paige used to.. Azzi smiled and he leaned down to peck her lips. “See you in a bit baby I will let you two catch up..” Jonas ran off without another word. “So..”

“So?”

“You like him?” The blonde ended the silence.

“Yeah I do, he is sweet..” Azzi replied, glancing at where he had gone.

“That is good, I am glad for you..” “Listen Azzi..” “I don’t need to hear it P. Your sorry’s aren’t needed anymore..”

“It was nice seeing you again.. See you around?” Paige went in for a hug but was rejected when Azzi’s hand shot up for a shake. “Yup see you around.” That night was not fun for Paige ending up in her bed alone and slightly tipsy after a few shots to numb her pain. Her phone buzzed a few times before she picked it up and scrolled through Instagram, as expected her feed was full of Azzi and the game. That was one thing she disliked about being a basketball player; she had to face social media. She scrolled through Azzi’s account for a bit before calling it a night. But now she knew what her boy was like.

Author: Please comment suggestions!

[makethemhoesmad]

skip this part?

pazzi…

loosely based off of skip this part by Alexandra Kay

Tw: angst, drug/alcohol abuse

…

Sometimes things can get a little too much. Sometimes it’s hard to keep a relationship private when your whole life is public, and your person is your whole life. 

Paige found that out. She didn’t want to tell Azzi that they couldn’t be together, she didn’t want the girl that had become her everything to have to be hidden away like she was a skeleton in the closet of a room no one entered.

Azzi didn’t care. She didn’t want to listen to the logic of it being better for both of them. She didn’t want to listen as Paige gave her one last hug, then got into her car and pulled away, tears in both of their eyes.

Azzi didn’t know what to do. She watched the taillights of Paige’s car fade and disappear, still wearing Paige’s sweater. 

In the coming days, Paige would ask herself over and over again why she did it. And each time, she never knew. She didn’t sleep, she barely ate. She just sat and stared, stared at the empty side of her bed that she hadn’t touched since Azzi was there last. Stared at the single light in the bedroom of Azzi’s apartment when she drove by, just to see if she could accidentally get a glimpse of her.

Azzi tried to forget. She went out almost every night, stayed out too late, did too many drugs, then went home with a last call stranger and tried to lose herself in them. She tried to feel bad when she called a ride to take her home once they fell asleep, and she tried to feel bad when she told the driver to take her past Paige’s apartment.

One night, Azzi didn’t go out. She stayed home for one night, not wanting to have to choose which drunk stranger at the bar grinding on her would be her escape for the night. When it got dark, she went outside to the lot near the road, to just sit. She sat on the asphalt where Paige had left her, in the same hoodie with the same scene playing in her mind.

Paige wasn’t planning on driving by that night. She had finally went out to get a few things, then turned down Azzi’s road like it was muscle memory. She almost didn’t realize the shadow of a certain girl in the lot.

Azzi noticed. She noticed the lights on a car,  the headlights this time, not the taillights she regretted not chasing. Then all the light turned off and the car stopped. Azzi stood.

Paige got out of her car. 

She didn’t know what she was going to say, she had too many thoughts and not enough words in the world to express them. She ran to Azzi, just for her to step back at the last moment. Paige fell to her knees, tears starting to stream down her face. Blubbering, she told Azzi how she hasn’t slept in weeks, she can’t do anything but miss her. She’s sobbing on the ground at Azzi’s feet and Azzi isn’t saying anything. She’s just thinking that she’s going to have to stay there, wailing and groveling for a scrap of forgiveness, when she feels someone’s arms around her. She’s hearing Azzi tell her how she couldn’t do anything without being high, how this was the first time she’s been sober since she drove away that night. 

And then, through tears and sweat, then kissed, kissed like they’d been separated for years and didn’t know if they would ever see the other alive again.

Because, it turns out, if someone is your whole life, you can’t live it without them.

[imaginespazzi]

give us some of your favorite pazzi headcanons pretty pretty please with an extra cherry on top (i miss them)

Omg anon you're so cute (I miss them too) 🥹

Alright let's get delusional:

Their realizations were extremely different. Paige's was dramatic because "holy fuck i'm in love with my best friend oh shit shit shit" and it took her moment to process but once she did, she was fully set on making something happen. Azzi's was a lot more gradual and more "oh i'm in love with her, that makes sense," but also very much "now let me ignore it forever because i don't like change" with a whole lot of overthinking until she realizes there was no point in fighting it.

Their first proper date was a mess. Paige was trying to be romantic really by booking out a proper restaurant. They realized pretty quickly that sitting opposite each other under the blinding lights of a posh bistro, dressed in itchy fancy clothes was very much not their thing. But they were both a little too hesitant to say anything to each other, a little scared of the fragility of their new relationship (their second date was perfect, just the two of them in one of their apartments, sitting next to each other and watching basketball, occasionally stealing food off of each other's takeout containers)

They don't know how to be near each other without a part of their bodies touching. And it's been that way since they were as platonic as it can be. Whether it's just pressing their shoulders against each other, knocking their knees together, or linking their pinkies together, they need to be consistently tethered to each other.

Paige comes up with a new nickname for Azzi almost every week. Some are sweet, some are corny and some are a little stupid but Azzi loves all of them, even if she rolls her eyes at them. The one constant is that Paige always adds "my" before anything, from "my love" to "my dumbass". But her favorite thing to call Azzi is simply just "my Azzi".

They don't say "I love you" all that often. It's an unspoken truth that they both just know and feel. And so when they do say it, it's extra special and it means just that much more.

Completely unedited mush that lives rent free in my head tbh. But y'all send me y'alls headcanons too cause I need cute Pazzi content while they're in their silence era lol.

[ingapotejtoo]

MY BOY KEYA HAD HIS FIRST APPEARANCE YESTERDAY AND I AM GOING CRAZY GOING INSANE

OH OH OH OH I CAN YELL ABOUT THE VOIDED DND CAMPAIGN HERE TOO

[sellasstories]

CLOSE (I)

word count: 5.7k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️

underage drinking, slightly explicit themes, light angst, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 1: azzi)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

“The best duo in the world is back together!” Paige shouts from the end of the Fudds’ driveway.

“Shut up! The whole neighbourhood doesn’t need to know they’re going to have to deal with you,” Azzi yells back. “And are you just going to stand there looking stupid forever?”

Paige doesn’t even bother to pout at the lighthearted insult, running over to crush Azzi in a suffocating hug. If her first thought when she’d seen Azzi standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her face had been how beautiful the other girl looked framed in the sunlight, it was only because she was delirious with excitement. This was actually like the best thing ever. She’s going to be living with her best friend. Her best friend that people always say she’s attached at the hip with, which doesn’t even make sense because they live so far apart. Well, now they really can be and Paige doesn’t know if she can be any more excited.

As her whole family helps Paige move her bags into the house, Azzi worries (too much, Paige would tell her). It’s not that she’s not excited — she really is — but she doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to handle all of Paige for this much time.

