#kate x reader

[crazymeepnoob]

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PANTIES?

SMAU - Stealing the creeps underwear

ft. Brian, Tim, Toby, Ej, Jeff, Nina, Natalie, and Kate

I'm lowk a firm believer that Kate is a dry texter

[lyricii]

can i rec a kate fic please cause you’re insane at writing for her. they’re incredible. reader is on another unrivaled team then her gf kate and gets injured during practice so her teammates have to find kate please :)

stay with me

pairing: unrivaled!kate!dating!rivals x unrivaled!reader!dating!rivals

wc: 3.1k

summary: when a routine practice shifts into something neither of you can control, rivalry fades and only one truth remains—she will always come when someone says your name.

🏷️: @nervoussagittarius, @timunhater, @marleymarleymarleymarley, @333dee, @yourmom-25s-blog

practice with mist is supposed to feel clean, controlled, the kind of control that looks effortless from the outside but is built on repetition and bruises and film sessions that stretch too long. allisha is at the top of the key, calm as ever, calling out coverage like she’s reading from a script only she can see. her voice never rises, never wavers, just steady. 

breanna drifts to the wing, laughing under her breath at something arike muttered five seconds ago. arike is already talking trash and the scrimmage hasn’t even started yet, grinning like she’s playing in a sold-out arena instead of a closed practice gym. veronica claps her hands once. “lock in.”

you love it here.

you love the way mist moves—fluid, unbothered, sharp at the edges. no wasted motion, no panic. just reads and counters and trust.

you also love that across the facility, breeze is running drills just as hard.

you can almost feel it. that invisible thread between courts, between colors yet kate had texted you an hour ago.

don’t let stewie bully you in practice.

you’d sent back: worry about your own team, martin.

she’d liked the message. then: drop 30 on them for me.

you’d rolled your eyes, smiling into your phone like an idiot before shoving it back into your bag.

it happens on a closeout, nothing dramatic.

veronica swings the ball to the corner. you see it early. you’re already moving before the pass leaves her hands. sprint. chop your steps. right foot plants to explode into the contest—and the world tilts.

your knee doesn’t buckle, it gives like something inside it just…slides out of place, there’s no loud pop just a wrongness that crawls up your spine.

you don’t even cry out at first. just a sharp inhale, and a confused blink then the floor rushes up.

the hardwood is cool against your palm. the ceiling lights blur. for half a second, practice keeps going. someone takes the shot. someone boxes out. then—“hold up—”

“yo, she’s down.” music cuts mid-beat, the bass dies. sneakers scrape toward you in frantic arcs.

arike is the first one there, crouching, eyes wide but steady. “don’t move,” she says quietly, like she’s afraid her voice might make it worse.

breanna’s hand finds your shoulder, grounding. “where?”you try to push up on your elbows.

the pain answers for you. it’s deep, blooming, wrong like pressure building under your kneecap.

“knee,” you whisper and that’s when the fear creeps in. not because of the pain but because you know this feeling.

you’ve felt instability before. you’ve felt that sickening glide that shouldn’t happen.

your throat tightens. allisha kneels in front of you, blocking out the rest of the gym. “look at me,” she says gently. “breathe.” you nod, you’re breathing but it just doesn’t feel like enough.

breeze is finishing a defensive shell drill when mist’s assistant coach rushes in.

paige is mid-sentence about something ridiculous, cameron arguing a screen angle with too much intensity for a random thursday. rickea is leaning against the wall pretending not to listen, smirk barely contained.

“kate.”

it slices through the gym, kate turns immediately. “yeah?”

“we need you.” she frowns, sweat darkening the collar of her practice tee. “for what?”

a pause.

“it’s y/n.” it doesn’t take more than that as her stomach drops before her brain catches up.

she doesn’t ask how bad, she doesn’t ask what happened, she’s already moving.

paige’s teasing grin fades. “i’ll tell coach,” she mutters, watching kate disappear through the doors.

you’re sitting up now, ice wrapped around your knee, trainers pressing gently along the joint. every touch makes you flinch.

you hate this, hate the circle of bodies, and hate the way your teammates are trying not to look scared.

arike is pacing, breanna has her arms crossed tight across her chest, veronica keeps glancing toward the door like she’s expecting someone then there’s a shift in the air.

not loud, not dramatic, just—her. “move,” kate says, and it’s not mean, not loud, just firm enough that people listen without thinking.

she drops to her knees in front of you like the hardwood doesn’t matter like nothing does.

her hands don’t go to your knee first.

they go to your face, as her warm palms bracketing your jaw. “hey,” she says softly and it breaks something in you because she looks terrified.

not annoyed, not inconvenienced, terrified. you try to smile. “hi.” her jaw tightens. “don’t.”

“don’t what?”

“don’t pretend you’re fine.” your eyes sting before you can stop them. she slides one hand down, lacing her fingers with yours. squeezing once, grounding. 

her thumb brushes over your pulse like she’s checking you’re still here. “what did they say?” she asks the trainer, voice controlled, even, but tight at the edges.

“we need imaging. there’s instability.”

instability, the word lands heavy in your chest.

kate nods once, composed, captain-steady but her thumb keeps tracing slow circles over your knuckles like she’s trying to anchor you to the earth. “okay,” she murmurs. “we’ve got this.”

we.

not mist, not breeze.

we.

they bring the cart, you hate the cart yet it feels like surrender. “i can walk,” you insist, stubbornness rising up to mask the fear.

arike snorts softly. “no you cannot.” you try anyway as the second your weight shifts, your knee wobbles.

kate is on you instantly. one arm firm around your waist, the other braced under your forearm as her grip is strong, unshaking. “easy,” she whispers against your temple.

her breath is warm, steady. you lean into her without meaning to as the entire mist roster is watching.

you don’t care. she helps you onto the cart, hands lingering at your hips just a second longer than necessary, like she needs to feel you solid under her palms.

“look at me,” she says.

you do. her eyes are glassy, but she’s holding it together for you. “breathe with me.” in, out, in, out. the gym fades, it’s just her voice.

imaging is cold. sterile, you hate the hum of the machine. hate being still, hate not knowing.

kate isn’t allowed in the room as that’s the worst part for her. she paces the hallway in slides and practice shorts, hair still damp from drills.

paige tries to joke—something about mist sabotaging breeze before playoffs—but it dies halfway out of her mouth when she sees kate’s face.

rickea leans against the wall, quiet for once, cameron hands kate a water bottle she doesn’t open. “she’s tough,” paige says finally, softer now.

kate nods. “i know.” her voice cracks anyway because tough doesn’t mean untouchable and she knows exactly how fast everything can change.

when you come back out, drained and aching, brace secured tight around your knee, the first thing you see is her standing up too fast like she’d been coiled.

she’s still in practice gear, sweat dried at her collar, hair pushed back as her jaw is tight enough to hurt.

the second your eyes meet, something inside her loosens. “hey,” she says again.

always hey. you give her a tired smile. “miss me?”

her mouth twitches. “don’t.”

the doctor talks. swelling, possible ligament involvement, more tests tomorrow with no conclusions yet.

kate asks questions. return timeline, protocol, worst case, best case.

she doesn’t miss a detail, you just watch her the way she positions herself slightly in front of your chair like she could block bad news if it tried to reach you, like she could stand between you and anything that wants to take you off the court.

when they finally leave you alone for a minute, she crouches in front of you again in the same position, same eye level.

her hands rest carefully on your thighs, thumbs brushing just above the brace. not touching the injury, just close enough to remind you she’s there. “you scared me,” she admits.

it’s quiet, raw, no cameras, no teammates, and of course no rivalry just her. you swallow. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize for getting hurt,” she says immediately. “just—don’t ever do that again.”

you huff a weak laugh. “i’ll try scheduling it when you’re in the gym next time.”

her lips twitch there she is, as  she leans forward, pressing her forehead gently to yours careful, tender. “i hate that i wasn’t there,” she whispers.

you close your eyes. “you came,” you murmur back. she exhales, shaky. “of course i did.”

like it was never a question, like breeze bc could run practice without her, like mist bc could tease her later and like none of it matters if you’re the one hurting.

later, mist’s locker room is nearly empty.

showers off, music gone and just the low hum of ventilation and the ache in your knee. allisha squeezes your shoulder before she leaves. “text us.”

breanna presses a quick kiss to your hair, arike points at kate. “take care of her.”

kate nods once, serious. “always.” when she helps you stand, her hands are firm at your waist again. steady, warm, familiar.

you look up at her. “you know we’re still playing each other next week, right?”

her brow lifts slightly. “good,” she says. “gives you something to rehab for.”

