ineedpaigebuckets

[ineedpaigebuckets]

okay guys OBVIOUSLY they communicate about what they do and don't post

but from experience the same thing happens to me where i'm the azzi in this situation

because we would post everything together... like we would be on facetime and both post things on my account

the only people that noticed were outsiders

THEY ARE IN LOVE

you can fucking see it in her face

[ineedpaigebuckets]

They got smth Marina was at Brunch (?) with Niyas family today almost crashed out on a racist couple for Niya today and niya said that her and marina might get matching tattoos...i know what they are...

GAY.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

saniya and marina were live not too long ago, that shit so gay I can’t 😭 there’s def something there, even if they haven’t figured it out yet 😭

i been SAYING and i don't even like follow them

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Lowk i need to know how everyone is feeling about Saniya and Marina 👀

THEY'RE FUCKING

you can't convince me otherwise

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damn where u going for that long

camp😛

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anons talk to em about anything i miss you guys

also i'm leaving without my phone for 6 weeks this sunday so...

talk to me while you can

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She likely won’t haha she has to stay in Storrs for practice, they’ll see each other Thursday/ Friday when P is in CT!

i know... just lemme be delusional

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azzi mother FUCKING fudd

you better be at this game or have a damn good excuse

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girl y u posting leaks wtf

GUYS HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW

😒😒😒

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Anyways your top 3 pazzi pics?

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Can we talk about how hard Paige is blushing in that pic you posted

it's actually so cute like i can NOT

that's her special azzi blush

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guys paige and azzi are NOT PUBLIC

everyone needs to calm the fuck down and let them live

thank you🤗🤗

this is the girls you say aren't in love anymore btw..

[ineedpaigebuckets]

this is pure filth so 🥰

Could you do like azzi walks in on Paige like ykkk to herself and then like Paige stops and wants azzi to come help her but then like azzi is like no I wanna watch

i wanna watch

it’s late.

the dorm is quiet, save for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional stretch of the old pipes in the walls. azzi’s just finished her treatment session—ice bath, stretches, deep tissue massage she hated every second of. she’s tired and sticky and already thinking about crawling into bed when she opens the door to their room.

the light’s off.

but the window’s open, and the moon’s full—soft, silvery light spills across the floor like water. it’s quiet. azzi almost assumes paige is asleep until she hears it—a breath, sharp and cut off. then a soft whine, swallowed against the back of a hand.

she steps in without thinking. the door closes behind her with a gentle click.

and there she is.

paige, curled up in her bed, her hoodie half-zipped and her hand between her legs.

it’s slow. lazy. desperate. her other hand’s gripping the hem of her blanket, her legs bent and pulled up a little like she was trying to be quiet, like she didn’t want anyone to see—but she didn’t lock the door.

her head tips back when she hears azzi, mouth parted. her eyes flutter open slow, pupils blown wide, flushed and already sweating.

“shit,” paige breathes. but she doesn’t pull her hand away. not right away.

azzi stands there, frozen, gym bag slipping off her shoulder and thunking quietly to the floor. she should turn around. she knows that. but paige looks wrecked, red-cheeked and soft and needy, her breath catching like she’s been trying to hold back for too long.

paige lets out a tiny, frustrated sound, yanking her hand away but only for a second—long enough to reach out, fingers grasping the edge of her blanket like she might try to hide. but her eyes are locked on azzi’s, blown open, pleading.

“azz,” she says, voice breaking around it. “can you… fuck. can you come here?”

it’s not even subtle. it’s all over her face—she doesn’t just want help, she wants her. wants azzi’s hand instead of her own. wants azzi to see how badly she needs her.

azzi swallows. her heartbeat’s loud in her ears.

“what were you thinking about?” her voice is quiet. too steady. she drops her jacket on the desk chair and takes a step forward, not to the bed yet. “me?”

paige nods instantly, like her brain can’t form words anymore. her hand flexes against her thigh.

“you,” she breathes. “fuck, you. i missed you. you were gone so long.”

azzi raises a brow. “you couldn’t wait?”

“i tried,” paige says, like it hurts her to admit it. “i swear. i just—i kept thinking about the way you looked this morning. how you kissed my neck and left and didn’t even touch me, you’re so mean.”

azzi’s lips twitch.

