#ncaa interviews

[tscnews]

Interview: NFL Legend Randy Cross on 49ers Dynasty, Super Bowl Glory, Life After Football

We had the honor of sitting down with Randy Cross, a true football legend, back in January 2020. A cornerstone of the 1980s San Francisco 49ers dynasty, Cross played alongside icons like quarterback Joe Montana, wide receiver Jerry Rice, and head coach Bill Walsh, earning Pro Bowl (1981, 1982, 1984) and All-Pro honors (1981, 1984, 1985, 1986) during his illustrious career. Not only is he a…

[lordrakim]

Larry Johnson on UNLV vs. NCAA, Grandmama, Hornets and Knicks | ALL THE SMOKE

On today’s episode of ALL THE SMOKE, the legendary Larry Johnson shares incredible stories in front of a sold out NYC crowd.Johnson looks back on his time as one of the faces of college basketball at UNLV. He reflects on the Runnin’ Rebels blowout win over Duke in the 1990 NCAA Championship and winning the Naismith College Player of the Year in 1991. But it wasn’t all glory during his time at…

[thisent1]

Titus O’Neil: THE LOST INTERVIEW In the summer of 2015, I had the honor ...

[bueckersbitch]

wildest dreams - paige bueckers x reader

୨୧ warnings : sexual content

୨୧ word count : 2.4k

୨୧ authors note : hi guysssss, that photo of p on the middle was taken today and it had me thinking…

୨୧ taglist : @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersfive

“Chen to Bueckers, aaaaaand, it’s good!” Time froze, your hands dropped to your sides as you watched your defender walk head down to the opposing side. Everything you and the team had been working so hard for the past season, had come to a close. “The Uconn Huskies are your 2025 NCAA national champions! Bueckers will end her collegiate career with a title under her belt!” Echoed from the commentators table, “What a season from Bueckers, am I right? Amazing to witness history in real time, this team has worked through so much. I know Bueckers will be greatly missed at Uconn.” Tears started to well in your eyes as you crossed the court, putting one foot in front of the other mindlessly, the floor slightly slippery as you crashed into Paige. Throwing your arms around her. A sense of pride filled you as you laughed into her shoulder, whispering, “You really did it baby, everything you worked so hard for, those nights you prayed that God would guide our team in the right direction, those early mornings we got up to train, it all paid off.”

Paige’s arms engulfed you, arms tight around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder, “Couldn’t have done it without you ma.” Confetti starts to fall, the blue and white falling around you two, screaming of the arena silenced with noises of soft cries from you and Paige. Still, you heard the commentators, “And there's Paige and y/n, the two of them obviously very close after time at Uconn, while Bueckers declared, y/n chose to stay another year following her acl injury last season. Great teammates who had each other through it all, amazing basketball iq’s that may not play together again in the WNBA.”

There it was, the one thing you had been avoiding, Paige leaving you. Conversation arose when you chose to stay another year at Uconn. Paige was adamant that this would be her last year, and with that, she had something to prove. Not to others, but to herself. Pressure was put on her immediately from the media, talking about how all the greats that have passed through Uconn have gotten one or more national championships. If there was one thing about Paige, it was that she hated losing. You, on the other hand, had considered declaring, but something felt wrong, hurling yourself into a new environment when you hadn’t really been given the opportunity to fully explore this one. Paige was your rock. She was there for all of it. You sometimes thought she knew you better than you knew yourself. But when the time came, you chose to stay.

You pulled away from each other, noses and foreheads stuck together for a brief moment as you both smiled, “Can’t fathom that you’re leaving me, going to the big league, huh?” You said, Paige’s smile quickly fell from her face, her arm wrapped around your shoulder, she kissed the crown of your head. “We don’t gotta think about that right now, look at where we are, where God led us.” You let out a grunt, startled as Morgan jumped onto your back, laughing, “My twin! You really did that!” Morgan had been your roommate this year, and with that, your best friend. You took the young girl under your wing, personalities mirroring each other perfectly. She was one of the reasons why you found yourself yearning to stay another year. Shedding her from your back, you hugged her, ruffling her head lovingly.

-

“Alright! We have Bueckers, y/l/n, and Chen for the presser!” You took your seat in the middle of Paige and Kaitlyn. Eyes from the crowd focused on you, phones out at the ready to tweet your guys’ responses. Questions flowed like water from the interviewers in front of you, seated in rows, raising their hands when talking. Paige answered most of them, excitement exuding from her. You admired her, how the light in her eyes had returned as opposed to the hard times she went through when she was injured.

“Y/n, I wanted to ask you about your time with Paige on this team, obviously, the two of you have been attached at the hip, more so this season. What has that been like?” You clear your throat, sitting up straight as Paige and Kaitlyn both turn to look at you. “Well, Paige is the type of person you really only come across once in your life. She gave me faith, in myself, in our team. And I mean, on the court, her confidence, ability to assess the court, and make plays has been something that has directly resulted in us being able to be seated here today. Off the court, she’s reliable, I don’t think there’s a single time where she hasn’t given amazing advice to all of us. She uplifted me while I was out for injury, sometimes when it got hard, like when I felt like it was unrealistic for me to even play again, she sat me down, and we talked for the entire night, how she had felt the same when she was out, how she yearned to be back on the court, how each day felt two times longer than the last. But yeah, I can’t believe she’s leaving me, it feels like just yesterday we were going through our playlists trying to pick out our first night walk out song.”

You sniffled, the ball in your throat growing larger as you carried on, glancing over at Paige when the time was right. The interviewer following up with, “Paige, how do you feel about having to leave not just y/n, but your whole team here at Uconn?” Paige brings her hand to her face, rubbing her chin, leaning on the table, “Y’know, I feel like it’s the same as last year, our loss to Iowa, there’s gonna be tears regardless of if we won or lost, because yeah, it's surreal having to imagine that a time where I can’t walk over to y/n’s apartment, or team nights in each others rooms is right around the corner. I know everyone is in good hands though, especially with y/n being the old head next season.” You scoffed, shoving her shoulder.

-

Stepping out into the Tampa humidity, your tracksuit immediately becomes uncomfortable, a shower after the presser left you here, outside with Paige. “We fuckin’ did it.” Paige points to a screen, you look up at the building, eyes widening. Screen bright with “Uconn Huskies, NCAA Women’s Basketball Champions.” Husky in the center of the screen, confetti graphics around it. Your arms crossed, but your mind was at ease after the historic season behind you. “Yeah, we really did huh?” Paige shook her head in disbelief, grabbing your hand and walking you over to the car you guys had rented out for the trip. She opened your door for you, hopping in the driver's seat to drive you guys back to your hotel.

-

As soon as you guys got to the elevator, it was game over. The whole ride back, Paige’s hand found comfort on your thigh, softly toying a little too close to your core. Paige eagerly pushed the elevator button, grabbing your waist to pull you in. Her lips parting before shoving your hair over your shoulder, granting her access to your neck, sucking right below your ear. Your mouth parted as you let out soft hums, left hand reaching up and into her hair, while the other gripped her bicep. The muscle flexing, feeling like it could burst right through her tech’s sleeve. Somewhere along the way, her hand had found its way to your ass, kneading it while using it as a way to pull you in closer to her. Elevator dinging as you guys reached the floor you were staying on.

