Part I Part II
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader
You and Paige didn’t talk about that night.
You didn’t talk about the way she touched your face.
Didn’t talk about the way she looked at you.
Didn’t talk about the way her voice had dropped when she told you not to walk in looking like that again.
It was easier to act like it never happened.
So that’s exactly what you both did.
Things were awkward—but manageable. Civil, even.
A few words exchanged in passing.
Like nothing ever happened.
And if Paige started acting a little different?
A little too reckless with the way she was bringing girls home?
Azzi brought it up first.
You were sitting outside between classes when she plopped down beside you, stretching her legs out.
"Paige has been weird lately," she said, brows furrowed.
You kept your face neutral. "Weird how?"
"I don’t know," Azzi sighed. "She’s been zoning out a lot. At practice, in class… Just looks lost in thought. It’s not like her. Have you noticed anything? You live with her."
"Really," you shrugged. "She keeps to herself. I don’t know what’s going on with her."
Azzi studied you for a second before sighing.
"Maybe she’s just in her own head," she muttered, rubbing her temple. "Whatever it is, it’s messing with her game."
You didn’t have an answer for that.
Because really, you didn’t know what was going on with Paige.
All you knew was that things felt different.
Paige came home late that night. Later than usual.
Her hoodie was damp from the rain, her sneakers scuffed from whatever drills they had at practice. She barely looked at you as she kicked them off by the door, dragging her feet toward the couch where you sat.
You didn’t acknowledge her either.
You just kept scrolling through your phone, letting the glow of the screen illuminate your face.
This had become the norm between you two.
She did her thing. You did yours. No unnecessary words. No acknowledgment of the tension hanging thick in the air.
You expected her to grab a drink, maybe disappear into her room like she always did.
She stood there for a second, looking at you like she was debating something, then without warning—
Her voice was quiet. Rough around the edges.
You barely had time to register the words before she dropped onto the couch beside you.
And suddenly, her head was in your lap.
Your whole body went stiff.
The weight of her pressed against you—warm, heavy, solid.
She had one arm slung over her face, shielding her eyes from view. Her other hand rested loosely against her stomach, fingers twitching like she couldn’t get comfortable.
She didn’t say anything else. Didn’t explain.
Paige had never done this before.
You opened your mouth—to say what, you didn’t know—but then you noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled slightly, like she was holding something in.
Like she was trying not to break.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there, frozen.
A quiet sound left her lips—almost a whimper.
You looked down, startled.
Her brows were furrowed, her jaw clenched.
She was having a dream. A bad one.
Your hand hovered above her hair.
Paige wasn’t the type to let herself be vulnerable, not like this.
If she woke up and saw you comforting her, she might hate you for it.
But then she twitched again.
This time, her whole body tensed.
You sighed. Then, slowly, carefully, you ran your fingers through her hair.
A deep, relieved breath, like something inside her had just uncoiled.
Her body melted against you.
The tension in her shoulders eased, and her grip on herself loosened.
Your hand kept moving, threading through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp.
She sighed again, turning her face slightly, pressing into you.
The warmth of her breath ghosted against your stomach.
She looked so different like this. So unguarded.
And that scared you more than anything.
But instead—you kept going.
Your fingers traced through her hair, and you let yourself watch her for just a little longer.
And before you knew it—you fell asleep too.
You woke up feeling light. Too light.
Like you weren’t even on the couch anymore.
It took you a second to realize—you weren’t.
You kept your breathing even, your body still, pretending to be asleep as you felt strong arms carrying you effortlessly through the dimly lit room.
You knew it was her before you even opened your eyes. The scent of her shampoo, the familiar warmth of her body so close to yours—it was unmistakable.
She was careful, her grip steady, one arm hooked beneath your knees, the other wrapped securely around your back. Each step was measured, like she was trying not to wake you.
But she didn’t know. You were already awake.
Your heart pounded as she reached your room, the bed dipping slightly as she gently set you down on the mattress. But she didn’t pull away immediately.
A breath hitched. Not yours. Hers.
Then, before you could fully process it, you felt her fingers—light, hesitant—trailing along your face. A soft touch brushing against your cheek, smoothing over your hair. A quiet, barely-there caress, like she was fighting herself the entire time.
“Fuck,” she whispered, voice rough, strained, like she was battling something she was losing to.
Her breathing deepened. You could feel it—warm, shaky, right against your skin. The air between you crackled with something heavy, something dangerous. Your mind raced. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Was she about to—
Wide-eyed, you stared at her. Her face was close. Too close. Her pupils were blown, her lips slightly parted, her entire body tense like she’d just been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.
But she didn’t move away.
Like she wanted something.
Like she needed something.
And who were you to deny her that?