“mean?” she repeats, voice low, amused.

paige makes a broken little sound, half-laugh, half-groan. “you know what you do to me.”

azzi’s almost at the bed now. she stops at the edge, crosses her arms lightly over her chest. her hair’s still wet from the shower. she looks down at paige, and paige looks so small like this—like she’s trying to behave but already undone.

“so what now?” azzi murmurs. “you want me to fix it?”

paige nods again, breath catching.

but azzi doesn’t move.

she tilts her head, slow, and her eyes are dark in the low light, glinting with something dangerous. “no,” she says softly. “i wanna watch.”

paige blinks, like she didn’t hear her right.

“w–what?”

“you heard me.” azzi moves to sit down at the edge of the bed, turning toward her, one leg tucked under herself. “i want to watch you. just like this.”

paige flushes bright, like the words go straight through her, but her thighs shift and her hand twitches against her stomach. “azz…”

“keep going,” azzi says, voice barely above a whisper. “please.”

that word undoes paige more than anything else—please. it’s rare. azzi doesn’t ask for things often. she usually just has them, takes them. but now she’s asking to watch and paige would give her anything.

she swallows, fingers trailing down again, hesitant at first. azzi watches the way her hips shift, the way her lashes flutter as she bites her bottom lip and slides her fingers back between her thighs.

“good girl,” azzi says, so soft.

paige’s whole body twitches.

she starts to move again, this time not bothering to hide the sound she lets out. it’s quieter with azzi watching, more restrained, like she’s shy but also turned on because she’s being seen.

azzi never looks away. her hand drifts to her own leg, fingers tracing lazy circles against her jeans. she watches the way paige moves, the slow rhythm of her hand, the way her free arm curls up near her face, knuckles pressed to her mouth to keep from getting too loud.

“you’re so pretty like this,” azzi murmurs. “so desperate for me.”

“i am,” paige chokes out. “fuck, i am—azz, please.”

“please what?”

paige’s voice cracks. “please touch me.”

azzi just leans forward slightly, brushing her fingers over paige’s hair, gentle, but doesn’t move further. “not yet,” she says. “i like this.”

paige whines, hips stuttering, but she doesn’t stop.

azzi watches the whole thing.

watches the tension build in paige’s legs, the way her back arches just slightly, the way she says her name like a prayer and a curse, over and over again. the sheets are twisted under her knees, her shirt bunched up, and her cheeks are damp now, just a little, from the sheer intensity of it all.

“you wanna come for me?” azzi asks, her voice velvet-soft. “right in front of me?”

paige nods, almost frantic, breath hitching. “yes. please. i’m so close.”

“then look at me,” azzi says.

and paige does.

and that’s what does it.

it crashes over her in a rush—hips stuttering, mouth falling open around a soundless cry. her whole body curls in on itself, legs trembling, hand working her through it until she’s whimpering from the overstimulation and still trying to drag it out just a second longer because azzi is still watching.

when it’s over, she collapses back against the mattress, chest heaving, eyes glassy.

azzi leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“good girl,” she whispers. “you did so good.”

paige blinks up at her, still dazed. “you didn’t even touch me.”

azzi smirks. “didn’t have to.”

paige swallows. “can i… touch you now?”

azzi laughs, low and warm. “eventually,” she murmurs, brushing hair back from paige’s forehead. “right now, i wanna hold you.”

and she does.

she pulls paige into her arms, skin still flushed and trembling, and kisses her slowly, like she’s soothing the ache she just watched unfold.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Your writing is so good! That one shot you just posted was pure perfection!!! If you’re up for more, I have a prompt..

Paige and Azzi are exhausted after a long week of tough practice before the championship but they make time for a date night anyway. After a sweet night together they want to spend some sexy time together. After a little sexy downtown time, Paige looks up at Azzi and says like “um baby, are you close” and Azzi is just like “ugh I’m sorry, I’m so tired I can’t even focus, I’m trying” and then cue a classic but hilarious Paige crash out for not being able to satisfy her girl but in the end they’re both just exhausted and need to sleep.

i'm trying

dinner in sweats and hoodies at a quiet little place off campus, azzi’s hand on paige’s thigh the whole time, paige sneaking kisses across the table like she wasn’t running on fumes. they split fries, laughed about nothing, and avoided talking about the championship because just the word made their bodies ache.

now they were home. shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, jackets dropped in a trail toward the bedroom. they didn’t even bother turning on the lights. just soft kisses in the hallway, quiet giggles in the dark, the kind of affection that came from knowing each other inside out.

paige was between azzi’s thighs before either of them could think too hard about how tired they were. just muscle memory, soft moans, familiar touches.

she was gentle with it. slow. warm breath and careful hands, her mouth dragging lazy patterns until azzi was gasping and twisting her fingers in the sheets.