Urging Paige to your room, you made her detach from your neck, to your dismay. She followed you like a lost puppy, sneakily kissing your shoulder whenever she got the chance. You tapped your card to your room, shoving the door open as soon as it blinked green, dragging Paige in with you. You gasped as Paige shoved you against the door, pressing her leg in between your legs, resuming her action of leaving marks on your neck. Her hands unzipped your jacket, dragging it off your frame, guiding your arms around her shoulders. She ground you onto her thigh, and if your senses weren’t heightened by the blonde in front of you, you would’ve missed the “So proud of you baby.” that escaped from her pink lips. However, you longed for more, the kisses not helping with relieving the ache in between your legs, “Paige please, nmph, need you.” Paige pulled away, putting her hands on either side of your head, having her arms caging you in, “Yeah? Y’gonna show me how bad ma?” You move one of her arms, slipping away and towards the bed, you undress yourself, leaving you in a navy blue bra and underwear set, hooking your hands together behind you, slightly pushing your tits out. A lovesick face took over Paige’s features, “Fuck, we win like that, and my girl looks like this?” You nod, “Gotta give you the best, 31 points P? You have no idea how bad I was holding back in the locker room.” Smiling, you pull her by her sleeve, toying with the ties of her sweatpants. Silently asking if it was okay to undress her. She nods, and you start getting rid of the clothing, pulling her white tee up over her head, exposing her pink nipples to you, peaked from the antics between you two. You kept her boxers on, black waistband ending below her stomach. You ran your fingers over it, feeling the hardness of it.

She had you on her lap, your back flush against her chest, she was sat against the headboard. Her arm was snuggly wrapped around your throat, bicep pulling you backwards so your face was beside hers. Paige’s free hand unclasped your bra, the arm that was around your throat was the one she simultaneously used to pinch your nipple, you felt it hardening from the stimulation. “So pretty baby, imma get you right for those 25 points, yeah?” she whispered, kissing the side of your face after. “Mmm please, want that so badly.” You said. Paige snuck her hand down to your core, middle finger running through your slit over your underwear, circling your clit slowly, teasing you. Your hips bucked up at the motion, the throbbing from your cunt evident now, you shut your eyes tight, begging, “Please P, I did so good for you.” Referring to the way you played. Paige continued her ministrations on your pussy through your underwear, whispering directly into your ear, “Poor baby, I’m sorry, jus’ look so pretty for me, like this.” She quickly gives in though, peeling your underwear down to your knees, you shoved them off the rest of the way. Her arm quickly found its way back around your throat, she moved her hand assertively, touching your inner thighs. Her fingers swipe quickly through your soaked slit, accumulating slick, using it to circle your clit. She moves down, pushing two fingers in you to the hilt, curling upwards and into the spot that turns your brain fuzzy. “Yeah ma, take that shit.” You respond with a moan, leaning your head back onto her shoulder, “Paigeeeeee, f-feels so good baby.” You manage to get out, Paige repeatedly switches between pushing into you and rubbing your clit. You’re close, and Paige knows you, so she knows you’re close too. As you teeter the brink of release, she pulls away, biting your ear as she does so. She unhooks your arm from around your neck, and you whine frustrated with the lack of release. Paige loved having you this way, needy, and her in control of when you released.

Paige’s hands engulfed your waist, moving you off her lap, you turned around, finding her shoving off her boxers. She looks at you with glazed blue eyes, “So fine ma, got me soaked.” She spread her legs, the soft glow of the hotel lamp showing the abundance of wetness between her legs. “Wan’ you to ride me, need that shit right on me.” She took your hands in hers. You hooked your right leg over her left, and your left under her right, shoving your slicked cores together. You both moan with satisfaction, letting out whines while Paige groans at the feeling. Her hands find home on your waist, and yours grip her biceps, arm not fitting into your palm. You grind faster onto her, the wetness between you two aiding you to do so. Your clits align with each other, sending relief throughout you, causing you to moan, loud. “Fuck, Paige.” you call out, keeping that same angle to where your clits are aligned. Paige’s mouth is open now, pink lips swollen, eyes fixated on where your cores meet. “Yeah, ma. Y’gonna gimmie that cum?” You nod, willing to do anything to get her to release. “Listen to that shit, all for me huh? Pretty pussy’s all mine?” Your eyes close, and you hear yourself gushing, wet sounds coming from the both of you, the “silence” gives you time to find words before you can say, “Yeah P, baby it’s all yours.” Paige hums with approval, noticing you close to release again, “Ma? Wanna feel that shit gushing on me.” You gasp, her downright dirty words fueling the feeling in your abdomen, “Gonna cum for you P, promise.” You keep grinding, digging into her arms. Then you feel it, your climax taking over, squirming against her. “Ohhhhh fuck baby.” Paige gets out, still chasing her climax. You whine, overstimulation quickly taking over the pleasure, but as you look up, you realize Paige yearning for her release, so you keep grinding. You bring your hands to her nipples, pulling on them. She grips your waist tighter, guiding your pussy onto hers. Combined stimulation between her pussy and nipples makes her cum, “Yeah ma, gonna give that shit to you, fuck.” Her words make you cum along with her, holding each other as you both ride out your highs.

You eventually open your eyes, finding yourself face to face with Paige, laying down. Her hand strokes your cheek, “Can’t go without you ma, gonna use all my flight points to fly you out to Dallas.” She promises, and you smile, because you know you can’t go without her either.

[prettygirl-gabi]

“To the Moon and Beyond”

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x Reader (Pazzi x Reader)

Fandom: NCAA Women’s Basketball / WNBA

Warnings: cheating, revenge cheating, eventually in later parts there will be 18+ content (smut, alcohol consumption, strong language), polyamory, public teasing/flirting (in later parts)

Summary: A tangled history of love, heartbreak, and hidden desire leads three elite players—and the WNBA spotlight.

A/N: yes this is hella long… I got in a groove and couldn’t stop writing… but yeahh enjoy!! This is also one of the longest fics I’ve ever written… will be multiple parts….cause it’s too long for tumblr…

Also thank you @paige05bby for the banner/header

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

I’ve known Paige Bueckers since we were nine.

We met on the cracked hardwood of a middle school gym, both drowning in oversized jerseys and the too-big dreams of becoming something. She was all bounce passes and bubblegum, the blue-eyed blur who wouldn’t stop until she got the bucket. And me? I was defense and discipline.

Together, we were unstoppable.

From AAU weekends that blurred into each other, to our high school championship banners, we grew up in sync. On the court and off, our chemistry never missed. What started as inside jokes turned into shared playlists. Glances turned into touches. Eventually, the line between friendship and something more? It blurred until it didn’t exist.

We never defined it. Not back then. We didn’t have to.

But then college happened.

She chose UConn. I went West. USC was my dream, and she knew it, even helped me rehearse my pitch for the admissions interview. We still talked every night at first. FaceTimed after practices, sent voice memos, traded selfies. And when I flew home for breaks, we picked up like nothing changed.

Until it did.

It’s a blurry memory now — that final night. We were in her dorm in Storrs, both sweaty and breathless, tangled in each other under those awful fluorescent lights. I was wearing one of her UConn hoodies, the one with the frayed sleeve. My lips were still swollen from her kiss when she sat up suddenly, like something hit her mid-breath.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

I blinked, propped myself on my elbow. “What?”

“With you. Like this.” She didn’t look at me. Just stared at the far wall like she couldn’t bear to see my reaction. “I’m with Azzi now. For real. I want it to work. I have to try.”

She didn’t say sorry. And maybe that’s what stung the most.

After that, I stopped texting her. Not out of pettiness, but because it hurt too damn much.

I’d open my camera roll and there she’d be a memory— in baggy shirts, goofy grins, wearing my hoodie instead of hers. And I’d almost hit send on a message just to say something like, “Remember when we—” But I didn’t. I’d remember the look in her eyes when she told me it was over.

And then I’d put my phone down.

