#caitlin clark

[clarksbball]

she’s so auraful

[caitvoodoo]

hi cc!!

[ilovecowboysandpink]

‎₊˚ 𓂃˖ quiet until it wasn’t 𝜗𝜚 ｡˚

after a quick hello on stream turns into an unexpected wife reveal, caitlin doesn’t realize what she’s done until both their phones start lighting up. back in the corner of the party, her wife just laughs “it’s about time.”

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

warnings: caitlin might be a tad bit drunk, coming out kinda?! and thats about it

word count: 890 words

authors note: honestly i wipped this up as fast as i could, rushly proof read so sorry for any mistakes! i will probably come back and edit this 😭 based on this tiktok!

the thing is, no one really notices at first.

caitlin walks into the frame like she always does, shoulders back, soft smile, dressed in black like she could disappear into the night if she wanted to. her hand rests easily on courtney's arm as she leans in toward the camera, her voice light and unbothered.

“i’ve been watching this all day,” she says, and she’s already laughing. “my wife and i were literally sitting in the hotel, like, fully tuned in.”

courtney just blinks. the camera jolts slightly. “deadass?” she grins.

caitlin nods, still smiling. “yeah. like, all day. we watched everything.”

and that’s it. she waves to the stream, the moment shifts, and then she’s gone, blinking under the flash of someone else’s camera now, caught in conversation, caught in motion. the comment section lags just a little behind. so does she.

somewhere across the room, her wife, quiet, warm, always half-glowing in these soft-lit spaces, is standing in a loose circle of WAGs. her drink’s mostly ice now, watered down and sweet. they’re talking about shoes or nail colors or maybe flights to phoenix next week. she’s listening. smiling. nodding politely.

until her phone buzzes once. then twice. then a third time in quick succession.

and when she lifts it when she sees caitlin’s name suddenly everywhere, in the stream caption, in the clips already flooding her dms, she doesn’t panic. she doesn’t freeze or excuse herself or look across the room in search of cover.

instead, she turns slightly, just enough to see caitlin weaving her way back toward her with that face, one she only really shows when she knows she’s said something she wasn’t supposed to, but doesn’t regret it.

“hey,” caitlin says, almost sheepishly. “so… um.”

her wife doesn’t let her finish.

“it’s fine,” she says, eyes flicking toward the soft glow of both their phones lighting up again. “honestly? it’s about time.”

caitlin exhales. something between a breath and a laugh. her hand reaches instinctively for hers, barely a touch, just fingers brushing against the back of her palm, but it’s grounding. grateful. a little relieved.

“i didn’t mean to,” she murmurs.

“i know.”

“i was just, i forgot the stream was live. i wasn’t really thinking, and courtney was there, and—”

“cait.”

she looks up.

“we’ve been married for almost two years now,” her wife says, voice low, just for her. “you’ve been carrying this secret like it’s made of glass.”

caitlin’s quiet for a second. then another. her other hand finds her waist, thumb grazing over the side of her dress like a habit she’s never broken.

“i liked it being ours,” she says softly.

her wife smiles, something fond curling at the corners of her mouth. “it’s still ours. even now.”

and maybe that’s the truth that matters most. that it was never about hiding, not really. people respected caitlin’s space. her privacy. her need to hold certain things close. and she did. she kept their marriage in the softest pocket of her world, safe from questions and headlines and all the noise.

but she still looked for her in every room. still reached for her first when something was funny or heartbreaking or just too much to hold alone. still sent photos of her coffee in the morning, still walked into interviews with her wedding ring tucked into her bra strap, still texted i miss you before tipoff even if they’d only been apart for an hour.

and now? now the phones won’t stop buzzing. someone’s already posted the clip to twitter. there’s a screenshot from the stream where her hand is blurred mid-wave and the caption reads: my wife and i were literally sitting in the hotel, fully tuned in. it’s been reposted three thousand times in ten minutes.

caitlin sees it on her screen. she sighs.

“do you think people will care?”

her wife shrugs gently. “some will.”

“in a good way or a bad way?”

“depends who they are.”

caitlin blinks down at the screen again, then lets it dim. her shoulders ease a little.

“i guess it had to happen at some point,” she says.

“mmhm.”

“and i’m not, i’m not mad that it happened.”

“i know.”

“i just wish i’d… i don’t know. said it better.”

her wife turns to her fully now, eyes soft. “you said it the most caitlin way possible. accidentally. casually. on camera.”

caitlin groans. “that doesn’t make me feel better.”

but she’s laughing now. and her wife’s laughing too, quietly, like it’s something they’ll remember for years, the kind of reveal you can’t plan for, the kind that feels more like a ripple than an explosion.

around them, the party keeps going. no one stares. no one points. just a few glances, a few subtle smiles passed between teammates who’ve known for a while and are only surprised it took this long to go public.

caitlin leans in, lips brushing the side of her wife’s ear. “so… do we just act normal now?”

“you’ve never acted normal a day in your life.”

caitlin grins. “harsh.”

“true.”

and she kisses her, just lightly, just once, just enough to make her wife flush under the warm party lights, and then they turn back toward the crowd, side by side. no longer invisible. no longer a secret. just together. still theirs.

[paigebuckets6]

All Star Confessions

You're Caitlin Clark's +1 to the All-Star Weekend after party. Hopelessly in love with her, you figure you've got no chance since she's got a boyfriend. Plus, she doesn't like you. Right?

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Wc: 4.5k

Warnings: Smut, 18+ warning, Cheating (C*nner)

Authors Note: Sorry I've been on hiatus for so long, I just had to write after All Star Weekend!! Let me know what yall think <3.

You had known Caitlin Clark since you were in high school.

You had met her long before she got with Connor McCaffery, her now boyfriend of two years. As her best friend, you knew her better than anyone else. You knew how she journaled every night, how she was trying to perfect her chocolate chip cookie recipe, how she preferred silence over music before games. You could always spot the difference between her real smiles and the kind she gave for the cameras. And god, you were always the first one she called when she needed someone.

So yeah, it irked you when you saw Connor. It annoyed you when she talked about him- both the good and the bad. If he got her flowers, you couldn’t help but think you’d be doing more. If he fought with her, you’d think that you two wouldn’t fight over something stupid like that.

But you still listened. Comforted her. Not for him, but for her. Because you loved her, even if you couldn’t have her, in every sense.

You figured you'd never have a chance with her. She was your best friend- you'd never risk it. Sometimes, in an exchanged glance, or in an affectionate touch, you wondered if she ever felt anything. But this was the way things were- and how’d they always be. Right?

It’s July 18th, the day of the All Star Weekend Skills Contest and the 3 Point Shooting Contest. You’re sitting courtside, in a fully packed arena, listening to the announcer shout out each player’s introductions.

The crowd roars as Caitlin walks onto the stage, her arms raising as she hypes up the crowd. You beam with pride, cheering fondly as she joins Team Clark in her All Star outfit. Due to her groin injury, Caitlin’s not playing tonight, instead acting as a coach of sorts from the sidelines.

The contest starts, with Caitlin cracking jokes into the mic, and you can’t help but laugh along with the audience. You cheer for both Team Phee and Team Clark equally- you had favourites on both sides- and you grin as Natasha Cloud wins the Skills Contest. A few minutes later, Sabrina Ionescu wins the 3 Point Shooting Contest.

