salemsuccss

Latest Posts by salemsuccss

divinely protected by my ancestors in ways i probably wouldn’t even understand

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐓 ꩜ juju watkins ¹² (part 3/4)

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST | PART ONE | PART TWO

ᝰ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k

ᝰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | she was born to be great—legacy inked in her blood, she was a taurasi. committing to usc was supposed to be her moment, her name, her story. but this is juju watkins' court. and kingdoms don’t like to be threatened.

ᝰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst!!!!!!!!!!!!! hurt to comfort, ofc. could possibly be triggering?? lots of descriptions of performance anxiety, panic attack, blood/injury (nosebleed), self-doubt, intense internal monologue, comfort after breakdown, soft girl tenderness (tm), juju watkins being a little too good at seeing through you

ᝰ 𝒆𝒗'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 | yeah so i meant to post this like… three weeks ago. but life got lifey (as u probably know if u keep up with my blog LMAO) and also this chapter emotionally wrecked me while i was trying to write it so i kept stalling. but!!! we are back and we are spiraling. thank you for your patience while i sat in google docs whispering “she’s fine she’s fine she’s totally not fine” over and over like a spell.

juju continues to be dangerously perceptive and our girl continues to unravel in high definition. i’ll see you in part 4. maybe. if i emotionally recover. (i will not). also would like to thank my beta readers! yall helped me out sm, ily<3

December in L.A. doesn’t feel like winter, not really.

It’s sixty-seven degrees and sunny outside. Palm trees still sway like it’s September, and girls walk around campus in shorts and crop tops like they haven’t checked a calendar. But inside the Galen Center, it feels like December - tight, tense, the kind of cold that doesn’t come from the weather, but from expectation.

Finals week is over. The dorms are thinning out. People are catching flights home, saying their see-you-next-years. But for you, there’s still one thing left.

Utah.

Your last game before winter break. And you have to win.

On paper, it’s just another conference game. But everyone knows it’s more than that.

Utah’s been electric this season - fast-paced, fluid, a team that knows how to move as one. They’re flashy, but they’re solid too, and fans have latched on. They’ve become the darling team of the year, the underdogs turned national darlings. ESPN’s been hyping the matchup for a week straight - undefeated USC vs. Utah’s run-and-gun machine. The comments are already spiraling. The forums too. “Can the Trojans stay perfect?” “Taurasi’s kid isn’t as clutch as her mom.” “Juju’s carrying again.”

You try not to read them. You really do. But they seep in. And lately, everything’s been seeping in.

Warmups feel off.

Your shots fall, but they don’t feel right. Too much wrist. Not enough arc. Your follow-through looks good, but it doesn’t settle you like it usually does. There’s this twitch in your legs, like you’ve had too much caffeine. Your heart’s pounding, even though you haven’t started running yet.

You glance over at Juju as you stretch. She’s bouncing on her toes, headphones in, nodding along to whatever she’s playing. She looks focused - but loose. The way she always is before big games. She thrives in this kind of spotlight. Loves it.

You used to. At least, you think you did. But lately it feels like the spotlight’s more heat than light. It blisters.

You’ve been here before. Big games. Big stakes. But this season has felt different from the start.

USC hasn’t lost once.

8–0. Ranked #3 in the country. Climbing.

The pressure started subtly - postgame interviews, features, “can they go all the way?” Then it ramped up. People you haven’t spoken to in months. Suddenly everyone wants to talk. Everyone wants a quote. Every game feels like proof. Every stat line is a headline.

And you - you’re the one with the last name that drips expectations. You’re the one they measure against a ghost who still plays like a myth.

--

THREE DAYS UNTIL UTAH

Practice had run long again. Not because Coach said it had to, but because that's just how it went when you were undefeated in December and still fighting to prove you belonged at the top. You were one of the last ones out of the gym, stretching alone in the corner with your earbuds in - though they weren’t playing anything. Sometimes silence helped quiet the noise better than music ever could.

Your phone buzzed once beside you. Then again. Then four more times in a row.

[Mom]: Landing soon [Mom]: Don’t freak [Mom]: Surprise! [Penny]: Don’t let your mom stress you out too much. We brought reinforcements [Derek]: BIG SISSSSSSS 😈😈😈 [Derek]: finally we get to see you play live!!

You froze mid-stretch.

No. No, no, no.

You blinked at the screen. The knot already forming in your stomach twisted tighter. For a second, your body didn’t move at all, like someone had hit pause.

They were here.

Diana. Penny. Derek. Gigi.

They were in Los Angeles. Three days before the Utah game. The last game before winter break. The game everyone on the team had circled and underlined. And they hadn’t warned you. Not really.

Your heart was racing, but it didn’t feel like excitement. It felt like pressure - familiar, cold, creeping pressure that settled on your shoulders and didn’t let go. Diana flying out to see a game wasn’t just about watching. It was about evaluating. Analyzing. Fixing.

You got up too fast, shoved your phone into your hoodie pocket, and left the gym without a word. This was classic Diana, showing up unannounced, like she owned the damn place. It was a tendency of hers, but you never really minded until it was like this - a high stakes game like this one.

They were waiting by the hotel when you arrived, standing on the curb as if they hadn’t just hijacked your entire mental space.

Penny was leaned against the back of the SUV with one arm lazily draped over the open trunk. Derek was bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was already in a full defensive stance. Gigi, tiny and grinning, sat cross-legged on top of a suitcase, wearing a hoodie that nearly swallowed her whole and sipping from a juice pouch like she’d never been happier.

And then there was Diana.

She stood a few feet away from the rest of them, hands in the pockets of her joggers, sunglasses pushed up on her head. She looked relaxed. Comfortable. Like retirement suited her in every possible way.

“Surprise,” she said simply, her voice even. But you knew her too well not to catch the anticipation behind it. The way her eyes scanned you from head to toe, subtle but focused.

You forced a smile. “Hey,” you said, and your voice cracked on the inhale.

Before you could say anything else, Gigi launched herself off the suitcase and straight into your arms, her tiny body colliding with yours like a rocket.

“You’re here!” she squealed.

You caught her, stumbling back half a step under her weight, and laughed a little. “Barely,” you said. “I’m like 40% real and 60% exhausted.”

“You look like Derek when he stayed up all night watching anime,” she said with a serious face, squishing your cheeks.

“I did that once,” Derek muttered. “And it was Naruto. It was important.”

You set Gigi down, and Penny came over to hug you next. She wrapped her arms around you slowly, gently, like she was trying to soften everything your mother inevitably brought with her.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Penny murmured. “You look... busy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” you said, stepping back with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Then Diana stepped closer. She gave you a side hug as she just studied you, unreadable expression in place.

“Good to see you,” she said, and it landed somewhere between a compliment and a challenge.

“Yeah,” you replied. “You too.”

There was a brief silence, the kind that never felt comfortable with her.

“We want to take you to dinner,” Penny cut in, trying to ease the moment. “Nothing fancy, just something casual. The kids are starving, and we figured it would be nice. No pressure.”

“Sure,” you said, even though your head was already spinning.

Dinner ended up being a loud Italian place not far from campus. It was the kind of place that served garlic knots by the basket and played old Dean Martin songs a little too loud over the speakers. Gigi insisted on sitting next to you and Derek spent most of the meal showing you clips from his last middle school tournament, pausing every few seconds to point out some assist or block.

You loved them. God, you loved them. But it was hard not to notice how different everything felt.

Penny cut Gigi’s spaghetti for her without being asked. Diana let Derek talk without interrupting, even when he got a stat wrong or rambled for too long. They were patient. Warm. Effortlessly encouraging.

When you were eight, Diana had made you run suicides in the driveway because you missed too many layups in a rec league game. When you were twelve, she’d given you film to watch during winter break and quizzed you on your footwork mid-dinner. When you were their age, she didn’t coddle. She didn’t laugh at your jokes unless they were smart. She didn’t let you cry unless it was in the locker room and even then, only once.

So yeah, watching her now - soft and domestic and kind in ways you didn’t grow up with, it did something strange to you. It made your food taste blander, your chest feel tighter. Made your head buzz with memories you’d tried to file away under “character-building.”

“You’re quiet,” Penny said softly, midway through the meal. “Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired. Practice went long.”

Diana didn’t say anything, but you could feel her watching you.

And then she said, “Heard Utah’s been hot this season. Ranked top ten in fan votes.”

The comment wasn’t loaded, not technically. But with her, it always felt like there was something underneath.

You shrugged. “We’ve been watching film. We’re ready.”

“I hope so,” she replied. “Big crowd. Big moment.”

You smiled tightly, swallowing back the urge to say, I know. You don’t have to remind me.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur - laughter from the kids, Penny’s calm presence anchoring everything, Diana occasionally offering commentary about the league or asking a pointed question about your rotations. You went through the motions. Said the right things. Made Gigi giggle. Gave Derek a few high-fives.

But all you could think about was how this was supposed to be a good thing.

And yet it felt like the walls were closing in.

You loved your family. You really did. But loving them didn’t make it easy. Not when every moment felt like a test you couldn’t afford to fail.

--

TWO DAYS UNTIL UTAH

The gym felt colder than usual that morning. It might’ve been the AC or the way the windows didn’t let in as much light during December, but something about the air felt heavier - like it was pressing against your skin instead of surrounding you. You laced up your shoes slower than usual, your fingers fumbling more than once on the second knot, but you didn’t say anything. No one did.

Everyone was in their own rhythm. Some girls were already warming up on the far court, others stretching in quiet pairs. You ran through your dynamic warm-up like muscle memory, but your thoughts were scattered, caught in a loop that you couldn’t seem to cut through. Your feet moved, your arms swung, but your brain was replaying film, comments, dinner conversations, old memories from Phoenix, like your entire life before USC had decided to come watch this one game. One game. And it had to be perfect.

The pressure wasn’t new. You’d grown up with it, worn it like a second jersey since you were a kid. But lately, it had felt different. Sharper. Not just something to rise to, but something you were afraid might crush you if you weren’t careful.

Practice started the way it always did - shooting drills, a few conditioning bursts, then walkthroughs. You were focused, or at least trying to be, and no one said anything about how quiet you were. Maybe they were used to it by now. Maybe they just assumed it was part of your process. But you could feel it bubbling under your skin, that pressure, that buzzing nervous energy that had been following you around since last night. Since you saw your little brother’s excited face and Diana’s unreadable expression.

By the time scrimmage started, your jaw was already tight from clenching it. You took the court without saying much, nodded at Juju as you settled into your spot on the wing, and locked in, or at least, tried to.

The first few minutes were clean. Crisp ball movement, smart reads, a couple of nice buckets. You even hit a pull-up three that made Coach shout “nice shot!” from the sideline, but it barely registered. Because all you could think was, That won’t matter if we lose on Saturday. That won’t matter if I mess up in front of them.

And then, halfway through the scrimmage, it happened.

One of your teammates - a freshman guard - misread a switch on defense. It wasn’t catastrophic. A miscommunication at most. The kind of mistake that happened all the time in practice and usually led to a quick reset or a calm pointer from Coach. But in that moment, something snapped.

“Are you serious?” you barked, turning around sharply. “You have to see that switch. That’s a wide-open three because you weren’t paying attention.”

The gym went quiet for a beat, just the echo of the ball bouncing once before someone caught it. The freshman blinked, clearly startled, opening her mouth to explain but you didn’t give her the chance.

“You want to win a natty or what?” Your voice rose, sharp and clipped. “Because this game, this game against Utah - this is the one. You think we’re gonna walk into March and magically pull it together if we can’t even run a clean switch on a Wednesday? This is the kind of thing that costs you a season. One mistake. One possession.”

Your chest was heaving, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The whole team was staring at you, no one saying anything. A couple girls looked down at their shoes. One of the seniors shifted uncomfortably. And in the silence, the weight of your outburst settled in like dust—too quiet, too much.

Coach finally spoke, voice even but laced with something cautious. “Alright. Take a second. Everybody reset.”

You didn’t move.

Coach looked at you. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine.” You reached for the ball and passed it to the nearest teammate, too forcefully.

Everyone got back into position, but the energy had shifted. Nobody was moving the same way. The pace was slower, tighter. Like everyone was suddenly aware of being watched. Like the trust had cracked and hadn’t fully sealed over yet.

Only Juju stayed near you.

She didn’t say anything at first, just stood by your side at the wing during the next possession, eyes flicking between you and the floor like she was working something out in her head. When the ball stopped again, she leaned in a little, keeping her voice low so only you could hear.

“Hey,” she said gently. “I know you’re trying to carry all of it, but you don’t have to.”

You didn’t look at her.

She tried again. “You’re not alone out here. You never were.”

You forced a smile. “I’m just locked in. That’s all.”

“You’re not locked in,” she said, still soft, still careful. “You’re spinning out.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying to laugh it off. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “You’re not sleeping. You’re barely talking to anyone. And now you’re yelling at freshmen over one blown coverage?”

“I’m not yelling.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Alright.”

You shook your head, trying to make a joke out of it. “Maybe I’m just trying to be more like Coach Taurasi. Gotta keep the legacy alive.”

But Juju didn’t laugh.

She didn’t say anything else either, just kept looking at you like she was trying to see straight through you. And that somehow - this was worse. Because it felt like she could see through you, like all the walls and deflections weren’t enough to cover up how much pressure you were under, how badly you wanted this game to go right, how terrified you were of failing in front of your family. Especially Diana.

It was too much.

“Can you just...” you started, then stopped, then looked at her with more bite than you meant to. “Can you worry about yourself, Ju? I said I’m fine.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t snap back. Didn’t look hurt.

Just nodded once, eyes steady. “Okay.”

And that quiet, calm okay cut deeper than anything else could have. Because she believed you weren’t fine - but she was still giving you space. Still showing up, even when you pushed her away.

You turned back toward the scrimmage, swallowing the lump in your throat, the sting behind your eyes.

Because the truth was, you weren’t fine.

You were unraveling. And you weren’t sure how much longer you could pretend otherwise.

--

ONE DAY UNTIL THE UTAH GAME

Something feels off.

Not in a way you can name. Not in a way you can show. Your jumper still looks clean. You’re getting to your spots. You’re locked in during film. No one would guess anything’s wrong just by looking at you.

But you know.

It’s not nerves exactly. Not excitement either. It’s something heavier. Something slower. Like a low drumbeat under your skin that doesn’t stop. Like everything is a half-second behind even though you’re trying to stay ahead of it.

USC is undefeated. That should settle you. Should make you feel strong, confident. You’re part of something real heading into the last game before winter break. The Galen Center’s gonna be packed tonight. National attention. Ranked game. Everyone’s watching.

You don’t have room to miss tonight. Not after what you told her back in August - If I choose USC, I’ll give you 110%. Every damn game.

It wasn’t just a promise. It was a declaration. A challenge.

So no, you can’t lose. Not in front of her. Not when she’s watching like she used to - analyzing everything. Every decision. Every step. Every second you have the ball in your hands.

It’s not just a game anymore. It’s a test. And you're the one who wrote the syllabus.

You wipe your palms on your shorts, try to ignore the way your breath keeps catching in your throat like it's climbing over something just to get out. It’s not like you can talk about it. Not really.

Not to Coach. Not to the trainers. Not even to your teammates. Because everything on the outside looks fine. Better than fine. You’re averaging double figures. Your minutes are solid. Your defense has improved. You’re getting praise from analysts who used to call you overhyped.

But Penny called last night. Said Diana was watching film. Not just a game. Your game. Said she had notes.

And you knew what that meant.

She’s always done that. She rewatches your performances like they’re case studies. Breaks them down on the phone with military precision. No fluff. No sugar. Just cold, clean basketball logic.

You’ve learned to take it. Learned to breathe through it. But it still hits.

Because she doesn’t ask how you’re feeling. She asks why you missed the read on that backdoor cut. Why you pulled up into a double team. Why your closeout was slow by half a beat. She doesn’t mean it cruelly. That’s just how she loves you. She corrects.

And you love her for it. You do.

But tonight, you’re tired.

Not the kind of tired a nap will fix. The kind that settles in your bones and makes everything feel just a little too loud. The kind that makes your chest tighten when you think about her sitting there, watching with her arms crossed, judging whether or not her legacy was wasted on you.

Because nobody says it outright - but it’s always there.

She’s good. But is she Diana good?

You’ve spent your whole life hearing that question in one form or another. And tonight, you’re scared of the answer.

Juju catches your eye from across the gym. Just a look - subtle, knowing.

She sees you. And maybe that’s what makes your skin feel too tight.

Because Juju’s the type to smile through the chaos. To play free. To let the game come to her like it’s a gift. And you? You’re trying to outrun something invisible. Something that sounds like don’t mess this up. Something that feels like you have to be perfect or what was the point of choosing this?

You think about how Diana will be sitting courtside. You think about the promise you made. And you think about what happens if you come up short.

Juju tosses you a ball. “Wanna run through some sets?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t press. Doesn’t say what she’s probably thinking. But she doesn’t need to. You know she sees it. The stiffness in your shoulders. The way you’ve been chewing the inside of your cheek since this morning. The way your voice got quiet when Coach brought up the game plan for Utah’s zone press.