She kept liking my posts.

Subtle ones. Always with our secret emoji: 🌝.

A photo of my game-day shoes? Liked. The mirror selfie I took before our media shoot? Liked. A blurry boomerang of me and my teammates on the bus? Liked. Always that damn moon.

I never liked hers back. Not even when she dropped 30 on South Carolina and the whole world was reposting her highlight reel, calling her “Huskies Paige” like she hadn’t been lighting up the league already.

It didn’t feel right.

I couldn’t be hers anymore. Not really. Not after how things ended. Not after she chose her.

Even if she still wanted me.

Azzi’s POV

I wasn’t snooping.

That’s what I told myself.

I just needed the charger. Paige always left it by the couch cushion. But her phone lit up when I grabbed it — and I couldn’t look away.

unknown number: last night was unforgettable. I can’t stop thinking about you.

The photo attached was blurry — a hotel bar, maybe. Champagne. A smile I didn’t recognize.

But I recognized the timestamp. One week ago. New York. A brand event.

My stomach turned.

Paige was asleep down the hall. I didn’t even bother waking her.

I didn’t cry either.

I just packed a small bag. Enough for a few days. Hoodie, jeans, chargers. My passport. And my headphones — couldn’t risk listening to the quiet too long. I left a note on the fridge:

I know. I’ll be back. Don’t wait up. —A

Then I turned off my location the second the plane touched down in Southern California.

Y/n’s POV

I was mid-scroll when I got the DM. No greeting. No emojis. Just:

Azzi: Can I crash at your place?

I blinked.

And then again.

Me: …yeah. You okay?

Azzi: No.

She showed up two hours later. No makeup, no jewelry. Just a black hoodie pulled over her braids and shadows under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days.

She dropped her bag by the door and slid onto my couch like it belonged to her.

I stayed standing.

Azzi met my eyes. “I found messages on Paige’s phone,” she said, voice like glass cracking. “Some girl from a brand event. Said it was a night she wouldn’t forget.”

I didn’t move.

Azzi laughed, sharp and dry. “Isn’t that cute?”

I cleared my throat. “Why are you here?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“Because cheating with a random is one thing. But cheating with your best friend?” Her gaze flicked up to mine. “That’s a different kind of pain.”

I froze. “I’m not—”

“I know you’re not with her,” she said, too quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying. But you’re still the one she wants. Always have been. And maybe, if I’m honest…” Her voice faltered, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Maybe I just needed to feel like I had the power to break something too.”

There was silence after that.

Heavy. Loaded. Everything unsaid filling the air like smoke.

I should’ve told her to leave. Should’ve drawn a line. Closed the door. Asked why she thought I’d ever want to be someone’s revenge.

But instead…

We kissed.

It wasn’t slow. Wasn’t delicate. It was the kind of kiss that tasted like fury and desperation, like something beautiful that had been starved too long. Her hands were cold. Mine were shaking.

And even as part of me screamed not to—

I let her.

And I hated how much I liked it.

The sunlight in L.A. always hits too sharp the morning after something like that.

Azzi was quiet when she woke. This had been her second and last morning here. She stretched out in my bed like she hadn’t moved all night, her hoodie thrown across the floor, my sheets wrinkled where our bodies had tangled in the heat of it. I was already sitting up, hugging my knees, staring out the window like it could tell me what the hell I’d just done.

She didn’t say good morning. Didn’t apologize. She just blinked slowly, then rolled toward me, hair falling across her cheek.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah. You do.”

She didn’t move yet. “Last night…the night before…”

She paused.

I waited.

But she didn’t finish the sentence. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe if she said too much, it would shatter whatever fragile justification we’d both built in our heads.

Instead, Azzi got dressed in silence. She slipped her hoodie back on, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and only broke the stillness when she looked into the mirror and noticed the mess we’d left behind.

Red, purplish bruises dotted the delicate skin beneath her jaw. One curled under her ear. Two more across her collarbone.

She didn’t even flinch. Just adjusted her hoodie and looked over at me with a thin, unreadable smile.

“I’ll text when I land.”

Azzi’s POV

The plane ride back was quiet. I wore my hood up and my headphones in, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest and the phantom touch still lingering on my skin.

I knew what I’d done. I knew the weight of it before I even touched her. But it didn’t stop me. That was the part that scared me the most.

I got back late. Paige was in the kitchen, barefoot in sweatpants, stirring something on the stove that she was probably never going to eat. Her eyes shot up the second she heard the door click.

“Azzi,” she breathed. She looked like she hadn’t slept.

I didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” she said instantly, voice cracking. “I swear—whatever that was in New York, it didn’t mean anything. I was drunk and—God, I messed up.”

She crossed the kitchen, reaching for me like she could still fix it with proximity. Like closeness could erase betrayal.

I didn’t cry. Didn’t yell.

I just stood my ground and said:

“I slept with Y/N.”

Paige froze. The words hit her like a punch straight to the gut.

“What?”

Her voice was barely there. Fragile.

I didn’t repeat it.

She took a step back, her expression cracking all at once. “You—what do you mean you—?”

“I mean I flew to L.A.,” I said, slowly, deliberately. “I turned my location off. I showed up at her door. And I didn’t leave until the next morning.”

The silence was heavy. Deafening.

I watched her chest rise and fall, watched the devastation settle behind her eyes like stormclouds.

“You went to her?” she whispered.

“I figured,” I said bitterly, “if you were gonna cheat with someone random, I could at least cheat with someone who mattered to you.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, shaking slightly.

“Did you do it to hurt me?” she asked, voice raw.

I didn’t blink.

“You don’t get to be mad,” I snapped.

Paige laughed bitterly, a hollow sound. “Oh, so you can cheat out of revenge, but I can’t even ask questions?”

“You didn’t just cheat, Paige. You lied. You made me feel safe and then let some girl blow up our entire house.”

“You think I meant for that to happen?”

I stepped closer. “No, but you sure didn’t stop it.”

Her jaw locked, the muscle ticking.

Then she grabbed her phone.

“Don’t,” I warned.

“Oh no, we’re doing this now.”

She pulled up your name, hit call, and put it on speaker.

It rang once. Twice.

Then—

“Hello? Why are you calling me Paige?”

Your voice was soft. Cautious.

I could practically feel the way your stomach probably dropped.

Paige’s tone sharpened, cut like glass. “Y/N, did Azzi fuck you better than me, huh?”

I flinched.

“Paige—” you started, voice tight, already bracing for impact.

But she kept going. “Did she make you tap out?” Her eyes were on me now. Unblinking. “Did she fuck you so good you forgot about me?”

I wanted to scream. Instead, I just stared at her, heart pounding, stomach in knots.

Silence crackled over the line.

Then your voice came, colder than I’d ever heard it.

“Paige, grow the fuck up.”

You hung up.

Just like that.

The silence in the kitchen was suffocating. My ears rang.

Paige stared down at her phone, the call screen gone black now. Her hand dropped slowly to her side.

I crossed my arms, voice shaking. “You didn’t call to ask. You called to hurt.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to deny it.

But she didn’t.

Because we both knew it was true.

The silence after she hung up could’ve split the floor beneath us.

I turned my back to Paige, walked to the fridge, opened it just to do something with my hands. My throat burned.

“You happy now?” I asked, quietly. “You proved your point?”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, you were,” I cut her off, spinning around. “You wanted to humiliate me. To make her pick. To twist the knife.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “She already picked you.”

“No,” I said, voice low. “She didn’t. That’s the part that’s killing you, isn’t it? She never picked me. Not really.”

She didn’t deny it.