“what if i’m out?” her jaw tightens. “then i’ll sit with you,” she says simply. “i’m not playing you if you’re not playing.” you blink. “kate—”

“i mean it.” there’s no bravado, no joke, just devotion.

outside, the evening air is cool.

she opens the passenger door to her car, one hand braced at the top so you don’t hit your head, the other steady at your back. she adjusts the seat so your knee can stretch out, buckles you in when your hands shake too much.

when she finally slides into the driver’s seat, she doesn’t start the engine right away. she just reaches across the console and takes your hand and holds it as you squeeze back, teams may split you on paper.

colors may divide the court, crowds may cheer when you guard each other full court but when it matters—when you’re down on hardwood and the world tilts wrong—there is no breeze.

there is no mist, there is only her hand wrapped around yours and the way she will always come when someone says your name.

she drives slower than usual. one hand on the wheel, the other still holding yours across the console like letting go might undo something fragile.

streetlights pass in soft intervals, washing the inside of the car in gold, then shadow, then gold again. your knee throbs in time with your heartbeat. every bump in the road feels amplified.

kate notices, she always notices. “tell me if it’s too much,” she says quietly.

“it’s fine.” she shoots you a look. you sigh. “it just hurts.” her jaw flexes. she adjusts her driving even more—careful over dips, slow over turns. “i’m sorry,” she murmurs. you turn your head toward her. “you didn’t twist my knee.”

“still.” she hates not being able to fix things, you know that about her. her apartment smells like clean laundry and whatever candle she left burning before practice. something soft, vanilla, maybe.

she helps you inside like you’re made of glass shoes off, bag dropped by the door. she lowers you onto the couch gently, crouching in front of you again, hands hovering over your brace. “does it need more ice?” you nod.

she disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a fresh pack wrapped in a towel. kneels. adjusts it carefully over your knee, fingers brushing skin with reverence.

you watch her, the way her brows knit together. the way she keeps swallowing like there’s something lodged in her throat. “kate.” she looks up immediately. “yeah?”

“i’m still here.” her eyes soften. “i know.”

but she leans forward anyway, pressing her forehead lightly to your thigh—just below the brace. her hands slide around your calves, careful, grounding for a second she just stays like that breathing.

you thread your fingers through her hair. “you don’t have to be scared,” you whisper, she lets out a humorless huff. “too late.”

later, when the pain meds start to blur the edges of everything, she carries you to her bedroom actually carries you. you protest weakly, she simply ignores you. “you’re not walking on it,” she says simply.

her arms are solid around you. secure. like she’s done this a thousand times before in some other life where injuries don’t exist and it’s just you and her and quiet.

she lays you down carefully. adjusts pillows under your leg. makes sure the brace isn’t pressing too hard then she sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. “what if it’s bad?” you ask softly.

she doesn’t look at you at first then she does and there’s that honesty again, raw and unfiltered. “then we handle it,” she says. “whatever it is.”

“even if i’m out for a while?” her expression flickers pain, determination.

“then i’m there for every rehab session,” she says. “i’ll drive you. i’ll sit in the corner and annoy the trainers. i’ll bring you food. i’ll make sure you don’t rush it.” your throat tightens. “you have your own season.”

“so do you,” she replies. “doesn’t change anything.” she reaches for your hand again, like it’s instinct now. like she needs the contact as much as you do.

“you think i care what jersey you’re wearing?” she murmurs. “mist. breeze. whatever. you’re mine before you’re any team’s.”

the words settle heavy and warm in your chest. you squeeze her fingers. “don’t get possessive on me, martin.” her lips curve faintly. “too late.” night falls slow and quiet, she refuses to sleep until you do.

sits beside you, thumb tracing lazy lines across your knuckles, listening to your breathing even out and when you finally drift off, she leans forward and presses the softest kiss to your temple like a promise, like a vow she never had to say out loud.

tomorrow there will be scans with results, decisions, rehab schedules, headlines, maybe but tonight—it’s just her hand wrapped around yours and the steady rhythm of her staying.

the room is dim except for the soft glow of the lamp she forgot to turn off.

your leg is propped carefully on pillows, brace snug, ice long since melted into a forgotten puddle in the towel on the nightstand. the pain is still there—dull now, less sharp—but it’s no longer the loudest thing in the room.

she is not in sound in presence.

kate shifts closer on the mattress, careful not to jostle you. one arm slides around your waist, slow and deliberate, like she’s mapping out safe territory. her palm spreads flat against your stomach, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt.

“does this hurt?” she murmurs against your shoulder. you shake your head. “no.” she exhales softly, relieved in a way she tries to hide.

her nose brushes the back of your neck. her breath is warm there. steady. she presses a small kiss just below your ear—nothing urgent, nothing heated, just reassurance.

you shift, turning carefully onto your side so you’re facing her. it takes a second, she’s already watching you always watching. you reach up, brushing a stray hair away from her forehead. “stop looking at me like that,” you whisper. “like what?”

“like i might disappear.” her jaw tightens. “i just—” she swallows. “i need to see you.”

so you let her, you let her trace the outline of your face with her thumb. let her memorize the slope of your cheek, the press of your lips, the way your eyes are heavy but still open. “i’m not going anywhere,” you say softly.

“good,” she replies immediately, like she’s been holding that word in all night, you smile faintly.

she slides her hand down your arm, lacing your fingers together again. instinct. automatic. her other hand drifts lower, resting carefully on your hip—close enough to feel your warmth, far enough from your knee to avoid any accidental pressure.

you tug her closer she comes without hesitation your foreheads touch. the rivalry is gone here. no mist, no breeze yet no film to watch or plays to memorize just the quiet hum of the apartment. just the slow rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours. “you know,” you murmur sleepily, “if i’m out for our game…”

“don’t,” she warns gently. “i’m just saying,” you continue, voice softer now, “you better not enjoy it too much.” her lips ghost over yours in the faintest kiss. not claiming. not demanding. just there.

“i don’t enjoy any game you’re not in,” she whispers. you hum, satisfied. your fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, anchoring her like she anchored you earlier, she shifts again, carefully sliding one leg between yours—mindful of the brace—creating that familiar, tangled position you’ve both fallen asleep in more times than you can count.

her hand rubs slow circles against your back, over and over, steady yet grounding. you feel your body finally relax into the mattress. into her, into the certainty of being held. “get some sleep,” she murmurs.

you press your face into the hollow of her neck. “only if you stay.” her arms tighten slightly around you. “i’m not going anywhere,” she says again and this time, you believe it without needing proof.

outside, the city keeps moving, tomorrow will bring answers. timelines. maybe hard truths but tonight—it’s just her warmth wrapped around you.

just her fingers threaded through yours, just the soft rise and fall of her chest beneath your palm and the quiet, unwavering promise of her staying.

[lalaluna20]

I NEED HERRR 💜

updated version cause my taste has shifted

[toughbae-fong]

Love, Lullabies, and Us

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : W! Nika x Pregnant! Reader

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : Swearing, had to mention "Y/N" multiple times

𝗪𝗖 : 5.2k

𝗔/𝗡 : Hey everyone! This is a sequel to my story, Sunny Days! I'm thinking about turning it into a family series, but I'd love to hear what you all think! (Requested 🏷️ @iowahawkeyes22 )

PART 1

Tomorrow marks a monumental day in your life, it's your wedding day with Nika. Tonight, you both find yourselves at a hotel, celebrating the night before your big day, but in separate rooms, a tradition rooted in superstition. You can hardly contain your excitement, the thought of finally becoming Nika's wifey fills you with joy. As you sit in your room, a warm smile spreads across your face while your hands gently caress your noticeable baby bump. The anticipation of what’s to come makes your heart flutter.

When morning light breaks, your makeup artist and stylist arrive, transforming your hotel room into a flurry of beauty and elegance. They work their magic, applying makeup and adjusting your gown, turning you into a vision of beauty that you can hardly recognize. As you stand in front of the mirror, you give a small spin, and your breath catches in your throat. The reflection staring back at you is stunning—radiant, joyful, and glowing in every possible way. You are overwhelmingly happy, words fail to express the feelings swelling within you.

Meanwhile, in her own room, Nika shares the same excitement. She’s slipping into the bridal gown she has envisioned wearing for so long. What makes this moment even more special is the fact she’s wearing it to marry you. You can almost feel her thrill from afar as you imagine the wide smile on her face. After hours of preparations and a flurry of nervous energy, the time finally approaches for you to head to the wedding venue.