As the contest wraps up, you go outside, waiting for Caitlin outside the locker room. Usually non players weren’t allowed back here- but everyone knew you were Caitlin’s best friend. So they allowed it, because it was Caitlin. You wave goodbye at Azzi as she leaves with Paige, a soft smile at their intertwined hands.

Caitlin grins as she emerges from the locker room, seeing you waiting for her in the hall. She gives you a hug. “Hey, are you ready to party?”

You laugh, “Yeah, more than ready. I wish you had been able to participate- you would have definitely won the shooting contest. Bro would have shot all 4’s.”

Caitlin smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Your heart speeds up a little, and you chastise yourself. It was just Caitlin. Being affectionate like usual. She was always like this with you.

“I wish I could play too, I tried to convince Steph but she kept going on about how I shouldn’t aggravate my dumb injury. Something about how it takes 4 to 8 weeks to heal fully-”

You roll your eyes at her silliness, getting into the passenger seat of her black Lexus. “You really do need to rest. But I know how much you wanted to play this weekend.” You say softly. She looks at you for a second, expression unreadable, before keeping her gaze on the road.

“I was looking forward to it.” Caitlin sucks in a breath, “But.. at least I can celebrate with everyone else. And I mean, you’re here too-” She points out.

“Yeah I’m here- the best part of the entire weekend duh.” You tease. Caitlin rolls her eyes.

“Okay I take it back, you suck.” She smiles, shaking her head, despite her words.

It’s around 11 pm when you get a text from Caitlin- she’s downstairs, waiting outside to pick you up. You’ve spent the last hour getting ready for the All Star Champagne after party at INVY nightclub tonight.

“Hey-” You say, walking down the steps of your apartment to Caitlin’s car. She looks up from her phone, lips parting slightly at the way you look. You grin, knowing the short red mini dress you wore showed off your curves perfectly. She scrambles out of the car, opening the passenger door for you. You give her a quizzical look at the gesture, but decide not to say anything.

As you get in, you hear a voice.

“Yo,” Connor says, leaning forwards. You jump, not expecting him to be in the backseat.

“Oh yo,” You say, twisting around in your seat. Caitlin’s playing music quietly in the background as she drives, and you wave at Colin, her brother, the other passenger in the backseat.

“You ready to get lit?” Connor jokes, looking at you. You stare at him for a moment, a mixture of bitterness and envy twisting in your stomach. There’s a beat of silence, before you answer as smoothly as possible.

“Yeah of course, we getting fucked up tonighttt.” With those words, you nudge Caitlin playfully, and she just rolls her eyes. If Caitlin notices the tension in the car, she doesn’t make it known.

When we arrive at INVY, the party’s already in full swing, music blasting loudly, lights flashing red. You lose Caitlin in the fray, getting swept up in the crowd. You try to find her, but it’s too packed. The bar up ahead is less busy, so you grab a drink- one for yourself, and one for Caitlin of course.

"Cait?" You call out. You’re about to text her when you feel a familiar hand rest at the small of your back. You turn.

Caitlin grins as she leans down, talking over the music blaring in the club. “Sorry, I lost you for a second there.”

You look up at her, getting a bit lost in the deep hazel of her eyes. You can’t help but notice the way her straightened brown long hair cascades down her shoulders, the way her tight black dress draws attention to all the most dangerous places you try not to look at - like her biceps, chest, and ass. You choose instead to look down, the safest choice by far. She’s wearing heels, so you feel even shorter than usual.

"Oh-" You say, swallowing at her closeness. Caitlin gets touchy when she's tipsy, and you can tell she’s already getting there. She takes the drink from you, pulling the tab of the cooler open as she takes a sip.

"I was looking for you-" You say. Her gaze lingers on your face. Can she tell your cheeks are flushing? “Where’d Connor and Colin go?” You ask. She begins to answer when she's interrupted by a loud cheer.

“Caitlin!” Kate shouts, immediately pulling Caitlin into a bear hug. You smile, watching the two reunite.

As you walk away from the bar, Caitlin's hand remains on your back as she catches up with Kate. A few minutes later, she runs into Natisha Hiedeman and Courtney Williams, who are busy streaming for their twitch live, Stud Buds.

“Say what’s up to the people!” Courtney tells Kate, who immediately waves at the camera. Caitlin screams upon seeing Courtney, and the latter’s jaw drops.

“Ahhh!!! We got Caitlin Clark in the building!!” She screams over the music, and Caitlin puts her arm around Courtney, smiling widely at the camera. She screams again, and you laugh, quietly taking the drink from her. She pouts for a second, but quickly forgets as she turns back to Courtney and Natisha.

“Bro, I literally watched your stream for three hours last night-”

“Deadass!?” Courtney says in disbelief, her eyebrows raising. Beside her, Natisha screams into the camera, “Get out!!!”

“That’s all I did yesterday, I watched it all! Orange carpet, pre-game-” Caitlin lists it off on her fingers, passionate.

“Dude that’s crazy,” Courtney says, as Natisha watches the stream comments go crazy. “Say what’s up!!”

Caitlin grins, her arm snaking further around your waist as she pulls you in closer. Courtney glances at the gesture, a slight smirk playing on her lips, but it’s quickly gone as Caitlin starts talking again.

"Are you guys really gonna sleep with that on?" Caitlin asks. You snort, rolling your eyes affectionately.

Natisha laughs, “Yes, it’s a 72 hour stream baby!!”

“I told y’all we’d have the baby GOAT on here!” Courtney says, as Caitlin waves goodbye.

Caitlin’s arm stays wrapped around your waist as she leads you to a quieter spot. There’s a few couches over here, and you sink into the nearest one, the heels of your feet already beginning to ache. You take a sip of your drink, feeling your cheeks flushing with the alcohol.

Caitlin sits down beside you, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, her hand around your shoulder. She leans in close, her breath warm against your ear.

“You having fun?” She asks softly, checking in.

"Yeah of course,” You say, grinning at her. “Are you? You seem like you are-” You tease. The alcohol is definitely working a little too well tonight, because you find yourself unable to keep your hands away. You settle for playing with the fabric of her dress as you look up at her from your position on the couch.

“You’re so cute when you’re tipsy.” She whispers, tone playful, her voice low and soft.

“I’m not tipsy-” You lie, rolling your eyes.

She laughs at your blatant lie. Her fingertips brush your cheek, feeling the telltale heat. You thank god for a moment that the lights are red, so she can’t see the deep blush painting your cheeks.

“Uh huhhh,” She teases. “Your cheeks are burning and your hands are all over my dress- you’re so not tipsy right now.”

She leans in to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, touch lingering for a second too long.

"Speak for yourself Clark," You retort softly, "I know you're tipsy for sure, you only get this.. flirty when you're drunk-" There’s a bit of a bite behind the joke, this isn’t the first time she’s been flirty while drunk. But it's never been this blatant.

Caitlin’s smirk falters for a second, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable for a moment. But it returns after she takes another sip, her voice dropping low.

“Flirty? Me?” She grins, slipping a finger under your chin as she tilts your face up to hers. “I’m not flirting, just… being honest.”