•••••

Azzi has always been the shy one, the cautious one, never one to consider herself brave. She’s organized and methodical, and has never liked change or new things. She would cry at every new activity that her parents insisted she try as a kid, basketball included. She may have been shy, but she was never one to give up, and soon it was evident that basketball was different. Azzi had found her thing, and she was happy to throw herself into seeing how far she could take it.

Trying out for the U16 national team at 14 had been the scariest thing that Azzi had ever done, but she’d barely even had time to let the nerves set in before a blonde girl a few inches taller than her had confidently walked over and introduced herself.

Taking in Paige’s relaxed stance and cocky confident tone, Azzi had instantly recognized a rival. But as they both survived cut after cut and Paige kept talking to her (no less obnoxiously than the first time), Azzi’s mind reluctantly changed. This girl, her opposite in every way except their shared passion for the sport, was drawing her in like a magnet. Paige was loud, impulsive, and outgoing, and when Azzi was with her, she felt like she could be those things too.

By the time the tournament actually started, everyone was already referring to them as ‘Paige and Azzi’, and there was no question about who they’d be rooming with. The days passed and they only grew closer, connecting in a way that Azzi never had with anyone. She swore they were becoming one person. Azzi wasn’t brave, but when she reached out and took Paige’s hand in her own as they stood with gold medals around their necks, she felt like maybe she could be.

The rest was history. They kept talking every day, went to great lengths to go to each other’s games in different states, and were told over and over how ‘special’ their connection was. Azzi didn’t get it at first. Paige was her best friend, but everyone had a best friend that they loved the way she loved hers, didn’t they?

It had taken a couple years, but eventually Azzi had figured it out. Paige wasn’t just her best friend, she was her person. There was never going to be anyone else. There was no fanfare, no announcement or confession, just quiet acceptance as a 16-year-old Azzi had sat on her bed and tried to make sense of her uncharacteristically messy thoughts neatly scrawled in a little purple notebook that she carefully kept hidden from her parents and siblings. She’d confided only in Stewie before vowing to never tell anyone else.

Just this once, Azzi had been glad that she wasn’t brave like Paige. She wasn’t ready to change everything, especially when she already knew what Paige’s answer would probably be. She was almost positive that her best friend loved her, but she was also equally sure that it was only platonically. And that was usually fine. Azzi would take what she could get.

Azzi was disciplined, and she was able to keep up their routine, never acting in a way that would alert Paige. She knew their dynamic, and she could act accordingly. Well, mostly. It was so much easier when they were apart and Paige was just some pixels on a screen, just her goofy best friend.

When they’re together, Azzi has to exercise nearly all of her self-discipline. Because when she’s in the same room as Paige, she can’t ignore the way that her eyes shine and her smile is only ever kind. She can’t ignore the sharp lines of Paige’s body, from her cheeks to her collarbones to other places that Azzi is definitely not supposed to be looking at. And she especially can’t ignore how physical Paige is; touching, brushing, and grabbing without a care in the world because she’s just so full of love and has to get it out somehow.

•••••

So Azzi is worried. Not that she’ll get sick of Paige, but that she’ll ruin everything or somehow fall more in love, and she doesn’t even know which would be worse.

“AZZI!” Jon’s loud voice snaps her out of her thoughts.

She shakes her head. “What did you say?”

“I said thanks a lot for helping us with Paige’s stuff,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he goes inside.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” she calls to his back. How long has she been standing here? Shaking her head again, Azzi wanders into the kitchen where she finds her best friend talking to her parents. Paige is wearing a tank top. It looks like she’s put on some muscle since the last time Azzi saw her. Azzi stares at the ceiling. She’s fine. This is going to be fine.

•••••

Paige has a bad habit of setting herself up for disappointment. Her expectations for everything are through the roof, and while she figures the lofty ones she placed on herself are the reason that she was able to commit to UConn, she has to admit that it hasn’t helped her much in other areas of her life. School dances, birthday parties, even vacations, are never as fun as she makes them out to be in her head. But this ‘vacation’ (her parents told her not to call it that but she, of course, didn’t listen) is everything that she was hoping it would be.

Sure, it’s not like they’ve actually done anything crazy (unless you count shaving Azzi’s brothers’ heads, which she doesn’t), but anything that she gets to do with Azzi is going to live up to her expectations. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing out on by having a best friend that she couldn’t see every day. No matter what they’ve been up to, Paige still isn’t over Azzi being right next to her all. the. time. Paige thinks she could stare at the dark-haired girl forever. She thinks about how much she’s missed, how many parts of Azzi she didn’t know about before.

She never realized how much she loves the way Azzi talks. Sometimes, she’ll argue with her just to experience the changes in her voice and expressions. Paige wants to memorize them. She loves watching Azzi with her brothers, so similar yet so different to how she is with Drew. Paige thinks that Azzi will be a great mom someday.

She loves the way Azzi feels, too. Even though she’s been living with the younger girl for several weeks now, Paige always wants to be as close to her as possible. If there was ever any doubt that her love language was touch, it’s definitely been erased now. Paige thinks that she’d crawl into Azzi’s skin if she could. Obviously that’s not possible, but in this world where Azzi is one of the few people that Paige is allowed to get close to, she’s sure going to try.

The first week of her stay, she insists on her and Azzi picking some TV series to watch before bed, and if that results in them falling asleep where they are, she’s totally going to pretend that it wasn’t her plan all along. At first, it’s them on the couch in the living room with some or all of Azzi’s family, but the tradition quickly evolves to just the two of them settling into Azzi’s bed after the fifth night of them waking up sore from sleeping awkwardly on the couch.

Paige wouldn’t admit it, but she likes this second arrangement better, and not just because Azzi’s bed is more a comfortable place to sleep. She’s never had a problem sharing before, but Paige likes that this environment lets her have Azzi all to herself. Sure, anyone could still come in and watch with them, but Azzi seems to have some unwritten rule with her family about staying out of her space, and Paige can’t help but feel the urge to gloat that Azzi so readily lets her in.

And there’s another thing too, one that Paige doesn’t really understand. Even though Azzi’s bed is much bigger than the couch, they always seem to end up a lot closer than they were in the living room. Not physically closer (Paige had definitely fallen asleep on the couch sprawled on top of her best friend), but closer in a way that Paige realizes she’s glad the rest of the household doesn’t see. It’s not like the arms looped around waists and necks or the legs that always end up intertwined are particularly improper, but that doesn’t stop Paige from fighting the urge to pull away every time she hears a sound in the hallway.

She never says anything to Azzi, though, simply hoping the younger girl doesn’t notice, and their ritual of shared time cements itself as almost a nightly activity. Sometimes she gets sent back to her room by a tired Tim complaining about them being too loud or saying that they need some time apart, but they’re always back together the next night.

Of all the traditions established during their time together, this one is by far Paige’s favourite. She loves all the little pieces of Azzi that she gets to collect, but she holds this one just a bit closer to her heart than the others.

•••••

Paige knows she can never be bored of Azzi, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be bored with Azzi. Katie and Tim have gotten tired of filming TikToks for them, they’ve stopped keeping a record of who wins games of 21 and HORSE (which they play as UCONN), and Paige swears they’ve tried every quarantine activity.