Just stood there in the middle of our shared kitchen, hoodie sleeves half-pushed up, hair messy from stress, breathing heavy like she’d just run a mile. She looked like a storm in a glass bottle—no space left to rage.

“I loved you,” I said, stepping forward, my chest aching. “I actually did. I built my life around you.”

“I never asked you to!” Paige snapped.

“But you let me.”

We both stilled.

It was too much.

I grabbed my keys from the counter. “I’m staying at KK’s.”

“Azzi, wait—”

I didn’t.

Y/n’s POV

My phone was still in my hand, screen black, my heart racing like I’d run sprints.

I hadn’t even processed the words. Did she fuck you better than me?

I didn’t know what made me angrier—that Paige asked, or that part of me had a fucking answer.

I set the phone down and paced.

Five hours later, my apartment buzzer went off.

I froze. From aggressively cleaning my apartment, when I really wanted to break everything in this bitch.

Then again. A second buzz. Then pounding on the door.

I opened it.

And there she was.

Paige Bueckers. Hoodie, sweats, clutching her phone in one hand, emotional wreckage in her eyes.

“Paige—”

She stepped inside without waiting. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You never are,” I snapped.

She blinked. “Okay. Fine. Hit me.”

“I don’t have to. You’re already bleeding.”

She swallowed hard.

I crossed my arms. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!” she yelled suddenly, voice cracking. “I don’t fucking know. I just—You were mine. You were always mine, and now—now I see you with her and it’s like—like someone replaced my lungs with cement.”

I laughed bitterly. “You were the one who left me.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And now you think you can just come back and what? Ask me which one of you fucks me better?”

She looked wrecked. Her mouth opened, but no sound came.

“Get out.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out before I start hating you.”

She didn’t move right away. But then something shifted in her eyes. Like a curtain fell.

Paige nodded once.

And she left.

The door clicked shut behind her like a trigger.

And I finally let myself sit down.

And cry.

Paige’s POV

I sat outside her door for twenty minutes, knees pulled to my chest, hoodie up like it could hide the damage on my face. Tears kept falling, quiet and constant, like my body had forgotten how to hold anything in.

She didn’t even come back to the door. Not once.

I deserved that.

I really did.

But sitting there, staring at the cracks in the pavement, I thought—Someone has to forgive me. Someone.

So I stood up, wiped my face with my sleeve, and walked back inside. She never locked it.

The second I stepped into the apartment, I saw her.

Y/N had stopped crying, but her face was still blotchy, eyes still raw. She was furiously scrubbing the countertop, muttering to herself like maybe if she cleaned hard enough, she could erase what I’d done.

And then she looked up.

Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious right now?”

Before I could say anything, a water bottle flew through the air and smacked against the wall just left of my head.

I flinched, and she stormed toward me.

Her fists hit my chest—weak at first, then stronger, then desperate. “You don’t get to do this, Paige! You don’t get to just walk back in like this!”

“I—”

“No! Shut up!” she screamed. “You chose Azzi. You cheated on Azzi. You threw me away, twice, and you’re still in love with me? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

Her fists slowed but didn’t stop. I didn’t move. I let her hit me. I let her scream.

“I loved you so much it scared me,” she cried. “I still love you, and I hate that I do. I hate that you can still make me feel like this.”

I caught her wrists gently, not to stop her—just to hold her. “I never stopped loving you.”

She sobbed once, raw and guttural, and pressed her forehead to my chest. “It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“I know.”

“But I still want to.”

“I know. Me too.”

Silence hung between us like smoke.

I didn’t move. Neither did she.

We stayed like that for a long time. Not healing. Not fixing. Just existing in the same wreckage.

Azzi’s POV – Back in Connecticut

“So… yeah,” I whispered.

KK stared at me like I’d just told her I was moving to Mars. “You really said it like that?”

“I looked Paige in the eye,” I murmured, “and I told her I slept with Y/N.”

KK’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t say anything right away.

“I still love her,” I said, voice cracking. “I hate her. I hate what she did. But I still love her.”

KK exhaled slowly. “Do you think Y/N loves her too?”

“Yes,” I said. “She always has.”

I sank deeper into the couch. My hoodie sleeves covered half my hands. Hickeys dotted my neck like bruises made by ghosts I wasn’t ready to confront. “I thought it would hurt Paige the way she hurt me. That it would give me some kind of… control.”

KK was quiet.

“But all it did was make it worse. For everyone.”

She finally spoke, voice low and careful. “Do you regret it?”

“I regret everything, but I don’t regret Y/n.” I whispered.

There was a long pause.

“But, I don’t think any of us are coming back from this, KK. Not me. Not her. Not Y/N.”

KK pulled the blanket up around my shoulders and let me fall apart.

And for the first time, I let myself believe I really had broken something we could never fix.

There was a long pause.

Y/n’s POV – Southern California

It’s Juju who tells me.

We’re on the practice court, just us, shooting around after everyone else left. The sun’s barely dipping, golden light slanting through the gym windows.

She catches a rebound and holds onto it. Doesn’t pass it back.

“They’re coming,” she says.

My stomach dips. “What?”

“KK and I talked. Paige. Azzi. All three of them are flying in. They land tonight.”

I freeze, sweat already clinging to my skin, now cold. “Here?”

She nods. “Tomorrow. For a sit down.”

I stare at her. “You think this is a good idea?”

She walks over, puts the ball down. “I think it’s the only shot any of you have at being okay again.”

That very next day, I vacuumed twice.

I Windexed the mirrors. I rearranged my throw pillows. I lit a candle. Then blew it out. Then lit it again.

My hands were shaking by the time the knock came.

When I opened the door, they were both standing there. Azzi in a hoodie and sweatpants, her hair in a bun. Paige in loose jeans and an old UConn tee. They looked tired. Human.

Nobody said anything right away.

I stepped aside. “Come in.”

They sat on opposite sides of the couch. I took the armchair.

The silence stretched.

Until finally Azzi said, “Thanks for letting us do this.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know if I would.”

Paige looked at me like I was air she hadn’t breathed in weeks. “We just wanna talk. For real.”

So we did.

For hours.

We unraveled every inch of the knot between us.

Azzi told me about the night she found the messages on Paige’s phone. How her heart dropped. How all she wanted was to hurt her back.

Paige admitted that she’d kissed that random at the brand event, thinking it didn’t count because her heart was already broken from missing me. She said she hated herself for it the second it happened.

“I wanted someone to forgive me,” she said, eyes glossy. “But I didn’t deserve it.”

Azzi turned to me. “And I didn’t sleep with you just to be petty. At first… maybe. But when I saw you again, it wasn’t revenge. It was…” She trailed off.

“Safe,” I said.

She nodded.

I told them everything too.

How I couldn’t forgive Paige, but still loved her. How I didn’t regret being with Azzi, even if it was complicated. How none of it felt clean. How the silence afterward almost broke me.

“I felt like all I had left were memories of people who didn’t exist anymore,” I whispered.

And that’s when Paige broke.

She slid off the couch, sat on the floor, hands over her face. “I miss both of you so much, it’s like breathing in water every day.”

Azzi came down beside her. After a moment, so did I.

Three of us. On the rug. Like a slow-burning apology.

“I don’t know what happens next,” I murmured. “I just know we’re not those people anymore.”

“But we can choose who we become now,” Azzi said.

Paige wiped her face, voice cracked. “Even if it’s just friends.”

My throat tightened. “Or even if it’s nothing.”

We sat there.

Breathing.