You want to tease her back, but your heart is racing too fast to say anything witty. And god, you can’t resist her, not like this. Her thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes dark with something you can’t identify. Her gaze lingers on your mouth before it snaps back up to your eyes.

“You’re the one touching me,” She whispers. “Playing with my dress like you want to take it off.”

There’s a beat of charged silence, and the music sounds distant as it echos around the club’s walls. The lights flash, bathing you both in shades of purple for a second.

Caitlin laughs, voice wavering slightly despite her nonchalant tone. She moves her hand back down, dropping it to your waist.

“So, who’s really the drunk one here?”

Your gaze drops to her lips, leaning forward slightly, the couch shifting as you do. You look back up at her, her pupils are so dilated.

"You, you're drunk." You whisper. It’s meant to come off as a joke, but neither of you seems to take it that way.

Her breath hitches as you get closer, her eyes flicking back down to your mouth again- before locking back onto yours again. They’re full of something, something you don’t dare to name.

“Yeah?” Caitlin murmurs, voice low and rough. “You always do this. Call me out, like you don’t feel it too.”

Her hand slides from your waist up to cup your jaw, slow and deliberate. Her thumb traces the edge of your lip again, and you feel a thrill run through you at her touch.

“I feel it..” You admit. You want, you want so much- but you hold back. “But we can’t.”

You look around- the party is crowded, and Connor is around here somewhere. Caitlin’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if she’s fighting some internal battle. When they open, there’s a look of pain in them.

“I know,” She whispers, voice breaking just slightly. She doesn’t pull away. “So why does it feel like I’ve wanted this forever?” She breathes, her voice barely audible over the music. “God, tell me why.. Why do I think about you.. when he kisses me?”

Caitlin cuts herself off, shaking her head, before continuing.

“You’re my best friend,” She says softly, “I’m with Connor.. and this is.. so messed up.” Despite her words, her eyes are full of yearning.

Your hand finds hers, squeezing gently. “If it’s so messed up.. Then why are you doing this?” You ask softly.

Caitlin’s fingers tighten around yours, as if you might slip away, even though your knees are touching and her arm is around your shoulder. She takes a sip of her drink.

“I call him my boyfriend… I say his name… but when I close my eyes at night? It’s your laugh I hear. It’s you I dream about.”

She swallows, expression nervous as she looks at you. “So yeah. It’s.. messed up.”

Your heart melts, “Caitlin,” You say, hand cupping her jaw gently. Her skin is so soft and she's looking at you with such longing you want to kiss her. “You can’t just tell me that.”

Her eyes flutter shut again, leaning into your hand, finding comfort in your touch.

“I know I shouldn’t have said anything,” She whispers, voice cracking slightly. “But I’m so.. tired of pretending.”

Her hand cups your cheek again, her thigh brushing yours under the glow of the party lights. She licks her lips.

“You always tease me when I’m drunk. That I’m an affectionate, flirty drunk. But god, it’s only with you.” She murmurs, eyes opening again, dark and full of truth. She leans in, eyes on your lips.

“And right now? I don’t care that we’re at an All Star party. Or that Connor is somewhere in the crowd. Or even that someone might take a photo and plaster it all over Twitter.”

Caitlin rubs your bottom lip with her thumb as she whispers against your lips. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your restraint snaps, and you kiss her, hands cupping her face as you murmur against her mouth. “Then stop pretending.” The kiss is soft and insistent as you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

She responds passionately, kissing you back hungrily. Her hand finds your hair, tangling in the soft locks, sighing against your mouth as she pulls you closer by the waist. She breaks the kiss, breathless, cheeks flushed.

“Y/n..” She starts to say, and you cut her off gently.

“We can’t do this here,” You say, looking around. Thankfully, it seems like nobody saw the kiss, or even that you two are in this corner of the room. “We should leave.”

Caitlin looks a bit dazed, but she seems to snap back at your words. She grabs your hand, fingers lacing with yours as she stands up from the couch.

“Let’s go,” She murmurs, as she pushes her way through the crowd. People are still partying, mingling as they take shots, or dance together on the dance floor. Caitlin pays them no mind, only stopping when she get to her car outside.

“I.. I don’t want to hide.” She says, a hand on the back of her neck as she stands. She looks, almost shy. You smile, looking up at her, finding her change in demeanor adorable. “But I also don’t know how to do this. Or how it’ll be, with the media and family, and all that. But… I do know I’ve wanted to kiss you since our third year of university.”

"Well, maybe we should talk. Privately-" You say, smiling softly. "Your apartment?" You suggest, feeling your cheeks burn. If Caitlin couldn’t see you blushing before, she definitely can now, in the cool evening air.

She grins, searching your eyes, nodding.

“Yeah, my place. We can talk.” She murmurs.

The drive back to Caitlin’s apartment is familiar, and yet, so different. The air is charged, and you can’t help but stare at her as she drives. You always did- but now you stare openly. Admire openly. One strong hand stays on the wheel, her eyes responsibly on the road, the other hand resting gently on your knee.

When you reach her apartment, and she locks the door, kicking her shoes off, lights dim. She turns to face you by the couch- where you’d had countless movie nights, sleepovers, and the occasional pillow fight.

She takes a shaky breath,

“We can pretend it didn’t happen if.. if you want-"

Your gaze shoots to her immediately, dropping your purse to the floor. You step over it, walking closer to her. “No,” You say, “I don’t want that. I don’t regret it. At all.”

Her lips part at your words. They land like a spark in dry grass- igniting something final, something that neither of you can come back from. Not that you want to.

“I’m glad you don’t,” She murmurs softly, stepping close to you, her hands finding your waist again. “Because I don’t either. It feels… good being honest. Doing as I feel, instead of pretending. Just wishing the way I felt about you would disappear, because it was getting harder to lie to myself- and everyone else.”

She leans down, her strong eyebrows knitting together. “Y/n.. promise me it’s not just the alcohol. That this isn’t just something we'll ignore in the morning.”

You look up at her, your hands resting gently on her hips. “It’s not. I’ve loved you for.. The last few years.” You admit. “It’s not the alcohol. I want you. I always have.”

Caitlin’s breath catches, sharp, as though she’s been waiting to hear those words for a long time. There’s a bit of disbelief in her expression as she looks at you.

“Years?” She says, voice hushed. “You’ve loved me all this time?”

You nod, a little teary. She wipes your tears with her thumbs, catching the droplets before they fall, laughing softly to herself.

“God,” She says, pulling you closer on the couch, her hands cradling your cheeks. “I never thought you'd feel that way about me. I spent so much time wrapped up in my head- like my family loves Connor. Being straight is good for my image, fanbase and all- but I wanted you. Even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

“I thought you were happy with him. That you wanted him, not me. I didn't think you'd.. like me the way I liked you. Much less that you'd choose me.” You respond.

Caitlin's eyes glisten with emotion as she continues talking.

“I tried to convince myself that I was happy. But it never felt right. Something was always a little off.”

She leans forward, pressing a desperate kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw, moving down your neck.

“I want you. I've been wanting you. I should have chose you then- but I'm choosing you now. And if choosing you means I lose everything- then I don't care.”

With that, Caitlin kisses you. It’s deep, slow, steady. She kisses you with all the pent up yearning she's repressed over the years- and you respond eagerly.

