#tizzy

Pairing: Gabby Williams x Marine Johannès

Fandom: WNBA (Misc)

Content warning: mild language

a/n: its short, i know, but ya girl is tired and my eyeballs are about to fall out, so...deal with it.

taglist: @marrymekatemartin, @wbbszn

dividers by @enchanthings-a, masterlist here, flufftober/whumptober masterlist here

Gabby had been waiting for this.

She’d been waiting for All-star weekend to come in all of its chaotic glory so she could be with her girlfriend longer than a night. But all good things had flaws, and this flaw came in the form of neon pink hair atop the heads of two Minnesota Lynx players.

Listen, neither of them were hiding their relationship per se. They valued privacy, but it wasn’t a secret by any means. Still, it didn’t mean they wanted their shit aired out to the world.

So imagine this. First day of a weekend that’s supposed to be relaxed, they just want to get through this orange carpet so they can go drink until they’re both giggling, but they hear a booming voice cut through the space and share a pained glance.

Because who else would be yelling, “Believe it!” with an overpronounced “B” sound and too much gusto for a mandatory event other than Courtney Williams?

And where Courtney went, Natisha went. And where the StudBudz went, a livestream followed. When they stole a glance of the carpet, they saw that the pair of pink-haired studs were, in fact, running around like free range chickens.

Suddenly, they really didn’t want to do it.

When they made it out unscathed, thankfully, they were just walking out the building. Minding their business. Following a path of their own.

And then they saw Jackie, T and Court in front of them.

And then that fucking live stream guy.

And all of sudden they were speed walking out of there like it was an Olympic sport. The camera caught a glimpse of them, chat going crazy for the whole two seconds as they got out before they got caught.

Unfortunately, that was not the only time they’d encounter the live.

First party of the week. Warm lights, good music, and high energy. The couple were tucked away in the VIP section with Paige, who was nursing a shirley temple while talking to Natasha Cloud and both their girlfriends, Isabelle Harrison and Azzi Fudd.

The triple date moment was endearing chaos. Tash, Izzy and Marine all had Liberty-related stories. Paige complaining about going from Geno to…a man-bun-having yoga instructor. Gabby just gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

After a while, Paige disappeared to grab a drink, with Azzi following suit. But when they reappeared, Paige had a grim look on her face.

“What happened? You guys alright?” Paige slumped down dramatically while Azzi sat down next to her with a pat on the shoulder.

“We ran into the StudBudz. Azzi ran before they got her,” A glare directed at the youngest girl in the group, who raised her hands in surrender, “but I got caught instead.”

The group laughed, glasses clinking together, bodies shifting.

Thankfully, that was the closest they got to an actual encounter that day. They made it back to their hotel room, melting into each other the moment they were in the safety of solitude.

They took a bath together—not in that way, you weirdo—holding each other tight as Gabby laid on top of Marine, caramel skin melting into porcelain.

They went to bed with their hands interlocked, legs tangled and Gabby’s head tucked securely in Marine’s chest, the older girl’s chin resting on silk-covered braids.

“I’m so lucky to call you my fiancée, you know that?” Marine murmured, fingers toying with the edges of Gabby’s bonnet. Her voice curled around her words, accent warm and a reminder of their home.

“je pourrais dire la même chose. (I could say the same about you.)” Gabby whispered, head tilting up slightly to kiss the blonde.

The rest of the weekend was completely at their mercy. They didn’t really care what people had to say, after all. Gabby attempted to throw up a 4-point shot on one leg, which fell terribly short, but she pointed at Marine anyways, watching the edges of her eyes crinkle as she laughed.

They didn’t flinch when people called them former teammates. It wasn’t untrue, just an underestimation.

They talked to a lot of people—too many for either introvert, but they pushed through—including the Valkyries’ French rookie, Carla Leite, who was the biggest sweetheart and had a tendency of slipping between the two languages when speaking too quick.

The couple shared a knowing glance as they heard her complain in rapid fire French about how annoying English was, reassuring her that it got easier with time.

By the last day of the week, they decided not to go out. They stayed in their room—besides an impromptu trip to a froyo place—and cozied up, glued to each other as they watched some random documentary about a topic neither of them cared about.

And to finish of the night? They pulled up the StudBudz live stream. Watched the two menaces give feedback to Diplo, of all people, as they ran themselves ragged, downing shot after shot until they physically couldn’t.

Made an anthro version of my gatlian oc tizzy!