They even managed to convince Azzi’s parents to let them climb onto her roof, which is where they are now. Azzi appears to be relatively peaceful laying on her back with her eyes closed, but Paige is sitting up and her fingers are tapping against the shingles as she looks to the next possible activity.

She sighs loudly. “What are we gonna do for the next month? Oh god, what if this lasts a year?”

“We’re literally on the roof,” Azzi turns her head towards the blonde. “Can we appreciate the fact that we even got permission for this for a second?”

“For a second, sure. But I’m so bored.” Paige gestures around them. “What is there to do here? We can only play so much one on one. Don’t you miss basketball, like real five on five… with contact and crowds?”

“Yeah, I do. I miss it as much as you do, P, but you know we can’t.” Azzi glances over to see if the other girl is even listening. “For now, you’re stuck with me and the hoop in my driveway.”

Paige groans as she flops onto her back. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take!”

“I’m going to push you off this roof if you don’t chill out,” Azzi retorts. “You wanna get away from me that bad, huh?”

Paige barely even entertains the joke. “I literally came here to not have to get away from you- that doesn’t mean I won’t jump off and say you pushed me, though,” she sticks her tongue out at her best friend. “I wanna get away from here, with you, and go do something. At this point, it doesn’t even have to be basketball!”

Azzi is mostly focused on ignoring what the casual admission of Paige’s desire to be with her (but not like that, she chides herself) is doing to her heart, but she also wants to be a helpful friend. She pushes down her stupid feelings and hopes that Paige didn’t notice any changes in her expression.

“We’ll just have to find a new thing to do in the meantime.” Her face brightens. “We just thought of the roof thing today! There has to be something else.” A hush falls over the pair as they wrack their brains. At least Azzi’s inadvertent challenge is technically something to do.

“I know! Az, have you ever been drunk before?” Paige’s excited voice shatters the silence, startling Azzi, who sits up abruptly and lurches forward before catching herself.

“Jesus, P, I could’ve fallen!” Azzi takes a few deep breaths as she waits for her heart rate to return to normal.

Leaning back to make herself feel safer, she finally dignifies Paige (who looks way less apologetic than she should, in Azzi’s opinion) with an answer. “No, when would I have? You know I don’t really go to parties, and my parents would kill me anyway.”

“I’m gonna ignore that last part, because that’s what I think we should do,” seeing Azzi’s unimpressed expression, Paige raises her arms in surrender. “Hear me out! It’ll be funny, and it’s something new as well…”

“…and?” Azzi smirks. She knows there has to be something else.

Paige looks up at the sky. “And I’m going to college really soon and I don’t know if I’m ready for all that.”

“You’re so dumb sometimes. You don’t have to train for that, Paige,” Azzi laughs. “You’re going to be totally fine, I promise. So just to be clear, you’re suggesting either getting into a liquor store and somehow managing to buy something or… what? Stealing from my parents?”

“I guess?” Paige rolls her eyes, prior embarrassment forgotten. “You know what? Fuck you, it was just an idea.” She shoves the younger girl lightly.

“Paige Madison. What did I say about the roof?”

“My bad, my bad.”

They lapse into silence again. Finally, Azzi speaks up. “All I’m saying is that this idea would probably involve lots of lying and us getting in huge trouble. I just want you to know that.”

“Shut up,” Paige groans. “I already said we didn’t have to.”

“And I’m saying we should!”

Paige figures Azzi is still messing with her. She raises an eyebrow.

“For the record,” Azzi continues as if nothing’s happened, “I think stealing from my parents is the easier option, but we can do whatever you want.”

Paige doesn’t like how much fun the younger girl seems to be having with this. She’d call it off if she wasn’t already getting excited at the prospect. “Since you’re so smart, why don’t you figure all that out? Bring everything to me and I’ll show you how to make drinks.”

Azzi sticks her tongue out. “You say that like it’s hard.” She lies down, smiling proudly.

Paige takes a minute to admire the peaceful look on Azzi’s face, thankful that her best friend’s eyes are closed. Once she tears her eyes away, she resumes her position on her back as well. A gentle breeze passes over the girls and they both shift closer together until their sides touch.

As the sun sets in front of them, no words need to be exchanged because Azzi just knows to lift her head up so Paige’s arm can slide smoothly under it. They bask in the calmness around them, and for once Paige doesn’t feel completely at odds with it.

Azzi turns into Paige’s body even more. “Look at the stars,” she whispers in awe.

Paige smiles softly, her own shining eyes surely mirroring Azzi’s. “Have you never seen them before?”

“Never from up here. You can see the whole sky, it’s really beautiful.”

So are you, Paige’s brain supplies unhelpfully. She blinks rapidly, not totally sure where that came from. Instead, she says, “I bet we can find all the constellations.”

“I don’t think I know too many,” Azzi admits. “I just like to watch for shooting stars.”

“Don’t worry, I happen to know them all,” Paige brags.

At first, Azzi believes her, but as the names and patterns get more ridiculous, it’s clear that Paige has no idea what she’s talking about. Catching onto the game, Azzi is quick to make up some of her own. It soon devolves into a contest of trying to make the other laugh, and for once Azzi doesn’t pout when Paige is the clear winner.

Azzi looks at Paige at the same time as the blonde reaches an arm out towards her. Paige’s hand trails down Azzi’s forearm and side as it comes to clasp hers. Looking down at their interlocked hands, Azzi shivers, and she knows it’s not from the breeze.

Suddenly, she’s nervous to look up, not sure if she’ll be able to survive looking into the other girl’s eyes right now. Somehow, Paige has remained silent through all of this. Azzi drags her own eyes up and is still unprepared for how her best friend can undo her with a single look.

Paige is looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world. Azzi leans forward subconsciously as she’s pulled in by the intensity of Paige’s gaze. She sees the whole sky of stars reflected back at her, even a shooting star-

“Woah,” Paige breathes. Her eyes shift away and it breaks whatever spell Azzi had been under. She mentally kicks herself. She’d been seconds away from doing something truly stupid and she knows it. “Az, I think that was a shooting star.”

“Then you have to make a wish,” Azzi insists.

“You should too.”

“That’s not how it works,” Azzi giggles.

Paige frowns. “Can I give you my wish then?” Seeing the shake of Azzi’s head, the blonde has an idea. “Then I wish for us both to see another shooting star tonight.”

“Thank you,” Azzi whispers. “Even though you’re not supposed to tell me what you wished for,” she can’t resist adding.

“I want you to know,” Paige shrugs.

Azzi has scarcely opened her mouth to reply when she sees it. Clear as day, a bright streak right in front of her eyes. She shakes Paige’s shoulders urgently and points to the sky behind her best friend. “Look, look, your wish came true! It’s a shooting star!”

Paige seems unfazed as she follows the line of Azzi’s finger. “Good. I’m not telling you what I wish for this time, though.”

“Good, because that’s how it’s supposed to work,” Azzi reminds her.

They stare at the spot where the shooting star disappeared long after it fades into the night sky. Closing her eyes, Azzi doesn’t even have to think about her wish. If she’d known that right beside her, Paige was wishing for them to be this close forever, she would’ve been ecstatic.