You’re here. You’re focused. You’re fine.

But she knows the difference between your game face and your real face. And right now, you’re wearing the wrong one.

Still, you run the sets. You make your reads. You talk through the actions. You do everything right.

But something in you is clenched. And you don’t know how to let go.

The sun’s starting to dip outside Galen by the time y’all finish running through sets again. The gym lights stay humming above, buzzing faintly like always. You can hear the faint bounce of a stray ball in the far corner, the shuffle of sneakers from some of the younger girls staying after, but mostly it’s just you and Juju now.

And she’s still watching you. Quietly. Like she’s waiting.

You wipe your face with the bottom of your shirt and grab your water bottle. It’s half-warm, the kind that’s been sitting on the sideline too long. You drink anyway.

“Hey,” Juju says eventually, walking over. Not loud. Just enough.

You glance at her, try to play it easy. “Hey.”

She studies you for a second. Her arms are crossed, one wrist lightly taped from something earlier this week. “You good?”

It’s simple, the way she says it. No edge. No accusation. Just a check-in. Not like you had a freak out yesterday.

You nod. “Yeah.”

She gives you a look that’s all eyebrow, skeptical and soft at once. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” You tack on a grin, crooked and automatic. “Why, you worried about me?”

That gets the smallest snort from her, but she doesn’t drop it. “Nah, I just know when someone’s about to play like they got cinderblocks on their shoes.”

You laugh lightly, trying to shove off the weight of that comment. “That your subtle way of saying I’ve been dragging ass?”

She steps a little closer. Not in a threatening way - Juju's never threatening. She’s just… grounded. Present. “No, it’s my way of saying I’ve been where you are. And it sucks when no one calls it out.”

You look down at your shoes. Scuffed just enough to prove you’ve been working. You press your lips together and shake your head like you're just shaking off sweat. “I’m good, Ju. I promise.”

Juju stays there. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

You know she’s not going anywhere. And something about that makes your skin feel too tight.

“I mean,” you add, trying again, this time with a little more bounce, “we’re undefeated. We’re at home. You’re about to drop twenty-five on Utah’s heads. My family’s here. What could I possibly be stressed about?”

“Stop,” Juju says, but it’s not harsh. It’s soft, almost like she’s telling you to breathe. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

“Do what?”

“That.” She gestures vaguely, hands loose at her sides. “The joking thing. The ‘I’m chill, everything’s fine, I got it’ act. You don’t gotta be Diana 2.0 with me.”

And there it is.

The one thing she wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

You freeze for a beat, something hot flashing in your chest before you even have the words. It’s not her fault. You know that. She doesn’t mean anything by it. But your whole body tenses anyway.

“I’m not doing an act,” you say.

Juju raises both palms. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Your jaw tightens. You don't know why it lands like that. The pressure behind your ribs flares up, sharp and restless.

You pace a little, not even really realizing you are. “I just... look, it’s not that deep. I’ve had a long week. Everyone’s hyped about Utah and I get it, but like… I’m not falling apart or anything. It’s one game.”

Juju watches you closely. Calm. Collected. Still not buying a damn thing.

You sigh through your nose, trying to laugh again. “You really don’t let shit go, huh?”

“Not when I care about it.”

That line lands too hard. You feel it in your teeth.

You turn back to her. “Ju, I’m fine. Seriously.” And then, quieter: “You don’t need to worry about me.”

She tilts her head. “Too late.”

There’s this moment, just a beat of stillness, and it feels like something might break if either of you move.

You snap first.

“Just worry about yourself, Juju,” you say, voice sharp - sharper than you mean it, but you don’t stop it either. “I’m fine, alright? Just drop it.”

It echoes louder in the gym than it should.

A few heads turn from across the court, curious but not too interested. You immediately regret raising your voice, but you’re too far in now.

Juju just blinks once. Then nods. Not upset. Not hurt.

She takes it in like she expected it. Like she understands.

“Okay,” she says softly. “Okay.”

You exhale hard, like you’re trying to burn it off.

But it doesn’t leave you. It just simmers in your chest, guilt and heat tangled up like a knot. She doesn’t walk away. She just picks up her ball and starts dribbling slowly toward the sideline.

And you watch her, feeling every inch of your tension suddenly coil tighter instead of loosening.

Because the thing is - she wasn’t wrong.

You are off. You are feeling it more than you want to admit. And she was trying to help.

But the idea of letting someone help you right now? Of admitting out loud that you’re not okay, that all the weight in your chest is actually starting to mess with your game, that you’re scared of failing in front of the entire country, in front of your family?

It feels impossible.

You sit down at the end of the bench, elbows on your knees, trying to find a breath that feels deep enough. But they all feel shallow.

Juju bounces the ball behind her back. Shoots a lazy three. Swish.

She doesn’t look at you again. Not out of spite.

Just giving you the space you think you want.

And for some reason, that makes your throat burn worse than anything else.

--

The locker room smells like sweat and eucalyptus muscle rub, that familiar post-practice haze hanging thick in the air. You’re not there - you left early, a quick muttered excuse to Coach about needing to ice your knee, even though both of you knew that wasn’t the real reason. The tension had gotten too thick, your voice too thin, and something in you had started to splinter at the edges. So you left. Grabbed your bag and ducked out before anyone could stop you.

But the rest of the team stayed. Some hit the showers, others sprawled out across the benches, still in their socks and compression sleeves. The mood is lighter now, the way it always gets after the grind is over and endorphins start to do their job. Someone’s playing music low from a phone speaker. A couple girls are teasing each other about missed layups and tangled ponytails. Laughing. Loose.

Until the topic shifts.

“Yo, was she okay today?” Kennedy asks, only half-innocent, towel draped over her shoulder. “She looked like she was gonna pop a blood vessel when Coach brought up Utah’s press.”

“She did pop a blood vessel,” Bree snorts, unlacing her sneakers. “Swear I saw it happen. One second she’s normal, the next she’s barking like Coach took her scholarship or something.”

There’s laughter. Loud, harmless in tone, but sharp if you’re listening close enough.

And Juju is listening.

She’s sitting on the bench across from them, quiet, towel around her neck, earbuds looped around her collarbone but not in her ears. She hasn’t said anything yet. Not since practice ended. Not since you left.

“I mean, I get it,” Kennedy continues, like she’s just filling air. “Pressure’s getting to her or whatever. But damn. Girl’s unraveling like an cheap sweater.”

That one gets a laugh too. Juju doesn’t join in.

Instead, something flickers behind her eyes. Not anger - not yet. Just… awareness. A tension drawing up the line of her spine.

“She’s not unraveling,” she says finally, and it’s quiet, but not uncertain.

The room softens a little, like it knows that voice. Juju doesn’t raise it often, but when she does, people listen.

Bree blinks. “I mean, she kinda is.”

“She’s had a bad week,” Juju replies, evenly. “That doesn’t mean she’s falling apart.”

“Okay, but you gotta admit-”

“No,” Juju cuts in, sharper this time. “I don’t have to admit anything.”

Now there’s a shift. Bare legs go still. Water bottles pause mid-sip. Kennedy quirks a brow, not defensive yet, just surprised. Juju almost never pushes back like this.

“She didn’t yell because she’s some ticking time bomb,” Juju says, standing now, towel forgotten on the bench. “She yelled because she’s under pressure and no one’s really been checking on her for real. And yeah, it wasn’t cool. But it also wasn’t some unforgivable thing. Y’all are acting like she spit on the Trojan logo.”

There’s a beat of silence, awkward and heavy.

“I’m just saying,” Bree offers, slower now, “it’s not that deep. We’re just talking.”

Juju crosses her arms. “Then maybe talk like teammates, not commentators. This isn’t some Twitter thread. That girl shows up to every practice, every lift, every film session. She works her ass off. She’s not out here slacking or starting fights or acting like she’s better than anyone.”

“She yelled at you, though,” Naya points out, voice more tentative now. “Aren’t you, like… mad?”

Juju shakes her head, jaw tight. “No. Because I know it wasn’t really about me and because I’m not gonna sit here and clown someone who’s clearly struggling just because it’s easier than asking what’s wrong.”

That one lands. Hard.

A few girls drop their gazes, suddenly busy with shoelaces or their phones.

Kennedy tries to lighten it again, maybe to save face. “Damn, Ju. Didn’t know you were out here defending her honor like that.”

Bree smirks. “Lowkey romantic.”

“Shut up,” Juju mutters, but it’s too late.

The comments spiral just a little. All in good fun, or so they claim.

“Is this, like, a thing?” someone teases.

“She yours now?”

“Gotta admit, the tension was kinda sexy-”

Juju doesn’t respond.

Because in the space between those jokes, something cold and startling is creeping up her spine. A realization. One she’s tried to ignore all week. Maybe longer.

She’s not just mad at them for the way they talked about you. She’s mad because it made her want to protect you.

And not in the team captain, ride-or-die, squad-unity kind of way.

It’s… softer than that. And messier. The kind of thing she doesn’t let herself feel, especially not about you. You, with your sharp game face and the way you never ask for help. You, who sniped at her like she was the problem. You, who left the gym with your shoulders drawn tight like a bowstring.

You, who she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about.

Not since the second you looked at her like she’d seen too much.

She swallows hard, pushing that thought deep down into her chest like it doesn’t matter. Like it’s not new and terrifying.

“Nah,” she says finally, forcing a smirk as she grabs her slides. “Y’all are stupid. I’m just not cool with teammates talking shit, that’s all.”

“Mm-hm,” Bree hums, unconvinced but willing to let it go.

Juju heads toward the showers, but the air feels heavier now, like the room shifted in a way no one wants to acknowledge.

She keeps walking, jaw tight, heart pounding against her ribs like it’s begging her to admit something. Something she’s not ready for.

She’s not in love with you. She’s not.

She just cares. She just… sees you. That’s all.

But the echo of your voice, the way it cracked when you told her to drop it, the way you couldn’t look her in the eye, it sticks. And she knows.

If she keeps caring like this, she’s going to have to deal with what that means.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she lets the water run hot over her face until the locker room clears, and she doesn't let herself think about the way she wanted to reach for you and say something she’s never said out loud.

Not yet.

--

GAME DAY

You wake up on game day before your alarm even has a chance to buzz. It's not nerves, exactly. It’s something else, something heavier. You lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling of your dorm, sheets kicked down past your ankles, that pressure sitting on your chest like it's been waiting all night to smother you.

It’s the Utah game. Big one. Eyes-on-it kind of big.

Your phone lights up with team messages. Graphics with your faces. Hype videos. “Let’s eat today.” “Showtime.” You double-tap a few, type a half-hearted Let’s gooo, and toss the phone to the side.

No one knows how close you are to losing it.

You’ve been spiraling all week. You know it. The outburst in practice, the early exits, the way you’ve been tiptoeing around Juju like something broke and neither of you knows how to fix it. But today isn’t about that.

Today is about pretending.

You pull on your uniform like armor. Tape your wrists tighter than usual, like it'll keep the insides from leaking out. You tell yourself you’ll be the version of you that everybody expects - the one on all the posters, with the clean stat lines and the smart passes. The leader. The jokester. The one who flips the switch and makes magic happen under pressure.

The cameras are already around by the time you walk into the arena. The lighting’s too bright. The buzz in the gym is loud, even with just warmups going. Your team trickles into the locker room, talking fast, energy vibrating off the walls.

You walk in with a grin pasted on.

“You ladies ready to go viral?” you crack, winking at one of the freshmen.

They laugh. It’s easy. Too easy.

Coach says a few words, gives the scouting recap, says Utah’s going to press early, play hard, try to get in our heads. No surprise. You nod along like you’re locked in. You can feel Juju watching you from the opposite bench. You haven’t really spoken to her since practice. Not about it, anyway.

But you feel her eyes like heat on your cheek. You don’t look.

When Coach asks if anyone has anything to say, everyone turns to you. Like they always do.

You stand. Blow out a breath. Clap your hands.

“Alight, listen up.” You shift your weight from one foot to the other, exaggerating your usual bravado. “They’ve been talking about this game all damn week. About how Utah’s supposed to have this ‘elite defense’ and how they’re gonna take us out at home. But they forgot one thing.”

You pause for dramatic effect, raising your brows. “We’re them.”

The girls laugh, a couple whistles. You keep going.

“Every single person in this room earned their spot. They don’t hand out these jerseys. They don’t give us cameras because we’re cute, they give us cameras cause we can hoop.”

More nods. More little hums of agreement. You’re working them now.

“So I don’t care who they got on that bench. I don’t care how loud their fans are. I don’t care if I gotta put my body on the line - if we all do this together, they’re not walking out of here with a win.”

You finish with a loud clap, a bark of “LET’S GO” that echoes off the walls.

It works. They erupt, bumping shoulders, hyping each other up. And when you sit back down, you smile like your heart isn’t pounding out of rhythm in your chest.

Juju’s still looking at you.

You give her a crooked grin and say, “Don’t worry. I got my head on straight.”

But that’s a lie.

Because the second the game tips off, you realize how off you feel.

Your legs feel heavy. Like running through sand. The timing’s just… wrong. You’re late on rotations. You’re rushing passes. You hesitate on open shots, second-guessing yourself when you usually play by instinct.

Juju gives you that look, that small, subtle “you good?” glance after a clumsy turnover in the second quarter. You nod too fast.

She doesn't believe you.

And the rhythm between you, the one that’s usually automatic, starts to crack. Passes come a second too late. Cuts are missed. On a backdoor play you’ve run together a hundred times, you pull up when she expects you to drive. The ball bounces out of bounds.

You hear the crowd murmur. The announcers probably already crafting the narrative.

You, unraveling. The second coming of Taurasi, unraveling under real pressure?

Utah plays rough. They’re built for that. Physical and fast and annoying as hell. You get bumped more than usual, slapped across the arm, tugged off balance. But you don’t complain. You play through it. Until you stop playing smart.

You go for a charge when you shouldn’t. Reach in when you’re already off-balance. You start playing angry, and that’s not your game. That’s never been your game.

Fourth quarter. Four minutes left. Tight score.

You're chasing a Utah guard on a drive - number twelve, the one who’s been talking shit all game. You try to body her up, but you’re off-angle. You go high when you should’ve gone low. Your elbow flies. There’s contact.

And then there’s the crack.

It’s not bone, not anything serious - at least, not in the way it should be. It’s the crunch of cartilage and pressure, the sudden burn in your nose, and then the warmth. That kind of warmth that only means one thing. It drips before you can process it. A fat, wet drop splashes onto your jersey, right over your number. Then another. And another.

You're bleeding.

“Ref,” someone yells. It might be Juju. It might be the Utah bench. You’re not sure because the ringing in your ears has started.

You blink. Blood trickles from your nose down your lip, catches on the corner of your mouth. You wipe it with the back of your hand, smear it across your face and onto your sleeve. You don’t even realize it until a teammate grabs you - Kiki, maybe and says something about a sub, about getting looked at, about, “You’re bleeding, you’re bleeding.”

You shake your head. You wave them off.

“I’m fine,” you say. Your voice is hoarse and too loud. “I’m fine.”

You're not.

You're dizzy. You can feel the heartbeat in your nose, like a drumbeat behind your eyes. The blood keeps coming. The official calls for a trainer. You try to brush it off, plead with the coach, but she’s already signaling to the bench. Juju’s up before you can say anything.

And then there’s chaos.

You're walking off, jaw clenched, still trying to convince yourself this isn’t a big deal - that it’s just a nosebleed, not the end of the world. But you see Juju stop mid-play, pivot toward number twelve and let her have it. You don’t hear every word, but her tone cuts through everything else - sharp, furious.

“That’s how you play? That’s who you are?” she snaps, and the ref gets between them before it escalates.

The crowd is roaring. The Utah player is yelling back. Juju is still barking. It’s loud and hot and frantic and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe.

You slump down on the bench, and someone tosses you a towel. You press it hard against your face, not gently - rough, punishing, like maybe you can make it all go away if you press hard enough. You don’t want to cry. You won’t cry. But your vision is already blurry. Your throat is tight. You’re swallowing fast and hard, like that’ll keep everything inside.

The trainer says something, but you don't completely register it.

“You need stitches.”

“I said I’m fine.”

You’re watching Juju argue from the sidelines, watching her swing on defense and hustle for the ball and throw you these quick, panicked glances like she wants to come to you, but she won’t let herself. You want to meet her halfway. You want to be okay. But you’re not.

You’re spiraling.

The game presses on. You keep the towel pressed to your face. You nod at the coaches like you’re paying attention but you're not absorbing anything. Every time your eyes flick up to the scoreboard, your stomach drops. Two minutes. Then one. You're still on the bench. Blood on your shorts. Blood in your mouth.

The buzzer sounds.

Final score: Utah 84. You: 82.

You don't even remember the last play.

The crowd erupts for them. Cheers and celebration and Utah players rushing the court. Confetti falls. Cameras flash. You sit on the bench like a statue, still holding the blood-soaked towel to your nose, which has finally stopped bleeding but somehow still aches.