You swallowed hard, pulse hammering against your throat. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. Even if this was a game to her, even if she was only doing this out of some curiosity—
Suddenly, Paige looked so different in your eyes.
Your body moved before your mind caught up. You inched closer. Just a little. Just enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.
Paige sucked in a breath.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, voice rough, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway.
You exhaled shakily. “Go on.”
She looked wrecked—like that was all the permission she needed, yet somehow it still wasn’t enough. She hesitated, her lips parting like she was about to say something.
“You sure?” she rasped. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
But you were already nodding—
Before she was kissing you.
It was desperate, unrestrained, like she had been imagining this moment for far too long. Like she had played this scenario in her head over and over again until she couldn’t take it anymore.
She pulled back, her breath ragged, her fingers digging into the sheets beside your head.
Her eyes burned into yours, shocked—by herself, by you, by this entire moment.
Like she had been celibate for years and was finally breaking. Like she had been starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy her now.
Your fingers curled into her hoodie, pulling her closer, feeling the warmth of her body press flush against yours.
“Shit,” Paige groaned against your lips, deep and guttural, like she had been holding herself back for too long and was finally giving in.
Paige was on top of you now.
Her weight pressing you into the mattress, her hands gripping the sheets beside your head, her knee between your legs—keeping you right where she wanted you.
Her breath was heavy, uneven, hot against your skin.
And you didn’t mind one bit.
She swallowed hard, her eyes dark, wild. Her hair fell forward, strands tickling your cheek.
Her thumb brushed the corner of your mouth—almost absentmindedly, like she was memorizing you.
She’s looking at you like she didn’t know whether to hold you or devour you.
“Tell me to stop,” she muttered, her voice raw. “Because if you don’t—I won’t.”
You should say something.
But Paige was on top of you.
And rationality had long left the room.
Instead, you tipped your chin up, closer to her lips.
“Then don’t,” you whispered.
A sound left her—half a curse, half a groan.
Paige crashed her lips back onto yours, harder, deeper, messier than before.
She kissed you like she was angry—like she was furious that she wanted you this much.
Like she had been fighting this feeling for too damn long and finally, finally—she lost.
Her hands roamed on your waist, stomach, legs—gripping, squeezing, taking.
She cursed under her breath, words tumbling out between kisses, hushed and wrecked.
“Fuck—” she muttered, dragging her lips across your jaw.
Her hands burned against your skin, sliding beneath fabric, exploring, teasing, taking.
“You don’t even know—” she exhaled against your throat, her breath hot, shivering.
Your fingers found the edges of her hoodie, fisting the material, anchoring yourself.
Paige’s lips were everywhere—neck, collarbone, pulse point—like she was trying to memorize the taste of you.
A deep, needy sound rumbled from her chest as she pulled back, eyes flickering over you.
"You’re gonna be the fucking death of me," she rasped, voice wrecked.
Then she kissed you again.
Like she needed you to breathe.
Her hands slid down your waist, gripping tighter, as if afraid you'd disappear.
You gasped against her mouth, overwhelmed by her—the weight of her, the heat, the way she fit against you so perfectly.
Paige groaned, her lips barely breaking from yours as she whispered, "God—"
Paige, who had you pinned.
Paige, who couldn’t seem to get enough of you.
Paige, who never let herself want you—until now.
She slowed, her forehead pressing against yours, breath mixing.
For a moment, neither of you moved, lingering in the space between something reckless and something devastatingly inevitable.
Then, almost hesitantly, Paige pulled back—just an inch, just enough to meet your gaze.
Her fingers traced your jaw, her breathing still ragged.
"Tell me you regret this," she murmured, but the way she looked at you—like she was praying you wouldn’t—made your stomach tighten.
At Paige, breathless, flushed, staring like she had no clue what to do with herself.
And then you whispered, “I don’t.”
Something inside her broke.
Paige let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering down to your lips, her grip tightening on you—
Then, this time, when she kissed you—
Let yourself forget everything else.
And when it was over—when exhaustion finally won and you collapsed beside her, tangled, breathless, spent—Paige reached for your hand.
Just enough for your fingers to brush.
And just like that—she fell asleep.
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the empty space beside you.
Your body still felt heavy, like you were weighed down by last night, but the absence of warmth next to you made something tighten in your chest.
You sat up slowly, heart pounding as fragments of last night came flooding back.
Paige’s hands, firm and desperate.
The way she looked at you, like she was starving.
The way she touched you, like she was memorizing every inch.
The way she broke apart in your arms.
Heat crept up your neck as you buried your face in your hands, mortified.
The door to her room was shut.
Before the panic could fully settle in, your eyes flickered to the kitchen counter.
A small, folded note rested next to a glass of water.
You hesitated before reaching for it, your fingers slightly trembling.