If Azzi claiming a need to not fall off the roof is clearly just an excuse to wrap her body tightly around Paige’s, the older girl isn’t complaining. Especially when holding Azzi in her arms that night is making her feel more grounded than she has in a long time.

•••••

They decide to get drunk the next night. It’s difficult to act normal all day but they manage, finally getting to an acceptable hour to excuse themselves to go to bed.

Tim should’ve known something is up when Paige hardly puts up a fight after being told to go to her own room, but he’s tired and not about to complain about the normally difficult job being less so.

After that, it really is as easy as Azzi said it would be. She sets a timer for thirty minutes and paces her room as she watches it tick down. After completing a mental checklist of what she’s grabbing, she decides to change into a crop top and nicer shorts. Already feeling ridiculous, she suppresses the urge to fix her hair, pushes down the nervous energy, and goes back to pacing.

When she finally tiptoes into her dark kitchen, the whole house is silent. There’s never been an effort to hide the alcohol because Azzi’s never given her parents a reason to, and she’s thankful for that right now. She makes it to Paige’s room without incident and knocks as softly as she can.

The door opens almost immediately and Azzi feels slightly better when she realizes that Paige must’ve been pacing her room as well. The blonde leans on the doorframe as she looks Azzi up and down.

“Nice outfit,” there’s mirth in Paige’s tone, but no malice, and a part of Azzi wonders if she means it. What Azzi doesn’t know is that Paige considered doing the exact same thing but talked herself out of it, a fact that she will very much be keeping to herself.

“Shut up,” The younger girl whines before shoving her way into Paige’s room. She looks over her shoulder. “And, if I remember correctly, you have some drinks to make.”

Paige surveys the contents of Azzi’s raid. “Yeah, gimme a second.” In Paige’s defense, she doesn’t have a lot to work with. But she did also totally lie when she told Azzi she knew how. She doesn’t really know why, it’s not like Azzi would’ve cared or anything.

Maybe this should warrant further investigation, but Paige has put her pride on the line and nothing is more important right now than defending it. With almost laughably fake confidence, the blonde fills two cups with a mixture of vodka, Sprite, and tonic water. She hands one to Azzi, who gives her an incredulous look.

“You’re so full of shit. Are you even supposed to mix all this together?” The dark-haired girl sniffs the drink and wrinkles her nose.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Just trust me. Drink on three?”

“Fine.” Azzi takes a deep breath.

They touch their cups and Paige counts to three. When the drink hits the back of her throat, she attempts to save face by masking the sudden sensation that her mouth is on fire. Azzi has no such reservations.

“What the fuck is this?” She splutters. “That’s like, way too strong.”

“Don’t look at me,” Paige is quick to defend herself. “I didn’t have anything to measure with, and it’s not like it’s supposed to taste that good anyway.”

They continue to bicker back and forth as they figure out what they want to do. Azzi bans Paige from making any more drinks, and they agree to just drink from the bottle and have a cup of Sprite to use as a chaser. It’s also Azzi’s idea to sit on the floor with their backs against Paige’s bed, facing away from her bedroom door. It probably wouldn’t do much to prevent them from getting caught, but it does make them both feel a little better.

It’s quickly discovered that ‘Truth or Drink’ isn’t the best game for them. They already know everything about each other, and neither of them can seem to think of anything that the other isn’t willing to share.

Well, Azzi can think of one thing. She doesn’t want to bring it up because she definitely has more to hide, but as they pass the bottle back and forth and her mind starts to get hazy, her jealousy curiosity gets the best of her.

“Sooo, Paigey, wanna tell me about your crush?” Azzi can hardly get the question out before she dissolves into giggles.

Paige is genuinely confused. “My what?”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “Remember the Overtime video you did, the one I was literally in?”

“I forgot about that question, not gonna lie,” Paige shrugs. “It’s not like it’s true, anyway. That’s just what I say when people ask.” She leans her head back and puts an arm around Azzi’s shoulders.

Azzi’s not one to give up easily. “You must have one, though.”

Paige pushes the side of Azzi’s head into her chest. “Who says I do?” This doesn’t seem to deter her.

“Me,” Azzi’s voice is muffled as she continues. “If you didn’t, you would’ve just said no one. No need to have a cover unless saying you didn’t would’ve been an obvious lie,” the younger girl reasons, smiling triumphantly. “So I’m asking again, who is it?”

Paige looks away. “No one,” she mumbles, cheeks burning.

Azzi looks up at her with a shit-eating grin. She’s vaguely aware of how quickly this could turn on her, but she’s having too much fun to care. “Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Paige doesn’t answer, taking a deep breath before bringing the bottle to her lips. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she tries to hide her expression of disgust at the strong taste. “But you’re just so perfect, right? The Azzi Fudd, best basketball player in the world, doesn’t have time for silly things like crushes, does she?”

Azzi would be lying if she said that she had any idea what was going to come out of her mouth. “I never said that.” She cringes inwardly at herself. Paige had literally given her an out and she hadn’t taken it.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” Paige’s tone is playful, but Azzi’s entire world has suddenly narrowed in on that one simple sentence. Her mind is floundering, going too fast and too slow at once, and the urge to finally share her secret is almost overwhelming. Briefly, she imagines how freeing it would be to say it out loud. But she’s kept it together this long, and Paige Bueckers is not going to break her, even if it seems like she’s getting closer every day.

Azzi has to say something, and she can feel the words ready to spill out like a rising tide. As Paige’s smirk grows at what she perceives to be Azzi’s own embarrassment, the younger girl realizes that she’s going to have to give something up.

And so, ever the analyst, ever the planner, Azzi trades one truth for another. Even if it feels like the safer option in her head, she freezes as the words fall from her lips, eyes fixed apprehensively on Paige’s face.

“I never said it was a guy.”

Paige’s mouth opens and closes, and Azzi is paralyzed. She thinks it might be the alcohol, but her mind is completely blank and she’s suddenly struggling to breathe. Is this what drowning feels like? There’s only one way to interpret what she said, and she can’t take it back now.

“Sorry, are you-” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s cool, congratulations?” She smiles ruefully. “I’m sorry, Az, I promise I’d be handling this better sober.”

It’s Azzi’s turn to smile cautiously. “You wouldn’t have gotten this out of me sober,” she admits, tipping her head back to rest against the side of the bed.

Paige finally collects her thoughts. “So, are you like, a lesbian then?” She asks, ignoring Azzi’s most recent statement. This is the first time her best friend has admitted any romantic interest, and she wonders if that might be why.

“It’s not your turn to ask questions,” the dark-haired girl groans. “But no, I don’t think so. I haven’t thought about it too much honestly, but I think I’m probably bi.”

Paige nods slowly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Azzi’s heart beating out of her chest as she waits for her friend’s judgment.

“This is gonna sound so dumb now,” Paige blurts out suddenly. “I think I might be, too. That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you who my crush was. It was a girl at my school, her name is Imani.”

The words don’t register all at once. Azzi first experiences relief — Paige likes girls too, this won’t make anything weird, then hope — Paige likes girls, maybe there’s a chance?, which quickly turns to disappointment — Paige likes another girl. She hardly feels the tears welling up as not me not me not me echoes unchecked in her mind.