You grab at her, the kiss turning hungry as you let out a quiet whimper against her lips. The noise you make sends a jolt through her, and suddenly, her touch isn't so soft anymore.

She breaks the kiss for a moment, breathless. “Do you..”

The words are hardly out before you interrupt. “Yes-” You say. Caitlin swallows, looking down at you with desire.

“Thank god-” She murmurs, her lips crashing into yours as she backs you to her bedroom.

On the way, you trip on the edge of the rug- but Caitlin catches you immediately, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you. She laughs breathlessly into your mouth.

“You good?” She teases.

You bite playfully at her bottom lip in response, and she groans, lifting you, your thighs hooked around her waist as she walks the rest of the way.

Caitlin drops you onto her bed, pushing you down as she crawls on top of you, long brown hair falling around her face.

“You're so beautiful,” You murmur, a hand grabbing the back of her neck as you bring her down to kiss you.

Caitlin smiles against your mouth, settling between your thighs as she kisses you desperately. Her hands slide under the edge of your dress, pushing it up your hips.

Your hands roam, over her broad shoulders, her strong biceps, under the hem of her shirt. Her abs tense as your fingertips trace over them. Caitlin shudders as you continue to touch her, trailing kisses along your neck, biting at the sensitive spot under your jaw.

“Wait, what about Connor?” You ask, head tilting back, breathless.

Caitlin stills for a moment, before lifting her head to look at you with dark, honest eyes.

“I...” She averts her eyes, before her gaze darts back to you. “I've never wanted him like I want you. I'm going to break up with him in the morning, I should have done it a long time ago-” She says.

"If you end things with him.. does that mean you-" You say, blushing slightly.

Caitlin smiles, catching the pink in your cheeks, hearing the vulnerability in the question you're asking. She moves closer, her knee pressing against you, her hand cupping your cheek.

“It means I'm choosing you. Even though I'm really fucking late-” Caitlin whispers. “If you still want me.”

"Of course," You say, easily, without hesitation. "I always want you." You murmur against her lips.

Caitlin grins, kissing you again. She presses her knee more firmly against your core, her hands at the edge of your panties.

“How wet are you for me?” She murmurs, voice husky.

“Very-” You groan, biting your lip in anticipation. She looks down at you with desire, licking her lips.

Your words and the sight of you biting your lip is all it takes to snap the last shreds of Caitlin's control. She kisses you hard and open-mouthed as her fingers slip easily beneath your panties.

"I've wanted you-" She whispers, biting at your bottom lip as her thumb finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles. "So badly.”

“Caitlin-” You moan, feeling her lean over you more completely, kissing at your neck. You tilt your head back, allowing her more access.

“I need more-” You plead as she teases you, her fingers stroking not quite where you want them.

"More?" She whispers, breath hot against your skin, "Beg for it."

“Please,” You say, tone desperate. You're dripping- and she's just taking her sweet time.

Caitlin's propped up on one elbow, watching you with dark eyes. She takes a ragged breath, leaning in, her voice husky against your ear.

“Say it again. Like you really mean it this time.”

“Please Caitlin,” You beg, pulling her in for a desperate kiss. She's not gentle - the kiss is rough, messy. You spread your legs a little wider under her, and she just can't resist. Can't hold back. Not when she's been waiting so long to see you aching for her, desperate just like this.

“Good girl,” She praises, pushing you into the mattress a little further as her fingers finally thrust into you. They're long- and feel even better than you thought they would, as she curls them against your gspot.

You pull at her hair, moaning as she sets a quick pace. You're already close- just from this.

“It feels so good..” You moan.

Caitlin kisses your neck, murmuring softly. “You sound so pretty, so pretty underneath me.”

Her fingers move faster against you as you clutch at her, needing her to send you over the edge.

“I'm close-” You whimper.

“Come for me.” She says, tone desperate as she lifts her head to look at you with hungry dark eyes. “I want to hear you.”

The desperation and clear need in her voice only fuels you further.

“Caitlin-” You moan, tipping your head back. She grabs your jaw firmly, making you look at her.

“I want you to look at me when you come. I need to see it.” She murmurs, holding you there. You come like that, eyes on hers, moaning her name.

“Fuck-” You say, shuddering underneath her as you come down from your high. She holds you gently now, sucking her fingers clean.

“You okay?” She murmurs.

“Yeah,” You reassure her. “You were so good.”

Caitlin kisses your forehead, as you smoothe the hair out of her face to see her better.

“Are you sure what we did was okay? You're with Connor-” You say, starting to worry. “We can just.. agree to not talk about-”

Caitlin cuts you off. “-It's okay. I wanted this. I meant what I said, I'm gonna break up with him. I want to be with you.”

Her tone is firm as she holds you, “I should have been honest so many years ago. We could have been like this before.” She says ruefully.

“It was the right time.” You murmur, hand finding hers. She squeezes yours gently. “And hey, that means he ain't coming to the All Star game or the after party tomorrow-” You tease.

“Yeah, I'm sure you’ll be real sad.” Caitlin rolls her eyes playfully.

“The saddest.” You joke, pulling her down for a kiss. She kisses you, softly, with the luxury of knowing she’d do this again, over and over, as long as you’d let her.

“I'm excited for tomorrow,” She murmurs. “Want to come to the Champagne event? It's some mandatory bar event after the game. It's okay if you don't want to, might be boring-”

You interrupt. “I want to come. Wherever you're going, I want to be there.”

Caitlin smiles softly, singing in response to mock you playfully. “Wherever you go, that's where I’ll follow-”

You grin as you tease her, "Oh my ears-"

"Shut up-" She says, laughing into your neck. "You're lucky I love you."

Those simple words warm your heart.

"Yeah, I am. I really am."

[sincerestlove]

Velvet Box

seeing cait playing golf today really got me yearning - i hope you enjoy this extremely indulgent fic :)

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (very intimate tho); soft dom!cait, female sub!reader; oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving); cait loves reader’s breasts.

MINORS DNI; MEN DNI.

wind nips at your cheeks, singeing the skin red. around you, waves lick against the stone-lined shore, moonlight flickering across the darkness. caitlin had whisked you away for a week, renting a private lake house for the two of you - all high ceilings, marble countertops, electric fireplaces, fridge and pantry stocked to the brim with your favorite foods and drinks. as your girlfriend, she promised to spoil you for the rest of your life, after all.

warm hands drape a heavy blanket along your shoulders, your shivering frame relaxing. with a glance up, you see the suspected culprit - wine glass in hand, blinding grin, soft hazel eyes warmed by the licking flames of the bonfire. her usually hardened edges are softened by the shared drinks during dinner, shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

“you were shivering.” she murmured, leaning down to press her lips to your temple. sweet, gentle.

you smile back at her. “thanks, baby.” she squeezes your shoulder, before crowding closer to you on the cushioned bench in an attempt to share body heat. it works, as usual, cuddling into the familiar comfort. your head naturally falls onto her shoulder, relishing in the feeling of her.