"Got practice. See you later. We'll talk."
You exhaled, shoulders slumping.
But it wasn’t a promise either.
And somehow, that stopped the anxious spiral forming in your chest.
You tried to go about your day as if nothing happened.
Class felt longer than usual.
Lunch felt off, like everyone could see through you.
Your skin tingled at the thought of Paige.
You weren’t sure how to act—how to feel.
Did last night mean something to her?
Or was it just another mistake she’d rather forget?
And yet, the anticipation sat heavy in your stomach, a constant, nagging thing that wouldn’t leave.
You heard the front door open before you saw her.
Paige walked in, fresh from practice, hair damp from a shower, hoodie slung low over her eyes.
You sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but your heart hammered.
She didn’t say anything at first.
Just kicked off her sneakers, stretched, then sat on the opposite end of the couch.
"So," Paige finally said, voice almost careful, like she was testing the air. "How are you feeling?"
She turned her head slightly, watching you. "After last night."
She smirked, leaning back against the cushions. "What? It’s a valid question."
You glared at her, heart racing, but her teasing smirk only deepened.
You hated that she looked so relaxed.
Like she wasn’t unraveling inside the way you were.
But then her voice softened.
"I'm serious, though. Did I... make you feel good?"
She burst out laughing, throwing her head back, and for some reason, that made you relax.
The tension cracked, just a little.
She still looked like your roommate.
Not just the girl who had wrecked you the night before.
Your shoulders eased, lips pressing into a reluctant smile.
"You're insufferable," you muttered.
And then—as if she hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down—she stretched her arms out, tilting her head towards her room.
"If you ever wanna do it again," she said casually, "just open my door."
Paige smirked at your stunned silence, then stood up and disappeared into her room—leaving you sitting there, heart pounding, pulse racing, brain an absolute mess.
You sat there frozen, Paige’s words echoing in your mind.
"If you ever wanna do it again, just open my door."
Like last night hadn’t been a complete shift in whatever the hell your relationship was.
You swallowed hard, gripping your phone as if it could ground you.
Paige was already in her room, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.
And now you were left sitting there, heart pounding, body still remembering the feel of her hands, her mouth, the weight of her on top of you.
You shook your head, forcing yourself to snap out of it.
She was joking. She had to be.
Paige had always been playful, teasing, cocky—but this?
This was her acknowledging what happened.
You exhaled slowly, fingers twitching at your side, the ghost of her touch still lingering.
But something in you itched.
Your eyes flickered to the hallway, where her door sat just barely closed.
Like she had left it open just enough.
Your body moved before your mind could stop it.
The apartment was silent, save for the distant hum of the AC.
Your breath felt too loud.
Paige’s door was within reach now.
Fingers grazing the surface.
The girl who had spent the last few weeks making you question everything.
Would she really be okay with this?
Your heart pounded as you pushed the door open, just a little.
The room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the city lights outside the window.
Lying on her bed, hoodie off, tank top loose around her collarbone.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Paige turned her head, eyes locking onto yours.
And just like that—you were done for.
"Couldn’t resist, huh?" she murmured, voice low, teasing—but there was something else in her eyes.
Something you couldn’t ignore.
"Shut up," you muttered, stepping inside.
Her lips curled, but she stayed where she was, watching you with that same unreadable intensity.
You closed the door behind you.
And this time, you didn’t hesitate.
Things didn’t change after that night. Not really.
Paige still woke up early for practice.
You still had your usual schedule.
You still passed each other in the dorm, civil, casual, normal.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
But one thing was different.
No girls slipping out of her room in the morning.
No hushed phone calls when she thought you weren’t listening.
No stolen glances across campus, no girls hanging off her after practice.
It was subtle at first. You didn’t notice right away.
But then the silence became too loud to ignore.
And the absence of something that had always been there felt heavier than its presence ever did.
You sat in your usual seat in the lecture hall, half-listening to the professor drone on about something you were too distracted to absorb.
Paige sat two rows ahead, leaned back, one arm lazily draped over the chair beside her.
Your eyes flickered to her out of habit.
It was a small thing, but she seemed… restless.
Checking her phone, then locking it without typing anything.
Tapping her fingers against the desk, brow furrowed like something was off.
But you noticed it anyway.
Just like you noticed how she didn’t disappear after class anymore.
How she started walking home at the same time as you, without actually walking with you.
How she lingered in the apartment more, flipping through channels on the couch instead of heading out.
And the most obvious thing—
How there was never anyone else around.
You came out of your room late that night, half-asleep, mind too clouded to care about anything except getting water.
Paige was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, spinning a basketball absentmindedly between her fingers.
She glanced up when she saw you, eyes flicking over you for a brief second before returning to the ball.