But Paige sees them, and soon she’s pulling Azzi against her chest, fully this time, opening her legs so that Azzi can sit in between them. “That was really brave of you, you know that, right?” She whispers.

The tenderness in the blonde’s voice is the final straw before the tears are spilling down Azzi’s cheeks. “That’s supposed to be your thing,” she retorts with a watery smile. Paige lets out a soft laugh, and Azzi joins her, not completely sure if she’s laughing or crying as the tears continue to pour out.

If Paige’s shirt gets a little wet, she doesn’t comment on it. And Azzi falls just a little deeper, lacking both the mental and physical strength to stop herself. She might be a rational person, but just this once she lets herself indulge in a small feeling of superiority because right now she’s in Paige’s arms and this Imani girl isn’t.

They must’ve fallen asleep there because Azzi has only a dim memory of gentle but firm hands urging her to get up onto the bed before slipping warm fabric over her head.

•••••

Azzi wakes up in what has to be the middle of the night. She must still be drunk because there’s a light haze over her vision. Her surroundings register as she sits up. How did she get back in her room, and where is Paige?

She jumps a little when she sees a figure sitting on the floor by her bed, calming down as she recognizes the familiar silhouette.

“Paige? What’s going on?” She calls out.

Paige turns to look at her over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Nothing, just looking at the moon. It reminds me of you, you know?” She turns back, offering no further explanation.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Azzi blinks heavily. “Please just come lie down, it’s so late.”

Azzi has half a mind to ask Paige to close her blinds (she certainly remembers closing them, but doesn’t dwell on it), but when she stops to admire her best friend in the pale glow of the moonlight, she decides she might not mind them being left open.

Paige is sitting on the bed now. She places a hand on Azzi’s wrist. “You’re hot, lie on me above the covers.”

Azzi hadn’t given it a single thought beforehand, but now that Paige has pointed it out, she definitely is feeling warm. The blonde really does seem to know her better than she knows herself.

Paige lies down and Azzi shifts so that her back is on Paige’s chest. Azzi, getting hotter by the second, bends up one short-clad leg. Soon, Paige is tracing it lightly from knee to thigh. Her nails graze the bare skin, sending shivers across Azzi’s whole body.

Paige lets a hand creep under Azzi’s shirt to rest on her stomach. Azzi’s legs fall open and the movement causes the hand on her stomach to slide just under her waistband. Paige doesn’t pull away. Azzi doesn’t tell her to. Azzi is burning up. She wonders if Paige is too.

Azzi grits her teeth and tries to calm the fire in the pit of her stomach and the war being waged in her head. Please just fucking touch me.

She shifts her hips again, marginally enough to still be played off, but also enough for Paige’s hand to shift farther down than is acceptable, even for them. Paige’s fingers curl slightly on instinct and Azzi almost moans.

“Is there something you want from me?” Paige asks cautiously, no hint of teasing in her words.

Azzi looks up at the blonde desperately.

“More,” she breathes, biting her lip. Paige’s wide eyes don’t leave hers as the hand on her stomach gets tantalizingly closer to where she needs it-

•••••

Azzi’s eyes snap open. She’s lying on her back, like she was in the dream, and Paige is there too, but the blonde is fast asleep, her face pressed into a pillow. Shaking her head slightly, Azzi stares up at the ceiling. She’s in Paige’s room, where she fell asleep, apparently wearing one of her best friend’s hoodies.

Grimacing, Azzi resolves to never drink again. Her mouth is dry, her head is pounding, and she feels like she might actually explode. She’s already stressing about dealing with the consequences of the previous night, and she’s certainly not willing to process her dream on top of all of that.

She looks down at the way Paige is draped across her body, a hand resting possessively protectively over Azzi’s waist. It tightens at the first sign of movement, leaving Azzi no choice but to stay right where she is. She thinks she could get used to this feeling of belonging.

Azzi reminds herself why she can never say anything, what she would lose if she did. She knows that Paige loves her — though last night made it explicitly clear that it’s not like that — and she would never risk that love or that trust. Sighing, Azzi tries to get comfortable without waking Paige, making sure to keep her legs firmly squeezed together. She’s fine. This is fine. This is enough.

[cosmopretty]

WOMANS SPORTS MASTERLIST !

I write for woman’s basketball and hockey and other sports if requested

not all of my fics are in here because I only put in the ones I like

💋- smut

🧸- fluff

🥀- angst

🎀- blurb

Paige Bueckers

please 💋

paige x cheerleader fem ����

her shorty 🧸

her princess 🧸

dating HCS 🧸

pretty girl 💋

good girl 💋

domestic HCS 🧸

protect her 🥀🧸

drunk in love 💋

work out 💋

ending game 🥀

sleepyhead 🧸

in the car 💋

anniversary 💋🧸

possessive 💋

stretching out 💋🎀

bad game 💋

dumb girl 💋🎀

pretty little girl 💋

Nika Mühl

dating HCS 💋🧸

nika x shy fem 🧸

nika x short fem 🧸

little sister part one 🧸

little sister part two 🧸💋🥀

her personal cheerleader 💋

more than friends 💋

jealousy jealousy 💋

basketball love 🧸

all mine 💋

Azzi Fudd

more than friends 🥀💋

azzi x model fem 🧸

jealous 💋

good enough 🥀💋🧸

better than him 💋

DATING HCS 🧸

verbal princess 💋

KK Arnold

stressed 🥀🧸

smut HCS 💋

bad prank 🥀🧸

whatever you want 💋

eat her for lunch 💋

welcomed 🧸

wisdom teeth 🧸

the world went quiet 🥀

first date 🧸🎀

Kate Martin

dating HCS 🧸

the draft 🧸

Caitlin Clark

dating HCS 🧸

nsfw HCS 💋

hard launch 🧸

forgotten date 🥀🧸

pussy drunk 💋🎀

bad game 💋🎀

Diana Taurasi

bully smut 💋

smut hcs 💋

Georgia Amoore

dating HCS 🧸

Emily Engstler

my teacher 🧸

Paige Bueckers x Fem x Nika Mühl

the bet 💋

Paige Bueckers x Fem x Azzi Fudd

their girl 💋

jealous girl 💋

intertwined 💋

Pazzi ( Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd )

jealousy jealousy 🧸

BEING UCONN’S FEM MANGER

manger HCS 🧸

break up 🥀🧸

WOMANS HOCKEY:

Caroline Harvey

dating HCS 🧸

her star 🥀🧸

princess treatment 🧸

jealousy jealousy 💋

KK x figure skater fem 🧸

caught on live 🧸💋

tough loss 🥀🧸

Finally Reunited 🧸

Laila Edwards

dating HCS 🧸

height difference 🧸

little pink bow 🎀

[rosemariiaa]

besides begging for a part 3.. even though you should give it to us :)

what are your all time favorite fics, i need some recs!! could be old and new

the way i was about to make a fic rec post lol!!