As you arrive, the grand doors swing open, revealing a beautiful scene. Your veil cascades down, elegantly framing your face. You begin to walk down the aisle, surrounded by a lush arrangement of flowers that you and Nika carefully selected. Each step you take is filled with delight and a hint of disbelief that this dream is finally coming true. From across the aisle, you catch sight of Nika, her eyes glistening with tears that stream down her cheeks. This is it, this is the moment you have imagined for so long, marrying your soulmate, with the baby you wanted together nestled safely within you walking down with you.

Little flower girls scatter petals along the red carpet just before you entered to walk, each delicate bloom leaving a trail of beauty. As you approach the end of the aisle, your mother gently takes your hand, lovingly guiding you towards Nika, who waits eagerly to receive you. The look in her eyes is filled with love and gratitude, and when she takes your hand in hers, it feels like your hearts align.

“You’re breathtaking,” Nika whispers, her voice breaking ever so slightly with emotion. Tears glisten in her wide eyes, and you can't help but beam back at her, feeling a flutter of cheekiness from her heartfelt compliment.

“And so are you, my love,” you respond, feeling as if your heart could burst from joy. The wedding ceremony unfolds before you, but it’s the moment of exchanging vows that makes everything so real.

“Dear my love…” Nika begins, her voice steady yet full of affection.

“I vow to love you like the ocean loves the shore, endlessly, faithfully, and always comforting you when you get dramatic about the food we order from fast food, insisting that you like mine better. I promise to be your calm in the storm, your partner in mischief, and the excuse to leave those awkward parties a little early. I’ll cherish your laugh like the first warm day after winter, and your quirky habits like rare treasures known only to me. Through every chapter of our lives, those quiet mornings, thrilling adventures, and the moments when life gets a little messy, I choose you, over and over. Your heart is my favorite place, your smile is my sweetest song."

As you listen to her vows, tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of happiness and laughter spilling over. You can’t help but soak in every word she says, feeling more loved than ever.

Then it's your turn. You take a deep breath and speak from your heart, “I promise to love you louder than the roar of the crowd at your games, and softer than the warmth of your favorite hoodie after practice. I vow to be your biggest supporter, whether you’re sinking hoops on the court or scattering snacks all over the couch. You've taught me that true strength is not just in how we play the game, but in how fiercely we love, loyal and wholeheartedly. I’ll be by your side through every season of our lives, celebrating those championship highs, enduring the tough losses, and enjoying those late-night road trips where I find myself tracking your flight as if it were my full-time job. I promise to always believe in you, chase your dreams with you, and remind you, no matter how tall you stand on the court, I’ll still manage to steal your hoodies, your fries, and, effortlessly, your heart.”

As your words hang in the air, you and Nika share laughter and joyful tears, a beautiful connection woven through every sentiment shared.

Finally, the moment arrives where the priest asks, “Do you, Nika Mühl, accept Y/N Y/L as your wife, in richer times and poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do, father,” Nika responds without a single moment’s hesitation.

“Do you, Y/N Y/L, accept Nika Mühl as your wife, in riches and in struggles, until death do you part?” he asks, now directing his attention to you, and with a radiant smile, you reply, “I do.”

"You may now kiss" the priest declared, and in that moment, everything else faded away. Nika, with a soft smile and bright eyes, pulled you in by the waist, leaning in for a kiss that was both tender and filled with passion. It was as if time stood still, and you could feel those tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, a mixture of love and overwhelming happiness washing over you.

As she pulled back slightly, locking eyes with you, Nika whispered, "God, I love you so much." She wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly but with a gentle touch, mindful of your growing baby bump. It was a beautiful reminder of the life you were creating together, and every moment felt like a dream come true.

"And I love you," you replied, feeling yourself melt into her embrace. It was hard to believe how special and magical this day truly was, a day you would remember for the rest of your lives.

It had only been a few months since you and Nika exchanged vows, but every single day since then had been filled with happiness, and you couldn’t help but think about how everything was just perfect. You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Now, as the sun rose on yet another day, it was bittersweet because today, Nika had to leave for one of her games. They were heading to Los Angeles and would be away for a whole week before returning to Seattle for their next match. The reality of it all hit you hard, and you helped her pack her bags, participating in this routine while your pregnancy hormones ran wild. Much to your dismay, tears cascaded down your cheeks—seriously, it felt like you could fill a bucket with all those emotions.

Nika noticed your distress and wrapped her arms around you, her reassuring voice cutting through your worries. "Hey, baby, it’s okay. I’ll call you as soon as I get on the team bus, and I’ll keep you updated while we’re on the way there. Okay?" She spoke softly, trying to soothe your fears even though you couldn’t quite understand why you felt this extra pang of longing for her today compared to other trips.

"Just promise me you'll bring me back some food when you get home," you said through your sobs, your voice a mix of sadness and playful desperation. Nika couldn’t help but chuckle at your plea, and she nodded decisively. "I will, princess, I promise you," she said, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, her way of sealing the promise.

As the time came for her to leave, you felt a wave of loneliness crash over you the moment Nika stepped out of the house. With a heavy heart, you decided to curl up on the couch and lose yourself in a movie, hoping it would distract you from her absence. Just about an hour later, your phone rang, breaking the silence—Nika was calling you from the team bus. You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at the sound of her voice, and you wouldn’t let her hang up until you’d shared a few more sweet moments together, even from a distance.

Nika’s face filled your phone screen, her dark brown hair tucked beneath her grey hoodie, a few strands framing her sharp cheekbones. Those familiar dark brown eyes were still impossibly bright, twinkling even through the grainy camera. You could hear the low hum of her teammates chatting in the background, but her attention was solely on you.

“See, love, I called the second we left,” she teased, her accent soft and affectionate, lips curling into that irresistible grin. “How’s my dramatic wife holding up without me?”

You dramatically flopped back on the couch, one hand on your bump, the other still gripping the hoodie she left behind. “I’ve been abandoned. Betrayed. Left to raise this tiny Croatian firecracker alone,” you whined, pouting. Nika let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through her brunette waves.

“You’ve been alone for only an hour, princess.”

“One hour's too long.” You sniffed, your voice cracking with exaggerated heartbreak. “I cried over a TikTok because someone got engaged in taylor's concert, you know, during that love story song… and then cried because your hoodie still smells like you.”

Her expression softened, dark eyes glowing with warmth as her teasing faded into something gentler. “Aww, love…” She leaned closer to the screen. “I miss you too. And our little peanut.”

You smiled, your hand instinctively tracing circles over your belly. “The baby's been kicking like crazy today. Probably mad you ditched us.”

Nika’s grin widened, her Croatian accent thickening slightly with pride. “Already has my attitude, huh? That’s my kid.” Her eyes twinkled. “But I know where they get the dramatics—from their mama.”

You gasped. “Excuse me? I am a graceful, composed, emotionally stable woman.”

Nika burst into a laugh, and you could hear her teammates snickering behind her. “Babe… you cried over soggy fries last week.”

“They were cold, Nika!”

“They were like…lukewarm at worst,” she teased, shaking her head.

You rolled your eyes at her but couldn’t help smiling. “Whatever. You better bring back fries. And nuggets. And… like, a cookie the size of my face.”

Nika chuckled softly, her dark eyes turning serious again, filled with affection. “I’ll bring back the whole bakery if that’s what you want.” She paused, her voice dropping to that sweet, sincere tone that always melted you. “I hate leaving you, you know? Especially now.” Her gaze flicked down to your bump before returning to your eyes. “But I’ll be home soon, princess. I promise.”

You let out a soft smile as you wrapped up the call. It was clear that Nika needed to focus and rest while she was on her way to Los Angeles, so you decided to let her go and enjoy the journey. After all, she had a big game ahead, and the last thing you wanted was to distract her.

But when tomorrow finally rolled around, you found yourself feeling a bit lonely. Sure, there was excitement bubbling up inside you because tonight was the night you’d finally get to watch Nika's game on TV! You had even gone a little overboard and stocked up on an array of snacks to cheer her on, popcorn, nachos, even some sweet treats. You wanted to be the loudest fan in the room, even if it was just you in your cozy living room.

You had really wanted to be there with her in person, cheering from the sidelines, but Nika had insisted that you stay home. “You’re so close to your due date,” she said with that familiar hint of concern in her voice. “I just can’t risk anything happening.” It made you feel a bit guilty, but deep down, you understood. She was just looking out for you and the little one growing inside you, and you couldn’t really argue with that kind of love and worry.

So here you were, one hour away from tip-off, pacing around your living room, trying to combat that slight sense of isolation. The anticipation was almost unbearable! Just to hear her voice, you picked up the phone and called Nika.

“Hey, baby! How are you doing?” Nika’s voice came through warmly, but there was a faint buzz of background noise, sneakers squeaking against polished hardwood, basketballs thudding in the distance, the faint, sharp whistle of a coach barking instructions.