you don’t notice, but her eyes never leave you. and they were filled to the brim with adoration.

~~~

later that night, back in your shared room, both of you were freshly showered and moisturized - skincare done, her hair brushed. caitlin went first, naturally, being the faster of you two. though, you nearly jumped her bones when she left the bathroom - steam curling out, mirror fogged, towel slung around her neck, damp hair clinging to her broad shoulders. now, the brunette lounged, fully stretched out in the king sized bed, socked feet nearly hanging off the edge. one of her knees bent, a hand tucked underneath her head, the other scrolling idly on her phone. black sweatpants hung low on her hips, tank top clinging to her toned upper body, muscled arms on full display.

“you wearing that is so not fair.” you muttered, clambering into the bed beside her, throwing a leg over her thigh. you had decided on a cute pajama set, one that she loved and knew very well. she tugged the blanket along your calves, setting her phone on the nightstand.

“me? while you’re wearing these shorts?” her hand slid along the skin of your lower back, still warm from the shower, exposed by the rising of your shirt. blunt nails scratched in a slow, steady pattern, before slipping higher. you preened at the touch, nudging your face into the space between her neck and shoulder. the smell of her body wash filled your senses, comforting and familiar. “you good?” she asked, lips pressed into the top of your head.

you nod and scoot impossibly closer, tugging the blanket higher, up to both of your knees. “so good. i’m with you.” you bat your eyes at her, playful but honest. she smiles, really smiles, like she always does around you. the corners of her eyes crinkle, shining in the golden light of the bedside lamp.

she tugs you closer, until you’re fully settled along her hips. her sweatpants sit even lower now, the bare skin of her hipbones begging to be touched. you grin, hands resting on her collarbone, as you adjust comfortably on top of her. “you’re beautiful.” she murmurs, looking up at you, softness blooming in her eyes. you coo, moving to rest your palms on her warming cheeks. as she leans into the touch, you lean down and kiss her - gentle, slow, until her hands begin to wander. up and down your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft, plush skin.

you sigh into her mouth, your own hands beginning to move. across her shoulders, along the expanse of her back, muscles rippling in response to your touch. she sits up, fully resting against the headboard, hands pulling you flush to her front. “want you.” she whispers, voice low and gravely with need, hands slipping under your shirt. her thumbs tease the skin below your breasts, a shiver rushing down your spine.

“want you too.” you breathe out against her lips, swollen and slick. it’s getting increasingly harder to ignore the persistent ache between your thighs, body shifting in an attempt to relieve it.

she hums. “lift your arms, baby. wanna see you.” you do as she asks, reluctantly breaking apart to tug the fabric over your head and onto the floor. her hands immediately slide to your breasts, pausing just beneath. “can i touch you? please?” she rests her chin on your abdomen to look up at you again, hazel eyes pretty and glazed over.

you nod, “yeah,” brushing a hand through her hair, resting it on her nape. she leans forward then, warm mouth taking a perky nipple. the feeling makes you sigh, hand tightening in her soft locks.

she continues like that for a while, alternating - mouth, teeth, fingers, until your nipples are sore and your arousal leaks through your shorts. she can feel it, you know she can. “cait…” you whine, wanting friction. your head is tilted back toward the ceiling, eyes slipping shut. the fan blows gentle wind across your heated skin.

she shakes her head. “shh, baby. ‘m not done.” her big hands grip your hips, one of her legs moving to slot between your thighs. you gasp, palms shooting out to grab at her shoulders. deft fingers push your shorts to the side, dripping pussy making contact with her strong, pant-covered thigh. her hands grip your hips tighter, beginning to drag you back and forth.

“fuck,” you moan brokenly, your clit moving achingly slow along the fabric and muscle. heat floods your stomach, tingling all the way to your fingertips and toes.

“that’s it, my pretty girl.” caitlin continues to suck, nip and pull on your overly sensitive nipples, as she controls the devastatingly slow pace of your hips. it doesn’t take long for the coil to tighten, threatening to snap any second.

you’re teetering on the edge, when she stops. she squeezes to halt your movement, lips pulling away from your breasts with a soft pop. you whine at the loss, trying but failing to continue the slow grind of your hips. she shushes you again, hands flattening across the bare skin of your back to hold you up. “breathe. i got you.” she presses kisses up your sternum, along your throat, before meeting your lips again.

“please.” you whimper, resting your hands on top of hers, moving one between your thighs. she groans into your mouth, fingers sliding through your dripping folds. she brushes your clit, once, enough to make your hips jerk. she huffs out a laugh, doing it again, teasing.

“tell me what you want.”

you whine, again, desperate to get her inside you. she tuts, moving her hand away.

“tell me.”

“want your fingers, please.”

she moves her hand back, fingers skimming the crease of your thighs, not close enough to where you want them.

“tell me again.”

“please, cait, please. fuck, need you so bad.” it’s close to begging, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. it’s enough to satisfy her.

she taps your legs, before easily flipping your positions, guiding your head to rest on a pillow. she settles between your spread legs, all soft muscle, her own legs keeping them open. her eyes meet yours again, pupils blown out. “deep breath.” she sinks two fingers in, smooth, slow, and deep. the stretch makes you moan, nails digging in to her flexing forearm. she crowds you then, long hair falling around you like a curtain, lips grazing the flushed skin of your face. she studies you - eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape, brows scrunched together. to her, you’re a masterpiece of her own creation.

she moves. in and out, slow, pressing on the spot that makes you see stars. your clit throbs, desperate for stimulation. your hips twitch. “please!” you cry out, hands fumbling to touch between your legs. she pulls out, swatting them away.

“uh-uh, you don’t get to touch yourself.” she shuffles your hands above your head, between the extra pillows. “keep them there, or i’ll stop.”

she kisses you again, tongue gliding over your lips, tasting your need. “you want my mouth, baby?”

you nod, wiggling your hips. she laughs, a quiet thing, kissing you once more. hands push your legs apart further, before she slinks down between them, your gazes locked.

“lift your hips.” you comply, her fingers digging in to the band and tugging them off, joining your shirt on the floor. she breathes in deeply at the sight of you - swollen, soaked, clit begging to be touched, skin smeared with your arousal. your scent makes her drool. “look at you. so fucking pretty.” her arms loop underneath your shaking thighs, holding you open for her.

your eyes meet again. hers are overflowing with desire for you. she rests her cheek on your thigh, waiting, looking. “ready?” you nod, running a hand through her hair. she smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before moving.

she licks a long, firm stripe up to your clit, finally, wrapping her lips around it. you nearly scream, already sensitive, thrusting your hips closer to her eager mouth. your head falls back onto the pillow with a gentle thud. she stops.

“eyes on me.”

you huff at the order, lifting your head and cracking your eyes open. she’s looking, again. lips glistening, slick with your arousal. “don’t look away.” she goes back to work, tonguing through your folds - pressing, sucking in all of the right spots, your body an instrument she knows like the back of her hand.

your fingers fist into the pillows, head swimming with pleasure. it’s harder to keep your eyes open, wanting nothing more than to lay back and relish in the feeling of her. but you know better. and she knows you do.