Fic Recs

@pb524830

Right where you left me- This was the first fic i’ve read of hers and i fell in love, the writing is something else i tell you

Pride and Prejudice- 10/10 would read it again it’s sooo good

Moth to Flame- I am loving this series so far , literally obsessed hello?

@imaginespazzi

You weren’t mine to lose- the amount of angst in that is so necessary and i just love it sm

UCLA fic- all time top 5 favorite series

GH- Begging for chapter 11 because i am too obsessed !!

@azzibuckets

For the love of the game- this was something else and i have sooo much love for it, cessa is a queen

Good luck Babe- hurt my heart but i still love it smmm

@thaatdigitaldiary

Open your eyes- ke knows what she is doing and i love it , that had me in awe i tell you

from ms to mrs- YES YES YESS

@ohbueckers

two can play that game- i love tropes like these and ju is eating up the chapters left and right

What’s my name?- impatiently waiting on another chapter because that series did something to me..literally

@patscorner

Ace of Hearts- i will be harassing pat for chapter 3 don’t worry guys

@sierrale8ne

40 days and 40 nights- i just think this is spectacular and that’s all there is to say

Power trip- this was something else..everything about i adored literally

@mrsarnold

white ferrari- i love me some fics from leila, this fic was teww good i enjoyed it smm!

@cosmopretty

read her new fic on wattpad “her girl” i love it so far!!

i don’t have a specific fic i love because all of them are really good, i would say take your pick bc i’m indecisive!!

@money4martin

the nanny- i’m mostly reading this on wattpad and i loveee it, she’s such a good writer

@lupinqs

firsts- me being a pazzi girl, i loved this fic sm it’s one of my top 5 for sure

take me to church- i love everything about this series, like it’s really just a chefs kiss and it’s relatable too??

@makethemhoesmad

skip this part?- y’all know i love me some angst.. and karly delivered it perfectly with this fic! thank god!

liability- she likes to play with my heart but i forgive her eveytime bc the writing is impeccable, this series was a rollercoaster for me

@sellasstories @heyitssells

Close- i loved this with all my heart ,she’s amazing bye

@d3arapril

Invisible strings- yes.yes.yes.

@azzifuddworlddomination

Casual- my inspiration for my fic because hers i just can’t get over like i love you down 🤗

@bbydoll18xx

don’t even have a favorite, all her fics are chefs kiss and that’s the truth

@kmoneymartini

fics are sooo easy to obsess over hello?? i’m glad she’s my moot too

@wcbblife

all there is to say is yes and go read NEOWWWW

@iminlovewithpaigebueckers

i should slap myself because why haven’t i read any of her fics earlier hello? I FREAKING LOVE THEM?

@bueckersstrap

my sweet baby celeste and her writing 😫 i yearn for it thank you queen

——-

Ao3

Grow as we go- all time favorite pazzi series, i will be reading it again thank you!

Slow falling- i fear the author has given up on us but i will still like to have hope we get another chapter 😞

I’m pretty sure i have more but i can’t remember atm, i will add on as i find and read more fics!! 💌

[azzibuckets]

good luck babe [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: angsty pazzi fic to good luck babe bc why not

word count: 2.2k

part 2 | masterlist

It's fine, it's cool. You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.

“Azzi? Nah, we’re just messing around.”

It seemed like time stood still once Azzi heard those words. She suddenly felt dizzy with the shots of vodka she’d been taking earlier, shots off Paige’s body, and with this unfamiliar feeling slicing like a dagger in her chest. She looked down at her dirty Shirley, the bitterness of the alcohol now overwhelming her mouth and drowning out any flavor of the sugary grenadine.

But she couldn’t fall apart, not here when everyone in the bar was celebrating their win over Texas, and when she knew that the gossip surrounding her and Paige’s situationship circulating around campus like a wildfire meant that eyes would be trained on them the entire night.

What’s worse, Paige had said those words without any hesitation at all, almost scoffing at the idea like it was ridiculous. Like it could never happen. And Azzi was not by any chance a daydreamer, she always prided herself in being reasonable and logical, but she would be lying if she’d said she’d never indulged in creating scenarios in her head of what a future with Paige would look like.

When a few drunk students shoved by Azzi, casting her dirty glances for blocking their way, she startled out of her frozen stupor. Plastering a smile on her face that felt foreignly wide on her lips, she forced her legs to move towards the group. “Hey!” she said, a little too loudly and a little too enthusiastically.

Paige cocked an eyebrow, instantly knowing something was up, but Azzi looked away before the blonde could fully read her facial expression, a skill she’d perfected from years of going through life together.

And guess I'm the fool. With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

Azzi regretted everything, for coming to celebrate and get drunk when she had an exam tomorrow she should’ve been studying for. It was almost embarrassing, really, how easily she folded whenever Paige showed up to her dorm. Paige hadn’t even had to say a word tonight, only snaking her hands under Azzi’s shirt for the younger girl to change her mind, throwing on some light makeup and following her best friend out to Ted’s and leaving her laptop still open on her desk.

She felt stupid now, for thinking she was special whenever Paige begged her to go out with the team. It was clear she didn’t even want Azzi’s presence, only enjoyed the power she held over the younger girl, dragging her around like she was a doll.

But she’d had enough. She wanted to salvage any scrap of self dignity she had left, before Paige made her look like a total and utter fool. Azzi finished the last of her dirty Shirley. Paige’s eyes lit up, her hand reaching over to grab the cherry from the bottom of glass, but Azzi shifted her body and set the glass down on the bar top aggressively. “I’m going home,” she announced, wiping her mouth.

“Already?” Paige wrinkled her nose. “It’s only 10.” It was this cluelessness of Paige’s, how she truly had no idea what would make Azzi want to leave this stupid bar, that made her snap.

“Some people actually care about their classes,” Azzi retorted, instantly knowing it was a low blow by the flash in Paige’s eyes. Paige hated stereotypes, especially when people assumed she was stupid just because she was a woman, or a blonde, or an athlete. But Azzi smoothed over the guilt by recalling what Paige had said earlier. Messing around. As if kissing each other senseless and holding each other to sleep every night was messing around.

Paige looked around the group warily, noticing the curious glints in everyone’s eyes and the stares they were getting from others. Grabbing Azzi’s arm, she led her away from the prying ears. “You know you can’t make a scene in front of them,” Paige hissed. “Unless you want them spreading shitty rumors.”

“Oh, so now I’m making a scene?” Azzi didn’t get angry often, and whenever she did, it was usually at her siblings for being a pain in the ass. It was certainly never directed to this girl that she loved, had loved for the past five years and didn’t want to ever stop loving. But it wasn’t her choice. Paige didn’t want her. So she let the bitterness consume her. “God, you’re so high and mighty on your moral horse.”

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Paige said. “Some of these people are nasty, Azzi. They always spin up the wildest stories.”

“Fuck off, Paige.” Azzi knew she was being immature, but she turned on her heel and forced her way through sweaty bodies and out of the bar. Emerging from the doors, she thought she’d managed to lose Paige in the chaos when a hand grabbed hers and forced her to turn around.

