꩜ 𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐍 — 9teen, mercury fan first, human second. bisexual fem, mixed lebanese (yes, like the race) and black-american. free palestine !
⟡ sfw but will be interacting/writing smut (dni if you are a minor) ⟡
⟡ writer (certification from delulu university), part-time student, full-time bop. mommy issues to the MAX, country music lover, avid pnd listener. cc defender, diana taurasi's controversially young girlfriend & marc guiu's cougar. ⟡
➜ requests: open !
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 taurasiluvr writing | ry yaps | ry's moots | ry's anons | ry's fic recs | ry's nsfw recs | rylin's whoring hours (exactly how it sounds like - nsfw thoughts/asks)
𝐃𝐍𝐈 if you . . . support israel in any way, shape or form. transphobic, homophobic, racist or any kind of bigotry.
speaking of paige and reader fucking behind the boyfriend’s back… can we get more of paige pls (i’ve read those three parts way more than is healthy i love how you write paige i’m on my knees 🙏🏻)
BABEEEE i would absolutely love to like seriously but ive been so busy😭 thank you sm
maybe some requests would help ;) just sayin’ 🙂↕️
THERE'S HOLY GROUND BENEATH THEM, AND SPARKS FLY WHEN THEY KISS──BUECKERS⁵
for this request!
─ summary | you & paige have been together for a while, and you know nothing could come between you two—even distance itself.
─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader
─ word count | 1.8k
─ warnings | just fluff! paige being clingy af
ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!
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It’s early morning when you wake to the soft rise and fall of Paige’s breath next to you. The sun barely peeks through the blinds, casting gentle lines of light across her face. You can't help but smile as you watch her, peaceful and completely at ease, as if the world outside doesn’t exist for a moment. It’s these quiet mornings you love the most—just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.
You reach out, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her forehead. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and a sleepy smile spreads across her lips.
“Morning,” she murmurs, voice low and rough with sleep.
"Morning," you whisper back, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Paige shifts closer to you, her arm sliding around your waist, pulling you against her. You can feel her warmth seep into you, and for a second, you close your eyes, soaking it all in.
“I still can’t believe this is real,” she admits softly, her breath warm against your skin.
It’s something she says often, almost like a reflex—a reminder of the way her past relationships left her unsure, hesitant. But you know her better now. You know how far she’s come, how much you’ve both learned together.
“Me neither,” you reply with a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against hers. “But we’re figuring it out, aren’t we?”
Paige nods, a small, determined smile playing at her lips. You can feel the tension that still lingers sometimes, the quiet fears she doesn’t always speak aloud. But you’ve made it clear from the start—this is new for both of you, and you’re in it together.
“I’m glad it’s with you,” she says after a beat, her voice soft but sure.
And in that moment, wrapped in the safety of her arms, you know without a doubt—nothing could ever come between you.
───
When Paige has to leave for away games, you can always tell something’s off before she even says a word. She tries to hide it, but you see it in the way she lingers just a little longer when you hold her, in the tight squeeze of her arms around you when she pulls you in for a hug. The way her fingers stay tangled with yours as if she’s afraid to let go, like if she holds on long enough, maybe time will stretch, and she won’t have to leave just yet.
The night before she leaves, you find her sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the duffel bag that’s only half-packed. Her shoulders are slumped, her usual easy confidence replaced by something softer, quieter. You step closer, leaning against the doorframe, watching her for a moment. She doesn’t notice you at first, too lost in thought.
“Hey,” you say softly, breaking the silence.
Paige turns, her blue eyes lifting to meet yours, and though she smiles, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hey.”
You walk over, sliding into the space next to her on the bed. Without a word, you take her hand in yours, feeling the warmth of her palm against yours, the way her thumb absentmindedly traces circles on your skin.
“You’re not even packed yet,” you tease gently, trying to lighten the mood. “What happened to Paige Bueckers, always ready for anything?”
She lets out a small laugh, the sound soft and almost reluctant. “I know, I just… I hate leaving.”
“I know,” you murmur, resting your head on her shoulder. “But it’s only a few days. You’ll be back before you know it.”
Paige nods, but you can feel the tension in her body, the way her jaw clenches ever so slightly. She’s not great at talking about it, the way leaving you behind makes her feel. She’s always been independent, fiercely so, but when it comes to you, something shifts. There’s a vulnerability in her that only you see, a softness she keeps guarded from the rest of the world.
“It’s just…” she starts, and then stops, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t like being away from you.”
You tilt your head up, looking at her as her brow furrows in that way it does when she’s trying to find the right words. She’s always been better at showing you how she feels than saying it. Her love comes in the quiet moments, in the way she slips an arm around your waist when you’re making coffee, or how she sneaks kisses against your temple when you’re focused on something else. But now, she’s trying to put it into words, and you can see how much it’s weighing on her.