You sat up straighter, your heart doing that ridiculous little flip. “Oh, you’re already at the arena?” you asked, immediately seeing her, dark brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, those intense espresso-colored eyes sharp with focus, her Croatian features drawn in determination.

“Yeah, courtside at Crypto Arena,” she confirmed, shifting the phone slightly, the background coming into focus. You caught a glimpse of towering stadium lights overhead, rows of empty seats still filling up, and the bright gleam of the Sparks's court polished to perfection. “Had to sneak off for five minutes. Told Coach I was calling my ‘pregnant, hormonal wife so she doesn’t eat the couch out of stress."

You snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn, your free hand instinctively cradling your bump. "I’m not eating furniture! just half the snack cabinet.”

“Half? Babe, you were supposed to save the good snacks for the game,” Nika teased, adjusting her hoodie over her jersey. You could just imagine her name stitched on the back, Mühl in bold letters, the number 1 underneath, a familiar reminder of every proud moment you’d watched her dominate the court.

“The baby wanted nachos, I don’t control the baby anymore,” you said with faux innocence, biting back a grin.

Nika shook her head, but her eyes softened, glowing even under the harsh arena lights. “Love… I miss you. I hate being this far from you.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes flicking to the TV, already set to the sports channel, the familiar pre-game graphics rolling across the screen. “Me too,” you admitted, voice cracking slightly. “It’s weird… watching you play from here, knowing I should be there in the stands—”

“No,” Nika cut in, her tone gentle but firm, that fierce protectiveness kicking in. “We’re too close to your due date. I can’t risk… I can’t—” she paused, visibly wrestling with the emotions behind her steady exterior. “I need you both safe, okay?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. “Okay… but you better wave at the camera. I need my TV moment.”

Nika’s laugh cracked through her serious expression, her dark eyes shining. “Deal. I’ll blow you a kiss mid-game, get fined for PDA if I have to.”

Your laugh melted into something softer, your heart aching, full of love and nerves and pride. “Go crush them, superstar.”

“Always,” she whispered, her voice lowering. “And after? FaceTime. I want to see your face… and your snack crimes.”

“You got it,” you grinned, feeling lighter already.

The background roared as the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, and Nika’s eyes darted to the court. “Gotta go. I love you—more than basketball.”

You smirked. “Wow, Croatian love confessions on game night? I must be special.”

She winked, backing toward the tunnel. “The most special. I love you.”

The line clicked off, but your living room suddenly felt warmer, brighter, even from miles away.

You settled back on the couch, your bump shifting under your hand, your eyes glued to the TV.

“Alright, kid,” you whispered with a grin, “let’s go cheer for Mama.”

The second quarter was heating up, and you were already a wreck.

Your living room looked like a mini sports bar exploded—empty snack bags, half a soda can tipping precariously on the coffee table, your bump sticking out proudly under Nika’s oversized team hoodie. You were absolutely not sitting still. No chance.

The game had you on edge—L.A. fans roaring through the TV speakers, the fast-paced plays, and your wife darting across the court like she owned the place.

“Come on, Nika… come on… YES—YES, BABY!” you shrieked as Nika sank a three-pointer, nearly launching yourself off the couch, your popcorn bowl dangerously tilting as kernels flew.

The baby kicked in solidarity, or possibly protest, but you didn’t care. You were already bouncing, carefully, up and down in place, your bare feet hitting the floor as you cheered like there's no tomorrow.

“That’s my wife! MY WIFE!” you hollered at the TV, pointing aggressively toward the screen as if the commentators could hear you. “Look at her go! Look at those handles! Croatian queen, future MVP, love of my life!”

The next play, Nika stole the ball mid-pass and zipped down the court for a clean, easy layup.

You practically levitated.

“Oh my God—OH MY GOD, THAT’S MY GIRL,” you shouted, hands in the air like you were signaling touchdown instead of basketball. Your voice cracked, eyes watering from pure, unfiltered pride.

“Look at her, little peanut! Your mama’s a beast out there! You’re genetically destined for greatness!” you giggled, one hand rubbing your belly, the other dramatically fanning your flushed face.

Another camera close-up of Nika filled the screen, sweat on her brow, intensity written all over her sharp features, and she did the quick hand-to-lips kiss, that subtle wave. Just for you.

You stopped mid-bounce, hands flying to your chest, overwhelmed.

“Okay, I’m gonna cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Damn hormones… damn beautiful wife… ruining me.”

It happened in the middle of the fourth quarter.

One second you were screaming at the TV, full-blown feral wife mode, popcorn everywhere, wearing Nika’s hoodie like a badge of honor—and the next?

Your brain short-circuited.

At first, you thought… maybe the soda can tipped over, or maybe you sat on an ice pack (weird).

But no.

Oh no.

You looked down. Wide-eyed. Heart racing.

“Okay… okay, that’s… not the soda…” you muttered, frozen for a solid three seconds as the reality hit you like a freight train.

Your water just broke. On the couch. During Nika’s game.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you exclaimed, eyes darting between the TV, where Nika was mid fast-break down the court, and the absolute crisis happening in your living room.

Panic set in instantly. You couldn’t call Nika, she was literally on national TV, winning, being the love of your life and the hero of the game… she’d probably throw her whole career away if you called her mid-contraction.

“Okay, okay—best friend—call… call… CALL!” You scrambled for your phone, fingers shaking as you hit dial, pacing awkwardly around the living room in a hoodie and pajama shorts, liquid trailing with every step.

The phone rang twice before your best friend picked up, voice casual and oblivious “What’s up? Screaming at the refs again?”

You barely breathed. “My water broke.”

A beat of silence.

“…Wait, like dramatic movie scene broke? Or like, you spilled something again and you’re being extra?”

“Movie scene broke. Like, wet couch, baby coming, can’t call Nika ‘cause she’s on the court, I’m freaking the hell out—what do I do?!” Your voice cracked, eyes darting wildly to the TV, where Nika was obliviously assisting another perfect shot.

Your best friend practically choked. “Holy sh*t—okay, okay—breathe. I’m coming over. Sit your dramatic ass down, don’t move, grab your hospital bag—did you pack snacks? No, never mind, I’ll bring snacks—”

You were pacing again, half-laughing, half-crying. “I’m literally leaking on the hardwood floor, and you’re talking about snacks?!”

“Priorities! You’ll be starving after, I know you,” she shot back, already rustling around on the end of the line.

On the TV, Nika was still mid-game, fierce and flawless, no clue her wife was about to have a whole baby mid fourth-quarter.

“I swear to God if she finds out after the game, she’ll combust,” you muttered, rubbing your belly as another tiny contraction rippled through.

“Good news, you get to meet the baby,” your best friend said, already rushing out their door. “Bad news, I have to peel your dramatic, crying ass off the couch first. Stay put. I’m five minutes away.”

You exhaled, adrenaline spiking, a wild mix of fear, love, and pure chaos buzzing through you.

The final buzzer echoed through the arena, the crowd erupting as the scoreboard flashed victory. Nika’s teammates swarmed the court, hugging, high-fiving, the usual post-win chaos. But her eyes? They darted immediately to the sideline, scanning for her phone like clockwork.

You always texted right after a game, proud, teasing, some dumb flirty message that made her grin no matter how exhausted she was.

Except… nothing.

No text.

No missed call.

Just radio silence.

Her heart squeezed, nerves replacing adrenaline as she grabbed her phone from the bench. The first thing she saw wasn’t from you, it was from your best friend.

"Hey, don’t freak, but Y/N’s water broke mid-game. We’re at the hospital. Baby’s coming. She’s okay, but you should get here."

The world tilted.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the cheers around her. Her fingers trembled, unlocking her phone again, rereading the message over and over like it might change.

“Sh*t” Nika hissed under her breath, shoving past celebrating teammates, her heart hammering so hard it hurt. She barely heard her coach congratulating her, the blinding arena lights, all she could see was the hospital’s name in the text.

She tried calling you, straight to voicemail.

Panic clawed up her chest, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She was supposed to be there. Holding your hand. Whispering terrible jokes while you cussed her out through contractions.

Not here. Not an arena hundreds of miles away.

Nika’s hands were shaking as she shoved her sneakers into her duffel, fingers barely working fast enough to zip the bag shut. Her heart thundered like it might crack her ribs, the text from your best friend burning into her brain “Y/N’s water broke. We’re at the hospital. Baby’s coming.”

Baby’s coming.

Her baby.

Your baby.

Too soon. Too fast.

And she wasn’t there.

“F**k, f**k, f**k,” Nika muttered under her breath, practically bulldozing her way through the locker room, ignoring confused teammates and lingering press trying to flag her down. Her jersey was half off, hoodie barely yanked over her head, and her bag thudded hard against her hip with every frantic step toward the exit.