“um, baby?” paige said after a while, voice muffled, “are you close?”

azzi groaned and dropped her hands over her face. “ugh. i’m sorry. i’m so tired, i can’t even focus. i’m trying, i swear.”

paige blinked. then dramatically collapsed onto azzi’s thigh like she’d been personally betrayed by god. “oh my god. this is the end of me. i’m losing my touch.”

azzi laughed, hand finding paige’s hair. “you’re being dramatic.”

“i used to be a legend.”

“you still are.”

“i peaked in highschool.”

“paige.”

“don’t. let me lie here and cry.”

“baby,” azzi said through a yawn, “i’m literally falling asleep mid-apology.”

paige lifted her head, eyes wide. “wait. you were gonna apologize and say something nice?”

“yeah. but now i’m too tired.”

paige sighed, dragging herself up azzi’s body like a wounded soldier. “baby what the heck,” she mumbled, flopping down and hiding her face in azzi’s neck. “i didn’t even finish my job.”

“paige,” azzi said softly, amused.

“no, seriously. this is humiliating. you’re gonna break up with me.”

“because i’m tired?”

“because i didn’t make you come.” paige’s voice cracked like it physically pained her. “i had one job.”

azzi laughed, pulling her closer. “you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being a failure,” paige corrected, full of pout. “you were trying so hard to be into it and i could tell and i just kept thinking ‘oh no, she’s faking it to be nice’ and then you apologized and i—” she groaned and covered her face with her hands. “i’m so embarrassed.”

“baby.”

“don’t call me that. i don’t deserve it.”

“baby,” azzi said again, grinning now.

paige peeked up, eyes wide and sad. “can i please try again tomorrow? i swear i’ll hydrate. i’ll stretch. i’ll meditate if i have to.”

“you wanna meditate to be better in bed?”

“i’m desperate, azzi.”

azzi kissed her forehead, still giggling. “you don’t have to prove anything.”

“but i want a rematch.”

“you can have a rematch.”

“like, a whole new night. i light a candle. you act surprised.”

“deal.”

paige finally exhaled and melted into her chest. “i love you even though you’re too hot and it’s stressful.”

“i love you even though you’re a little insane about sex.”

“i’m not insane,” paige said sleepily. “i’m just passionate.”

“uh huh.”

and they stayed like that, warm and tangled and safe. even in embarrassment, even in exhaustion—there was nothing but love. quiet, sleepy, ridiculous love.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Fav fic?? Need some recommendations

right now trouble by @bucketsorbueckers

of all time DEFINITELY anything by @pb524830

especially mtaf

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Who’s been your favorite writers lately like top 5? Tag em pls I need recs

OKAY OKAY YES i love this

@azzifuddfanpage of course

@souplored my wife

@bucketsorbueckers DUH

@pb524830 POST MORE NOW THANKS

@azzibuckets GENIUS

[ineedpaigebuckets]

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fic that really captures Paige being Paige on the court — and I’d love to read one. I mean the version of her that’s all leadership and pressure: the one who takes control when things fall apart, who everyone instinctively looks to for answers, and who usually finds a way to fix it. The expectations are sky-high, and she carries all of it because she’s that player. And Geno (or any coach, but especially Geno — UConn right now is basically therapy) pushes her harder than anyone because he knows exactly how great she can be.