“I know it’s my job,” Paige continues, her voice a little rougher, “and I love playing, I really do. But I hate leaving you here. Every time I’m on the road, I just… I don’t know. It’s like a part of me is missing.”
Her words hang in the air for a moment, and you squeeze her hand a little tighter. “I miss you too,” you say quietly, because it’s true. Every time she’s away, the apartment feels a little emptier, quieter. You find yourself glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until she’s back, until you can hear her laugh in person again, see the way her eyes light up when she talks about her game.
“But,” you add, nudging her lightly, “you know I’m always watching, right? Every single game, I’m right there, cheering you on.”
Paige’s expression softens at that, the corners of her lips turning up just slightly. “Yeah, I know. I always try to play my best ‘cause I know you’re watching.” She lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s weird, but even when I’m on the court, I think about you. Like, I can’t wait to get back and tell you everything. How the game went, the plays we ran… I don’t know. I just always want to talk to you after.”
You smile, warmth blooming in your chest. You can picture it so clearly—Paige out there, focused and driven, pushing herself to her limits not just for the love of the game, but because she knows you’re at home, glued to the screen, living every moment with her.
“That’s because I’m your biggest fan,” you say, leaning up to kiss her cheek.
She finally grins, that familiar Paige smile that lights up her whole face. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe,” you admit, laughing softly. “But it’s true. You’re amazing, Paige. And I’ll always be here, waiting for you when you get back.”
Paige shifts so she can wrap her arms around you, pulling you close until you’re resting against her chest. You feel her chin rest on top of your head, the steady beat of her heart beneath your ear. She holds you like she never wants to let go, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The world outside the two of you falls away, and all that’s left is this—the warmth of her body, the familiar scent of her skin, the way she makes you feel safe and loved.
Eventually, she breaks the silence, her voice soft and sincere. “I love you, you know that?”
“I know,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing absent patterns on her arm. “I love you too.”
Paige holds you a little tighter, and you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s presence, as if neither of you can bear to let the moment slip away.
By the time she’s finally packed and ready to go the next morning, there’s a quiet resolve in her. You stand by the door, watching as she throws her bag over her shoulder, her posture more confident now, like she’s mentally gearing up for the game. But before she leaves, she turns to you, eyes soft, and steps close, cupping your face in her hands.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” she promises, and this time, you can tell she believes it.
You nod, leaning into her touch. “I’ll be here.”
With one last kiss, she’s gone, and the apartment feels empty without her. But even as she leaves, you know that no matter how far away she is, she’s still with you. You’ll be watching her from home, cheering her on, and when she’s back, you’ll be right here, waiting—like always.
───
The reporter steps in, microphone in hand, with the cameras rolling. Paige wipes the sweat from her brow and takes a deep breath, flashing that signature smile, the one you know so well, but there’s still that softness underneath—reserved, a little shy when the attention is focused on her, even after all these years.
"Paige, another incredible performance tonight! You led your team with 28 points, 8 assists, 4 steals—you were unstoppable out there. How do you keep finding ways to take over like this?"
Paige chuckles, her eyes flickering down for a second as if she’s still processing it all. "Uh, honestly, it’s just about staying focused. My teammates make it easy for me, and I’m just trying to do my part to help us win."
The reporter nods, grinning. "You’ve had quite the season so far, but tonight, something felt different—you were playing with so much energy. Anything in particular motivating you tonight?"
There’s a small pause, and then Paige’s smile shifts, her eyes softening in a way that’s familiar to you. The crowd noise fades in the background as she takes a moment before answering.
"Yeah, uh, there’s always one person who’s got my back no matter what," Paige says, her voice steady but full of emotion. "Even when I’m out there on the road, I know she’s at home, watching, supporting me every second. That makes all the difference." She looks directly into the camera, her smile widening.
"So this one’s for you," she continues, and your heart skips a beat. "You know who you are. Thank you for always being there for me, for believing in me—even when I’ve had doubts. You’re the reason I can go out there and play my best. Every game, every shot, I think about coming home to you. I love you."
The reporter grins, picking up on the moment. "Sounds like you’ve got quite the support system off the court as well."
Paige laughs, a little embarrassed but glowing. "Yeah, well I’m really lucky. She means everything to me."
You can feel your cheeks heat up even though Paige isn’t there with you. Hearing her say it, in front of the cameras, in front of everyone—it’s a reminder of just how deep this connection goes. You’ve always known how much you mean to her, but hearing her speak about you like this, with so much love and gratitude, makes your chest swell with pride.
The interview wraps up, and as Paige waves to the fans and heads back toward the locker room, you sit there, staring at the screen, heart full. The game may be over, but the way Paige looks at you, even from a distance, reminds you that you’re always with her—on the court, off the court, and everywhere in between.
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