“Dude, what is up with you?” Paige’s eyes searched Azzi’s in desperation, hoping that she could read her and understand her like she always did. But the heat in Azzi’s glare was unrecognizable, and Paige had utterly no idea what to do.

I don't wanna call it off. But you don't wanna call it love. You only wanna be the one that I call baby

“What are we, Paige?” Azzi was shivering now from the cold, having forgotten her jacket inside. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to retain body heat.

Paige folded her arms, the frostiness in the air seemingly getting to her too. “What do you mean?”

“Stop playing around. You know what I’m talking about.”

Paige ran a hand over her face. “You’re putting me on the spot right now, Az.”

“On the spot?” Azzi’s voice was wild and frantic. “What’s so hard about this, Paige? Because it’s not hard for me. Not at all.” She wasn’t cold now, not anymore, the pent up fury running its full course throughout her body and heating her up in the worst way possible. “You say we’re just friends with benefits, but last week we made plans for you to stay with my family for a month this summer. That’s not something friends do.”

“Well, we’re not just friends,” Paige said pointedly. “We’re best friends.” From the way Azzi’s face fell, Paige knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out of her mouth. But Paige had never been good at this, at expressing her feelings, especially when it came to Azzi. Azzi made her feel like no one else could. Azzi’s touch always electrified her entire being, a high that made everything else in the world pale in comparison, as if Paige was born solely to experience the feeling of her skin on Azzi’s. And even when they weren’t physically near, Azzi’s smile from across the room always managed to turn her to putty, a person without any semblance of self control. So Paige was scared, honestly, of the power that Azzi held over her, because whenever she was with Azzi she’d never think. She could only let her amped up emotions, always on overdrive, control her. So Paige pushed Azzi away emotionally, refused to ever talk about her feelings for the younger girl with anyone, and especially not with Azzi.

“Okay,” Azzi turned away, sniffling, her cheeks damp and eyes scratchy and red. “I guess that’s your answer.”

Paige’s heart pulsed so fast she thought it would explode from her chest. She’d seen Azzi crying before, and she’d always hated the sight. But Azzi crying because of her? God, it was another feeling altogether, like she’d fucked up her entire life and there was no going back.

Paige reached out, but Azzi turned further so that her entire back was to her. “Don’t,” she whispered weakly, and Paige’s world stopped.

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars. Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling.

“I’m worried for her.”

Paige stared down at the floor, studying the hardwood, the grooves in the panels.

“Did you hear me?”

Paige’s fingers ghosted her temple, trying to chase away the headache she could tell was starting to form. She’d been having a lot of these lately, migraines so bad she had to close the curtains and burrow herself in her bed for hours. Her mom called it heartache, but Paige rolled her eyes at that. It was probably because of the stress from finals along with the pressure of basketball season. It was nothing she couldn’t get over with a couple pills of Tylenol.

“Yes, I heard you.” Paige’s voice was rough. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Caroline’s eyes pierced Paige, her tone shifting dramatically from concerned to frustrated. “I feel like we don’t even know you anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Paige glared at Caroline, willing her stare to hold some sort of heat to it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t be angry at Caroline when she was angry at herself too.

“When did you become so scared?” Caroline cocked her head, studying Paige as if she was someone she didn’t recognize. “You used to be so fearless. Especially when it came to Azzi. You never stopped fighting for her.”

Paige looked away. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means that you’re fucking weak, Paige.” Paige cringed at the caustic bluntness of her friend’s words. “You’ve been hiding in your room for weeks. You haven’t even tried talking to her.”

“Don’t say that.” Paige tried to hold in her sob, but it came out anyways. “You don’t know anything about us. No one does.”

Caroline’s eyes softened.

Paige scrubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears now streaming down her face. “You think I didn’t try talking to her? I fucking texted and called and knocked on her door for hours.” Paige was gasping now, her shoulders shaking and hands trembling. “She doesn’t want to see me, Caro. Not now, not ever.”

Caroline reached for the girl, and she fell in her arms, tears soaking her shirt. The brunette rubbed comforting circles around Paige’s back. “You’re grieving, Paige,” she whispered in her ear. “And she is too. Neither of you are coping with it in a healthy way.”

“I messed up. I messed up so fucking bad.”

“She messed up too. Both of you made mistakes.” Caroline grasped Paige’s shoulders firmly, forcing the blonde to look her in the eyes. “But you guys need to talk and work it out. You need closure.”

“I don’t want closure,” Paige heaved. “I want her.”

*************

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. The person you’ve been-”

Azzi slammed the red button on her phone, annoyed. Caroline was supposed to pick her up 20 minutes ago, but she was still nowhere to be seen.

“You sure you don’t need a ride?” Bryan’s face popped out from his apartment window.

“No, fucker.” Azzi shuffled until she was out of view so that he wouldn’t see her pathetically standing there and still waiting for a ride when he’d offered just about a hundred times. But she couldn’t stand being with him alone any longer. He was an asshole who slept with girls to add notches on his bedpost, and she was glad she’d seen through his facade during the date before it was too late.

Finally, a black Camry pulled up to to the curb. She rushed inside, slamming the door shut as quickly as possible. “What the hell,” she hissed. “You’re so fucking late Caroline.”

It was only when she looked up from buckling her seatbelt that she realized that there was someone in the back seat. Her stomach dropped at the familiar blonde hair. It wasn’t neatly put together like it usually was, but tousled and messy and down. Paige looked worse for wear, with dark bags imprinted under her eyes and her skin paler than ever, but despite all this, she still looked tantalizing, magnetic to Azzi’s eyes.

“What’s she doing here?” Azzi asked Caroline, annoyance evident in her tone.

Caroline ignored her. “How was your date?” she asked instead.

“Tell me why the fuck Paige is in the back seat.” Azzi turned to Paige again, expecting the blonde to return with a sarcastic jab of her own like the heated words they usually exchanged whenever they crossed paths during practice in the last few weeks. But Paige didn’t respond this time, only staring at Azzi for half a second before returning her gaze outside the window.

You can say it's just the way you are. Make a new excuse, another stupid reason.

Caroline’s grip tightened on the driver’s wheel. “Are you drunk?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Really?”

Azzi propped her feet up on the dashboard, counting on the fact that it always annoyed her friend. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because lately you’ve been drunk more often then not.”

Azzi could feel Paige’s stare burning into the back of her head. She gritted her teeth, hating the way Caroline was exposing her. “That’s not true.”

Caroline tapped her fingers against the wheel. “How many times this past month have I picked you up from a random guy’s house?”

Paige shifted in the back seat.

“That doesn’t mean I’m always drunk.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I forgot about all the times you get shit faced alone in your room.”

Azzi whipped her head towards Caroline. “What are you trying to get at?” she seethed.

“You guys are fucking up the entire team. You’ve been inadvertently forcing us to choose sides and it’s always awkward whenever we hang out. You guys are gonna talk it out.”

“Like hell we are,” Azzi muttered under her breath.

A smirk spread across Caroline’s face. “Yes, you are.”