It hits you all at once.

You lost.

Because of you.

You should’ve played through it. You should’ve insisted harder. You should’ve been smarter - lower on defense, tighter with your arms, better with your body. You should’ve never let her get the drive. Never let her get in your head.

You start to tremble.

Your chest seizes. Your throat closes. Your vision blurs, not from blood this time but from the tears that you’ve been holding back for what feels like the entire game, the entire week, the entire season. Maybe your entire life. You don’t blink. If you blink, they’ll fall. If they fall, it’s over.

You stand. Your legs are wobbly, but you start walking away from the bench, away from your team, away from the noise and the lights and the confusion. You don’t know where you’re going, only that you need to move. If you stay, you’re going to lose it in front of everyone. And that can’t happen. Not again.

Down the tunnel.

Past the locker room.

Into the first empty hallway you can find.

You press your back to the cold cement wall and let yourself slide down it until you’re sitting, knees to your chest. You bury your face in your hands - still sticky with blood, you can smell it and that’s when it happens.

The unraveling.

It starts with the shaking. Your hands first, then your arms, then your whole body. You can’t stop it. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. You try to take a deep one, but it catches halfway, turns into a sob. You bite your fist. You try to muffle the sound. It’s no use.

Your heart is pounding like it’s trying to break through your chest. You’re sweating but freezing. Your ears ring, and your vision dims at the edges.

This is your fault.

You let a nosebleed ruin the game.

You let your team down.

You let yourself down.

You’re the reason they lost.

You’re the reason the cameras caught Juju yelling and Diana losing her mind and the entire game spinning out like a car on black ice.

You press your head to your knees and try to disappear. You want to crawl out of your skin. You want to rewind time. You want to vanish. You want to scream. All of it. Everything. All at once.

It’s not just about this game.

It’s about every game. Every practice. Every comment.

Every moment this week where you haven’t felt good enough. Haven’t felt like you. You’ve been pretending - acting like you're fine, like you're focused, like you belong. But the cracks are showing now. You're not holding it together anymore.

What if this was a mistake? What if everyone was right - you are just Diana 2.0, that’s all you are. That's all you’ll ever be. You should’ve just listened to Diana, went to UConn. Did you really think you’d ever be something outside of the Taurasi name?

You're spiraling.

You try to count your breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four.

It doesn’t help.

The floor feels like it’s spinning underneath you. The hallway is too quiet. You can hear the echo of your breath and the shaking in your limbs and the sob that rips out of your throat when you finally give up trying to hold it in.

You feel pathetic.

You feel like a failure.

You feel like if you sit here long enough, maybe no one will find you. Maybe they’ll forget you. Maybe that’s easier than facing what just happened.

But then, faintly, you hear footsteps.

Voices.

Someone’s calling your name.

You flinch.

You pull your hoodie over your head, press your back harder against the wall, as if it’ll swallow you whole. You’re not ready to be seen. You’re not ready for Juju or Diana or the coaches or anyone. You’re not ready for the sympathy or the disappointment or the “you did your best” lies.

You just want to be alone.

So you stay still.

You close your eyes.

You let the world keep spinning without you, heart still thudding in your ears, chest still caving in on itself, and for the first time in a long time - you let yourself fall apart completely, completely unravel.

The second Juju turns that corner and sees you - crumpled on the floor, hoodie over your head, body shaking like a leaf in the wind - something inside her breaks. This wasn’t the girl she knew back in October, in the beginning of the season.

She doesn’t think. She moves.

She drops to her knees beside you like gravity pulled her there, like the weight of how much she cares knocked her flat. And she doesn’t even hesitate - doesn’t ask, doesn’t pause, just reaches for you, arms open and steady.

“Hey,” she whispers, soft and warm and everything you need. “Hey, I got you. I got you, okay?”

At first, you flinch. Like you think you’re not allowed to be touched right now. Like you think you're not deserving of comfort. But Juju doesn’t pull back. She stays there, solid as ever even when you shake your head, even when you try to apologize through the tears that won’t stop.

“No,” she says, her voice firmer this time. “No, it’s not your fault.”

She says it again.

And again.

Until she feels your fists uncurl just a little.

Until your head drops against her shoulder.

Until your breath starts to hitch instead of sob.

“You didn’t lose that game,” she tells you, pressing her cheek to the side of your head. “A nosebleed didn’t lose that game. We win as a team, we lose as a team. That’s the deal. You don’t carry this alone.”

Your hands are clutching the front of her jersey like it’s the only thing tethering you to the world.

Juju tightens her arms around you. Keeps you there. Keeps talking, soft and steady, because she knows if she stops, you'll spiral again.

“Your mom doesn’t hate you,” she murmurs. “Diana is probably tearing the refs a new one right now, not thinking for a second that this was on you. She’s your mom. She loves you. She just... she gets intense. You know that. But you didn’t let her down. You didn’t let anyone down.”

You’re shaking again. She holds you closer.

“And USC doesn’t hate you,” she says, more fiercely now. “They love you. We love you. No one’s looking at you thinking, ‘wow, she blew it.’ We’re thinking you gave everything until your face bled and you still wanted to play. You never quit. That’s what we see. That’s what I see.”

Your breath stutters. Slows. Not normal yet, not easy but enough that Juju can feel your weight starting to shift, starting to relax into her.

And God - Juju doesn’t even realize how tightly her chest has been wound until this moment. Until you melt against her like you're finally letting go. Like all month you’ve been carrying this pressure, this legacy, this image you think you have to live up to, and now - finally, it slips a little. You let her take some of it. You let yourself be held.

And Juju’s heart? It soars.

She strokes your back, slow and rhythmic, grounding you with each pass of her hand.

Because you’re not just Diana Taurasi’s daughter, and you’re not just some phenom dropped into the starting lineup with too many expectations stitched into the seams of your jersey.

You’re you.

The girl who wears her headphones too loud and eats all the hot fries before anyone else can get to them. The one who texts Juju memes at 2 a.m. even when they’re rooming two doors down. The one who overanalyzes film and underestimates herself, despite the overconfident exterior she tries to uphold.

You’re not trying to take Juju’s spot.

You’re just trying to survive it all.

And for the first time - she sees it.

Not the image. Not the pressure. Not the competition.

You.

You, with your bleeding nose and your bloodshot eyes and your whole heart on your sleeve.

You, who are still so soft under all that armor.

You, who let yourself fall apart in front of her and maybe that’s the most honest thing you’ve done all month.

Juju holds you like she means it. Because she does.

She presses her forehead gently to yours and lets the silence stretch, warm and safe.

You’re not saying anything now. You’re too tired to think, too wrung out to speak. But you’re still here. You haven’t pulled away.

You’re not some perfect little legacy player sent to outshine her. And Juju - well, she wants to protect you.

Not because you’re weak. But because you're finally letting someone in. And because she knows what it’s like to try and be everything for everyone and still feel like it's never enough.

So she stays.

She holds you like the world isn’t spinning, like this hallway is the only place that matters.

And even when your breathing evens out and your body stops trembling and your death grip on her jersey loosens, she still doesn’t let go.

Because for the first time all month, you’re letting her carry some of it.

And Juju’s not going to drop you.

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

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

Is this... real life???

give it to me Rachel, give it to me please

not writing snooze until dallas wins a game

Doodle (because i forgot how to draw)

My wish for all my favorite characters

RAHHHHHHH

AFTER THE STORM

camp counselor!Paige x camp counselor!reader In which reader is forced to spend a summer bunking up with Paige Bueckers, very quickly realising how annoyingly charming she seemed to be, having everyone else wrapped around her finger. But as time goes on, Paige seems to grow on the reader - all culminating in a shared night in a cozy tent and forced proximity.

Warnings: smut (oral & fingering, outdoors), language, enemies to lovers, plot Wordcount: 8.2K A/C: enjoy this while i work on the next parts of So It Goes :) have a good summer everyone!

-

The very first moment you met Paige Bueckers you knew you didn’t like her. You didn’t like much of anything about this situation you’d been forced in. Summer spent amongst pine trees and mosquitoes, looking after preteens was a far call from the hopes of parties and yachts. The three rowboats on the lake could not make up for that. But for the sake of your scholarship for college, you were willing to sacrifice a lot. Even your entire summer.

You’ll give it to her, she was disarming - that lopsided grin and those sparkling blue eyes. She had everyone wrapped around your finger, making the group of college kids easily laugh with her sarcastic comments as the supervisor was offering a safety briefing to all the counselors on the night before what would be a long month.

“Kids aren’t allowed any sharp objects in their cabins-”

“Oh, shoot, there goes my plan with these knives I brought with me,” Paige groans jokingly and begins to dig through her backpack. A chorus of laughter and chuckling fills the room, making the blonde girl smile to herself arrogantly. Like she was expecting it. You didn’t like that. She tried too hard for your liking

What you liked less was when you found that you would be sharing a room for the next four weeks with her. 

“And you two will be staying in this one,” the supervisor unlocks an oak door into a wooden cabin divided into multiple rooms. You stand behind Paige, who’s already peeking inside, heaving her bags onto the table.

As you struggle up the front steps with the overpacked suitcase, the blonde is quick to hurry to you, wordlessly snatching the bag from your hands and carrying it up. The muscles of her arms and back are carved in the moonlight as you follow annoyed. You could’ve easily gotten them up the stairs yourself. Besides, she could’ve asked. Could’ve introduced herself. But she seemed to have introduced herself to everyone but you.

“You know I coulda got that,” you say as the wind slams the door shut behind you. It might’ve been summer but not quite as warm as you hoped for. Although, maybe it was a blessing. This cabin did not seem to have AC.

“Sure princess,” Paige mumbles, the unwelcomed nickname only egging you on further. Who does she think she is?

You follow with your arms crossed as Paige looks around the small, dim room, checking every nook and drawer. It smells like pine and summer, but also a hint of a cologne that must be coming from the girl. She seems to be looking everywhere but at you, blue eyes scanning around. There’s a gnawing in your stomach, a twist. You wish she would at least look at you. I mean it’s the polite thing to do.

“Top or bottom?”

Your brows raise in shock as you take in her words. “Huh?”

She lets out a dry laugh that reminds you of the boys at frat parties, heaving her back onto the top bunk. She seemed to have decided for herself. Ignoring her, you grab some pajamas from your bag and hurry into the bathroom. It was time to wash the day off and prepare for the early morning tomorrow, for when the kids would arrive. 

But as you open the bathroom door, your toiletry bag crashes to the floor with a loud slam. There’s a spider, roaming all over the sink, easily the size of your fist.

“You okay?” Paige is quick to get up and peek from behind your shoulder to find what’s got you so distressed. Turning around, you bury your face into your hands to try and shake the image out of your head. You hated spiders.

“Spider,” is all you can muster up, walking out of the bathroom. The blonde lets out a chuckle, watching you closely.

“Dude, it’s just a bug,” she laughs. You notice she’s taken off her shirt, now in only a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra. To your surprise her arms seem to be big and strong, shoulders much wider than you expected. Realising your staring, your eyes flutter away as your cheeks turn red.

“Why is there a spider in the bathroom?” You groan.

Paige chuckles. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. This ain’t the last spider you’re gonna see.”

With a chill you let out a heavy sigh, your head spinning. The blonde looks at you, grabs a magazine and a cup and returns to the bathroom. “I got it,” she mumbles, small squeals coming out of her mouth as she takes the spider outside.

You hated it. She just called you a princess not more than 15 minutes ago and already you were proving her right. It’s true that you were more of a city girl, but this annoying stranger you were forced to spend your summer with didn’t have to know that.

“All done princess,” she grins as she enters the cabin, closing the door behind her. You want to tell her to stop calling you that, but somehow you knew it would only encourage her.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone and curl into bed. No Wifi. Great. Curling to your side, you bury your face into the flat pillow. This would be a long month.

Little did you know it only got worse.  

Within the first week you were enlightened to the fact that you were more of a city girl than you ever realised. Paige, to your demise, seemed to have picked up on this very faster than you. The blonde seemed to find every moment to point this out - not with words necessarily but with that smug grin and always offering her help when she saw you struggling. You knew it wasn’t out of kindness. She liked how humiliated you felt. How your ears turned burning red at the nicknames, and how you huffed when she asked that God forbidden question.

“You need some help, princess?” 

You’re standing in the middle of what the others called a “path” in the woods, winding in two different directions. One leading to the lake, the other to the cabins. The tall trees surrounded you, every rock looked the same. Truthfully, you had no idea which direction to take and the sleep deprivation wasn’t helping.

Turns out the woods were loud, even at night. The birds woke up inhumanely early and of course, Paige snored. Not loudly, but enough to keep you up. On top of everything, you had a surprise intervention at 3am the previous night with a group of girls who had decided to sneak out and go for a night swim. All you wanted was to get to your cabin and go to sleep on your thin, uncomfortable bed.

“Are you following me?” You huff frustratedly, watching Paige swat her leg at a mosquito. She lets out a hearty laugh, walking past you without answering.

“Hello? I’m talking to you,” you repeat, crossing your arms over your chest. She turns around to face you. that oh so familiar grin on her face that said she’s got you right where she wanted - frustrated.

“I heard,” she answers, raising her brows. “You look lost.”

“I’m not.” A complete lie. 

“Suit yourself,” she grins, pulling up her hood and striding towards the path curving right.

“Where are you going?” You ask, thinking of any sneaky way you could figure out which was the right path to the cabins. 

“To the lake,” Paige shrugs. “Kids wanna go rowing so I’ma take them.”

“After last night?” You exclaim. Another problem you had ran into - you and Paige had entirely different counseling styles, forcing you to be the fussy, strict one allowing her to be the fun one. All the kids adored her, basically ran after like puppies to get to spend time with her. Much like the other counselors. You weren’t buying the act though.

“Whatchu mean?”

You roll your eyes. “They sneaked out and you’re rewarding them?”

“Oh trust, there was nothing rewarding about that speech you gave em,” she groans.

“Paige!” You complain, “seriously?”

”Oh come on,” she grins, nodding her head towards the direction of the lake. ”Come with us.”

”No thank you,” you groan without even considering, and turn to the path on the left hoping it’ll take you to the cabins.

”Fine, go mope around like you have all week,” Paige yells after you, Frustrated, you stomp all the way to the door of your shared room, fuming. She’s so infuriating. Worst of all, she is so damn charming she had everybody wrapped around her fingers. 

You slam the door behind yourself, throwing yourself onto the bed, hitting your toe on the frame. Groaning out loud, a sharp pain shoots through your body only angering you more. Every little word she said made you livid. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her hoarse voice, that laugh, those blue eyes. Paige Bueckers made you furious.

But you couldn’t let her win. No way. She doesn’t get to. How dare she suggest you’ve been moping around? Changing into a bikini and throwing a pair of denim shorts and a sweater on you hurry out. That’ll show her.

Before thinking it through, you’re jogging through the woods towards the lake (or at least you hoped so). The smell of the water hit you first, and you knew you were close when you heard Paige making the group of kids laugh on the shore, helping them push two row boats into the water.

”Don’t forget your life vests,” you remind the group as you emerge from the woods, swatting mosquitoes off your arms. ”And I brought bug spray.”

To your shock Paige’s eyes widen, and then sparkle excitedly in the late afternoon sun, still warm on your skin.

”Yeah, she’s right. Go get the vests y’all,” Paige smiles, pointing the kids to the sheds. She’s left standing in the shallow water, holding onto the rowboats.

”You came,” she says with a tone of surprise.

You walk by her, shoulder touching hers as you do. An immediate spark, felt by you both according to the way your eyes meet for just a moment.

”I’m not moping,” you tell her matter of factly, and hop into the rowboat. Leaving the girl grinning, the kids pile into them as well. Paige takes a seat next to you in the middle and grabs the rows.

”You wanna try?” She asks you, offering them to you. ”I can teach you.”

”What makes you think I don’t know how to row?”

She looks you up and down, meeting your eyes. ”I can tell.”

”How?” You ask as she begins to row the boat toward deeper waters, taking her time. You can’t ignore the way her jaw clenches, and how the muscles on her arms grow more prominent as she does so. You’re not sure why it made your stomach stir.

”I just can tell you didn’t grow up on a lake,” she says like it means something else but you’re not sure what. Either way, you’re a little offended. Though she’s right.

”I’m more of a pool girl,” you admit, reaching over and running your fingers along the water. It’s surprisingly cold, goosebumps rising on your skin as result. Or maybe because your bare leg brushes against Paige’s.

”’Course you did princess.”

Before you can protest the nickname, the three boys in your boat point at the girls, about 10 feet ahead.

”Paige!! They’re winning!!” One of them, Caleb, complains.

”We’re so cooked, we’re losing,” the other groans, shaking his head.

The girls in the second boat giggle, waving at us. You laugh too, noticing a spark in Paige’s eye.

”Ain’t no way,” she chuckles, beginning to row furiously. ”That I’m losing to some ten year olds!”

Her voice echoes around the lake, making the girls squeal and row more furiously. 

”We’re twelve!”