The team manager called after her. “Hey, media’s waiting—"

“I can’t, my wife’s in labor.” Nika snapped, voice cracking, practically throwing herself into the team manager’s path. Her eyes were wild, glassy with panic. “I need to get to Seattle. Tonight. Right now. My wife—she’s—God, my wife’s having the baby"

The manager’s face fell, snapping immediately into action. “Okay, okay, breathe, Mühl. Go get changed, I’ll call the front desk. We’ll get you on the first flight out.”

But Nika was already dialing on her phone, fingers trembling, trying your number again—straight to voicemail.

“Come on, love” she whispered, pacing tight circles near the exit, her Croatian slipping out as stress twisted in her chest. Her teammates hovered nearby, concern etched across their faces, but she barely noticed.

All she could hear was the deafening silence of your missed call. All she could see was the faint mental image of you—alone, scared, pacing your living room, belly full of their child, and she wasn’t there.

Airport security blurred past her. She didn’t remember half the drive there, her duffel flung in the backseat, her game-worn shoes still dangling from her backpack, hoodie half unzipped, passport clutched tight as she bolted through LAX like a woman possessed.

The ticket agent barely had time to finish their sentence before Nika slammed her passport down on the counter. “Next flight to Seattle—emergency. My wife’s in labor—please.”

The attendant blinked at her flushed, frantic face, dark eyes wide, jersey still peeking out beneath her hoodie. “I—um—let me check—”

“Please,” Nika’s voice cracked, chest heaving. “I can’t miss this.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of airport chaos, security lines, impatient passengers, shoving her phone in her pockets with trembling hands, jogging across the terminal, heart pounding with every wasted second.

Her phone buzzed, a text from your best friend “They’re okay. She’s strong. Baby’s taking their time. I’ll update you.”

Nika sagged against the gate wall for half a breath, shoulders shaking, relief flooding in, but it wasn’t enough.

Not until she was there.

Not until she was holding you both.

The second they called boarding, Nika nearly tripped sprinting down the jet bridge, ignoring stares from flight attendants as she collapsed into her seat, legs jittering, palms sweaty, her mind looping worst-case scenarios over and over.

The flight felt like an eternity.

Every ding of the seatbelt sign, every bump of turbulence, every minute trapped in that metal plane made her skin crawl. She scrolled through old photos of you, grinning selfies, your baby bump poking out from under her hoodie, sleepy pictures of you curled against her chest, all while biting back the sting of tears.

The moment the plane touched down, Nika shoved past rows of drowsy passengers, muttering apologies as she practically vaulted down the aisle, duffel slung over her shoulder, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, lungs burning.

She didn’t care.

She tore through the terminal, hailed the first cab she saw, barking out the hospital address with a voice so hoarse it barely sounded human.

Every red light was agony. Every slow turn, every traffic delay made her fists clench white-knuckled against her knees.

She texted the whole way

“I’m almost there.”

“Please hold on.”

“I love you both.”

Finally, finally, the cab screeched to the curb of the hospital.

Nika threw bills at the driver, bolting through the automatic doors like a storm in sneakers and panic.

Nurses barely got a word out before she blurted, “Labor and delivery—my wife’s here—her water broke—Y/N L/N—please—”

A nurse guided her to the room, and her legs nearly gave out as she spotted you through the window, pale, exhausted, hair messy but eyes sparkling despite it all, cradling the impossibly small bundle in your arms.

Her throat closed. The world tilted. Her heart cracked and mended all at once.

She stumbled in, breathless, knees weak, eyes stinging.

“You made it,” you rasped, voice soft and teasing despite the exhaustion in your face.

Nika collapsed beside you, forehead pressed to yours, hands trembling as she touched both you and the tiny miracle between you.

“I’m here,” she choked, tears streaming freely. “I’m so f**king here.”

Nothing else mattered.

Not the game.

Not the distance.

“I love you,” she breathed, pressing kisses into your hair, your temple, your shaking shoulders. “I love you both more than anything.”

The room, the world, it all blurred. But this? You, her, the tiny miracle between you?

This was everything.

[insomniakisses]

G!p Caitlin taking you with her to a team dinner and some random dude starts flirting with you and you decide to make her jealous a little bit and she eventually gets fed up and leads you to the bathroom

Broken Bonds and Finding Love (Caitlin Clark x Reader x Kate Martin)

Part one - You’re Mine // Series Masterlist

A/N: Lowkey changed the request a bit, i just went with it haha. Not exactly the vibe I had hopped for my first WBB fic but.... Yeah. Maybe i could make a part 2 if yall are wanting it!

warnings/notes: I changed this to be alpha!cait hope thats okay, smut, semi public sex, possessive nature, omegaverse au, cait has a dick, afab reader, omega reader, alpha caitlin clark, daddy kink, CNC themes, Toxic!caitlin, cheater!caitlin, Blowjobs, porn with plot, Slightly angsty too, Slight Alpha!Kate x reader, omega space, talk of injuries, blood, possibly slight abusive themes, mentions of cum.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ☽ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

It was a common thing, Caitlin taking you out for meals. Whether it was with her team, the pair of you and Kate or just the two of you. She was just that kind of girlfriend, she liked spending time with you, doting on you and spoiling you beyond belief no matter how much you protest that it’s not necessary.

Today was different though, her attention was not on you at all. No, her attention was on her team and her team only. You put up with it at first, knowing to behave because Caitlin doesn’t like bratty girls. Bratty girls have to be punished. Not to mention the big win the team had just had, she deserved to celebrate and enjoy her night.

But when the second hour of her paying you no mind rolled around you began to get squirmy, you tried to be good you really did but you couldn’t help act up. Especially when your attempts to get her attention were brushed off.

Your first attempt was subtly, shuffling closer to her and looping your hand in her free one, content with the feeling of her skin against yours. That was until she shook your hand off a moment later moving her hand to rest on the table. You pouted then, feeling uneasy that she had brushed you off so easily. The second attempt was a little bolder, and you knew it might cross a line, but you didn’t care. Reaching over you squeezed her upper thigh, but she gave you nothing. Not even a lip twitch.

A soft whine escapes you, quiet enough that only she could hear but she doesn’t react. It makes you sad really, having so little of her attention when she’s usually so wrapped up in your presents that the world becomes white noise. Not tonight though, no, tonight she was focused on anything but you. Even the waitress’s chest and ass apparently judging from the way she bites her lip staring at her as she passes by.

That’s the last straw you think, its one thing for her to ignore you for her team after a win. That you could learn to live with, but to shamelessly check out another omega in front of you after ignoring you all night? Ouch.

You avert your eyes as soon as you see it, like looking any longer might burn you. Your eyes lock with Kate and she shoots you a sympathetic look, clearly more than aware of your feelings. Certainly, more so than your own girlfriend. If you could even call her that.

The two of you had never really used such labels, the girl claiming she didn’t need a label to prove she loved you and only you. And if she loved you and you knew that why did anyone need to know. You felt silly now, sitting there in her jersey her number delicately painted onto your cheek with such detail and care it was clear you had practiced making it look perfect.

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment and humiliation flooding you. Stupid. You thought, negative thoughts swirling round in your head, beginning a spiral. You excused yourself not that anyone batted an eye as you made a beeline for the restrooms. You lean on the counter and shake your head trying to stop the thoughts that hit you.

She’s embarrassed of you.

She doesn’t even want you here.

She just wants you to leave her alone.

She wants the waitress, she’s prettier than you are.

You shake your head, willing the thoughts to go away. Caitlin hadn’t said any of that, you shouldn’t believe it. You sigh, taking a deep breath and splash your face with water. Taking a deep breath readying yourself to go back out there. Caitlin was your ride, so you were stuck there, forced to endure another 2 hours of humiliation. Sat next to Caitlin as she ignored you and eye fucked anything that walked past. You didn’t know what was worse the way she ignored you without a care, the way Kate was sat opposite all kind smiles and eyes full of pity or the way you knew at the end of the night you’d be faced with horny Caitlin’s honeyed words and empty promises. You’d fall for it of course, you always did. Laying there as she hovered above you, thrusting into you without a care, breath like a brewery.

--

Stepping out of the restrooms you didn’t notice Caitlin’s gaze on you, you were too busy apologising to the poor waiter you’d bumped into. Luckily, he hadn’t been carrying anything, but it didn’t diminish your efforts as you rambled on and on apologising to him.

He dismissed you though, a flirty smirk settling onto his face as he rubbed your waist. Complements and examples of how you could make it up to him escaping his lips over and over. Usually, you would push him off with a scoff and a comment about how sleazy it was, but not today. Today you needed the attention, and you didn’t care who it was from.