Together.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[pueckersgirl]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Paige Bueckers x Teammate! reader

summary — Paige finally realizing that she fell for her best friend after the win against usc :)

warnings — none, super cute

note — first post, so scared.. literally just thought of this out of nowhereee, send requests tho!!

wc — 1.9k

It’s your senior year at Uconn, your last season and opportunity to win the natty you’ve been chasing since you were a freshman. You’d worked so hard all throughout the season, determined to make it to the NCAA Championship finals.

After the season you’d had so far, things were looking great for the team. Your team worked amazingly together, on and off the court. Especially you and Paige, an unstoppable duo, which was a title you embraced.

It was the Elite Eight, a game that would decide if you made it to the Final Four or not. The game was against USC, a team just as good as your own.

They put up quite the fight, wanting the win just as bad as you. It was a close game, but with only three seconds on the clock and being up by seven, you knew you’d won.

You can hardly hear the buzzer that announces the end of the game, your teammates and Uconn fans already screaming.

You’re not even thinking when your feet automatically carry you towards Paige, throwing yourself into a hug. She’s screaming too, wrapping her arms around you while jumping excitedly.

You’d wanted this so bad, but if there was one person who wanted it more than you, it was her.

Paige has had it rough throughout her years at Uconn. She missed a good bit of her sophomore season after fracturing her tibia, and then missed all over her junior season due to tearing her ACL.

Her ACL recovery journey was not easy, you witnessed it firsthand. It took longer than the usual recovery did, but she never gave up. And this season, she jumped right back in, like she was never injured to begin with.

She was so strong, one of the millions of things you admire about her. In fact, you might have a tiny crush on the girl, who happened to be your best friend.

A tiny crush that she was completely oblivious to.

It wasn’t that you purposefully tried to show it, but you weren’t exactly discreet. The whole team had found out about it, constantly teasing you to no end. Whether it was the way you’d stare at her when she wasn’t paying attention, or the blush that would coat your cheeks when she hugged you an extra long second.

It was obvious to everyone but her. So obvious that fans had noticed and started shipping you with her. You would never tell a soul, but sometimes you’d watch ship edits, cheesing at the clips.

The edits made it look like she almost liked you back. Almost.

Others would agree that she was just as equally infatuated with you, but you couldn’t see that. Neither could Paige honestly.

She’d never taken the time to think about your friendship and how it was basically equivalent to a relationship. No, you guys were never intimate sexually but you were in almost every other way. Hell, you’d been sleeping in each other’s bed for the past six months (something Nika thought was so weird.)

Still, no lines were ever crossed the way you’d honestly hoped. So, you tiptoed on the line between but never said anything as long as she didn’t.

You realize how long you’ve been holding her, growing warm in the face when Ice sends you a look. You pull away, moving to hug the rest of your teammates and join in on the celebration dance Kk started.

You all line up to give your ‘good games’ and pats on the back to USC before returning back to the court. You watch as Paige excitedly jumps, pushing Geno around and can’t help the smile that automatically makes its way on your face.

Some interviewers pull a few players aside, Paige included, leaving you to comfort a crying Nika.

For the sake of pictures, team management passes out your shoot-around shirts to put back on along with a matching cap. You all mingle around the court, waiting for the trophy to be brought out.

To add on to the celebration, confetti was set off, which you immediately start scooping off the floor to throw at Geno.

While Paige is still getting interviewed, she spots you and Geno, smiling at your antics. She doesn’t even realize the trance she’s in until she realized she had missed the question the interviewer asked, who was looking at her with an almost knowing smile.

Paige felt like she was looking at you in a whole new light. The gravitational pull she felt towards you, the need to be close to you. She never realized how much she thought about you, or how you were the first person she looked for in a crowded room. Only now does she realize.

“Uh, what’d you say? My bad, I zoned out,” she apologizes, shaking her head and looking back to the interviewer.

The interviewer repeats her question, watching as her gaze flickers back and forth between her and you. This time though, Paige manages to answer the question before saying her thanks and returning to join the team’s celebration.

Once the trophy is brought out, the team huddles up to take pictures with it.

You sit front and center in the middle, beaming at the camera with the trophy between you and Aaliyah. Nika, who was on the other side of you, moves to make an open space for Paige, who would complain if she wasn’t beside you. To show her appreciation, she gives Nika a side hug, mumbling a small thanks in her ear.

Paige instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders, causing you to look at her and smile brighter.

Photographer’s stand in front of you, taking photo after photo. You look to the camera, feeling happier than you’d ever been.

Paige looks at the camera, for the most part, at least. Her eyes flicker to you again a few times, but she does her best to be professional.

After the team photos, photographers pull aside individual players for more photos. While you wait your turn, you stand around talking with Azzi and Caroline.

Paige returns from her individual photos, coming up behind you and grabbing your arm. She pulls you towards her, stealing you away from the current conversation you were in.

“Hi?” You say, but it comes out sounding like more of a question. Despite your confusion, you still smile up at her in a way that has her heart racing.

“You got somethin,” she mutters, reaching a hand up to your head. She carefully removes your cap, pulling at a piece of confetti tangled in your hair. “There.”

She holds up the piece of confetti to you, laughing softly. Before you can put your hat on properly, she flips it backwards and places it on your head, laughing even more.

“Paige, c’mon,” you groan, smacking her shoulder playfully. “Put it back!”

“But you look cute,” she protests, still laughing at you. “Okay, fine. Hold on real quick,” she says, pulling out her phone to, what you assumed, post on some social media platform and embarrass you.

“When did you even grab your phone?” You question her, because when did she find the time to retrieve it? She shrugs, smiling mischievously and continuing to unlock her phone.

It didn’t matter that there were plenty of photographers all around, along with cameras recording the interaction. She wanted the picture to herself.

You stare at the camera with an attempt at a blank expression, but with Paige staring at you the way she was, like she was completely and entirely in love with you? You couldn’t help cracking a small smile.

She looks at the picture for a moment, still smiling, which was causing her cheeks to hurt, before tucking her phone in the pocket of her shorts.

You continue to glare at her, waiting for her to fix your hat. She sighs, rolling her eyes before taking the hat off your head again.

This time, she flattens any stray hairs sticking out, wiping at one on your forehead. She places the hat back on your head the way it was originally, patting your cheek teasingly.

“All better, yeah?” She smirks, her gaze shifting down to your lips before back up to your eyes.

You quirk a brow at her, noticing her wandering eyes, telling her without words that you caught her. She doesn’t say anything either, raising her brows in amusement, putting her hands up in fake defense.

Before you can say anything back, you’re being called for your individual photos.

“Be back,” you turn to her, sending a sarcastic smile before turning on your feet. You don’t look back, trying to save yourself from adding to the heat on your face, but you feel her eyes on you.

“The editors are gonna have a field day with this,” Paige turns at the sound of Kk’s voice, rolling her eyes and pushing her away.

“You’re dumb,” she shakes her head, trying to play it all off. The blush on her cheeks said otherwise though.

“What? I’m keepin it real, you got caught lackin!” Kk snickers to herself, stopping when Paige sends her a ‘shut the fuck up’ look.

Finally, after all the photos, the team heads into the locker room. You were obviously tired from the game, but could still feel the adrenaline pumping from the win.

You’re packing up your bag, throwing a hoodie on over your jersey and slipping on your Uggs. The team slowly files out, leaving just you, waiting on Paige.

She decided to shower in the locker room bathroom, which you now realized you should’ve forced her to wait until you were home. You know how long it takes her to shower, yet you still agreed.

“You ready to go?” Paige emerges from the bathroom at least half an hour later. She’s dressed in a hoodie and sweats, drying her hair with a towel.