"Yeah," you mumbled, opening the fridge. "Just thirsty."
Paige hummed. "Should probably keep a bottle in your room then."
You rolled your eyes. "Didn’t realize I needed survival tactics in my own apartment."
A small smirk ghosted over her lips. "You never know."
You scoffed, grabbing your drink, but as you turned, something in your chest tightened.
Because for the first time in a long time—Paige was alone.
And suddenly, you weren’t so sure that things hadn’t changed after all.
A week of avoiding certain thoughts.
A week of pretending nothing had changed.
A week of stealing glances and pretending you weren’t.
But when Paige walked through the door that night, all of that forgotten restraint wavered.
Hair damp from a post-game shower, shoulders slumped under her hoodie, her duffel bag hanging from one hand. A hard loss.
You’d seen her upset before, but this was different. She looked…defeated.
You weren’t sure what to say, so you said nothing. Instead, you grabbed your phone and sent a text.
You: There’s ice cream in the freezer if you want some. You look like you need it.
A moment later, her phone buzzed in her pocket. You saw her pull it out, glance at the screen, then pause.
Her eyes flickered up—slightly wide, slightly hesitant.
Then she pulled her phone up, typed something back, and a second later, your phone vibrated.
Paige: How’d you text me?
You frowned, typing back quickly.
You: You gave me your number that night I got rained on, remember?
Then exhaled a quiet chuckle before disappearing into her room.
You assumed that was the end of it.
But minutes later, her door creaked open.
She stepped out, barefoot, hair still slightly damp, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants.
Just her standing there, looking at you with a gaze that felt too heavy.
You blinked. “Ice cream’s in the—”
She cut you off by walking straight to the couch and dropping onto it, right next to you.
“…You okay?” you asked carefully.
She didn’t answer right away, just leaned her head back against the cushion with a slow exhale.
You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”
She turned her head slightly, looking at you.
"Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it," she muttered.
You hesitated before saying, "It is, though. You're literally one of the best."
Paige’s lips twitched at that, but she didn’t deny it.
Instead, she stared at you for a second longer, her eyes flickering—like she was thinking too hard.
Like there was something she wanted to say but wasn’t saying.
And then, just when you were about to break the silence, she shifted.
The air felt tight instantly.
You swallowed. It was too familiar.
Paige tilted her head, gaze flickering down to your lips before she caught herself and looked away.
Then, so quietly you barely caught it—
She didn’t say it like that—not overtly, not intentionally sultry.
It slipped out like a confession.
"Why not go to one of your flings?" you asked, the words out before you could stop them.
Paige huffed a soft, almost amused breath. "Haven't been interested."
You frowned. "What, just like that?"
She turned fully now, one leg tucking onto the couch, facing you entirely.
Then, with zero hesitation, she said—
"I think I found a new obsession."
Paige didn’t say it outright.
But the way she looked at you?
You swallowed hard, but before you could even process it, she was already leaning in.
And this time, you let her.
The first brush of her lips was slow. Testing.
Then, when you didn’t pull away—when you sighed into it—she gripped the back of your neck and kissed you harder.
Like she had been waiting for this. For the whole week.
Like she had been holding back, like having you so near and her not being able to touch you, tortured her.
Your hands found her hoodie, fisting the fabric as she deepened the kiss.
A small, frustrated noise slipped from her throat before she pushed you back against the couch, climbing over you, straddling you completely.
Her hands skimmed down your sides. Your stomach tensed under her touch.
Paige pulled back just slightly, forehead resting against yours, breath uneven.
You didn’t tell her to stop.
Instead, you pulled her back down.
And that was all it took for her to lose control.
Paige groaned against your lips, like she had been waiting for this, like holding back had been hell.
Her hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, your thighs, slipping under your hoodie like she was desperate to feel you.
The heat between you was suffocating.
Her lips trailed down to your jaw, your neck, her breath hot against your skin.
You gasped when her teeth scraped against your pulse, and that sound—that sound—made Paige curse under her breath.
"Fuck," she murmured, voice husky. "You're gonna kill me."
Your grip tightened in her hoodie, trying to ground yourself, but Paige wasn’t letting you.
She was losing herself in you.
Her hands framed your face, her forehead pressing against yours as she tried to catch her breath.
"You don’t know what you're doing to me," she muttered, like she was mad about it.
You could feel it in the way she touched you—starved, impatient, obsessed.
But then, suddenly, Paige slowed.
Her lips still hovered close, her hands still gripping you tight, but her movements turned… deliberate.
Like she wanted to memorize you.
Like she was savoring something she wasn’t sure she could have again.
And that—that scared you.
Because it meant this wasn’t just about a release.
But before you could process it, Paige kissed you again—deeper, slower, like she was making sure you felt it.
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