But what I really want to see is the contrast off the court — whether all the time or just when they’re alone — where Azzi quietly steps into the lead and Paige just lets her. Where Paige, who’s so used to being the one in charge, finally gets to rest. Where she can drop the weight of everyone’s expectations and just be, soft and unguarded. And Azzi doesn’t hesitate to take the reins, not because she wants control, but because she sees Paige — really sees her — and gives her that space to breathe. I just want a fic where Paige leads the team, but Azzi leads her. If that makes sense

the only place she lets go

the thing is, paige doesn’t mean to take control.

it’s not a decision. it’s instinct. it’s breath and blood and muscle memory. when the game starts slipping, when the pace starts breaking, when everyone’s eyes dart for answers — they find her. they always find her.

and she gives them something to believe in.

today, it’s the fourth quarter, and they’re down six. azzi’s in foul trouble. geno’s pacing like the hardwood is a battlefield. and the team looks scared. young. uncertain.

so paige steps in.

she doesn’t shout. she doesn’t huddle. she just moves, like the floor belongs to her. a glance here, a subtle nod there, and suddenly, the chaos is organized. the plays start to hit. the shots start to fall. her voice cuts clean through the noise:

“you’re good. just trust it.”

“backdoor’s open — take it.”

“i’ve got help. pressure high.”

and they do trust her. they always do.

because paige doesn’t crack. doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t give anyone else permission to fold.

not when they need her.

not when she’s paige bueckers, uconn’s anchor, leader, last line of defense, first line of hope.

when the final whistle blows and the win’s in their hands, it’s her shoulders everyone’s clapping. her name the commentators keep saying. geno’s grin is the kind of proud that only comes when you’ve earned it.

but later, in the locker room, when the lights are too bright and the adrenaline’s gone and everyone’s still riding high — paige feels it creeping in again.

the exhaustion. the weight.

because being the answer means you can never be the question. never uncertain. never tired.

and she’s so tired.

—

she doesn’t say a word on the bus.

sits next to azzi, thigh pressed to thigh, hoodie pulled over her head like a retreat. her phone buzzes once — coach. again — media request. again — her mom.

azzi slips the phone out of her lap, sets it on airplane mode without asking.

paige leans into her.

they don’t talk.

they don’t need to.

—

it’s only when they’re back in their shared apartment, door locked, lights low, that paige finally breathes like she means it.

she peels off her hoodie. her jersey. the armor.

azzi’s already changed, sitting on the bed with her knees pulled up, waiting.

“you were…” she starts, but stops, just watching paige move.

paige catches her looking and laughs, tired and lopsided. “what? hot?”

“that, too,” azzi says, smiling, but then she tilts her head a little. “but also… you. like, you-you.”

paige crosses the room and climbs into bed without saying anything else.

just curls straight into azzi’s side, arms slipping around her waist, face buried in her neck.

and azzi knows.

wraps her arms around her back. starts stroking her hair. doesn’t say “you did good.” doesn’t say “i’m proud of you.”

just holds her.

because paige doesn’t need praise right now. she needs a place to land.

—

“you’re so good at it,” azzi says softly later, when paige is dozing against her chest, half-asleep and fully boneless.

paige hums. “what?”

“leading. carrying it all.”

“mm.” her fingers tug at azzi’s shirt, lazy and loose. “i don’t want to right now.”

“you don’t have to.”

and paige believes her.

because azzi means it.

—

it’s the little things.

azzi cooking her breakfast in silence when she’s too overwhelmed to think. azzi tugging her into the shower after late practices, washing her hair, kissing the tired from her mouth. azzi never telling her to rest — just making space for it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

and when paige is wound too tight to sleep, azzi pulls her in close, pushes her onto her back, and takes over.

slow kisses. firm hands. soft commands, murmured into her ear:

“breathe.”

“you’re okay.”

“i’ve got you, baby.”

and that’s when paige falls apart. not on the court. not in front of the team. not under geno’s gaze.

here.

with azzi.

—

“i don’t know how you do it,” she whispers once, lips brushing azzi’s collarbone. “how you just… know what i need.”

azzi doesn’t answer right away.

just holds her tighter. kisses the top of her head.

“because i see you,” she says finally. “not just the player. not just the leader. i see you. the girl who gets up early to pray before shootaround. who carries her friends even when no one asks. who gets quiet when she’s hurting but still finds a way to smile.”

paige’s throat tightens. her fingers clutch azzi’s shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“i see you,” azzi says again, even softer. “and i love every single piece.”

—

so when they’re back on the court, and geno’s voice is loud and demanding and familiar, and the team needs her again —

paige steps up. fierce and focused. locked in.

but she does it knowing there’s a soft place waiting.

knowing that the second she walks off, she gets to fall apart in azzi’s arms. gets to let herself be messy. gets to not lead.

because maybe that’s what real strength is, too.

knowing when to let go.

and who to trust with the pieces.