“Finally,” you sigh, standing from the bench you were sitting on with a stretch. Normally, Paige would have a snarky response, but one never comes. You look at her, confused when she sends a half-assed (and forced) smile. “Something wrong?”

“Listen, I was wondering if we could talk?” She speaks up, sitting down on the bench. You don’t hesitate to sit beside her, reaching for her hand.

“Of course,” you say reassuringly, despite the anxiety spreading throughout you. When she doesn’t say anything after a moment, you turn to her again. “Did I do something?”

“No, I just.. I realized something today and I need to tell you,” she rambles, pausing to lick her lips and finally meet your eye. “I think.. I think I’m in love with you. Not in a friend way, like-“

You don’t let her finish her sentence, using your free hand to grab her jaw and kiss her. She doesn’t kiss back immediately, caught off guard by the sudden action. But when she does realize what’s happening, she’s quick to pull you closer to her.

You kiss her until you’re out of breath, pulling back and panting like you just ran a mile. You’re not sure what to do now, looking up at her sheepishly.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” she breaks a smile, breathless herself.

“Shut up,” you shake your head, feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

“So does this mean..” Paige trails off, suddenly lacking her confidence to finish the sentence. She would hate for all that to have happened just to get rejected.

“Yeah,” you nod your head, standing up from the bench. You hold your hand out for her to take, which she immediately does. “Can we go now?”

“Let’s go home,” she breathes out, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder.

Just before you leave the locker room, she stops, grabbing your jaw to kiss you a second time.

“What’s that for?” You smile at her, tilting your head curiously.

“Just cause I can do that now,” she shrugs her shoulders, smiling proudly and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

[demie90s]

We Lost Time, Not Love

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Paige Bueckers X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

MASTERLIST MORE

⭑ pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader (clingy!soccerstar!fem!reader)

⭑ summary: You and Paige grew up together, and somewhere between teammates, sleepovers, and game-day good luck texts, you fell in love with her—not just emotionally, but in a way that made your chest hurt when she wasn’t around.

⭑ genre: Soft angst, slow-burn, childhood-to-lovers, emotional craving

⭑ warnings: Emotional vulnerability, unresolved tension, crying, public confession

⭑ word count:

It starts small. Missing a rep. Forgetting your shin guards. Faking a stomachache so you don’t have to do post-practice film. Coach doesn’t say much at first, just asks if you’re feeling run-down. You nod because that’s easier than explaining what it feels like to walk around with a throat full of unsaid things and a ribcage that only knows how to house ghosts.

You don’t cry at first. You don’t let yourself. You just let the days get heavier. Let the lights get dimmer. Let the locker room feel louder, sharper, wrong. You let your spot in the starting lineup slip without fighting. You skip lifts. You stop icing your knees even when they hurt. Your cleats stay in your bag for a week and no one says anything because technically you’re still showing up. But you’re not really there.

Media day comes and goes. They post the graphics on the main UConn page—captains, key players, preseason standouts. You’re not in them. Not even in the background. Not even a tagged photo. No interview clips. No team spotlight. You scroll through the comments until your vision blurs and shut your phone off mid-breath.

You tell yourself you don’t care. But when you walk into the locker room and your photo isn’t on the wall anymore, just a placeholder that says “UCONN FC,” your chest tightens so hard you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom and throw up nothing.

They think you’re injured. That’s the narrative now. “Minor issue,” they told reporters. “Resting up. She’ll be back.” But you know the truth. You’re not back because you’re not you. Not since Paige.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was your best friend. Grew up with her. You played different sports, sure, but shared everything else—air, routines, your damn hoodie collection. She was home before UConn ever was. And somewhere between the shared playlists and the 3am sleepovers and the way she looked at you like her hands already knew your skin, you fell in love with her. Slowly. Devastatingly. Deeply.

And she loved you too. You’re sure of it. Or at least… she did. You don’t know what changed. One day you were hers—maybe not officially, maybe not out loud—but you were hers. And the next, you weren’t.

She stopped texting. Stopped showing up to games. Didn’t repost your highlights, didn’t sit with you after late-night practices, didn’t even return your “miss you” voice memo you sent after a particularly brutal scrimmage. No fight. No reason. Just distance so quiet it felt surgical.

Everyone thinks you’re just overwhelmed. You’re the golden girl, after all—starting midfielder, two-time NCAA regional rep, the one who walked into UConn as a freshman and made varsity girls cry. But now you sit in the far corner of the bench like it hurts to be seen. Because it does.

Some nights you stare at the ceiling until 4am. You replay every interaction you had with her like it’s footage to be dissected. The way she said your name the last time. The way her arm didn’t wrap around you on the bus when it usually did. You convince yourself it was your fault. That you were too much. That maybe if you’d been quieter, smaller, easier to love, she’d still be here.

You haven’t eaten a real meal in three days.

KK saw you in the hallway and asked why you looked “extra emo.”

You laughed. It wasn’t real.

That night, you scrolled through your camera roll and stopped at a blurry photo of Paige sitting in your dorm bed, eating your snacks with her hair tied back and socks pulled over her knees. She didn’t even know you took it. She was just there. Like always. Like she should be now.

——————

Coach called my parents. I guess that’s when you know it’s bad.

I don’t even remember how many practices I missed. Four? Five? I stopped checking my phone. I stopped answering texts. My schedule went blank. The only thing I did consistently was nothing. And I did it in silence. Door locked. Lights off. Hoodie on. I wasn’t eating, barely sleeping, and when I did sleep, I woke up aching like my dreams kept dragging me by the wrist back to her. I’d lay in bed for hours, staring at the corner of the ceiling like it owed me something. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I didn’t. Most days I didn’t have the energy to cry. Just laid there numb, heart racing like it was trying to run away from me.

Coach left voicemails. My teammates knocked once, then stopped. But when I didn’t show up for film, didn’t log into the team app, didn’t respond to the check-in group text, he broke. Called my mom. Told her he didn’t know what else to do. Said I hadn’t been “present” since the start of the season. Said I looked pale, out of it, gone.

They drove in the next morning.

I was still in bed when they showed up. Still in her hoodie. Still unshowered, unbothered, undone. I heard the knock, the keys, the low voices. My mom’s shaky inhale. My dad asking Coach if I’d said anything at all.

I don’t know how long I laid there. Long enough that the sky changed. Long enough for the quiet to get heavier than my body. Long enough that when I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the hallway, I ran right into her.

Paige.

I froze.

She did too.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there. I found out later she was on her way to the gym. Said she hadn’t seen me in weeks and figured it was time to stop pretending like we weren’t walking around the same campus feeling the same kind of sick.

But in that moment, when I saw her? My knees nearly gave out.

She looked the same. Tired. Pretty. Lips slightly chapped. Her sweatshirt sleeves too long. Hands clenched. The way they used to clench when she was nervous or overthinking or standing in front of something she wasn’t ready to lose.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Then my mom stepped out of Coach’s office, saw us, and went still. She didn’t say it, but she knew. She saw my eyes and knew.

“You found her,” my mom whispered to Paige.

And I cracked.

I didn’t cry right away. I just stood there shaking, head down, fists curled into the hem of my hoodie. The tears didn’t come until Paige reached for my sleeve and said, soft and scared, “You’re really not okay, are you?”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t need to.

She stepped forward, both hands on my face, like she was checking if I was real or already halfway gone. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You did,” I choked. “You said everything when you stopped showing up.”

Her breath hitched. I felt it before I heard it.

“I didn’t mean to leave you.”

“You didn’t have to mean it.”

And then I cried.

The kind of crying that ruins you. That swallows sound and turns it into shaking. I sobbed in front of my mother, my coach, my old best friend—hell, maybe my first love—and no one told me to stop. Paige just pulled me in, tight and desperate, like she was holding the pieces together with her bare hands.