[strawberrychampagneglass]

lil sneak peak

[pbnbucks]

Smut Prompts Fluff Prompts Angst Prompts

PBNBUCKS WORKS ꨄ

𐐂 UCONN

Paige Bueckers

・Movie Night / NSFW

・Love And Friendship / NSFW

・Booty Rubs / FLUFF

・Hard Launch / FLUFF

・Strap Talk / NSFW

・Video Games / NSFW

・Caught / NSFW

・Graduation supprise / NSFW

・Wake Up / FLUFF

・S-L-U-T / NSFW

・Baby Fever / NSFW

・Regrets / NSFW

・High School Sweethearts / FLUFF

・Passion Fruit / SUGGESTIVE

・Monopoly Piece / NSFW

・October / FLUFF

・Yes You Can / SMUT

・Suck On Em’ / SMUT

Azzi Fudd

$ no works yet…

KK Arnold

・Gone Wrong / FLUFF

・Selfish / FLUFF

・Better? / NSFW

・Head Cannons / NSFW

・Loctitian Head Cannons / NSFW

・3 Words / NSFW

Ice Brady

$ no works yet…

Caroline Ducharme

$ no works yet…

Jana El Alfy

$ no works yet…

Pazzi

・Mirror Sex / NSFW

・Hair Dye / FLUFF

・You Wish / FLUFF

・Senior Night / FLUFF

・What Was That For? / NSFW

・Back Shots / NSFW

Paige x Nika x Fem

・Camera / SUGGESTIVE

・Whats Your Problem? / NSFW

・Good Intentions / NSFW

・The Transfer Student / NSFW

・We Can Be Better / NSFW

・Im Sorry / NSFW

・Love You / FLUFF

・Parking Lot / NSFW

・Random / NSFW

𐐂 LSU

Flaujae Johnson

・Mid Range / FLUFF

・Head Cannons / NSFW

Hailey Van Lith

・I Own You / NSFW

・Birthday Sex / NSFW

𐐂Gonzaga

Inês Bettencourt

・Only One / FLUFF

𐐂Southern California

Juju Watkins

・Borderline Delusional / NSFW

・Meet Me In The Bathroom / NSFW

request are always open!

[makethemhoesmad]

masterlist🫶

no caitlin clark or hannah hidalgo requests for the current time please

please keep my fics on tumblr, and only tumblr.

open inbox

❤️‍🔥-> smut

❤️‍🩹-> angst

💗-> fluff

pazzi

skip this part?❤️‍🩹

not while im with you❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

what did we do💗

liability

pt 1💗❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹 pt 2❤️‍🩹 pt 3❤️‍🩹 pt 4❤️‍🔥💗❤️‍🩹 bs❤️‍🩹

future baby mama💗

last kiss❤️‍🩹💗

ignore it

pt 1❤️‍🩹 pt 2❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥 pt 3❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥 pt 4❤️‍🩹💗

the color of your eyes❤️‍🩹

no way💗

dreams💗

paige bueckers

everything shower❤️‍🔥💗

bad idea?❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

i like it here when its us two❤️‍🔥💗

paige x piercings girlie hc💗

tired💗

mine💗

loml❤️‍🩹

fuck the hurt right outta you💗❤️‍🔥

sleeping beauty 💗❤️‍🔥

false god❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥💗

drunk in love💗❤️‍🔥

to you i can admit that im just too soft❤️‍🩹💗

soft💗

with you💗❤️‍🩹

shit you sippin💗❤️‍🔥

close to you💗❤️‍🔥

extra early💗

love you till my lungs give out💗❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

for the most part❤️‍🩹

dancing with our hands tied-masterlist

azzi fudd

if u think im pretty❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

dress❤️‍🔥💗

i need you❤️‍🔥💗

baby mama❤️‍🔥💗

thank you mommy❤️‍🔥💗

territorial❤️‍🔥

shy❤️‍🔥

heaven and she knows it💗❤️‍🔥

definitely not tired💗

my own hands💗❤️‍🔥

lethal face card💗

kate martin

meddle about❤️‍🔥💗

that little black dress❤️‍🔥💗

good girl❤️‍🔥💗

are you sleepy baby?❤️‍🔥💗

but if im all dressed up💗❤️‍🔥

come here💗

nika muhl

i could be better❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

perfect❤️‍🔥💗

caitlin clark

not currently writing for caitlin!

fight: cc💗❤️‍🩹

one of the best point guards in the nation💗

new teammate: cc❤️‍🩹

[diamond-champagne]

Hell of a Show (Prelude)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: In which Paige puts on the performance of a lifetime

Warnings: Angst but not with Pazzi

Sold-out on the marquee, my name is up in lights

A line's wrapped 'round the building

Paige laced up her sneakers and tightened her ponytail before standing and making her way into the tunnel for final introductions and entrances. She wipes her hands nervously on her shorts before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

The blonde can hear the chants of the crowd and feel the bass of the music vibrate through the room. 

“Paige! Paige! Paige!”

“A six-foot guard from Hopkins, Minneasota - Paige Bueckers”

She runs onto the court and the chants only get louder. 

A camera is at every angle, capturing the moment for those watching from their living rooms. She performs her signature smirk before greeting her teammates. 

Homemade t-shirts and homemade signs

It's everything I've wanted, I'm lucky as can be

They stand in a huddle, running through plays and whispering quick affirmations before tipoff. Paige scans the crowd and notices too many t-shirts with her name on it and even more signs.

The fans deserve the very best of her. 

She deserves the very best of her. This is all she’s ever wanted. 

Paige is blessed to be here.

And I'm on stage in twenty and he's so damn mean to me

They deserve all of her yet, someone took most of her. Because here she is, in Gampel, living her dream, doing what she loves, and all she can think about is how mean her girlfriend has become. 

The blonde scolds herself for not being in the moment. 

Tipoff is in five and she needs to focus.

Keep it together, I can keep it together

Paige plays her heart out. At least, she thinks she does. At least, she tries to. 

The W is secured by a buzzer beater in the last 3 seconds.

For the room full of people here who love me better

Than he could've, or would've and should've, I know

Her family is here and so is Azzi’s. They swarm the two basketball players with praise and congratulatory sayings before taking a few photos.

Paige smiles in every photo and laughs at every joke. She isn’t ready for them to know.

The blonde doesn’t think she’ll be able to stomach how disappointed they’ll all be in her when they find out that she isn’t as strong as they think.

I guess you could say I put on a hell of a show

“P, are you okay? You seem off.” Azzi asks. Her eyes gleam with pride at the win from tonight. Her smile is bright and sincere. 

“I’m just a little tired and very hungry.” Paige exclaims, laughing. It garners laughter from everyone around her.

They can’t know. 

'Cause I'll smile and I'll sing and I'll wave and repeat

Smile for the camera.

Wave for the fans.

Pose for the photo.

Laugh for the families. 

Repeat.

The routine gets her through the night. It’s exhausting, even more so than usual. Because Azzi knows her better so she needs to be better.

Act better.

And tonight I'll cry myself to sleep

Paige slumps in her bed alone after showering the day away. She’s on the brink of sleep when her phone lights up with two notifications . 

Veronica 

I guess that injury really did set you back.

Azzi 💗

Best player in the Nation, P!

NEXT