You didn’t know or care if Caitlin was looking, having ridded yourself of her jersey and washed her number off your face. She didn’t deserve you, not after her behaviour today. An opinion you would stan your ground on. At least for now.

For now, you were content laughing and encouraging the man in front of you. Though, a few minutes later his smirk dropped into a worried frown. You furrow your brows about to ask him what’s wrong when you hear it. A low deep growl from right behind you. Caitlin’s growl. You shudder at it, not liking the way her scent covers you. It feels wrong. Smothering even, in the way you can only smell her. Her anger is heavily evident in the scent, it sets you off, filling you with dread.

You don’t react, you don’t have time to before your being tugged away. Her grips hard around your wrist, it hurts, and you know it will bruise. She growls again, throwing you into the restroom and into the counter not batting an eye when you yelp out in pain.

Her eyes are narrowed on you, her jaw set. She’s beyond pissed, angrier than you’ve ever seen her. You don’t like it. Not the way she looks at you or the harshness of how she’s touching you. Its wrong. It doesn’t feel good, it makes you feel unimportant. Confirming your previous fears.

She’s quick with her movements reaching out and grabbing your jaw, hard. “What, the fuck was that?” She spits, eyes full of disgust. Her anger flaring when you don’t answer, “I asked you a question slut!” she growls unamused when you fail to answer again, your mouth just opening and closing as you stare up at her wide-eyed.

“Can’t work your mouth huh? You’re just a dumb fucking slut, aren’t you?” you don’t answer, she doesn’t let you. Shoving you down onto your knees with a grunt. “Your mouth’s only useful for one thing, isn’t it? Huh?” her voice is deep and raspy, her hands making quick work of freeing her cock.

“Cait-“ you begin to whine, but she talks over you.

 “Oh, just SHUT UP and fucking take it” she grunts grabbing the back of your head and slamming herself down your throat. Groaning in delight when you gag around her, your fists balled up and slapping against her thighs, drool dripping down your chin onto the floor.

“That’s it,” she gathers your hair in both her hands guiding your head along her as she starts a rough pace fucking into your throat. “That’s fucking it, all your good for warning my fucking cock like the cockslut you are.”

She keeps her rough pace as she abuses your throat, loving every gag you make trying to take her, you have no choice, but you just shut your eyes and take it.

“My slut aren’t you baby,” she taunts thrusting fast as she nears her orgasm, “just here for my use, my personal little cock sleeve, fuck!” She gasps pinning your head to her crotch holding you still as her cock twitches in your throat. Her cum painting it as she spurts into you, panting heavily as she does so.

You gasp for air when she finally releases you, coughing slightly after swallowing all her cum. She slaps her cock again your face smugly, wiping cum and drool across your cheek without a care.

“Are you ready to answer me now slut?” she asks, voice calm but sharp.

“Yes daddy, sorry daddy” you whimper shuffling closer to nuzzle into her thigh as she absent-mindedly strokes your hair. The little attention doing wonders to send you slipping into omega space.

She hums, giving your hair a tug as she repeats her earlier question. “So, what the fuck was that outside, hmm? Throwing yourself at that worthless alpha right in front of my face” she scoffs, staring down at you awaiting your answer which comes out mumbled against her thigh as frustrated, and embarrassed tears escape your eyes.

“M’sorry daddy, wanted your attention but you didn’t want me anymore…” you whimper more tears flowing down your blushed cheeks. “You wanted that waitress… not me.”

She sighs at that, hearing the confusion and heart break in your voice as you stare up at her with such sad eyes. Her hand comes down to caress your cheek and you mean into her touch letting her pull you up and into her arms, though you curl into yourself a little when met with her intense gaze.

“Look at me.” She commands guiding your head, so it’s tilted up at you. She waits till she has eye contact before she speaks again, “I want you, only you baby hmm” she coos as she wipes your tears and rests her forehead against yours.

“But I was bad…” you mumble, head getting fuzzy as your hit with a wave of her pheromones pushing you further into omega space weather you want it or not. Your pupils dilating as you let out a whine leaning into her fully eyes closing as she tugs your pants and underwear off, guiding you onto the counter and spreading you.

“That’s why I have to punish you...” you hear her say, missing the smirk on her face as you let your eyes close finding it hard to focus one anything right now, trusting your alpha to take care of you.

She lines herself up slamming in, neglecting wrapping up her dick because your so out of it you won’t stop her. Besides if your hers so what if she cums in you? That’s her right whether you like it or not.

The bathroom is filled with grunts and groans as she pounds into you, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise and slamming into you so hard you’d find it painful in your right mind. There’s no kisses or gentle words, she just pumps out more pheromones keeping you in a state of constant compliance as she pounds away not batting an eye as you hit your head into the mirror ever time she thrusts. Or how you whine in pain from the tap digging into your side.

“That’s it, take it. Fucking take it.”

“All your good for”

“Mine to use whenever I want, however I fucking want.”

“That’s right I fucking own you.”

“Your mine”

She just repeats the same few things grunting against your neck as she bites and sucks at your neck not caring that she’s just mate marked you, and certainly not licking at it to stop the blood or sooth the wound. Instead, she just pounds and pounds into you not caring when people come in or out until she’s done with you. Pulling out with the false promise of coming back for you after she grabs her jacket, instead she leaves you there. Kate watching her leave with the waitress from earlier a little while later, wondering where you could possibly be or if you could see this happen. Scoffing “does she have no shame” she thinks to herself.

--

You’re in and out of consciousness, confused and in pain when Kate finds you. Having taken a trip to the restrooms to fix her hair before leaving. The first thing that hits her is your smell, she smells your in omega space and then her eyes land on you.

You’re still on the counter, slumped up by the mirror. Bruises and scratches litter your skin, blood crusting on your neck as the bite mark remains an open wound. Caitlin’s cum leaking from your pussy and it’s there she sees the hand shaped bruises across your legs and hips. She’s frozen in place, she knew Caitlin wasn’t always the best or most loyal to the omega’s she had but she would have never thought Caitlin could be so cruel especially not to someone so sweet and loving as you. She growls then, silently promising to protect you from now on. Even if she has to fight Caitlin to do it.

You’re shaking as she gets closer your eyes barely open, clearly not able to do anything not even speak. She’s unsure if the constant shaking is from coldness or that your body is in shock, honestly it could be both judging on your state. She’s so thankful that it was her that found you, who knows what another alpha might have done.

She slips off her jacket and helps you into it grabbing some paper towel and wetting it in the sink, gently cleaning at your sensitive pussy. She coos when you jolt and laces her free hand with yours, kissing your knuckles as she talks you through every single thing she does for you. Making sure she notifies you before she makes any kind of movement to touch you.

Once she’s cleaned you up and tended to your wound as best she can with what’s around her, she looks for your clothes placing them in a pile on the counter next to you. You can’t put them back on, there soaked in god knows what from the floor and half ripped from Caitlin’s lack of care.

“For fucks sake Caitlin! You asshole.” she mumbles under her breath. Shoving them into her bag to deal with later.

Slipping out of her sweats and helping you into them she can’t help chuckle at how long they are on you, rolling up the bottoms until they rest at your ankles. She takes her hoodie off then and ties it round her waist covering whatever her baggy t-shirt didn’t of her boxers. Once she’s satisfied, she won’t flash anyone she guides you into her arms.

“C’mon then babygirl, let’s get you somewhere safe, okay?” She doesn’t really expect an answer back, not in this state anyway, but she asks regardless. A small smile tugging at her lips when you manage a slight nod as she carries you out to her car, setting you gently into the seat and buckling you up. With one gentle kiss to your head, she closes the door and gets in the driver’s side, making her way back to her apartment. She’d never been so glad she moved out into her own place. Her only focus being making sure you’re okay

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ☽ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[twice-my-age-simp]

More often

G!P!KateBishopxFem!Reader

Warnings: vaginal sex, cock warming, rough sex, office sex

Summary: Going to rescue your girlfriend from an awful day at work.

Word count: 1.1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You opened the door to her office without knocking as you were told too many times. Kate was typing something furiously on her computer, clearly frustrated.

She didn’t even look to see who walked in as her firm voice sounded through the room. “You better have a fucking good explanation as to why you’re just barging into my office.”

Stopping like a deer in the headlights, you didn’t know what to do as you’ve never been on the receiving end of her CEO tone. “Hi, babe.”

The two short words made Kate stop typing abruptly. She looked up from her computer screen, eyes immediately softening at your presence. Standing up from her desk, she hurried to walk up to you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t realise it was you.”