her hands slide up. up your thighs, up your stomach. they pause at your breasts, still sensitive from before. her fingers, long, warm, take your nipples again, gently tugging. not to hurt, but enough to make you cry out. loudly.

her mouth works faster now. she sucks on your clit when she tugs on your nipples. it’s starting to get too much - heat bubbles, hips wiggling, twitching, wanting to move away and closer all at once.

“fuck, cait…” you moan, loud. “let me come, c-can’t hold it.” big, hot tears roll down your cheeks. you feel it, it’s close. she does too.

“say please.”

it’s a little mean. she feels you clench around nothing and smirks against you, slowing her pace.

“no, no! please, let me come!” you do beg now, hands coming to fist into her hair instead. she exhales out a laugh, the hot air making you shiver. gently, she untangles your fingers from her, choosing to lace her own between them, resting on your thighs. glancing up, the sight of you makes her own clit throb.

you look a mess. a beautiful one. skin shiny, body trembling, cheeks wet.

she tightens her fingers around yours, squeezing. she pauses for a moment, despite your whines. “you can come whenever you want. lay back and relax, i got you.”

you nearly sob as she begins again. all gas, no breaks. her tongue moves fast, unrelenting. your thighs clench around her ears, hips meeting each movement. your hands squeeze hers, tight - she smiles, but you don’t feel it. your head is floaty, dizzy, jaw dropped open as you come. your tongue feels heavy, moaning out her name incoherently.

she slips one hand away from yours, stuffing two fingers inside of you. it’s slow, you feel so full, and you scream. it stings your throat, hurtling your orgasm into another one. you’re clenching down on her, hard - she can barely move her fingers but she still does, scraping at your g-spot with precision.

you squirt. abdomen clenched, body taut, rigid. caitlin moans into you, the vibration making you cry, as she continues moving her tongue, her mouth, her lips.

she doesn’t stop.

not until you can’t feel your fingertips or your toes, not until your voice is hoarse, not until you’re crying and begging, beautifully spent and more than satisfied.

after she’s had her fill, she pulls away. her face is covered in you, eyes glazed over, hair mused and tangled. she looks at you, smile beaming, coming down to kiss you. just once. soft, slow, tasting yourself on her tongue.

she pulls you into her arms, carefully. the blanket is pulled to your shoulders, her hands resting your head against her chest.

her lips press against your forehead, nails scratching lightly up and down your skin.

she speaks after a long moment. “you good?”

you hum, eyes already slipping shut. “mhm. ‘m with you.”

your words, repeated from earlier, make her heart melt. you don’t see it, again, but she smiles. just for you. soft, sweet, yours.

a velvet box sits in the nightstand. on the inside, your initials engraved, and a beautiful ring, in your size and favorite style, waiting to sit prettily on your finger.

yeah, she’s definitely proposing tomorrow.

[marrymekatemartin]

i need caitlin to put me in a full nelson while she absolutely nails my shit. and like she fucks so rough but she's praising so nicely, calling reader her pretty girl, telling her she's taking her so well, and reader js CANNOT think bc 1: caitlin biceps around her neck 2: caitlin dick in her guts 3: yes. like in prone bone ngl.

idk i'm having desires for caitlin rn bc every time i see her with her ugly ass man it ignites something primal in me and i need to kill him

:¨ ·.· ¨:            「caitlin clark」        `· . 𐙚praise and painˎˊ˗

pairing: caitlin clark x reader word count: 0.3k warnings: strap sex (r! receiving) a/n: I made your request because idk it would be rude not too, but I wanna make one thing clear, Connor hate is not tolerated on my page! yes, Caitlin does seem like she’s into women, but treating Connor like he’s a horrible person isn’t okay, she’s happy with Connor, he’s not done anything, just let it go man. this isnt directed towards the anon who requested this, it’s just my way of letting you know I’m not okay with people being rude to Connor, all because they think his girlfriends a lesbian.

(also I’m sorry I’m not good with creating plots around requests so this is just kind of a small smut imagine)

“Fuck,” Caitlin groans, rolling her hips to thrust the strap even deeper. “Look at you, taking my cock so well.” She coos, her arm around your neck pinning your back against her chest.

You just babble incoherently, tears streaming down your cheeks as your girlfriend fucks you dumb.

She laughs, whether mockingly or not you’re too out of it to tell.

“You’re doing so well for me, taking me so good, huh?” She praises quietly, applying a bit more pressure to your neck with her bicep, slapping and roughly squeezing your tits.

You look up at her through tears, your walls clenching around the silicone as you grow closer and closer.

Caitlin’s hand pinches your nipple, earning a loud whimper from your lips. She trails her hand down from your chest to your pussy, gently rubbing your clit, making your hips jerk.

“You gonna cum, pretty?” She murmurs into your ear, her voice unusually soft for the way she’s pounding her strap into your stomach.

All you can manage is a small cry, nodding desperately.

She laughs under her breath, gently craning her neck to kiss your jaw.

“C’mon, finish for me, soak my cock, baby.” She whispers, speeding up her pace, her other hand rubbing and squeezing your clit.

The coil in your stomach disbands, and you throw your head back against your girlfriend’s shoulder, your mouth dropping open as a deep moan escapes your throat.

She slowly pulls out, whispering soft praises as she flips you onto your back, lying down next to you.

You both take a second to catch your breath, your sweat covered bodies sticking together.

“Alright,” Caitlin sighs, sitting up and patting your chest as a signal to follow suite. “Round two.”

── .✦

taglist: @let-zizi-yap, @wbbszn, @v0-mit, @b1lezy

[baigepueckers]

Caitlin Clark X Reader

The Wrong Jersey

You were courtside long before warmups, dressed in a fitted jacket and jeans, hair done, chest still a little tight from the adrenaline of being in this arena again. Indiana vs. Dallas always drew a loud crowd, but tonight felt heavier. Eyes followed Caitlin everywhere. Cameras were turned before she even crossed half court.

You were used to it.

What you weren’t used to was hearing your name gasped behind you in a familiar, slightly raspier tone.

“Y/N! Oh my God.”

You spun, and there she was…Paige Bueckers, blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail, jersey half tucked, laughing as she grabbed your arms. She squeezed you like she’d been waiting to bump into you for years.

“No way! I was hoping you were coming!”

You laughed, hugging back. “Hey Paige. It’s been forever.”

“I literally thought you were dead,” she says into your shoulder. “Do volleyball players just disappear after graduation?”

You laugh. “We’re too fast for the public to trace.”

It felt instantly familiar…late night study sessions, athlete hallways, shared misery over conditioning.

She looked you up and down playful, not creepy…just old friend admiration. “Still stupid pretty.”

You shoved her shoulder gently. “Shut up.”

She reached into her warmup bag and tossed you a crisp Dallas jersey.

“Just… represent five tonight,” she said, wiggling her brows. “For nostalgia.”

You held it up, laughing. “Number five, huh?”

She looked at you dramatically. “Iconic.”

You rolled your eyes…but pulled it over your shirt anyway. Her grin sharpened.

“Oh yeah. That looks right,” she said, fingers tapping the number on your chest.

“Paige…”

“Don’t fight it,” she smirked. “I’m making you cooler by association.”

Someone called her name. She jogged backward, smirking.

“Cheer loud! I’m listening!”

You couldn’t stop smiling when you sat down.

But the smile dropped fast.

Because when the Fever came out for introductions, Caitlin spotted you instantly. Her eyes skimmed…hair, jacket…then stopped on the giant navy 5. Her expression didn’t crack.

It sharpened.

She didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. She just looked across the court at Paige…slow, assessing and then turned away with a tight jaw.