“I should’ve come sooner,” she said over and over again.

I didn’t say anything back. Just held onto her and let my body remember what it felt like to be touched by someone who knew me.

She didn’t leave after that. She told my parents she’d stay. That she’d help. That I’d been hers for too long to let me do this alone.

I didn’t go to practice the next day either. But she sat with me on the dorm floor, cross-legged, and read my syllabus out loud like it was sacred. She watched me eat soup like it was a miracle. She brushed my hair even when I flinched.

The healing wasn’t loud.

It was her handing me water. Her texting me even when I was across the room. Her sleeping at the foot of my bed like she couldn’t get close enough.

We didn’t say we were back. We didn’t need to.

She came back for me.

That was enough.

[goldfades]

✧.* NCAA WCBB !

♡ fluff ✪ angst ✧ suggestive

last updated: 05/27/2024

[if i have not updated recently, look up the player's name and my fics should come up!]

⇨ uconn wbb manager series !

synopsis: y/n's life being the women's basketball manager! [inbox ALWAYS open for thoughts!] -> all thoughts under uconn wbb manager thoughts 💭 or uconn wbb manager ★

↳ main timeline

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

overall headcanons / short blurb + more headcanons | request -> headcannons of you being a media girl for the team and KK constantly annoying you and pulling you with her to make tiktoks

grandpa geno and manager headcanons

random thoughts w/ 🐹 nonnie ♡ more random thoughts w/ 🐹 nonnie ♡

cheer mom in disguise | request -> "manager doing every one’s hair b4 games or practices"

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

going live w/ paige & kk ♡ | request -> "Can you do headcannons about UConn wbb manager being on live with the team" // a live between the girls and their beloved manager!

water dunk challenge w/ paige & kk ♡ | request -> "loving the uconn wbb manger fics bestie!! could you do one where she makes tiktoks with the girls?" water dunk questions with kk, paige and manager during offseason!

bad day ✪ -> ♡ | request -> "Hihii I absolutely love the manager series and I was wondering if you could do something where manager has a bad day and the team cheers them up?"

our girl ✪ -> ♡ | request -> "manager literally having to handle every single thing and js bein emotionally exhausted, one day she’s just completely overstimulated from everything and walks out to let herself cry" or after a shitty week, manager breaks down over a stupid test score and her teammate helps her through it.

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 !

goat ♡ | y/n posts some cute photos of herself and the team! |

jealousy is a disease, get well soon ♡ | y/n posts herself while on vaca in europe!

↳ paige x manager!reader

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

secret relationship headcanons ♡ | request -> "Uconn wbb manager in a secret relationship with p!"

🐹 nonnie thoughts!

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

blessing ♡✧ | request -> "STOP IM SO HAPPY UR MAKING PAIGE X WBB MEDIA MANAGER A SERIES BC I SENT IN THE FIRST REQUEST 😽😽😽 fic with paige and reader being out and a little wasted and getting interviewed by fellow college student about their relationship and working together etc. (could end in smut if u like ;))"

to you, i can admit that i'm just too soft for all of it ♡ | summary this is taking place pre-relationship! paige apologizes for distancing herself after her injury. this can be read by itself but i would highly recommend reading my headcanons first so you have a bit of context!

new lockscreen ✧ | requested -> "Okay the fic Idea I was talking about is, Paige scrolling through your phone gallery and seeing the pics you didn’t send her. “Why didn’t you send me this?” and even sending herself some of the photos to her own phone. BUT then, Ms.reader over here didn’t private certain…. provocative and Lewd photos and forgot about them and Paige sees them (her gf just likes taking pictures of her own body🤷🏽 cuz why not)."

down bad ♡ | requested -> "Paige would totally bring manager y/n to Minnesota so that she can meet Paige’s family. Paige ofc would introduce her as a “friend” at first. Manager and Paige’s family would hit it off. Especially with Drew. They both would bully Paige and Drew would expose Paige by saying sum shit like ‘Paige’s talks about you a lot’. Paige would give the biggest side eye 😭 though deep down she loves that her brother and manager are bonding."

↳ nika x manager!reader

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

good with the camera and good on the court ♡✪ | request -> can i request one for manager and nika? kind of building off the head cannon that nika is SUPER protective. maybe an opposing player slips in a comment in the post game handshake line and nika hears and shit just hits the fan. because everyone knows that girl is scaryyyyyy when she’s mad.

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬!

backwards caps & big egos ♡✪ | request -> Hi! I hope your day is going well :)). Do you think that you could do Nika with the manager? Like where she gets protective with her at a game or party? That women is so fine and I've barely even seen anyone write for her😭😭.

domestic goodness ♡ | requested -> "im gonna need more manager!reader x nika soft moments pleaseeeeeee feed my hunger 😔"

↳ kk x manager!reader

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬!

smooth ♡ | request -> this is my first time requesting something so hopefully i do this right, but could you you a kk arnold x manager reader where kk keeps annoying manager on live so manager bans her from touching and kissing her |

↳ cc x manager!reader

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬!

just really, really close friends ♡ | request -> could u write something aboutcaitlin and manager y\n flirting on live and Caitlin and the UConn girls getting asked about it in interviews

𝐮𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

⇨ paige bueckers⁵

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 !

one single thread of gold, tied me to you after y/n gets transferred from arizona to uconn after a devastating season, hoping for a fresh start and a supportive team ─ she finds herself wrapped up with a certain blonde.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

introverted best friend to girlfriend headcanons ♡

nsfw headcanons ✧

cat mom ♡ | request -> hcs abt paige x reader moving in together after college ? maybe they adopt a pet too omg |

girlfriend ♡ | sfw relationship "headcanons" |

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

i don't believe in god, but i believe that you're my savior; my mom says that she's worried, but i'm covered in this favor; and when we're getting dirty, i forget all that is wrong | summary: she was the kind of girl who lit up rooms and wrecked worlds in the same breath—a gravity too intense to resist. you’d sworn off falling, but the first time she laughed, smoke curling from her lips like an invitation to a wildfire, you were already in freefall. between stolen touches and reckless nights, you wonder if paige is your salvation or your undoing—or maybe a bit of both.

fortnight / so long london | summary: paige and ex gf!reader that plays on iowa where theres a lot of tension on the court bc they ended on rough terms but u can see that they still care abt each other yet have to prioritize the game // hii could u write for paige x ex gf iowa!reader where they play against each other in the final four and everyone can tell theres sm tension on the court between them bc they ended on rough terms ? they still care abt each other a lot but r forced to put those feelings aside for the sake of the game (but they def had a talk afterwards) - u can make it so that iowa still won or uconn won i think either one would be interesting ! tysm part two

our own celebration ✧♡ | request: "SAW UR POST AND HEAR U WANTED REQUESTS!!! paige x gf!reader where reader is uconns wbb media girl and it is SMUTT, paige like reading reader ab like “did u enjoy taking pics of me out there” BUT SMUT WHERE READER ALSO GIVES BACK TO PAIGE BC WHY R ALL THE FICS ENDING AFTER READER COMES? WHERES PAIGE??? (i’m going insane)" |

rizzler p (2/2) ♡ summary | y/n is a youtuber and on the cancelled podcast, she reveals she has a crush on paige bueckers. this unfolds a series of events which ultimately ends with y/n at one of uconn's games. part one -> this unfolds a series of events which ultimately ends with y/n at one of uconn's games. part two -> y/n gets invited to her first game of the season and they have a lot of fun!

without me? ♡ | request: "can u pleaseeee write a fic with paige & a cheerleader at uconn ?? something cute like post game ritual, like going out to each or something" |

the graceful cheerleader and the humble basketball player ♡ | request -> "Could you write a Paige bueckers x Fem Reader pls! where they’re enemies but everyone is always teasing them (everything’s regular, like she plays for UConn and the reader can be a cheerleader or something idk). It can lead to smut or just a super cute story. Ofc you don’t have to follow the plot!"