”Big difference!” You yell after them as you gain speed, Paige huffing and sweat trickling down her neck as she rows faster.

-

”I can’t believe we lost,” Caleb mumbles, jumping off the boat back onto the shore. You’re still sitting on the boat as Paige pulls it onto the sand and offers you a hand to help you out. Stubborn as you are, you ignore it, jumping out without help and nearly falling face first into the water. Cheeks red, you watch that stupid arrogant grin spread onto the blonde’s face once more.

The sun has begun to set, painting the sky orange and pink. But the kids seem far from tired, splashing the water all over each other.

“Can we swim just for a bit. Pleaseeeee,” One of the kids, Clara, pleads with you and Paige. Glancing at each other, the blonde pulls off her hoodie to reveal a black bikini top underneath.

“I could go for a swim, I’m sweaty as fuck- oh I mean frick.”

The kids all laugh, and for the first time in a week you chuckle too. This seems to take the blonde by surprise, but she doesn’t comment or push. Simply looks at you.

“Okay, go swim,” you smile. “But shower after everyone. I don’t wanna find beds full of sand.”

With laughter, the kids run in the water, taking turns jumping off the pier. Paige does too, taking turns throwing them into the lake. You watch the horizon as the sun sets, the golden light engraving the memory into your brain. Paige’s hair dripping water down her muscular back, the black swim trunks hanging low on her hips.

Suddenly the blonde is walking towards you, holding her long arms out. By the smile on her face you can already tell what she’s thinking.

“Nuh uh, not happening,” you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“C’mon, live a little,” she complains. “I thought you weren’t moping hm?”

That does it. In seconds, you’ve pulled off your clothes and are walking on the pier in your pink bikini with the blonde at your heels.

“Look! Look!” Ryan, one of the boys screams before doing a backflip into the water. You laugh, dipping your toes in. 

“It’s so cold,” you whine. “And murky, what if there’s sharks. Or big fish.”

But as you turn to Paige, you notice her blue eyes scanning your body, and you swear she was staring at your ass. You must’ve imagined it.

“Paige?”

“Uh- what? Uh sharks. No sharks,” she mumbles, quickly averting her eyes.

“I dunno, it’s cold,” you complain.

“As frick?” Caleb asks. Everyone laughs.

“You can swim right?” Paige asks.

“Of course I can sw-”

Before you can finish your sentence, her clammy hands have pushed you in. The shock of the water hits you, but it’s not nearly as cold as you thought it would be. Rising back above the surface, you hear laughter surrounding you.

“I’m gonna kill you Bueckers,” you scream, brushing your wet hair back.

“Oh bet,” she chuckles before jumping after you, causing a big splash which wets your face again.

“Oh my gosh,” you squeal, wiping your face. Beginning to swim towards the shore, Paige follows after you, splashing you with water. “Stop!”

“Make me,” she grins. You splash her too, but she dodges. Frustrated, you do it again and this time it hits her face perfectly. As you’re about to slam the water again, she dives into the murky water, disappearing from sight.

You look around for any sign of Paige, only to let out a scream when her big hands come to your waist, surprising you and squeezing.

“Stop,” you giggle, your toes finally reaching the sandy floor.

“Tell me I win,” she smirks, tickling your sides.

Laughing, you push her by her chest but she won’t budge. She’s far too strong, holding onto you with ease.

“Okay, fine, fine, you win,” you say breathlessly, and she finally stops squeezing your sensitive sides. Her hands however linger for longer than necessary, running down to your hips before letting go, leaving you tingling.

“You,” you start, still trying to catch your breath. “Are the most annoying person I ever met.”

“I’ll take it,” she shrugs easily.

-

Slowly, as time went on you learned to tolerate Paige. You bickered like an old married couple, sure. She really knew how to push your buttons, getting some sort of sick satisfaction from getting on your nerves. It’s not like you liked her, but you were starting to see why she had everyone so charmed.

“How much longer?” One of the girls complains, swinging her water bottle. 

“Ana, we’ve been walking for twenty minutes,” Jess, one of the other counselors laughs. Today’s activity was a hike, which had not been a hit with the kids. The point was for them to identify as many plants, bugs, birds and trees as they could on the way up the mountain trail. 

“Can we take a break?” Caleb whines, walking beside Paige and holding a stick.

“I had a lil more faith in y’all,” Paige chuckles ruffling the young boy’s hair affectionately. You walk a little behind, eyes on the blonde’s low ponytail swinging in the breeze. It was the perfect day for a hike. A little cloudy, the sun peeking out here and there to greet yoy just to disappear again. 

Falling behind a little bit, you hurry toward the girl, eyes locked on her when, as if out of nowhere, a thick root emerges from the ground and as result you take a misstep.

“Ow!” A yelp leaves your lips, making everyone snap their heads toward your direction. A sharp pain makes your eyes squeeze shut, as you hop onto a large rock, hissing with pain each time you put any weight on your right ankle.

“You okay?” Paige is the first to ask, rushing over. She kneels in front of you, brows furrowed and eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” you hiss, though the pain persists. The girl holds your ankle with caring hands, moving it around until a sharp jolt shoots through your body and you yelp once more. 

“She rolled her ankle,” she tells the others as you attempt to stand back up.

“I’m fine,” you mumble stubbornly, but immediately stumble trying to put weight on it. Paige grabs hold of you. Great. Not only would you not be able to hike, but there was no way you were making it back on your own.

“I’ma take her back,” Paige asks as if reading your mind, without consulting you. As always.

Some of the kids let out disappointed groans. Paige was definitely the favourite even with the kids.

“No,” you resist, sitting back down on the rock. “I’ll wait here. It’s fine.”

Paige snorts, shaking her head. “It’s an eight hour hike. Prolly closer to ten with these ones. I’m taking you back.”

“But-”

“I’m taking you back. End of story.”

And that’s the conversation done. You could see it in her eyes, determined and feisty. Without asking, she wraps your arm around her shoulders, helping you up. The blush on your cheeks forces your eyes to flicker down, not needing her to see the effect her touch had on you. Her skin felt smooth and sticky with sunscreen, arms strong as you both wave bye to the group.

“That better?” She asks, her fingers digging into your side. With each step she carries your weight, bringing relief to your ankle that was beginning to swell.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumble, embarrassed. You feel awkward and clumsy, pressed into her side like this. It was the damn woods. It was bringing out the worst in you. Part of you wished you had met Paige back home, where you were graceful and pleasant. Not here, amongst the mosquitoes and the pine trees and the spiders and no wifi. It made you irritated and moody. It felt bothersome that she couldn’t see you in your element, just as charming as she was. Though you weren’t sure why it bothered you so much.

“You don’t like the woods much huh?” She asks, helping you limp down the trail slow as snails.

“Nope,” you hiss, wanting to curse every single tree and rock in this entire forest.

Paige chuckles, her blue eyes boring into you. “Then why’d you even come here if you’re so miserable?”

Feeling bashful under her gaze, you had no other chance but to be honest. “My scholarship. It was either this or picking up trash. Guess I picked wrong.”

“Oh it’s not that bad,” she says. “You got to meet me.”

“How could I forget,” you answer dryly, making Paige laugh. 

“I’m not that bad,” she mumbles, smiling down at you. The limping was becoming increasingly difficult, even the lightest step making you hiss in pain.

“Hurts that much huh?” She asks. You merely nod, trying to focus on the destination rather than how long the trip down would take. “Alright, c’mon.”

With that, she scoops you up into her arms like you weigh nothing. Butterflies erupt deep in your abdomen, your arm wrapping around the back of her neck.

“Paige,” you complain. “I weigh too much.”

“You’re kidding, have some faith in me,” she laughs, carrying you down the trail with ease. “Light as a feather.”

The rest of the way you spend in silence, only interrupted by the birds fluttering from one tree to another, chirping as they do. Most of it because you’re unable to talk, far too flustered and confused by the feelings stirring inside you as she carries you in her strong, sure arms all the way to your shared room.

“There you go princess,” her breath is hot, tickling in your neck as she lowers you onto the bed, so carefully as if you’re made of porcelain. 

“Thank you Paige,” you murmur, watching closely as she fusses around you. Suddenly your ankle is raised on two pillows and her hoodie, a bag of ice pressed onto the swollen muscle. The condensation drips down your leg, onto her clothes. But she doesn’t seem to mind, bringing you water and a can of Sprite.

“Paige, I’m good,” you stop her as she keeps fluffing the pillows and checking on your ankle. “You’ve done too much.”

“Does it hurt?” She asks, face filled with concern.

“Not really,” you mumble, leaning back on the bed. “Just a little sore.”

“You need anything? More water? Another pillow? A snac-”

“Paige. I’m good. Sit your ass down,” you say sternly. Before you think of it further, you pat the space next to you on the bed, just barely enough space for the girl. She, however, doesn’t hesitate, carefully scooting onto the mattress. She’s so close to you, your legs and arms are pressed against one another. You wonder if she feels it too. The tingling, the electricity.

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?” She asks, turning her blue eyes to you. Your faces are merely inches apart, her breath smelling like mint from the gum she’s been chewing.

“I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice surprisingly shaky. “Thank you.”

Paige grins, but not in that arrogant way that irked you. No, this was more genuine, meaningful.

“Why d’you not like me?” She asks suddenly, a certain vulnerability in her eyes.

Surprised by her honesty, you look away. “I do like you Paige,” you answer. “Honestly, I thought you hated me.”

“What?” She chuckles gently, throwing her arm behind your shoulders with ease. You lean into her even just an inch, making you feel lightheaded. “No way, I just like getting on your nerves.”

“I can tell,” you roll your eyes. “Hollup, why would you think I don’t like you?”

“Cause,” she shrugs, now her turn to look bashful. “You’re like the only one here not laughing at my jokes… Or giving me attention.”

You can’t help but snort, turning to her. Her nose is nearly touching yours, the heat of her face tingling against you. Suddenly the air shifts. She swallows loud. You lick your lips. The irritation and annoyance that had grown the past couple weeks suddenly bursting into nothing but attraction.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeat, voice barely a whisper. Her fingertips hesitate, but come to brush a strand of hair off your face, behind your ear. It takes almost all your strength for your eyes not to flutter shut.

Before you comprehend what’s happening, she begins to lean in, inching closer and closer. And suddenly you’re dying to taste her, mind wrapped around what her lips might feel on yours. It’s too fast. Too much. Overwhelmed, you turn your head away, clearing your throat.

“Actually, I think I’m a little hungry,” you murmur weakly, Paige quickly pulling back.

“Uh, yeah, course,” she answers, face red and flushed. Her weight lifts off the bed and silently, she walks to the door, stopping as she opens it.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you picked the camp and not the trash,” she says with more confidence, before disappearing and closing the door behind her.

-

It had been a week since your near kiss, and things had been awkward. She seemed to be more careful around you, watchful of every word and action. You’d be lying if it didn’t bother you. You missed it, even when she was getting on your nerves. 

“Haven’t you had enough s’mores?” You ask Ryan, watching as he pokes yet another marshmallow onto his stick.

“Never enough,” the boys grin, positively on their tenth s’more. Paige sits on the opposite side of the fire, poking it and laughing at something Jess was telling her. A jolt of jealousy ran through you - not that you had any right to be jealous. 

“Is your ankle better?” Clara asks, her sweet eyes gleaming with worry. 

“It is! Thanks for asking,” you smile, handing her your s’more. “It doesn’t hurt no more.”

“Paige was so strong carrying you back,” she says in awe, glancing towards her.

You do too, remembering the way her arms felt wrapped around you. Regretting the way you looked away.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Alright y’all, bed time. Everyone in their tents,” Paige claps her hands together, beginning to shoo the kids away from the fire. We were only 15 minutes away from the cabins, but the illusion of a real campsite was there. Large tents up everywhere, and smaller ones for the counselors to share - one for you and Paige.

“This is a lot smaller than I imagined,” you chuckle as you step into the tent, barely enough space for two sleeping bags. 

“Oh shit,” she murmurs awkwardly. You both set up the sleeping bags in silence, the tight space making the tension even more uneasy. You try to look away, but can’t help the way my eyes flicker towards her as she pulls off her shirt, letting her wavy hair down from the two dutch braids. A jolt runs down your spine, straight to your core as her arms flex, biceps prominent and beautiful.

“Damn, I gotta go check that the kids are in bed,” she murmurs, rubbing her face sleepily.

Your eyes drag from her torso to her face. “I can do it,” you answer, eager to get out of this tight space.

The summer night is warm, the campsite illuminated by the stars above as you peek into each tent one by one. 

“Go to bed,” you tell the girls still giggling underneath their blankets knowing full well they won’t. The rest seemed to have fallen asleep after the long day. But you’re still not ready to return to that tiny tent, filled with tension and electricity. No, fuck this. Why was she so bashful now? So distant? You wouldn’t let her win. She needed to fix her attitude.

With a new found confidence, you make your way into the tent to find Paige sitting up with a book in her hand, pushing her glasses up her nose bridge. You zip up the tent carefully behind you.

“They asleep-”

But she quiets down the moment you grab the book from her hands, placing it somewhere beside her. You crawl into her lap, straddling her. Perhaps this was stupid, but you were over how she was acting.

Paige opens her mouth to speak, but you bring your finger to her lips. “Shh,” you shush the girl, pulling her glasses off. She’s trembling, chest heaving as her breathing turns labored and purposeful. 

And slowly, then all at once you press your lips against hers. Her mouth opens as she kisses you back, hands quickly finding the back of your head to pull you closer. You whimper, hands gripping her shoulders, lips sliding against hers - slick, hungry and desperate.

She lets out a heavy exhale through her nostrils, another hand slipping down your back along your spine, until it ends up on your ass. Grabbing greedily, she kneads the skin, getting you to moan into her mouth.

Paige takes this chance to slip her tongue into your mouth and to meet yours. Saliva covers both your lips as you fight for dominance, but it’s no use. She has already won.

Your teeth bite down on her plump bottom lip to tug on it hard enough to make the blonde hiss. She pulls back, pupils blown out as she looks at your swollen mouth.

“You fuckin’ tease,” she hisses, soaked lips attacking your neck. “Got me thinking you don’t want me.”

You let out a moan as Paige’s lips suck on the crook of your neck, the skin there sensitive and tender. Your hands tuck on her wavy, silky hair, hips grinding down into her for any kind of friction. It’s not enough.

“Goddamn,” she hisses, kneading your ass harshly to make you grind down harder. “Bet you’re soaked right now.”

“Fuck you,” you say, voice shaking with need.

“Gotta be nicer to me if you want me to princess,” she grins against your neck, tugging at the flimsy tank top you’re wearing. Before you can process, her mouth is biting and kissing your chest through your satin bra, nipples hardening fast. She’s right. You are soaked, your underwear turning more and more damp each second. If you thought this would be the time for you to claim back power you were mistaken, your body already putty in her hands.

Desperately, your hands find the band of her shorts, fingertips gliding along it teasingly. The blonde groans, bucking her hips. A gash of wetness drips out of you, the thought of how soaked she is making you dizzy.

”That’s what I thought,” you murmur, glad to find she needed you just as bad. Painfully slowly, your hand slides the shorts down her legs. Your movements are clumsy in the small tent, but neither of you could care less. The heat between you two was far too great.

Paige’s hands wrap around you, reaching back and unclasping your bra. Her eyes widen with awe as your tits fall out, nipples hard and perked up just for her.

”Fucking shit,” she whimpers, not wasting any time to latch on. Her tongue circles and then sucks, warm and wet against your cool skin. A high pitched hiss leaves your lips as she bites down on the nipple ever so gently.

”Gotta be a lil more quiet,” Paige says hoarsely against your chest. 

”Mhm, yeah, I can do that,” you whimper, willing to say anything to keep her going. The blonde keeps sucking, the sensation driving you insane. You felt her everywhere, yet it wasn’t enough.

Paige seemed to think likewise, her own hand dipping between her legs and rubbing harsh circles over the black boxers as she works your breast, fingers coming to grope the other one, rolling your hard nipple between them.

You can’t help it, your hand replacing hers at once. She’s damp through the soft cotton, biting down on your nipple trying not to moan. With your free hand you tuck on her hair and guide her swollen, plump pink lips to yours. The kiss is raw and filthy, tongues clashing, spit everywhere. A string of saliva connects you two as you pull back, beginning your descent.

You want to take your time, kissing her neck and chest downwards. But Paige has other plans. Her hands grab a hold of your shoulders, pushing you down with so much force and urgency you couldn’t dare deny her.

Once you’re between her legs, she doesn’t waste time to pull her own boxers off. The sight is overwhelming. Even in the dim tent you can see that her cunt is soaked, glistening in the darkness. Immediately, your mouth is watering for her.

”Shit,” you whisper, leaning down and kissing on her inner thighs as she spreads her legs for you. ”You’re so wet.” 

Paige isn’t having any of your teasing, her hands finding their way straight into your hair and gripping hard. Suddenly she’s guiding you right where she wants you, your mouth filling with the taste of her.