You smiled at her now sweet tone. When she was close enough, Kate wrapped her arms around your waist and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. With hands around her neck, you played with her baby hairs. “I wanted to surprise you, you sounded under the weather on the phone earlier.”

Kate let out a big sigh and buried her face in your neck, bones relaxing. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s been a rough day, sometimes I think I’m the only one that thinks here. I don’t know how my mom did that for so many years.”

Pulling her closer, you ran your hands up and down her back. It was soothing and definitely helped Kate work off some stress. “Yeah… I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a CEO. You’re so strong and amazing. I’m sure the hard time will pass soon.”

Kate pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes lovingly. “Thank you, Y/N. I love you so much, you have no idea. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know you would’ve.” You said with an admiring grin. Both of you let out a small chuckle. “But, since I am here, how can I help to take some of the stress off your shoulders?” You asked innocently. However, from the sudden glint in her eyes, you knew it would be anything but innocent.

-

She had you right on top of her, straddling her lap as she sat in her chair. Hands guiding you up and down her cock. You rode her with your boobs swaying in her face, making her bite and suck on your skin.

It was hard to keep quiet, so you bit on her shoulder, muffling your moans. Behind the locked doors, the sound of skin slapping echoed through the office.

You were sure it won’t take much longer as you felt Kate’s cock twitch inside you, while the feeling low in your stomach grew.

“Shit! Kate!” You groaned into her shoulder as she hit a particular spot in you. Kate smirked as one of her hands went down and squeezed your ass.

Chasing your orgasm, you tighten your walls, pushing them tighter around her cock. Kate moaned at the feeling, she knew you were close. Her other hand went down between your bodies and started to circle your clit, making you shudder.

One final thrust made both of you spasm. Kate's release sprung deep inside you while your pussy painted her cock white. Your juices mixing together, dripping from your cunt and down her length.

Panting breathlessly, you both stayed still for a moment. “Fuck, that was amazing, but I don’t feel anything now.” Kate chuckled at your admission.

“Thank you, babygirl, for that. I really needed it.” You smiled and pecked her lips sweetly. “When can we go home?” You asked after a moment.

Kate thought for a second, looking at her computer. “I need to finish this report, so maybe about half an hour… but you can stay here.” She looked at you, waiting for an answer.

You grinned at the thought. You still felt her plunged deep inside you, definitely not ready for her to pull out yet. “Sure, I can.” You stated and put your head on her shoulder.

Kate smiled and scooted her chair closer to the desk, involuntarily making her cock move a little, causing you to groan. This made her smirk and she turned to work.

With you on top of Kate, with your pussy hugging her cock, she finished up her report. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not, she would wiggle in her seat just to feel her length bumping against your walls.

When she was done, you felt her hands on your hips again. You let out an unexpected moan as she started to move your body. “Kate… fuck…”

You widened your eyes and quickly muffled your mouth with your hand so as to not let out a big scream. Kate has abruptly stood up and sat you on her desk, thrusting deep.

That wasn’t the end, only the beginning. Without breaking sweat, she quickly pulled out, only leaving the head of her cock in you, and plunged right in. You moan, eyes rolling to the back, as your girlfriend pounded into you furiously.

Not only did her thrust were rough, but also her hands which squeezed your boobs, pinching your tits, pulling on them. Also, she was creating deep, red hickeys on your neck and collarbone.

With her movements getting stronger and faster, she leaned more onto you, making you lie down on her desk. In the heat of the moment, Kate climbed on top of you, making some things fall to the ground. She gripped your hips, surely making them bruise. Her only goal was to make you scream and to ruin you completely.

To say she did that would be an understatement. You struggled with keeping quiet, hand hurt from the way you were biting on it. Your legs wrapped around her waist, allowing her to thrust more into you than she already could.

The whole desk shook from the force of the thrusts. Things falling, wood squeaking, skin slapping.

After one particularly powerful thrust, you both came. Eyes rolling to the back of your heads. Her cock filled you to the brim, as your pussy milked her. Your cunt pulsing around the length, causing your releases to spill out. Kate pumped a few more times, preventing some juices from going to waste.

“You should come in here more often.” Kate joked as you both calmed down, making you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Rx

[writing-in-lesbian]

Matters of the heart (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Wanda/fem!reader; Kate/fem!reader.

Tags: angst, cheating, amnesia, slow burn, drama, angst with a happy ending (depending on who you’re cheering on), love triangle?

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Wanda for almost two years, yet she seems to never prioritize you or your relationship when it comes to her ex-boyfriend, Jarvis. What would you do when you accidentally discover she’s pregnant? The only reasonable answer: storm out and go to your BF’s house, Kate Bishop, who has been keeping her feelings towards you in check… until now. The problem is you never made it to her house.

A/N: I’ll try to make this a one-shot! Apparently, that works best for me, it might be long (in that case I’ll divide it into 2 parts but upload them together!), English ain’t my native language, so any mistake would be mine!!

[pastel-peach-writes]

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (I Want To Kiss Your Lips) | Kate Bishop x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Being in love with your best friend was never easy. Being in love with your best friend who purposely made your day a little harder because of it was harder.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread, No Use of Y/N, Kate's A Little Shit, Kate Knows About Reader's Crush On Her, Past Mentions of Drinking(Going To A Bar), Suggestive Joke

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

"What?" Kate laughed as she flexed her purple arms in the mirror. The girl was in the process of getting her suit upgraded and her workout clothes altered, and with new clothes comes testing out different ways to see if the fabric was breathable and pliable for a superheroine such as herself. "You don't think I look awesome in this?"

You scoffed, sat at the edge of her bed. She looked fine. She always did. But you can't exactly tell her how that exact shade of purple makes her skin look soft and squishy like a perfect mound of clay and how you wished you could cup her cheeks and kiss her silly until ultimately the top came off because well—this has gotten extremely off topic!

"You look how you normally do in your purple liner, Kate."

She huffed, unsatisfied with your answer. With her hands now placed on her hips instead of playfully flexing in the mirror, she faced you with a disgruntled look on her face. "If I wanted basic descriptions on how I looked, I would've invited Yelena over."

You snorted. "Sounds like a dig to the Russian assassin."

Kate shrugged. She unzipped her top and grabbed the other one. You didn't understand the differences in the tops she's chosen, but "they're different!" as she would claim.

You didn't understand how. They were identical in color, stitching, accents, and even the zipper got caught in the same spot just below her navel when she tried to take it off.

"She's tried to kill me before and failed so I really don't have anything to worry about."

That made you laugh. "Didn't she say she wasn't trying to kill you? That you were just an obstacle in her way and that if she was trying to put you six feet under, you would've been there already?"

With the new top on and posing in the mirror, Kate playfully scowled. "You talk a lot of smack for someone who boo-hoo's for hours on end when I don't return a text."

The jacket that was previously taken off smacked against her shoulder with a whack! The zipper's metal handle brushing against the bare skin of her shoulder. "Ow!" she whined, her hand going to brush reddening skin.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't know--since when does your suit expose your shoulders?"

"Since I changed the design!" she whined again.

Okay, you had to give it to her. This liner was actually different than the other one. Instead of covering her shoulders, there were cutouts that exposed them. The cutouts were long, but not too long that they exposed the top of her bicep, and oval-shaped, which complimented the oval cutouts of the gloves she usually wore.

With her hand on her shoulder, you could see she wasn't wearing gloves, though. Instead, her sleeves came all the way down to the base of her fingers with another cutout for her thumb to peek through.

The silhouette of the shirt was sleek and long, much like the rest of her limbs.

With her sleeves going so long, wouldn't it difficult to move her hands and fingers with the gloves on? Would she wear this liner with the gloves on? Did she make this one to get rid of the gloves altogether?

"Hey," Kate's voice shook you out of your gloved-sleeved dilemma. "I know you think I look really good in this thing, but can you focus, please?"

You pushed Kate on her shoulder, getting an earnest laugh in response.

"Hey, don't hurt the player because you can't stop your attraction to her! It's not my fault you have a crush on me and think I'm pretty and can't stop thinking about how my hand would fit in yours–" She got a pillow to her face in response.

You wished that was the only time she would tease you about your crush on her but, no. That definitely wasn't the first and it won't be the last.

Some of her teasing is subtle. Like a wink when she catches you staring at her or the careful play of a smirk on her lips when she can see your brain malfunctioning only in a way a fellow sapphic could understand.

Most of her teasing, though, wasn't subtle.

Most of it was full out, in your face, "I like watching you squirm" teasing.

That could be trapping you between her body and the counter when you're both in the kitchen and she needed to get something out of the cupboard above you. Another one would be straight up asking you, "Hey, you thought that was attractive, right?"