Oh.

She was pissed.

Tip off.

Caitlin took the first possession. She dribbled like she was on fire, weaving through defenders, pulling up for a jumper that screamed, I’m angry, fuck off. You couldn’t stop staring at her form, fierce and precise.

Paige leaned over from the baseline during the first timeout, whispering, “You think she noticed the jersey?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, she noticed.”

Paige smirked and tapped your knee lightly. “Worth it.”

Caitlin was already scanning the stands, eyes finding you again. Her jaw flexed. Her hands tightened at the edge of the court. Every basket she sank, every pass she intercepted, felt like a statement…an announcement to you…you’re mine.

Paige, of course, kept poking and teasing…elbows here, light shoulder bumps there…just enough to rile Caitlin. She knew what she was doing. She winked at you when Caitlin snapped a glare across the court.

By halftime, Caitlin was visibly tense. She didn’t celebrate points. She didn’t joke with teammates. Every glance at you sent a spark of possessiveness through the arena. You felt it even from courtside, the heat radiating from her in waves.

The second half was more of the same. Every time Paige pressed against her, her footwork tightened, her defensive stance sharp and she scored on almost every possession. She stole the ball from Paige twice in under a minute, dragging it down for fast break points, throwing her arms up in the air…more for you than the scoreboard.

Paige leaned toward you again, whispering, “So… jealous?”

You sigh. “I’m fucked.”

“She’s terrifying,” Paige admitted, poking your side lightly. “And furious.”

The buzzer finally sounded. Indiana won by eight. The crowd erupted. But Caitlin didn’t celebrate. She walked straight off court, jaw clenched, ignoring post game chatter. Security waved you toward the tunnel.

She was waiting there, leaning against the wall, hair damp, cheeks flushed. Her eyes dropped to the jersey again.

“That’s cute,” she said quietly, chin tipping. “Really cute.”

You opened your mouth to protests. “Cait, it’s not…”

“Car,” she said, already walking.

Your pulse tripped.

The moment she shut the car door, she leaned in…one hand gripping the back of your neck, the other sliding up your thigh…and kissed you hard enough to erase whatever explanation you’d saved.

“Wearing her number?” she breathed against your mouth. “Really?”

“She gave it to me as a joke,” you managed, breath shaking. “We were close at UConn. Athletes hung together. That’s all.”

“She was staring all night,” Caitlin murmured, her mouth finding the line of your throat.

“So were you.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Because you’re mine.”

Her hand slid higher, thumb tracing the button of your jeans before popping it open. Your breath hitched. She didn’t rush…just dipped her fingers beneath denim, warm skin meeting warm skin.

Heat shot through your stomach instantly.

Your head fell back against the headrest. “Cait…”

“Say it,” she whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Cait”

Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband, sliding lower with slow precision, touching exactly where you needed her. Firm pressure on your clit…small circles, intimate and knowing. You choked on a moan you couldn’t swallow.

“There she is,” she praised softly. “I was afraid number 5 stole your voice.”

Her wrist flexed, pace steady, pressing deeper. You arched into her hand instinctively, jeans now tugged low enough that she could move freely against bare heat, her palm and fingers working rhythm you had no defense against.

Your hips jumped. “Oh my…”

“Good,” she murmured. “Let everyone in this garage hear who you fall apart for.”

Your moan came out louder this time, helpless. She bit gently at your lower lip when you tried to hold it in.

“Don’t you dare get quiet,” she warned, fingers curling just right. “Not after you walked around with five on your chest.”

Your thighs tensed around her wrist, trapping her hand. Her breath hitched with yours…she could feel everything.

“That’s it,” she whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Just like that.”

The heat built fast…sharp, rolling, impossible to stop. You clutched her hoodie like it anchored you. Her pace shifted slightly…faster, deeper, more deliberate and it tipped you clean over.

You gasped her name, voice breaking, hips stuttering against her hand as you came, trembling hard enough the seatbelt clicked. She kept touching you until every shiver died down, then slowly eased pressure until you sagged against her chest.

When you could finally breathe, she tucked your jeans closed again, fingers lingering at your waist.

“Better?” she asked softly.

You nodded, cheeks flushed.

She kissed your hairline, voice quieter now. “Next time I want more noise.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you breathed.

“Defensively devoted,” she corrected, thumb tracing your pulse. “And very spoiled.”

She helped you sit upright, brushing a strand from your face.

“You’re still shaking,” she noted, satisfied. “Good.”

You laughed breathlessly. “You’re intense.”

“For you?” She shrugged. “Yeah. I am.”

She started the engine, sliding her hand back to your thigh…claiming, warm…as she pulled out of the garage.

You smiled thinking about your ridiculous girl.

[coffeeluv3r]

What We Couldn’t Be Pt.2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Ex! Reader x Caitlin Clark

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After a tense Fever–Wings game where your injury sparks a viral video between the you and Caitlin, and Azzi and Paige, shipping and reigniting rivalries, Paige’s unresolved feelings resurface, and she desperately tries to reach you—only to find herself blocked.

Author's note: helloooo everybody, you guys wanted a part 2, and here it isssss!! srry for the late upload, college had been fucking me huhu

THE DAYS LEADING UP TO the Fever–Wings game passed in a strange, fragile rhythm. You’d been living in that uncertain space between healing and breaking, where the scars of Paige’s departure were still tender but no longer openly bleeding. Grief, you learned, wasn’t just sorrow—it was the quiet hollow that lingered even when you laughed, the sharpness that pierced when you least expected it.

And yet, Caitlin was there. Always.

Not in the loud, performative way of someone swooping in to replace what you had lost, but in the quiet ways that mattered: a meme sent to your phone right before bed that made you snort despite yourself; a hand on your shoulder after practice that lingered just long enough to remind you that you weren’t as invisible as you sometimes felt; the way she caught your gaze during interviews, grounding you with a look that said, I know you’re tired. I’ve got you.

It wasn’t love—not yet. But it wasn’t just friendship either.

Something in between. Something dangerously fragile.

The arena buzzed with energy hours before tipoff. Commentators hyped up the “most awaited rivalry,” spinning narratives of Caitlin versus Paige, two college legends now carrying their names into the WNBA spotlight. But beneath the media chatter, you knew fans were watching something else. You.

Because whether you liked it or not, your name was always tied to Paige’s. The breakup, the whispered drama, the way your paths continued to collide—it was all fuel for storylines you couldn’t control.

Caitlin approached you as you laced up your sneakers, her expression unreadable but her tone casual. “Ready?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

Her lips curved in a half-smirk, the kind that always looked like she was both teasing you and daring the world to underestimate her. “Good. Let’s make this game ours, rookie.”

The words echoed in your chest. Ours.

The first half unfolded with brutal intensity. Dallas played with sharp precision, Paige moving across the court with the grace you knew all too well. Watching her handle the ball again, hearing the crowd roar her name, you felt a pang—not of longing, but of recognition. She was still everything she had been when you loved her: fierce, brilliant, magnetic.

But you weren’t the same anymore.

Every time you dribbled past her, every time Caitlin called your name and tossed you the ball, you felt yourself shifting into something steadier. You weren’t Paige’s shadow anymore—you were your own force.