”Mmph,” you whimper against her soaked folds, pressing open mouthed kisses along her slit. She tastes like heaven, quickly wetting your chin and nose too.

”God,” she grunts, lifting her head to look down at you. Your eyes dart up to her face - mouth ajar, heavy lids, cheeks flushed. She looks beautiful, already drowning in ecstasy.

”I love how you taste,” you mumble, licking along her slit and letting her wetness cover your tongue. Paige lets out a guttural moan, bucking her hips impossibly closer.

”Shh,” you remind her as you pull back, face glistening with her juices. ”Quiet, remember?”

”Just fuck, keep going,” she hums frustratedly, pulling you back to her soaked cunt roughly. You keep your eyes locked on her expression, quickly finding what drives her crazy as your lips tongue swirls against her clit.

”You’re so good at that,” she whispers. Her voice shakes, the grip in your hair tightening. ”Keep going baby.”

Her words encourage you enough, making you forget all about the strain on your jaw. The sounds filling the tent turn filthy and wet as you lie your tongue flat against her, shaking your head. This does it, making Paige grab hold of you even tighter, guiding you where she wanted.

”Mhm, taste so good,” you moan quietly. ”I love your pussy.” 

She’s whimpering, trying to stay quiet by biting down on her lip. 

”Want your tongue out,” she groans. ”Need to fuck your face.” 

You do as she tells you, her hands pulling you closer and quite literally bucking her hips and grinding her pussy against your tongue. 

”Just like that,” she praises, her entire body shaking. The way she’s clinging onto you and throwing her head back tells you she’s nearly there. ”Fuck, you’re so good princess.”

A gush of wetness drips out of you, soaking the fabric of your thin panties. Paige keeps fucking your face, spreading herself all over you as your tongue rubs against that sensitive bud, bringing her to the edge.

”Look at me, sh- please,” she cries out, both hands pulling on your hair. ”I’m gonna cum.”

At the exact right moment, your eyes snap open. They meet hers just as her thighs clench around you, and her climax takes over. It drives you insane to see her like this, under your control, whining and whimpering all because of you.

”Ohh, shit,” she mewls, eyes rolling back as her movements turn sloppy and desperate. You coax her through it, watching the way her face twists in pleasure. Finally, she lets go of you, panting hard.

”Wow,” you sigh, climbing up her body. She’s trying to catch her breath, chuckling softly.

”Tell me about it,” she gleams, pulling you into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. Your teeth nearly clank together from the hunger, tongue darting out to taste herself on your lips.

Suddenly, with no time to rest, Paige flips you over to your back. The ground is hard underneath you, only softened slightly by the sleeping bags underneath you two. In that moment you know you’ve lost your upper hand.

Paige doesn’t hesitate, beginning to kiss down your body with a single destination in mind. But she’s taking forever to get there, getting distracted by your breasts, sucking on the peaks. Her hands glide down against your sides over each rib painfully slowly. In a moment of great need you try to push her down much like she did with you. But she doesn’t budge, merely grabbing your wrists and pushing them away.

”You okay beautiful?” She asks, kissing down your abdomen and glancing up at you. 

”Mmhm,” you whine, bucking your hips in desperation. It’s obvious what you want. Still she makes you work for it, loving to see you humiliated and needy.

”What’s wrong?” She asks menacingly, her voice sadistic and teasing. 

”Paige,” you complain.

”Whatchu want princess?” She asks, fingertips toying with the laces on your shorts. You might die before she actually touches you. ”Are you wet?”

Eagerly you nod, looking down at her. 

”Oh I bet,” she grins, finally tugging your shorts down all the way, bringing your panties with them. ”Lemme see that shit.”

With that, you spread your legs wide. Paige lets out a hungry groan when her eyes meet your pussy, gushing and glistening.

”That’s all for me?” She asks, fingertips spreading your lips apart ever so carefully, studying you. 

”Mhm,” you whine, chest heaving with the knowledge that soon she’d be touching you right where you needed.

”Fuck baby, you throbbing,” she hisses, leaning down and dipping a finger into your entrance. It glistens as she pulls it back and wraps her mouth around it, letting it go with a pop. ”And taste so damn good.”

”Please,” you complain, completely lost control over yourself now, willing to do pretty much anything for some relief.

”Say that shit again,” she groans, hot breath tingling against your wet cunt.

”Please Paige,” you whimper even more desperate. That seems to do it as she finally leans down and with a loud slurp, licks up your slick.

”Aw fuck,” you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and grabbing the sleeping bags underneath.

”Shut up,” she reminds you, the mean tone of her voice only making you gush again. Her tongue licks up and down, dipping in your entrance menacingly. You cover your own mouth, muffling the gasps spilling uncontrollably from your lips.

”Attagirl,” she whispers against your pussy, the vibrations causing your back to arch. Paige moans at the taste of you, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as if she was the one being fucked.

”Oh God,” you cry out as she spreads your lips further apart, burying her face into your cunt. She’s so skillful, so precise yet sloppy and desperate. The sounds of her mouth lapping you up are so loud it makes your head spin. She’s got you right where she wanted.

”You got the prettiest pussy huh? Pretty pussy for a pretty girl,” she praises, admiring you for a second before diving straight back in, sucking on your sensitive bud that’s grown puffy and swollen.

”So fucking pretty,” she murmurs against you, her hands coming up to roll your rock hard nipples between her fingertips. 

”But you know that huh? Know how fucking pretty you are? Know I was obsessed the moment I saw you?” She mumbles in between licks along your dripping folds. You barely hear her, squirming and bucking your hips against her mouth.

”Tell me,” she whispers breathlessly, grabbing hold of your jaw and forcing eye contact. She looks so beautiful between your legs, staring up at you under her long, black lashes. ”Tell me you’re pretty.”

You feel flustered, face turning red. Your core gushes, gushing with each throb. Embarrassed and needy for more, you grab her hair and try to guide her back to your pussy. But she won’t, not until you’ve bent to her will.

”Fucking tell me,” she commands, voice hoarse.

”I-I’m pretty,” you whisper, willing to do anything just for her to keep going.

”So fucking pretty, princess,” she groans, spitting on your cunt and leaning back in. Her tongue is unbelievably fast and strong, moving from left to right, flicking your clit. She was getting you to the edge, quickly.

”Been needing to get in this shit since I saw you,” she grunts, bringing both her hands back down to your pussy and spreading it wide open.

”But you knew that, walking around half naked, driving me fucking crazy,” Paige moans, and licks around your entrance.

”Fuck, Paige, don’t stop,” you gasp, legs shaking uncontrollably. ”Don’t fucking stop.”

With that, her tongue slips inside you with the sound of a loud squelch. Paige whimpers, feeling the way your cunt squeezes and throbs around her tongue, her sharp nose nudging against your clit as she slides it in and out.

”Oh f- oh-” you gasp for air, chest heaving as your back arches off the ground. You cover your mouth again, legs trembling as Paige pushes you to the edge simply with her mouth.

”That’s it,” she coos, continuing her motions, holding your squirming hips down as you ride out your climax, gushing around her tongue

”Stop, stop,” you squirm as she kisses her way up through your slick folds to your sensitive bud, finally wiping her face on your thigh and looking back. There’s that smug grin again that made you want to slap it off her face.

”Sorry to tell you but you’re a mess,” she smirks, satisfied. She didn’t have to, you could feel it. Your thighs felt sticky and your core still slick and soaked.

”You sure nobody heard?,” you ask, embarrassed now that you were coming down.

”Nah,” she smiles easily, coming up to kiss you - tender and caring rather than the rough, hungry way in which she did earlier.

”You okay to walk?” She asks, brushing your hair back.

”Oh yeah, we better go shower,” you mumble, beginning to dress. Paige chuckles, a spark in her eye.

”But they’re so far away,” she says. ”Let’s just go to the lake.”

-

The night is still as warm as the day, a slight breeze running through your body as you follow a narrow path through the woods with Paige. She leads you to a smaller beach, covered by trees and shrubbery, holding your hand the entire way.

The moon above the horizon illuminates the lake, gentle waves hitting the rocks on the shore. Paige’s skin is luminescent and milky in the moonlight, and you can barely tear your eyes away.

Before you can think it through, she pulls off her clothes, walking into the water in only her boxers.

”C’mon princess,” she smiles, nodding you over. Her confidence gives you courage, and you do the same, following after her in only your panties.

The water is cold by your ankles, goosebumps rising all over your body. Paige takes her time admiring you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you deeper.

”You’re so damn beautiful,” she sighs, blue eyes scanning you up and down. With flushed cheeks, you let the taller girl guide you.

”It’s cold,” you giggle as the gentle waves tickle your abdomen. Paige laughs, splashing your breasts with the water, making you let out a squeal.

”Stop!” You gasp, splashing her back. But before you can, she’s diving in, swimming deeper, emerging from beneath the surface further away now

”You coming or not?” She asks, a grin on her face. You can’t resist it. With a gasp you emerge yourself into the water, swimming to her.

”There we go,” she smiles, pulling you into her and kissing you breathless. Your legs wrap around her waist as you hold onto her shoulders, licking along her lower lip. She smirks into the kiss, her hands holding you up by your thighs, squeezing.

You can feel her nipples hardening against you, the knot she just took care of suddenly tightening deep in your abdomen again.

Like reading your mind, she drags her hand from your thighs to your ass, groping harshly. You whimper into the kiss, throwing your head back. Every touch was setting you on fire, burning on your skin.

The blonde drags her open, hot mouth along your neck. Her hand grips your ass so tightly that her fingertips brush against your clothed core. Still sensitive, you shiver. Paige groans in response as your nails dig into her skin.

”Shit,” she hisses, reaching her hands from behind you and rubbing her fingers against your clit through the sheer fabric. ”Need you again.”

You can only nod, gripping onto the blonde and letting out soft whimpers into her ear. Her hand circles around your clit but it’s not enough.

”More,” you moan quietly.

”What’s that princess?”

”Fuck me Paige,” you plead, wide eyes looking up at the girl. She can’t resist, the need on your face overwhelming.

”Whatchu want baby?” She asks with a gentle voice, brows furrowed. ”Tell me.”

But instead of telling, you decide to show. Reaching down you pull your panties to the side, and guiding Paige’s hand by her wrist to your cunt.

Without warning, she slips two fingers inside you. With a gasp, you grip onto her harder. Paige groans.

”You this wet again?” She murmurs, pressing her cheek onto your forehead as she curls her fingers against you. They are so much longer and bigger than yours could be, reaching the soft tissue inside you better than you ever could imagine.

”Mmhm,” you moan, scratching at her broad shoulders.

”That’s my girl,” she growls, ”you a little slut aren’t you princess?”

”Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, voice whiny and needy. It’s not very convincing. Still, she abides.

”Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, her fingers pumping inside your slick, tight pussy. She groans, feeling the way you stretch around her. They move with such strength and pace it takes everything in you not to scream out.

Biting down onto her shoulder, you muffle your own moans, wrapping your legs around her waist tighter.

”Bounce on em, c’mon,” she tells you, free hand gripping your ass underwater. Entire body trembling, you grip onto her and grind your hips into her fingers, sighing every time they intrude into you. 

”Oh God,” you whimper, movements turning erratic and sloppy as you chase your high on her fingers. 

”Good girl,” she whimpers. ”Fuck you so sexy.”

Paige leans down, kissing and sucking on your neck, nibbling your earlobes.

”P-Paige,” you gasp, legs beginning to shake too bad.

”I gotchu baby,” she whispers, grabbing hold of you as she adds a third finger, slamming them inside you.

”Oh-” you cry out, but she kisses you hungrily, muffling her moans. Paige holds you still with her free hand.

”So tight,” she hisses against your lips, fingers pumping inside you, stretching you out. Your cunt is sucking her in, gripping onto her tightly.

”I’m cl-”

”I can feel it,” she moans, the way your pussy is pulsing around her making your nearing orgasm obvious. The knot deep inside your stomach tightens and tightens, causing you to grip onto her.

”You gon’ cum for me?” Paige asks, panting, curling her fingers against your g-spot.

Like clockwork, your body obeys. With desperate nods, Paige kisses you, pumping even faster, stretching out your dripping cunt, driving you to the edge until-

”I’m cumming!” You whimper into her mouth. She's breathless, groaning as if she was the one getting off.

”C’mon princess. Feel so good. Be a good girl.”

With her words, and the stretch she’s causing, your legs clasp around her and the knot finally snaps.

Desperate moans are muffled by Paige’s mouth, pleasure washing over you in waves. She guides you through your orgasm, holding you close the entire time.

”God,” you exhale, finally pulling back as she pulls her fingers out of you.

Paige laughs gently, blue eyes scanning your face in the moonlight. She looks breathtaking, and the feeling seems to be mutual. The blonde leans in and presses her lips onto your forehead. 

”We should prolly head back.”

Paige carries you out of the water and helps you dress. You make your way back to the campsite hand in hand. Thankfully everyone still seems to be asleep.

In comfortable silence, you two climb into your tent that suddenly doesn’t seem as small. As you begin to set up your sleeping bag, Paige scooches into hers, staring at you.

”You know, we could just share.”

Glancing up, you find the blonde patting the spot beside her in her purple sleeping bag. You can’t resist the twinkle of her blue eyes.

It’s tight, that’s for sure, but it feels surprisingly natural to rest your head on Paige’s chest. She presses sweet kisses to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair that surely smelled like bug spray.

”You believe I don’t hate you now princess?” She whispers, hand rubbing up and down your back.

You let out a gentle laugh, letting your eyes fall shut - heavy with tiredness. ”I don’t hate you either,” you murmur, quickly drifting to sleep in her arms. The woods weren’t that bad after all.

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @bueckersbitch @lilpaigeyherbo @ohmybueckers @vamptizm @sir3nsfi1m @mtslab @jadasogay @indigo491 @cowboybueckers @itsstavy13 @idkkk343 @authentic-girl03 @ohbueckers @sun81rise @jupitermoonbaby

my ability to read what ive typed out 20 times before hitting post and still not notice a typo is remarkable

Some Paige fans will literally complain about anythingggggg!🙆🏾‍♀️ Paige does not care nor was she "offended " and Arike already said Paige liked the "Big daddy Paige " sign (even though Paige will not admit it 😭) . But fr some of you guys need to relaxxxxx. It's getting weird with how much you guys complain about the most simplest things when it comes to stuff surrounding Paige .

I'm about to put my fat ass on that paint

#IMTALMBOUTINNIT

this blog hates donald trump

Was starving for this🧎🏾‍♀️‍➡️

: •̩̩͙ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 ⋆｡°  •̩̩͙ ໋:🦁

chap3 : say the word.

chap1 here!

chap2 here!

frat!old money!paige bueckers x reader AU

˳ ⋅ ⊹ wc: 3.7k

˚ ⋅ ⊹ cw: swearing, implied sex, perfect angst,golden retriever x black cat dynamic, kissingggg, issues ( lmk if i miss something. )

˚ ⋅ ⊹(a/n): lol hiiiii *tucks hair behind ear* :*

AT the table, Paige barely speaks. The playful energy she usually sports is smoldered. You stare at the charcoal colored wood that’s been carved into a long, rectangular, dining room table. Fancy designs are engraved around the rim. Different-sized forks and knives are folded in a cloth napkin, like you’re at a restaurant and not someone’s home. The only reason you know what half of them are used for is because of your job.

Paige sat across from Bob, you next to her, and the other three people your age, across from their fathers, next to Mr. Bueckers. It was adolescent, you thought—like they were misbehaved children, forced to sit down and get along.

The only people talking are Bob and his colleagues. Crunching numbers and planning more things, while humbly bragging behind it all.

It felt like that was the point of the whole feast. Showing off, smarts, or wealth and their golden children. A steaming plate is placed in front of everyone by a server, savory smells waft up your nose. Paige is less than enamored by the platter, picking at the vegetables, scarcely actually eating, or even looking at you. For once, she wasn’t trying to draw attention.

The food is delicious and warm, yet you’re chewing nervously, unable to stop feeling eyes on you, having no choice but to greet some of the looks with an awkward, side smile.

You feel a hand grab your free one sitting in your lap. It’s Paige’s familiar fingers embracing yours.

Bob and Paige are glaring at each other: The longer the blonde girl doesn’t speak, the more he’s burning holes into her. Finally, after a few quiet bites, he interacts with someone other than his brothers.

“I’m glad you two can join us.” He wipes his mouth, finishing chewing before continuing. “I wanted to introduce your guest to the Blue.” The Blue was referring to their high-profile members. It felt weird and cultish to you. Paige’s eyes briefly hit the back of her head, in annoyance, still she complies.

“(Y/N), these are my dad’s frat brothers. Like uncles to me.” She nods towards them while looking at you. Her face has an apologetic, embarrassed glaze to it. “This is (Y/N), my…” She paused, dramatically letting the weight lay thick on the room. You, Kassie, and Bob are all on edge for a moment.

“Friend!” You immediately yelp, maybe too loud. Giving Paige a funny look for the dragging answer, she’s leaning back, smug, at your flustered outburst, watching you stumble. Your face is flushed with heat, wondering what she was about to say. “Friend…Nice to meet you.”