And your least favorite would be when she grabbed your hand. Or whispered to you. Or kissed your hand. Or your head. Or let her lips tickle the skin of your ear when she whispered to you again. Or those playful thigh squeezes and taps when you two laid on the couch, legs tangled with another, during movie nights.

If she wasn't your best friend, this would be annoying. Manipulative even. Purposely acting a way or doing things just to make your cheeks warm and your insides gush.

But you knew she wasn't doing this to be facetious. You were sure that word wasn't even in her vocabulary. This was Kate just being Kate.

A little shit.

"Heyo!" Kate greeted, entering through the fire escape of your bedroom. You were lying on your bunk bed, dangling halfway off the bed as you scrolled on your phone. You could be reading, you could be on social media. Kate didn't care. All she cared about was—"Hey!" she called out again, more stern than her previous greeting. "What did I say about dangling off your bed like that? You're more than 4 feet up in the air. One mishap or accidental movement and you're toast!"

You barely give her a glance behind your phone. "You mean like my best friend barging into my apartment unannounced and then yelling at me randomly for living my life the way I want to?"

Kate's already crossing your room in determined fury and grabbing you at the waist to pull you down. "I don't care what the reasoning is. Just stop doing that. You could get hurt.

You grunted as you're brought to your feet and she's already adjusting your shirt. Her fingers are cold from the breezy New York air and you try not to dwindle on it but before you can fix your face, Kate's already caught you.

"What?" she asked with a growing smirk. Her fingers continued to move around the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to cover your sides and middriff. "Are my fingers distracting you or something?" You pushed at her shoulders but she didn't back away. "What?" she asked again, dragging out the word. "Were they cold?"

"You're an asshole." All you can do is laugh it off. She's too aware of your thoughts, anyway. What's the point in vocalizing them?

"Yeah," Kate shucked off her boots and holster, "but you like me."

"And I'm regretting ever inviting you out that night." You sat at your desk underneath your bed while she remained getting unready for the night. By the way she's searching through the drawer you dedicated for her in your dressser, you guessed that she was spending the night.

"Daw, you mean the night you invited me to go to the bar with you and your friends and they ultimately thought we were girlfriends?" You huffed in your chair as she continued, now facing your with her clothes in her hands. "You mean the night I saved face by telling them that I was the luckiest girl in the world and I covered our first round of drinks and your friends continued to gush on and on about how much you talk about me, how much you like me, and how many times you would bring me up at sleepovers?"

You opened your mouth to retaliate, but the words weren't forming. At least, for you anyway. Kate seemed to find herself a second wind.

"You mean the night that ended with me kissing your cheek in front of your friends, again to save face and I asked you if it was okay, to which," she was grinning now, "you said yes to, but then, when everyone went home and we walked back to your place together, you got all awkward and avoidant and didn't speak to me for a few weeks before I showed up at that very fire escape and told you that we needed to talk?"

Your face was hot, fingers and palms sweaty, and your clothed feet crossed at the ankle and pushed against each other in a terrible attempt to distract yourself from your fast beating heart. "I wouldn't say it in many words, but yes," you finally managed to get out, "that night. Must you bring up that awkward break every time?"

She snorted. "Yup." She had already changed into her pajamas. You don't remember seeing her change into them. "I have to bring it up every time because I will always remember that night. I was having fun playing your girlfriend. You know, the hand holding, the kissing of cheeks, the avoidant glances.

"You tried so hard not to look at me all night, but with the temporary title of being your girlfriend, I knew I could get it back. Not command it per se because you're your own person, fake girlfriend or not, but being the only person in the room you wanted to look at but refused to? I don't know, man. It struck me with something."

You opened your mouth to interrupt her, but she continued with her rambling. "And I remember being so ready to tell you, 'Hey, dude. Really liked the whole fake relationship thing we had going on, wanna do it for real?' but you were chicken," she gave you a teasing glare through her monologue. "And quickly stated that you didn't want tonight to go this way and while you do have a crush on me, you didn't want me to know. You decided that I was weirded out for me without letting me actually tell you how I felt about it," she laughed.

You shook your head up at her, an embarrassed smile playing on your lips as your fingers fidgeted with the arm rest of your desk chair. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"You think I could've?" she guffawed. You snickered after.

"Fair point."

"I just knew I had to give you your space. Let you process your feelings and come back to me when you were ready."

Now it was your turn to guffaw. "When I was ready?"

"Okay, you took too long to get ready!" she claimed with the wild wave of her arms. "It was nearing a month without my best friend and I wanted you back, however way you'll have me, so I went to your place and we talked about it. Granted, you said you didn't have a crush on me anymore. Ouch, by the way," she narrowed her eyes. You gave her an inncocent shrug. "But when I kept catching you staring at me or doting on me after I had the tinest of scrapes on my face, I knew it wasn't gone. And thank God because mine didn't go away either."

With her leaning against the lower support bar of your bed, you stared up at her with your mouth agape.

She was standing here, wearing a random gray, oversized t-shirt and neon freaking orange shorts, confessing that she still liked you, even after all that, like the statement itself didn't turn your whole world upside down and on its opposing axis.

"I'm sorry... what?"

"Yeah, you dork!" Kate laughed. She pushed two fingers to your forehead, your chair rocking and then doing a full 360º after. "I've liked you since before then, after, and now. Why do you think I flirt with you all the time? Try and make you flustered and put my hand on your thigh when we're riding the trains together?"

"I thought you were messing with me, honestly. I thought you found my crush on you funny," you confessed, facing her again. She shrugged, a cheeky smile on her lips but it was replaced with a bark of laughter when you swatted her arm. Again.

"Hear me out, hear me out!" It was too late. You weren't hearing her out, and she was trying to scurry past you to flee your room. Unluckily for her, to get from underneath your bed, she had to walk past your desk.

Brisk legs speeding past, you leaped from your chair and tackled her to the ground. "What the hell, Kate? That's so mean!"

She could only laugh from under you. She moved and shuffled around with your body on the back of hers, grunts crossmixed with laughter steadily hurling out of her. "It's not mean if you just let me explain!"

She found the strength in her body to whip herself around. You were straddling her, knees bent at her hips and feet hooked under her legs. She was panting from her previous struggle, and you were glaring at her like she had offered you the last cookie, and as soon as you took a bite, she told you she had licked it. All of it.

Which actually happened once. Just not with a cookie, fruit.

Safe to say, Kate's still recovering from the wrath you served her.

You didn't need to talk for her to know that she had a limited amount of time to explain before this pinning became a full-on wrestling match.

"Okay, I didn't find your crush on me funny. I found you trying to hide your feelings from me funny. Like–" she held out her hand to stop you from talking, "like literally days after we started talking again, you wouldn't stop staring me down in the mirror as we got ready to go out with your friends. Similar to that night, you wouldn't stop staring at me, and when your friends said something about us, you avoided my gaze again. You're my best friend. You have signs and tells that I know about that you're not even aware of!"

You opened your mouth again to talk, but she shook her hand for you to stay quiet. "So, after that, and telling your friends the truth about us later and asking around, my suspicion of your crush was proven true, so I flirted wth you. And not because I wanted to mess with your head or take advantage of your feelings, but because I wanted you to finally get the hint that I liked you back."

You sighed, removing your weight from her body to sit by her legs. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sitting up, she chewed on her bottom lip. "I thought you would get it eventually. I damn near did everything but kiss you on the lips."

"Well, sorry. I thought it was all a joke."

"Why would I ever joke about your feelings?" Kate grabbed your hands. They weren't cold. They were warm and similar to yours; they were clammy too. You should be grossed out by that, but instead, you were comforted. She was just as nervous as she made you. "Seriously. If someone ever messes with your feelings and head like that, you have full permission to swing on them and report them to the authorities."

"Oh, yeah," you laughed loudly. "Because the police are gonna care that some girl found out I have a crush on her, and she's using that to her advantage, so they're gonna arrest her."

"No, not them!" She let go of your hands, matching your laugh. "Me! Report to me."

"And what if this girl were you? What then, hm?"

"I would never," she held up a finger, lips twisted in lighthearted disgust. "But if I did, you should still tell me and then kick my ass. I deserve it."

You shared another laugh, bellowing out together and wrapping your arms around each other as you rested back on the floor.

The rest of the night consisted of movies and cuddles, nothing out of your best friend norm, but there was a significant weight that was lfited off both of your chests. And this time, instead of both of you aching to grab the other's hands under the covers, you do.

No stolen glances needed.

WC: 2,749

(A/N): This was supposed to be a shorter, fun, and silly fic so I might write a sillier version (no promises) of this, where Kate mercilessly flirts and teases the reader, AKA the original idea for this plot, but the characters got away from me.