Still, the tension was undeniable. When you collided with Paige on a defensive switch, your bodies pressed for just a second too long, her breath hot against your cheek. Neither of you spoke, but your silence screamed.

The crowd felt it. The cameras caught it. Social media was already dissecting it before the halftime buzzer.

It occurred at the end of the second quarter.

Caitlin threaded a perfect pass your way, the kind of instinctive connection that came from hours of practice and an unspoken understanding. You sprinted toward the basket, adrenaline pumping, the layup waiting like a promise.

But your fingers betrayed you. The ball slipped, the spin was wrong, and as it clanged hard against the rim, you landed awkwardly. Pain tore through your ankle, sharp and unrelenting. You collapsed to the cold floor of the court, clutching it as the whistle shrieked. A sharp grunt left your lips as you try to keep the scream from tearing your throat.

The noise of the crowd dimmed, replaced by the rush of blood in your ears.

Then, suddenly, Paige was there.

Her hand extended to your shoulder, her eyes wide with concern. The world narrowed to that moment—the familiarity of her presence, the memory of every time she had steadied you before.

But before you could move, Caitlin was at your side.

She crouched low, slipping her arm under yours that wasn’t held by Paige, with a firmness that left no room for argument. Her eyes flicked up to Paige’s, hard and unyielding, and she moved Paige’s hand away from you. It wasn’t a spoken challenge, but it might as well have been.

Back off. She’s with me now.

The crowd roared. Phones lit up. Hashtags were born in real time.

And you? You let Caitlin help you up because your body ached, because your pride was shattered, and maybe because a part of you wanted her to.

By the time you sat on the bench, in your team's respective dugout, ankle wrapped and elevated, the internet had already chosen its narrative.

Clips of Caitlin lifting you, her hand steady on your back, flooded Twitter and TikTok. You and Paige staring for a few seconds, and her helping you. Caitlin and Paige’s stare off. Edits of your shared glances with Caitlin after she helped you up, spliced with romantic music, comments about “chemistry you can’t fake,” and captions like Caitlin stepping up where Paige failed, trended worldwide.

“#CaitlinxReader” exploded.

You scrolled briefly on your phone, your chest tightening as you saw thousands of fans declaring Caitlin and you the new it duo, speculating on whether there was more than friendship between you. Some celebrated it; others dredged up Paige’s name, comparing, debating, weaponizing your pain for clicks.

And you couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe Paige had seen it too.

Because during the third quarter and towards the fourth, you caught her glances—sharp, unsettled with a clenched jaw, lingering longer than they should.

Dallas won. The final buzzer blared, sealing the game in their favor, but the arena still buzzed with a different kind of electricity. The rivalry was no longer just about basketball—it was personal.

You limped toward the tunnel, exhaustion and frustration weighing you down. And then, fate twisted cruelly.

You collided—hard—with Paige.

The impact jolted through you, and for a second, all the air left your lungs. You looked up, meeting her eyes, and it was like being dragged back in time.

“Watch it,” you muttered, your voice brittle with the effort of keeping your composure.

Her jaw clenched. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You froze. “What do you want me to say, Paige? That I’m grateful you tried to play savior out there? That it means something? It doesn’t.”

Her face hardened, but her voice cracked. “Don’t act like I don’t still—”

“Still what?” you demanded, your voice rising. “Still care? Then why did you leave me like I didn’t matter?”

The words hung between you, heavy and unrelenting.

And then all of a sudden Azzi appeared, her brows furrowed so deeply.

She slipped her arm through Paige’s, standing squarely between you with an expression that burned. “Is this what it’s about? You causing drama again?”

Your chest tightened. “What are you talking about? I wasn't causing any drama—”

“Oh, please,” Azzi cut in, voice sharp as glass. “You’re clinging to something that’s over. She’s with me now. Get over it.”

“Azzi, cut it out.” Paige immediately said as she tries to keep her calm.

The sting of her words sliced deep, but before you could react, Caitlin was there.

Her presence was like gravity—solid, unshakable. She stepped closer, her hand brushing your elbow, steadying you. “Back off,” she said, voice low and calm, but laced with steel.

The tunnel pulsed with tension. Cameras flashed. Reporters whispered. The world was watching, even if it wasn’t supposed to.

Security and some team staffs eventually intervened, pulling everyone apart before the confrontation could escalate. But the damage was done. Clips of the moment were already captured and went viral: Paige reaching for you, Azzi stepping in, Caitlin defending you. Fans were eating the interaction so much that they were dedicated in dissecting every second, every glance, every touch.

Back in the dugout room, you sat in silence, ankle throbbing, head spinning. Caitlin dropped down beside you, tossing a towel in your direction.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded, though your throat felt raw. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

She studied you for a long moment, then reached out, brushing her fingers briefly against yours. “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Not her. Not Azzi. Not the fans. You’re more than their storyline. They don’t owe you anything.”

Something in your chest cracked—not painfully, but like a dam giving way. You didn’t reply, but you let her hand linger against yours, and for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe.

Later, in Dallas’ locker room, the storm raged on. Two lovers in a fit of rage, away from everybody else. Away from prying eyes and ears.

Azzi paced, her hands balled into fists. “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

Paige’s head snapped up, her voice sharp. “I’m not.”

“Then why do you look at her like that?” Azzi’s voice broke, trembling with both anger and fear. “Why do you freeze every time her name comes up? Why does it feel like I’m competing with someone who isn’t even here anymore?”

“I chose you.” Paige insisted, her voice strained, desperate. “I’m with you, Azzi. She’s—she’s in the past."

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way, huh?”

“Do you still love her, Paige?” When Paide didn't answer right away, Azzi continued in a feeble voice.

“I- I am... not. I don’t anymore. Stop bringing it up.” Paige stammered, eyes wavering away from Azzi, backing away with unstable steps, running a hand through her hair.

“Why did you hesitate?” Azzi’s eyes are now brimming with tears.

Paige could only walk away, shaking her head.

That night, your phone buzzed relentlessly. Messages, missed calls—all from Paige.

Please. Just talk to me.

I need to explain.

Don’t shut me out like this.

Don’t say anything if you don’t want talk, just hear me out.

Be angry at me.

Shout at me.

Curse at me.

I don’t care, just talk to me.

Please.

You stared at the screen, heart pounding, thumb hovering. For a moment, the temptation gnawed at you. To hear her voice again, to let her in, to feed the part of you that still ached for closure.

But then you remembered the tunnel. The argument at her apartment. The begging. The hurt. The sting of her absence. The way Caitlin’s steady presence had felt like safety when everything else threatened to crumble.

You pressed Block.

You didn’t know if it made you feel a little better.

Lying in the quiet of your hotel room, your ankle iced and your phone turned face down on the nightstand, you stared at the ceiling.

Caitlin’s text came hours later, simple but enough: “Rest up. I’m here.”

And though the world outside was on fire—fans dissecting your every move, Paige and Azzi splintering under the weight of unspoken truths—you allowed yourself a small smile.

Because for the first time in a long time, you weren’t defined by Paige.

You were something else. Something more.

And maybe, just maybe, Caitlin was part of it.