The men nod authoritatively in your direction. Feeling relief set in, from them not tearing at you, like you’d expected. Kassie sneers at you, across from her father, who is entertained by your presence. He asks the most questions. From your major to your grade point average, your academic achievements. The more you answered, the easier it got.

Mr. Talfold isn’t as intimidating as Mr. Bueckers. He’s a chubby man who bellows at every tiny joke you make. This makes Bob and the other two men grin and add in. The group is astonished by your independence, sharing widened, amazed eyes when you say how you pay your bills and don’t have a trust fund. They each make a quip about their children never doing such.

Paige is the only one who can laugh at it, as the boys are starting to join Kassie with their irritated glances. You don’t let it faze you, you weren’t there to impress them anyway. Or anyone, except maybe... Your eyes flicker to the Bueckers’. The girl's warm palm against your own dampens the anxiety.

You mention your leap year, and their faces turn slightly sour. Paige, who’s been watching you handle this whole new environment forced at you, with nothing but adoration behind her powdered colored eyes, tenses up, your confidence dimming. She pushes back her shoulders, ready to defend you. Bob does instead.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. (Y/N) is very responsible and capable,” He gives you a quick upwards curl of the mouth and takes another bite from his plate. The men make noises of agreement. “Right?”

“Exactly, sir.” Your hair bobs up and down. Mr. Talfold speaks to you while chewing.

“I’m impressed, truly, if your grades were as good as you say they were,” He belly laughs and continues, “you’re exactly what we’re looking for in The Blue.” Kassie almost chokes on her food, one of the sons patting her back.

“Daddy-“ She begins to whine, and Mr. Talfold lifts his hand to stop her, firmly. The brunette is angrily biting her words this time. Paige looks at you with excitement, like things are just getting good. You’re biting your lip, eyes darting, trying to gauge all the emotions from what the round man had said, obviously from too much aged wine. Bob raises a brow, not in question, but in thought.

“I completely agree…” Paige puts on a fake engaged tone, sitting up in her seat again, now enthusiastically shoving vegetables in her mouth. “Don’t you, Dad?” Paige has that troublemaking glint back on her beautiful face, and you frown, brows scrunched. The next one she gives you tells you to trust her. Your pulse thumps, waiting for the reaction. Chest tight, hoping that you secretly did win Bob over, not for academic success, though.

Everyone is staring at him for an answer. Except for Paige, grinning at her dish, squeezing your thigh now, under the table. He’s looking into his daughter with a suspicious scowl, trying to see what trouble was brewing behind her. You’re wondering the same thing. His shoulders shrugged cautiously.

“We’ll see.”

AFTER dinner, Paige sneaks the both of you off while the Blue discusses responsibilities, she should’ve been listening to, like the other silver spoons. You wondered how many times she’d skipped out on the most crucial part of the get-together, for everyone to not bat an eye. Bob, of course, noticed. Having a disgruntled gape that Paige shrugged off, as she guided you towards the familiar front of the house, you gave a tiny wave goodbye, to try not to seem rude. Paige also could’ve cared less for polite exits.

The blonde is asking if you’re ready to go while taking her keys from her pocket and unlocking the car’s doors with a satisfying click. She goes on about possible plans for the next time she sees you, which she asks if she ‘will see you again, right?’; that approval seeking back in her voice, while holding the front entrance open for you.

You’re fogged with the question of what the hell that was, still impressed by managing to not make a complete ass of yourself. Maybe your parents forcing you into middle school debate club, and student council paid off.

You’re in autopilot, walking towards the sports vehicle and slipping inside onto the cooled leather seats. The sun was setting a pink over the quiet neighborhood. It had to be after 7pm at least. Paige isn’t close behind, looking amused at her chaos. Your eyes peer out against the window to search for her, suddenly socially burnt out, ready to sit in the shower and overthink this whole thing.

Kassie and she are standing in the doorway together, too close for your liking. That feeling you couldn’t make out at first, when you saw them together nights before, is back. It’s clear as day, jealousy. You’re holding your breath trying to listen in. The girl who detested you spoke lowly and soft to Paige. Inaudible. It feels tense.

Paige seems exhausted, running her hand down her face, replying plainly to whatever whispered, with almost a groan.

“Dude, I’m not dealing with this right now…” Paige is loud against the window muffle, stepping away from the short figure, which sets Kassie off even more. She reaches to grab for Paige, but she’s already down the small porch, toward you. You lean over the armrest, trying to increase your view and hearing. Paige ended the conversation, yet the brunette whines on behind the tinted glass. You can only make out her shouting at Paige’s back, about something, someone, being in the way.

Too smart to be oblivious, hot embarrassment drops in your stomach. Even impressing the cult leaders wasn’t enough to stop her. You had something she wanted. Paige. It wasn’t hard to guess why. The softness in her touch, the goofy tug in her expressions. But it was deeper than Paige being dorky. It was the money stacked underneath her in promise. Kassie felt her pampered fantasy being threatened by the working class. You grinned to yourself now.

Paige pops open the door, and leans down with the same silly smile you’d been fantasizing embracing infront of all of those gold and blue morons. Kassie had just been background noise. Knowing you’re in earshot, she stops herself in her tracks, and eyes you down until the door closes, you away from view. You can’t help but stare back, even through the tint, you feel Kassie can see you, that she knows you’re peering back.

I got the girl, you tell her telepathically. Paige is gripping your inner leg again, as she reverses with an exhausted sigh, as if to confirm it.

THE sound of her profusely apologizing again breaks you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, princess,” you mumble with a soft chuckle, watching other foreign cars pass, letting you know you weren’t home yet.

“No, it’s not. They’re assholes. Kassie..” She violently rolls her eyes, grunting, fists tight. “I know what it looks like between us, it’s-“

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You shrug.

“Why not?” Her head darts to look at you from the road so quickly, the blond hair moves with her. You can’t help but burst out laughing.

“We’re not together or anything-“

“Who says we won’t be?”

She stops at the red light. Scarlet from the break light before you illuminate your faces, as they try to read each other. Your mouth is still tugged upward, trying to soften the seriousness in Paige’s. Eyebrows drawn, puppy eyes on perfect display for you to take. Her voice is slow, sultry, making you warm all over.

“Just don’t want you to worry about her, I…” You find yourself taking a shaky breath with her. “I like you. That’s all.” Paige throws up a quick smile, and the light is green. Then you’re both staring forward again.

It’s quiet for the rest of the ride, besides the low sound of Paige’s playlist. You look at fluorescent signs against the night sky, flying past you. Paige’s fingers are digging into the armrest leather, obviously still thinking about how you may be feeling. You place your hand on top of hers, slightly nervous, it would be an embarrassing attempt right now. She relaxes.

You finally arrive home and you’re thrilled to be inside, still you linger in Paige’s passenger seat. She leans back, as if to get one more soak of your presence, rubbing her hands in her hair. Once you unbuckle yourself, you lean over to surprise her with a kiss, but she does the surprising, grabbing you up, almost over the armrest.

“Come inside.” Your body speaks for you. Begs for you. For some reason, there was no stopping you around Paige. You couldn’t ration it out anymore by trying to stay nonchalant. Since you saw her pearled smile in the bar, you’ve wanted her to tear past the facade you put up.

“Are you sure?” She muffles out before pushing back against your mouth, taking off her seatbelt feverishly anyway.

“Shut up.” You both laugh.

PAIGE lurched over you from behind, hands around your midsection, while you unlocked your entrance. Her gentle, excited lips pecking and playfully biting the side of your neck. It sends tickles down your spine that you find yourself still giggling from as she throws you onto your bed. Your bed isn’t far from your couch, and your kitchen is super close by too. She barely notices. Clawing at your clothes like they’re offending her.

Sex with her feels as if she’s being rewarded. A thirst quenched. You’re soft with sweat, arousal is thick in the air. You can’t stop replaying the grunts and growls from Paige. The profanities she moaned into your heat, between your legs.

Blankets are dragged onto the floor. You lie naked next to the other, so close your skin sticks where it touches. Neither cares. You find yourself studying the silhouette of the cute woman quietly snoring into your sheets. Rehearsing the spots where your lips worked, love bites and flushed heat rushed to. You stare at Paige, your heart pounding to kiss her again. A million times. Everywhere.

Thinking of all the ways you’d do it until your eyelids fall heavy into a slumber. For the first time in months, you dream.

YOU wake up to the smell of something burning, immediately flinging yourself upwards. The landlord wasn’t kind enough to upgrade the fire system, so any real smoke would leave your place drenched in water. A guilty Paige stands in your kitchen, technically across from your bed, slowly turning around, with a grimace on her face, bracing to be scolded.

One hand holds a spatula, the other a plate with what seems to be a pancake on top. It’s burnt to a crisp. Your shoulders slump in half relief and amusement.

“Sorry, I’ve never made anything that didn’t go in an oven or microwave…” She blushes. You shake your head with a light laugh, sleepily, checking the time. 2 hours before you’re back to work.

You throw on your robe, hanging from the bed frame, and stride up to her. Grabbing the plate to dump the pancake, she obediently sits on a barstool nearby, at the island that doubled as your dining table.

Paige is in her t-shirt and boxers from off your floor, a scrunchie from your bathroom counter in her hair lazily. She was more than comfortable at your place. You cringe a little thinking of what she might’ve seen or dug into, then you relax, once you glance up at her, wiping batter off the counter.

Her blue gaze peers at you. Round and full, following with adoration as you pick up her mess. She’s oblivious to you doing so. You don’t think she knows she made one at all.

Paige’s stare is wrapping around you like a warm hug as you turn into the cupboards and drawers for two bowls and spoons. You don’t meet them until you’re pouring the milk in, almost stupidly overfilling your bowl.

“Thank you.” She blushes, you tilt your head to her, and take a seat on the plastic stool next to her. Both were eating in silence, stealing secret glances at one another. Paige swivels in her seat until your bare outer legs are flush. Finally, she speaks.

“I could get used to this…” Paige hums, putting her heavy head onto your shoulder, and you let yours lean slightly on hers.

“Used to what?”

She gestures around. You snort a laugh. As if she’d prefer your 12-inch apartment space over castle Bueckers. The sharp uncomfortable springs in your mattress, opposed to hers that cradles and sucks you in.

“I’m serious. I think I could live anywhere, as long as you’re there rolling your eyes next to me.” She teases, leaving a fat smooch against your cheek. You bump her shoulder with yours playfully, flush faced. It takes everything in you not to cut your eyes again. She’s learning you. Getting closer than anyone in a long time. You’re suddenly anxious you might screw this up. Things never stayed good for long.

As if on cue, Paige’s phone, face up between you both, buzzes. You’re the first to look at it. You don’t mean to, your curiosity just instinctively eats at you. It’s Kassie.

Kassie Talfold

taking out the trash?

She doesn’t wait for a response to text again. The phone jolts.

Kassie Talfold

mr b is looking for you. thought you were with me. but i told him ur prob in the slums again? :)

The words are so venomous that they leave a sour taste in your mouth. You suddenly have no appetite. Paige looks up from her bowl, still smirking, to see what stopped your shoving, that she’s beginning to find comfort in.

“What?” Her brown brow strings upwards before looking down at the phone, which pings again with a second reminder. She huffs deeply, looking at you apologetically before picking it up cautiously. She grits her teeth as she opens the thread, like she had gotten terrible news. Paige’s eyes soften as she turns towards you, setting the phone down again, without replying.

“This stops today, okay? She’ll never say a fucking thing about you again, I promise. Say the word.” Paige’s slim fingers grip the sides of your thighs affectionately, seafoam colored orbs pleading with you to peer into them. You do, with pain you’re trying to hide under a blank expression. She seeps in you.

“It’s no big deal, it’s exactly what I meant by we’re too different, too…” You shake off the words, turning back to your now fruity-pebble-flavored milk. Poking at it with your spoon seemingly absent minded. Thinking of so much. A strong desire to cry from being reminded of the feeling of being an outcast bubbles in your chest. You thought you escaped that as a teen.

“No, hush, we are just alike.” Paige refuses it, turning you back towards her, you look back at her with slight surprise. Her pretty, perfect teeth lined up for you in an expression full of feeling like they seemed to be every time you moved your head to look. “You practically melted into me last night. We’re one.” She takes your hand, making you drop your spoon, and places it on her chest. Paige’s grip is tight, desperate for you to get it. To see something.

“Don’t shut me out now.”

“I am not...” You shake away a thought. Paige pulls you into her arms to hold.

“They’ll all see what I see. You’re with me now. They just have to accept it. Accept how amazing you are.” She mostly speaks to herself. Convincing herself. Pulling back, you scan her face. Searching for something. Some doubt, some sign that all of this was an elaborate lie to get in your pants. But she was searching for you too. Searching for you to trust her. To give in, like she had. Paige was generous, confident, free, in more ways than socially and financially. Naive.

“Why? Why make me fit?”

Paige shakes her head.

“You never needed to. It’s perfect. You don’t have to fit into shit. You’re the whole damn picture.” She rambles it out like it’s some amazing realization she’s just made. You sit dumbfounded, never being seen in this light. Never sure someone could be so..passionate about…you.

Paige’s phone is going off. This caller has a personalized alarm on the blonde's phone that sounds like a blaring siren. As if meant to spike anxiety. It makes you sit straight. Yes, it’s Bob.

Even with a phone call, he’s able to knock Paige’s attitude down a dozen pegs. She answers the phone with a ‘Yes?’, looking at you apologetically. You feel your moments with her nearing an end. It’s fine, you tell yourself, you have work anyway.

Of course, after the call, Paige is rushing to get dressed. She had missed yet another meeting or something of importance, but Bob wasn’t as nice this time. You’re halfway hoping he doesn’t think you purposely made Paige skip, you playfully poke fun at her for not telling you she had something important.

“Importance is subjective, it wasn’t as important as being next to you naked.” She grins, you blush and smile back, pinching her cheek. You’re both walking towards the door, Paige pats her pockets frantically for her keys, and you hand her them out of your robe pocket.

“On the floor.” That’s where she had threw them when you’d passionately burst in together the night before.

“You’re an angel.” She kisses you sweetly on the mouth, her toned arms wrapping around your waist one more time, lingering. You push her out the door, not wanting to see her go.

“And you’re late.”

You're onto something, there's two cans...just maybe

Misss girl what are we doing with paint…..

"wheres the paige fluff at guys?" i ask as i open my untouched drafts just to stare at them

If it's not purple...

Misss girl what are we doing with paint…..

HER CHEERLEADER

Synopsis: In Paige’s last year at UConn, she expected to keep her head down, focus, and enjoy her last year of collegiate basketball. Little did she know a shy cheerleader with a pretty face would change that.

paige bueckers x lesbian!reader

content: swearing, unwanted advances by a man 🤢 but paige saves the day dw, alcohol, smut, smut and smut ! fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms, shy!reader, dom!paige

notes: my first post !! hope you enjoy 🥹 also i know south dakota was paige’s last home game but this follows my own timeline lmao so let’s pretend it was one of the first. also take a shot every time i say paige bueckers.

word count: idek but it’s long. sorry i just can’t shut up apparently.

The stadium, every seat filled to the brim with clusters of people, was alight with the excitement of the ongoing game. Stomping feet, clapping hands, and shouts of cheers were the few sounds entering your ears, all because of one team: the UConn Huskies.

One of the first of their home games, UConn were nearing the end of their match against South Dakota State, essentially securing their win with double the points against the opposing team.

And of course, the star of the show whose name was plastered as the main event at every UConn game, was Paige Bueckers.

Her near perfect scoring this game couldn’t be refuted. The way she played like she had everything to lose, her dominance on the court, and her smile of confidence every time the ball she threw landed in the hoop was downright addicting to watch.

The girl had every pair of eyes in the room drawn to her. And, of course, that also meant yours.

Sat on the floor amongst your team, your pom poms shaking in an organised routine along with the other cheerleaders, you watched on with great interest. Basketball was always a sport you wouldn’t particularly choose to watch in your spare time, but ever since you joined the team, you had discovered a newfound passion for the game. And — much to your dismay — it was majorly because of the attractive blonde basketball player.

It was your first year on the cheerleading squad, after your best friend ( who sat to the right of you ) begged you with every fibre of her being to try out for the team. Her sole reasoning and main argument for you donning the cheerleader uniform was that you were desperately single, and needed a basketball girlfriend pronto. You, instead, wanted to join because you were tired of your boring routine: attending lectures, studying, occasionally partaking in a party your friends dragged you to, and ending most nights alone in your dorm, watching romance films until you felt the loneliness seeping into your body.

So far it was a welcome change, all the girls on the team were lovely and extremely friendly. You had briefly met some of the players you were cheering on but had yet to be fully introduced to them; you doubted you would be sitting down and swapping life stories with them anytime soon, however. Their schedules, especially with the new season, were probably completely hectic and busy, and you doubted they had time for even themselves.

Cheers erupted as Paige secured another hoop, you and the rest of the cheerleaders jumping up and celebrating the 3 point throw. Your best friend, Catherine, who was infamous for her constant teasing and outspoken attitude leant over and spoke with a shit-eating grin on her face, acting as if she was in on a massive secret that you weren’t. “Did you just see that look Bueckers gave you? Like you were a dessert she couldn’t wait to devour once the game is over?”

Your head whipped around to face her, an incredulous expression painted on your face. You laughed slightly at the out of the blue comment, not even a little surprised at the beyond ridiculous statement escaping from Cat’s mouth. “You’re kidding, right? Paige doesn’t even know I exist, she was probably looking at someone else.”

You sat down once more with the rest of your team, your best friend not willing to give up so easily with her taunting; the blush rising on your cheeks simply giving her more ammunition.

“C’mon, Y/N. Please don’t tell me you’re as blind as I think you are. That was, like, the third time Paige looked at you this game, and who could blame her? You look fucking sexy!”

Your rolled your eyes, shaking your head in flat out refusal. The stadium erupted into cheers for the millionth time that night; Paige aiding Sarah Strong to score a two pointer. The many pom poms surrounding you made it harder to hear a single word Cat was saying, and you thought it was for the better. You waited until the stadium calmed down somewhat before replying to her.

“Drop it, Cat. There’s no way Paige Bueckers was looking at me. I’m like — I dunno — an ant compared to her!”

Now it was Cat’s turn to roll her eyes, “Well to me it looked like Paige was ready to strip you naked with that one look, but what do I know?”

“Nothing, apparently.” Your conversation was cut short by the last score of the night, KK Arnold managing to sneak one last shot in before the timer quickly fell to 0, the score being 91-57 to UConn.

Your team quickly praised the win of your college, jumping up with the most enthusiasm that entire night. The players of both teams slapped hands in their traditional, respectful way, whilst you and the rest of the girls wasted no time jumping into your end of game cheer routine, a simple show of celebration for UConn that added to the atmosphere of excitement circulating the stadium.

After the quick show was over, the players made their rounds around the audience to show their appreciation, whilst you and your friends waited until most of the crowd had dispersed before exiting yourselves. Whilst biding your time, however, you just couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the famous blonde. Paige’s pony swished back and forth as she walked quickly with her team, her smile of pure euphoria an addicting sensation to you. And, much to your notice, the sweat on her body — the majority on her rather muscled arms and back — gleamed underneath the bright lighting.

Heat rose on your face as you imagined if there was some semblance of truth to Cat’s words, that the fine basketball player who captured many hearts of fans was actually interested in you. You quickly realised you were being ridiculous, however. The only way you were going to be with Paige Bueckers was in your dreams, and you were lucky if even that happened.

As if knowing there were a certain pair of eyes on her, Paige’s head turned in your direction, her heated gaze locked onto yours. Despite desperately not wanting to, you quickly turned away, biting your lip as you hopelessly wished Paige didn’t think you were a creepy fan obsessed cheerleader who stared at her constantly ( and maybe you were, but she didn’t need to know that ).

You willed yourself not to return her gaze as you collected your belongings and helped your team with the end of game shenanigans, partaking in conversations with a few of the girls to distract yourself from your sweaty palms and butterfly filled stomach.

At this point, you would do anything to get your mind off of the 6 foot girl who made your heart race a little too fast.

H

Every bone in Paige’s body ached, the delightful soreness of a game well played was Paige’s ideal end to the night; her aching muscles were a small price to pay for another hard earned win under her belt.

The feeling of being one game closer to the end of her time at UConn was bittersweet, but she had a long ways to go until the official goodbye of her college career; she would savour every moment knowing she worked her absolute hardest to get to the position she was in right now.

Scalding water trailed down her naked body, her hand pressed against the stone wall of the shower as she let the water soothe her throbbing muscles ever so slightly. She ran a hand down her face to remove the sweat of the match, droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she gazed upon the flooring of the stall.

Paige Bueckers was not one to linger in the shower for long. Much unlike Jana, who had the team wondering constantly if she somehow fell asleep in the shower stall because of how long the girl took. No, Paige was quick and efficient, not wanting to fall victim to the shower thoughts that would undoubtedly keep her trapped under the hot water. Despite her quick showers, though, Paige always made sure she was clean and smelled good before exiting.

Today, however, was different, because she had far too many thoughts that she wished to deal with before she left the stadium. And they all revolved around a new cheerleader, whose perfect, pretty face couldn’t escape her brain.

Paige had only seen her a handful of times before, noticing that she was a new member amongst the returning cheerleading team of the UConn women’s basketball.

Paige was not one to be distracted by pretty girls. Not like Aubrey, whose smooth talking and flirtatious ways had every lesbian in a mile radius in love with her. Paige was the opposite. She was aware of her sexuality — had known for years she was gay — but she lived and breathed basketball, and other than a few flings here and there, she focused her entire attention on the sport.

Until now, apparently.

Washing the shea butter shower gel gently of her skin, she exited the shower before her thoughts ran too deep. She donned her sports bra and sweats, throwing her towel over her shoulder as she entered the locker room, where most of her team were relaxing.

“There she is! How you feeling, Bueckers?”

Paige smiled at Kaitlyn, setting her towel on the side as she walked towards her open locker to retrieve her trainers. “Fucking sore is what I am, how’re you guys feeling?”

The girls answered in turn, conversations flowed about the game they just had, one of their best matches to start the season with. They had, of course, already delved into their run down of the match with Geno, so their talks now just focused on their joy of winning.

Spirits were high, and Paige savoured the moments of just relaxing with her team. And then, of course, KK Arnold: troublemaker and known for her jokes, had to open her mouth and taunt her favourite friend.

“So, Paige, do you wanna share with the class your undying love for the newest cheerleader?” The girl had a large grin on her face, her hand on her heart like she was narrating a Shakespeare novel in a drama class. She was clearly loving that she had a new target to tease her best friend with.

Paige scoffed, rolling her eyes lightheartedly at the comment, deciding not to reveal her true feelings out in the open. “Delusional is what you are, KK.”

Leaning against her locker, her arms crossed as a joyous smile appeared across her face, Azzi Fudd decided to betray her years of friendship with Paige to side with KK in the matter ( or that’s how Paige saw it as, anyhow ). “No, KK’s right, it must’ve been, what? One, three, ten times you must’ve stared at the girl?”

Sarah giggled at Azzi’s comment, piping up that she agreed with them both. “You gotta admit, Paige, it was basically love at first sight.”

“Okay, is it all gang up on Paige day? The fuck is this?” Paige reached for her hoodie, now wanting to escape from the group of hyenas as soon as possible. There were barely any secrets held back between the team, so Paige wasn’t exactly surprised they had picked up on her latest … crush.

The instigator began to laugh at the mess she created, KK standing up and reaching for her jacket. “Not that I can blame you, Paige, she is fucking gorgeous. If you don’t claim her soon, I might have to swoop in and—”

Paige, using the towel that lay on the bench, whacked KK’s arm, ignoring the dramatic yell the girl let out. The girls laughed, Aubrey piping up with a comment that Paige was already protective of her future girlfriend.

“Look, I don’t even know her name, let alone if she’s gay,” Paige sighed, begrudgingly admitting to her friends the next part. “Besides I don’t think she’s interested, she couldn’t even look at me.”

“Yeah, because you’re Paige fucking Bueckers. Of course she’s nervous as shit to look at you!” KK retorted.

Ayanna, strapping her bag across her chest in a hurry to no doubt see her girlfriend, even put her two cents in. “Yeah, when I went over to Lili at the end, your girl was basically sneaking glances at you every 5 seconds.”

“Yeah, I know her best friend, Cat. Apparently, she’s just an extremely shy person.” Azzi leant over to put her trainers on, tying her laces as she added, “Oh, her name’s Y/N by the way.”

Ignoring their teasing until they had another conversation to focus on, Paige couldn’t help but think of the new cheerleader with her cute doe eyes, shy smile, and perfect uniform that fit snugly against her body. She didn’t know if there was any truth to Ayanna’s comment, but it did nothing to help her heartbeat slow.

Y/N, a pretty name for a pretty girl. Fuck, she thought, she was completely fucking screwed.

J

Attending a party was honestly the last thing on your mind tonight. When your new friend on the team, Hanna, had knocked upon your door and dragged you out of your dorm with a quick explanation of ‘party!’ you knew you had no choice but to agree.

The majority of the cheer squad were holed up in Hanna’s rather large dorm, Cat focused on applying a generous amount of makeup on her face before dragging you to sit by her side, demanding you pretty up for your future girlfriend. “Paige will definitely be there tonight. They can’t drink alcohol, but them players party hard. Trust me.”

It didn’t take long for you all to get ready and make your way to the party. You had to borrow one of Hanna’s roommate’s outfits, a black mini skirt and a crop top that showed far too much cleavage than you were comfortable with. Your friends spoke the opposite, however, saying unabashedly how sexy you looked.

The bodies of young college adults either high or drunk mingled in the large house, music blaring and lights flashing as you entered.

It didn’t take long for you to loosen up, two drinks in and you were beginning to feel the normalcies of college life. You weren’t drunk by any means, just not as sober as you were entering the party. Cat, much to your amusement, was chatting up her latest fling, the closeness she had with the guy basically inferred that she would most likely be leaving with him tonight. Of course, as she always did, she would make sure you were okay first before she left.

You had gone to collect another drink whilst Cat was busy, deciding three was your maximum for tonight. On your way over, however, you accidentally bumped into someone. Your eyes looked up to see Dylan, a guy in your business class who often overstepped his boundaries with you. Flirty comments and unwanted advances were usually his forte.

“Oh, hey, look who it is.” Dylan wolf whistled as he looked you up and down, not at all shy with his gaze. He was definitely drunk, barely standing straight as his speech began to slur. “Damn, you look hot as fuck, Y/N.”

You winced at his words. For one: you were a lesbian, and even if you didn’t shout it from the rooftops, it was pretty obvious to anyone who knew you. And second: even if you were interested in guys, you were 101% sure that Dylan would be at the bottom of that fucking list. But still, your shy demeanour meant you hated confrontation, so you tried your best to be polite.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You attempted to quickly move around him to avoid any further conversation, but his large frame was blocking the table where the drinks were located. “I just wanted to get a drink is all—”

“Hey Y/N?” He attempted to grab your waist, one that you thankfully managed to dodge. Still, he attempted his best to move closer to you. “You wanna get outta here? You know, go somewhere a little more private?”

You immediately shook your head in refusal, wanting to move backwards to escape his presence but bodies of dancing people made you unable to do so. You weren’t exactly the shortest person, but your height wasn’t much compared to a 5’11 guy who filled every checklist of a stereotypical jock. He was either too drunk to get the hint or simply didn’t care. You spoke with a more pleading tone now. “No, I’m not interested—”

“Hey!” A loud — and rather aggressive — voice shouted out overtop of the deafening music beating against every surface in the house. At first the voice seemed distant, but you soon recognised that the person was behind you, getting closer as she continued to speak with hostility laced within every syllable. “Get the fuck away from her.”

Turning your head to look at your saviour, you almost couldn’t believe it when Paige Bueckers sidestepped around you, wasting no time before instantly shoving your harasser off of you. She was not gentle with her push, and Dylan was more than shaken up, stumbling back a few steps from the force of the blow. Her height also helped somewhat, she stood a few inches taller than him and she basically towered over you, stepping in front of you so her whole body covered yours.

To your belief, the guy was bordering on an absolute moronic level of drunk. Completely ignoring the fact that he nearly fell into the table behind him, he attempted to lighten the mood, despite having a pissed off, 6 foot basketball player in front of him. “Oh shit, Paige Bueckers!— ”

Paige didn’t even allow him to finish his sentence before interrupting him, standing somewhat close to him so he could hear her every word, but not straying too far from you. You could barely see Dylan because of her frame obscuring your view. “I fucking swear,” she began, gritting her teeth as anger seeped through her every word. “If you ever go near her again, I will fuck you up. You hear me?”

Despite being content with never seeing his face again, you desperately wanted to witness his reaction to Paige’s vitriol, so you stood on your toes to look over her shoulder. What you saw satisfied you immensely, a choked laugh escaping your lips.

Dylan’s face was full of intimidation and fear, nodding his head vigorously to show he understood what Paige had demanded. At least even in his drunken stupor, he was smart enough to not pull out the macho man card, and accepted that he was simply in a losing battle.

“Good,” Paige nodded, her tone now emanating with a calmer, less aggressive rage. “Now, fuck off.”

He quickly scampered away, losing himself in the crowd of dancing bodies clambered together. Paige watched on for a couple of seconds, ensuring he was far away from you. You were almost dumbfounded at what had just happened, the whole moment going by far too quickly for you to decipher it.

Paige soon turned back to you, her gaze settling on yours within an instant. The tension between the two of you was so palpable you could almost feel it in the air, and you quickly took your chance to admire her, your eyes roaming over her entire physique.

Her hair was slicked back in her infamous bun, the studs in her ears matching the simple chain around her neck. She wore a UConn hoodie and black jeans, a casual outfit that had you looking rather overdressed when compared to her. She had no makeup on her face, and the confidence she displayed mixed with just her in general was such a turn on for you that you had to calm yourself down before she spoke.

Paige gave you a brief look up and down, her eyes settling on yours as she took a step closer, head bent ever so slightly to accommodate the size difference. “Hey,” she spoke, her voice miles softer now it was directed towards you. “Are you okay? The guys around here can be fucking assholes.”

You kept your gaze on her blue eyes, finding it a million times harder now to draw your stare away that you were so close. You couldn’t help but think to yourself how fucking hot she looked: her outfit, the way she tilted her head so she could hear you when you eventually spoke, how she gripped her phone in her hand, the way her hand flexed as she gripped her phone, just her fingers in general—

Basically, you were fucking screwed.

And then, you realised you hadn’t even answered her back, because you were too busy fucking staring at her. Idiot.

“Oh! Um.” You shook your head to attempt to get rid of the dirty thoughts laced within every part of your brain where Paige was concerned, and attempted to muster a normal conversation with the girl. “Y-yeah, I’m okay. Thank you so much for that, you honestly didn’t have to.”

Paige took her chance to move one step closer, the closeness between the two of you now doing nothing to help calm your racing heart. She shook her head in refusal. “Nah, I can’t stand it when ugly as fuck guys refuse to leave pretty girls alone.”

Oh. Oh.

Despite the almost dark lighting in the place, — harshy lit leds being the only source of light in the room — you could feel feel how flushed your cheeks were, the heat of nervousness rushing to your head.

Paige fucking Bueckers just called you pretty. You honestly wouldn’t be shocked if you had a heart attack in this very moment; your heart was basically threatening to jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.

You couldn’t help the cheesy smile that graced your lips. Your grin so wide as you avoided eye contact, tucking your hair behind your ear as you glanced at the floor, building up the courage to take a step further towards her, nearing chest to chest with the girl. Raising your eyes to hers, you managed to take ahold of your shy nature to give her a proper reply.

“Well, I appreciate it. Seriously, thank you.” You debated asking your next question, but decided your usual nervous personality was being thrown out the window tonight. “Are you here with anyone?”

Paige smirked, probably taking your question as you flirting … which you definitely were. You didn’t have too much practice when it came to chatting up girls, as you were usually too oblivious to notice when they were interested in you. Luckily, Cat’s comments earlier that day about how Paige was attracted to you had taken root in your brain, making you more confident than you usually were.

Your eyes were fixated on her every move, especially when her tongue poked the side of her cheek, the motion had you so focused it was hard to draw your eyes away. She probably took notice to your constant staring, but honestly, it was almost impossible to look away from her. Simply put, she was addicting.

Paige tucked her hands into her hoodie pocket before replying. “Just my team, most of them are out there flirting though, so I got left behind.” The music then changed, switching from a calm R&B song to a more upbeat and deafening pop tune, making it all the more harder to hear each other.

Paige bent her head closer to you, her mouth hovering near your ear, her lips just barely brushing your skin as she spoke. The breath that escaped her had goosebumps trailing all along your body, starting from the back of your neck and moving downwards. The close proximity did nothing to calm you down by any means, only heightening the sexual tension that was already amid the air between the two of you. “And you?”

The now extreme closeness had you stumbling over your words, making it all the more obvious how affected you were by her mere presence. “I-I came here with my team as well, but I don’t have a clue where any of them are. My best friend is probably making out with some guy.”

Your eyes settled on the drink table, and quickly averted your gaze. Nothing seemed less appealing to you than drinking another sip of alcohol tonight, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were literally flirting with Paige Bueckers, you wouldn’t be lingering at this party at all. You decided to voice that to her, even if you wanted to stay to spend every second you could with the girl.

“Honestly, I was just gonna go home after one more drink. Partying’s not really my scene. Especially with what happened before…”

You took your chance to face Paige, wanting to see her face fully and not glimpse at her out of the corner of your eye. Her gaze softened, her tone becoming more gentle after your confession.

“Hey.” Her hand automatically reached for your waist, her tender touch settling on the bare expanse of your skin. Immediately, your nerves were set on fire, your face heating up as you felt Paige’s caress. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were beginning to feel turned on at the feel of even a simple touch from the basketball player.

You had just met her, and yet you couldn’t help but feel so deeply attracted to her.

She carried on speaking as if nothing was amiss. “You wanna leave? I can take you to your dorm if you want? I was gonna leave soon, anyway.”

You were rendered speechless for a slight second, taken aback by the kind gesture. It probably wouldn’t seem like much to someone else, but this was Paige Bueckers. You know, famous basketball player who had everyone falling at her feet. She probably had a million other important things to do tonight than walk you home. And yet, she was offering anyway.

Fuck, you were falling deeper than you realised.

“You … you’d do that? You’d walk me home?”

“Yeah,” Paige laughed at your expression, assuming you looked absolutely dumbfounded. “I’d rather you get home safe, I don’t trust that slimy fucker not to bother you again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. Paige dropped her hand from your waist, and you immediately began mourning the loss of her touch. “I think you scared him off for good.”

“I fucking better had.” She replied seriously, briefly — but not subtly — flicking her eyes one last time up and down your body before adding one more comment. “You ready to go now then, Ma?”

You nodded, a shy smile planting itself upon your face at the nickname. Her hand once again found your waist, to either protect you or lead you, you did not know. Not that you were complaining. Odd to think, it was like Paige’s hand was meant to be there, both of your body’s fitting together like a puzzle piece.

You two soon made your way outside, breathing in fresh air and escaping the bustling crowd of drunk college students. You quickly sent a text to Cat, wanting to let her know where and who you were with, adding sporadically at the end of the message that you would let her know all the details tomorrow.

The odd person was seen loitering outside the building, but as you and Paige continued to walk in the direction of the dorms, you two found yourselves alone in the other’s company.

You wanted to fill the awkward silence with conversation, but you didn’t get a chance before you began to shiver, the cold air settling goosebumps along your skin. Paige, not walking too far from you, began to notice the shaking movement. “Hey, you cold?”

“Oh,” you began to reply. “I’ll be okay.”

Paige began reaching for the bottom of her hoodie, pulling the piece of clothing off her body. As she did so, you caught a glimpse of her stomach, her shirt riding up with the movement. Your breath hitched, immediately looking away so Paige didn’t catch you staring obsessively at her. It seemed too late though by the smirk on Paige’s face.

“Here,” Paige said. Stopping you in your tracks and popping the hoodie over your head despite your protests. Your hair was quite frankly a mess after that, and Paige couldn’t help but tuck a piece behind your ear while you pulled your arms through. “Now you won’t freeze to death on my watch.”

“Thank you. You’re my knight in shining armour tonight.” You laughed heartily, the butterflies circling your stomach now dancing around each other. You decided to be bold then, deciding it was now or never to shoot your shot with Paige. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Damn, one more thing, Ma? You’re a needy one.” Paige joked, purposefully walking into you, nudging her shoulder against yours to show her banter.

You jokingly rolled your eyes, biting your lip as the smile on your face fell ever so slightly as you began to speak. “Earlier today, at the game … was it me you were looking at? I mean, if you were staring at some other girl, it would be no problem at all! I was just wondering—”

You were soon cut off from your rambling, not realising you had reached the building to your dorm until a guy — coincidentally — opened the door to exit, mumbling a sorry for interrupting the conversation between you and Paige.

Honestly embarrassed by your questioning, and annoyed at yourself for ruining the almost perfect night, you and Paige walked inside the building and entered the elevator to go to your room. You were slightly confused as to why Paige accompanied you; she had done her job in delivering you safely to your destination. She was either taking her objective literally, or she wasn’t done with you for the night.

After an excruciating awkward silence in the elevator ride, it didn’t take too long before you were outside your dorm room. You turned to Paige, not wanting to end the night on a sour note. She must’ve had the same idea, however, as the two of you began to speak at the same time.

“Hey, I’m so sorry for—”

“Shit, Y/N, I—”

You both stopped, laughing slightly before the tone turned serious once more. This time, Paige didn’t hesitate before saying her thoughts.

“Fuck — to answer your question, of course I was looking at you during the game. I mean, you’re fucking gorgeous, it sounds cringey as fuck but I honestly couldn’t help myself. Usually basketball is my whole life, but recently … I don’t know, you’ve changed that, and I barely fucking know you and you’ve basically got me falling at your feet—”

This time, you couldn’t help yourself.

You reached up to kiss her, your hands looping around her neck as you lost yourself in the kiss. Paige immediately reciprocated, her hands reaching back to where they belonged, squeezing your waist, her hands warm and welcoming on your skin.

The kiss soon turned heated, Paige’s tongue quickly gaining entry into your mouth, all the while pushing you up against your door, her hand coming up to rest beside your head. After what seemed like a lifetime of making out, her knee found its place between your legs, allowing you to grind up against her; your mini skirt basically non-existent as it rode up your thighs, making it easier for Paige to move her leg, gently applying pressure on you.

You weren’t this kind of girl — you know, hooking up with someone like five minutes into meeting them — but with Paige, it was different. It was like the two of you had known each other for months with how comfortable you were with one another.

“Fuck— Paige.” You whimpered, burying your head into the crook in her shoulder as she began to kiss down your neck, licking occasionally and varying her kisses from gentle to hard. It was like she was mapping out your body, wanting to get familiar with every inch of it.

“You wanna do this, Ma?” She breathed out, kissing her way back up to your lips before pulling away, looking you in the eyes whilst speaking. Her knee wasn’t letting up between your legs, the pressure building up the tension in your stomach. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back onto the wall to maintain your posture. She placed her hand on the side of your face, her thumb playing with your bottom lip as you opened your eyes to gaze upon her face.

“I’m gonna need an answer, baby.”

A slight moan escaped your lips, and you hoped to God the other people in their dorms were either at the party or fast asleep. You nodded in response to her question, “Yeah— yes.”

Paige smiled at your answer. You knew that if you had said no, Paige would’ve accepted that without question, and let you be for the night. The tension between the both of you, however, was too high to be left alone, and you desperately didn’t want to say goodbye to her; you instead needed her as close as possible.

Turning around, you dug your hand in Paige’s hoodie for the keys you had placed there earlier and fumbled to unlock the door. Paige, who seemingly couldn’t help herself, placed her hands dangerously low on your back, kissing the side of your neck once more as you finally opened the door.

You dragged Paige into your room, pulling her by the arm as she shut the door behind the both of you. She didn’t waste a second before pulling you into her, her mouth attacking yours once more. She reached to rid you of her hoodie, throwing it carelessly across the room.

You backed up until you felt your knees hit the edge of your bed. Paige reached down to hoist you onto the bed, gently leaning over you until your back was flush against the mattress. She had one hand propped on the bed next to your head whilst the other was on your waist; simultaneously kissing you while her hand moved lower and lower, teasing you slowly.

You whined pathetically, at this point the only thought in your brain was Paige, and how much you needed her to alleviate the throbbing pressure in your pussy. Though it seemed Paige wanted to take her time with you, you couldn’t handle her lingering touch much longer.

To speed up the process, you slightly bit her lower lip, licking it and kissing her with a fervour whilst you slipped your mini skirt off your body, throwing it across the room. Paige pulled away enough to look upon your face, a smirk making its way onto her lips. “Damn, Ma. You’re a feisty one, huh?”

“I just need you.” You basically whispered, the sexual tension almost becoming unbearable.

She leaned down to kiss you, hard, with a satisfied smile on her face. Her hand reached down to your underwear, the thin g-string basically clinging to your pussy with how wet you were, and pulled it off your body, all while whispering in your ear.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotchu.”

She rid you of the last piece of clothing you were wearing — your top, and thank goodness you decided to forgo a bra tonight — and didn’t waste one more second before diving into you.

Her hand reached down to your pussy, her fingers mapping out every inch of your folds; your wetness making it so much easier for her to feel her way around. She purposefully danced around your clit, knowing where the small bud was but not yet touching it, all to make you moan and beg pathetically underneath her.

She didn’t leave your boobs alone, either. Her mouth wrapped around your right nipple, sucking and playfully biting it. Only when she felt that one had received enough attention did she move onto the next, giving the sensitive peak the same treatment — more so biting it to tease you even farther.

“Fuck… Paige, please.” You begged, and only then when your breath hitched did she turn her attention to your clit, rolling the bud between her fingers. You let out a full moan, closing your eyes and feeling her mouth on yours, her tongue gaining access into your mouth and kissing you seductively.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet.” She whispered against your lips, kissing away your loud whimper as she entered a finger into you, pumping it easily with how slick you were. You didn’t think you had ever been this wet in your whole life.

“All because of you.” You managed to get out, wanting her to know only she could make you like this, fucked out dumb on your own bed, only wanting the feel of her all over you.

She easily slipped a second finger in — probably gaining confidence because of your comment — and she skilfully began to curl her fingers while pumping them inside you, her other hand busy playing with your clit.

It sounded dramatic as fuck to say, but you swear you began to see stars, the dark lighting in the room doing nothing to help your vision.

“Paige! Fuck, please … kiss me.” You begged. You decided you would save your dignity for the moment and be embarrassed by how pathetic you sounded later.

Paige must’ve thought the opposite to you, however, as she quickly followed your request, kissing you while continuing with her movements, not letting up with the speed. She gazed upon your face, and thought it was kind of hard to see her because of the darkness, you knew she was gazing at you with pure admiration. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Her words were what tipped you over the edge. You let out a small gasp, you hand gripping her toned arm as Paige began to kiss down your neck, letting you cum. “Fuck,” you whined, convulsing around her fingers as your thighs began to shake.

“That’s it, Ma, just let it out.” She spoke into your ear, her fingers not easing up until she milked every last drop out of your orgasm. You knew then, for a fact, that Paige definitely enjoyed making you cum. She removed her fingers, giving you pussy a slight slap as she leaned back, licking her fingers right in front of you.

“Fuck… you taste sweet.” She smiled, rendering you speechless for what seemed like minutes. You decided you were far from done for the night. Despite having just cum, you honestly craved another orgasm. Not that there were a lot, but your past experience never had you as desperate as Paige did.

Just know realising you were the only one naked, you reached up to kiss her once more. Reaching for the bottom of her top, Paige pulled it off, seeing that she was without a bra, too. “Round two already, baby?”

“You’re driving me crazy.” Was all you replied, watching as Paige stood to rid herself of her jeans and boxers. She soon hovered over you once more, but you decided to try and give her the pleasure you had been given for the night.

You gently flipped her over, her height and athletic stature made it almost impossible to manhandle her the way she did you. Paige seemed to enjoy the direction you were taking this, however, as she quickly slid her hands over your waist and ass, squeezing slightly as you bent down to kiss her sensually.

Her hand reached up to wrap around your neck lightly, moving her hand down to squeeze one of your boobs. “You’re killing me. You know that, right?”

Now it was your turn to smile, deigning not to reply as you sat back. Your thighs were straddled around her hips, your pussy just shy of touching Paige’s. Maintaining eye contact, you began to lower yourself on top of her, the both of your folds merging together the best they could in the position you were in.

“Shit, baby.” Paige breathed out, your high whining and her low moans mixing together as you began to ride her, moving backwards and forwards, picking up speed eventually. You mentally thanked yourself for joining the cheerleading squad, as it allowed you to gain stamina you definitely did not have before.

Paige’s hands gripped your hips, helping your body move fluidly. If possible, it made you even wetter to see the veins flexing in her hands and arms, the many hours of bouncing a ball giving Paige unimaginable strength.

You whined, your body giving your all as you picked up speed, Paige gripping your chin to bring your head down to her level, kissing you before flipping you over. You were now on the bottom; Paige lifted one of your legs, your thighs now slotting between Paige’s as she began to grind her pussy against yours.

“Paige! … Mmph.” You whined. This new angle had your clits rubbing together, the mix of Paige’s wetness and your cum making it so easy for Paige to basically fuck you. She had one hand wrapped around your thigh and the other around the side of your face, still gentle as ever in her touch as she leaned down to kiss you.

“You gonna give me one more?” She breathed against your lips, not letting up in her movements. You couldn’t even give her an answer, as before you knew it another orgasm was ripped from you.

All you could do was whimper Paige’s name over and over as she began to quicken her movements, chasing her own high. It wasn’t long before her hips began to stutter, her own orgasm ripping through her body.

She began to slow in her movements, her face slotting in between your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. “That was…” You began to speak, your voice soft and damn near broken. “…Wow.”

Paige’s breath hitched with a laugh, moving her body off of yours and under your sheets, lightly draping them over the both of you. “Damn right it was.”

You didn’t hesitate before curling your body into hers, wrapping your leg around one of Paige’s as you buried your head into the side of her neck. She easily slid an arm around around you, dragging you as close she possibly could.

You were silent for a few moments, realising how deep you felt in your attraction to the basketball player. You knew for a fact that you didn’t want to say goodbye to her anytime soon, knowing your fragile heart was already clinging onto her.

You spoke in a hushed tone, needing to say the words before they consumed your every thought. “Was this, uh, a one time thing?”

You felt Paige’s head turn to look at you, her hand cradling your face as she wanted you to look at her. You were still too nervous to gaze into her eye, but she wouldn’t let your comment slide without intervention. “C’mon, baby. Let me see your face.”

You let her gently move your face until it was eye level with hers, not helping herself as she placed a delicate kiss on your lips. “I ain’t letting you go, Ma. I promise. I’ve never… felt this way about anyone. I think I’m fucking falling for you.”

You smiled shyly, your heart fluttering with such warmth and joy it was hard to wipe away. Your own hand reached up to Paige’s face, moving your thumb gently across her cheek as you turned to kiss the hand that was cradling your face.

“Good,” you spoke. Confidence now creeping into your words. “Because I feel the exact same way.”

Paige smiled, the heartfelt motion warming you. She leaned into kiss you once more, the hour late, and all she could think of was spending every minute wrapped up in your body.

And from then on forth, when UConn played and won nearly every single game that year, all Paige could do was find your gaze in the crowd, cheering her on in your cheerleading uniform, so effortlessly in love with one another.

“Covid game me narcolepsy” no you fucking pervert it didn’t. You’re just a weirdo with a gross fetish. Covid didn’t make you suddenly want to fuck dead people. Keep that shit to yourself you gods damned weirdo

I have type 2 Narcolepsy. Studies have shown that serious viral infections can cause people to develop Narcolepsy if they are already genetically susceptible to having it. This includes covid. That is what happened to me.

You on the other hand might want to google the difference between Narcolepsy and Necrophilia….

My shayla😭

this makes me so sad genuinely

⟡Who Knew Music Could Taste So Good

Prologue + Authors Note

 Have you ever had that feeling where certain faces and places feel all too familiar, like you've been there before?

       Your present mind doesn't know what's going on, but your body does. Your heart reacts to someone you've never met, and the walk down a different path in a new town brings a small ping of familiarity. Different people bring you serenity,  like you’ve known them, shared memories, stories, jokes, food, etc.

      So if I’ve never been here before... with her... why does my heart feel like it's pounding against my chest, seconds away from beating out of my chest...

...right into her hands...

⟡

     It’s January, the year has just started and snow swirls in the crisp are, yet the atmosfear feels a bit rocky. My sister is driving, humming her new song of the week, a classic Sabrina song, Juno. One of my favorites, but I can’t focus on the lyrics. My head is pounding as we drive to the hospital for my bi-monthly check-up. About 3 years ago, I was in an accident. I vaguely remember what happened, but I remember driving from an event and a truck ramming into me.

     I remember a horrid crunch and then nothing, absolute blackness. 

 When I came to, there was a girl by my side, not my sister or our aunt. She was beautiful, with tan skin, tattoos on her arms, and one on her neck. She had tears in her eyes, she looked...

.broken.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

hiii guys omggg my first book after literal years (like magcon era ew). Let me know what y'all think 💋

 ps. I’m gonna add spanish here and there, if my wonderful friends decide to help me :3.

Moaned ngl, I love a good shot

beautiful

i make book yeah

:3

Teehee, id post my ass but I don't want to break tumblr

Chubby girls in crop tops. Chubby girls in tank tops. Chubby girls in mini skirts. Chubby girls in short shorts. Arms out. Legs out. Thighs out. Ass out. Tits out. I will support it every single time. There’s no reason to hide your body because you’re scared it’s too much for other people. Your body’s literally gorgeous. If you see something and wanna wear it, put that shit on 🩷

Broooooooo im crying

i bet count von count has killer fuckin music taste

It's probably the worst game of her life for scoring. Her team can't communicate. She did ALL the work (with some help from Cardoso, at least). A flagrant foul from the worst possible person led to racial slurs being hurled at her (picked up on video, so they can't deny it anymore), all while the MAGA influencer who has been harassing her for years was sitting courtside.

And STILL she made history and broke records. STILL got her double-double. They can twist the narrative all they want. They can't make me hate her for being her. She's a good person. A good player. A good teammate.

The rest is noise. Just play your game, Angel.

kali uchis tickets are $50. someone give me one good reason why i shouldn’t whip out my card rn