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips / we should just kiss like real people do ♡ | request -> "paige with teammate!reader? it’d be soo cute i think" | | you and paige were best friends on and off the court, and after an exhilarating win you spend the time together, relishing in the win (and each other) |

all yours ♡ | request -> "helloooo! can you write something about reader suspecting paige and azzi’s friendship to be more than a friendship (r and paige are a situationship or sum like that) and just paige reassuring her and saying that she has eyes only for her etc… (paige is literally obsessed with r)? thank you so much 💖💖💖💖💖" |

and i can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul ♡✪ | summary this is part one, brother's best friend trope! bryce and paige had been best friends since they were kids, and she's never really been close to his little sister, y/n until she transfers to uconn after a tumultuous freshman year.

wnba girlfriend wife ♡✪ | request -> "hi hi hi could u plssss write paige x team mate!reader inspired by paiges proud facebook mom era at the wnba draft where reader gets drafted to her dream team and is one of the top 3 picks 🙏🙏 i just keep rewatching her vids where shes cheering for aaliyah and nika 🥹 omg if u could also include smthn abt the media coverage after like paige bragging abt reader and them at an afterparty or smthn plsplsplspls 🤍"

blessing ♡✧ [part of manager series but can be read alone] | request -> "STOP IM SO HAPPY UR MAKING PAIGE X WBB MEDIA MANAGER A SERIES BC I SENT IN THE FIRST REQUEST 😽😽😽 fic with paige and reader being out and a little wasted and getting interviewed by fellow college student about their relationship and working together etc. (could end in smut if u like ;))"

a thing for blondes ♡✧ | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣"

two seconds ✧ | request -> "thigh riding with Paige... 🤭" or paige is ignoring you while she locks in while playing fortnite with kk, but you needed her attention (and she hates it when you're needy)

the way she shows me i'm hers and she is mine; open hand or closed fist would be fine; blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine ✧♡| request -> "heyy, i saw you were wanting requests for blurbs so like i was thinking maybe paige x fem!reader where they had lost the game they were playing and she was just in such a bad mood so when they got home reader took it upon herself to help paige relax but instead of paige being top, shes a bottom because she just wants to clear her mind yk?"

not an ass, just passionate ♡✧ | request -> "oh my gosh, paige bueckers x uconn wbb athletic trainer intern with a situation at a game where paige gets a bloody nose (like the uconn vs seton hall) and paige like refusing to get cleaned up and reader like commands.. (i feel so silly typing this) but basically forces paige to let reader clean her up and the internet GOES CRAZY BC OF THE WAY UR HOLDING PAIGES FACE AND THE CLEAR TENSION BETWEEN YOU TWO (reader and paige can be like friends with clear sexual tension or secret relationship whatever u like girl pop 😛)"

better than me? ✧✪ | request -> "Omg a fic where Paige and reader have always had this sort of sarcastic bickering borderline mean type of relationship/rivalry but one day the tension suddenly just goes from competitive to sexual and thennnnm ykkkk"

mrs. bueckers ♡ | request -> "hiii could I request a fic where paige meets your family and she and your toddler nephew end up loving each other and it makes the reader love paige even more 🥺🥺"

protective ♡✪ | requested -> "i love your writing sm!!! could you maybe write a paige x reader where reader is on the team and it’s an intense game and reader gets accidentally hit in the face and her nose starts bleeding. it’s not even bad but paige is all livid at whichever player that did it and she’s helping reader clean up all the blood and stuff?"

there's holy ground beneath them, and sparks fly when they kiss ♡ ─ summary | you & paige have been together for a while, and you know nothing could come between you two—even distance itself.

dancing phantoms on the terrace; are they second-hand embarrassed, that i can't get out of bed? cause something counterfeit's dead; it was legendary; it was momentary; it was unnecessary ─ summary | you and paige have always danced around each other—an intricate waltz of unspoken words and fleeting touches, each step pulling you closer to the edge of something you both feared to define. but when your feelings finally bubble over, paige’s silence cuts sharper than anything you could have imagined. in the wake of her denial, you vow to let her go, but it’s hard to sever the bond when she keeps lingering in the corners of your world, drawing you back like gravity. what happens when you can’t be friends, but letting go feels impossible?

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 !

workin' hard or hardly workin' ♡ | request -> "hellooo just had this idea (very under developed) but could u write paige x teammate!reader (not dating but both crushing) mic'd up during practice but they forget abt being recorded so its just them flirting w each other and tryna rizz each other up LOL ? just thought it would be funny for the fans watching after"

rookie ♡ ─ summary | paige's gf and she insists on teaching her basketball—even though she's terrible at it. paige spends half the time “coaching” her (aka being flirty) and the other half laughing when she completely miss the basket

sex tape ✧ ─ summary | “what if we record it?”

protective p ♡ ─ summary | paige finds you in tears after watching stepmom and, misunderstanding the reason for your distress, instinctively comforts your with her protective nature.

muscle memory ✧ | summary p's first time using a strap

tiktok couple ♡ | request -> "But imagine paige bueckers with girlfriend who applied lip plumper. Like a tik tok prank"

strawberry chapstick ♡ | request -> "paige absolutely loves the taste of the chap stick/lip balm y/n uses, so they keep stealing kisses from y/n"

pizza & wings ♡ | request -> hi my love! can i request a little something of paige comforting her gf through a hard time? i’ve had a rlly tough semester and my car just died so im rlly going through it rn 🥲🥲🩷🩷 i love u and ur writing sm <3333

munch ✧ | request -> can u write about paige being a munch but like also incorporate edging into it? i love ur writing!

period pains ♡ | request: paige comforting her gf after she’s had a bad week or smth would be cute |

target & chic fil a ♡ | requested -> "Hey! Just wanted to request a Paige Bueckers story where it’s a compilation of TikTok pranks, like calling her your wife, asking for help with the tampon being stuck, etc. thank you"

too much ✧ | requested -> "overstim with paige please!"

ate (literally) ✧ | requested -> "thinking abt paige x reader smut w a post-game win quickie in paiges car (featuring extra needy paige"

fangirling ♡ | requested -> "r is nicknamed the archer bc her shooting accuracy goes crazy and whenever she makes a big three she does like a quick celebration making a bow and arrow motion and when she goes up against uconn she points and winks to paige after bc she was assigned to guard her. post-game, an interviewer asks paige how she feels abt r and she basically rants abt how cool she is - her energy, skills, etc like a fangirl moment. later the same interviewer asks r the same question and r does the literal exact same thing paige did. interviewer tells r what paige said and r lowk flirts w her thru an interview ykwim?"

you and me, we'd be a big conversation (1/3) | requested -> "paige x famous!reader (singer, actress, up to u) inspired by endgame by ts where p reveals that r is her celeb crush in an interview and a few days later theres a vid of r responding to it saying shes been obsessed w paige lately / its such a big deal bc r has been involved in a lot of romantic drama lately so everyone is kinda iffy abt her rn, causing her to put up a tough guard. but p sees thru the facade when they start talking and allows her to be herself, making r fall even harder 🥹 -> part one

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 !

hard/soft launch ♡ | request: "HARD OR SOFT LAUNCH WITH PAIGE PLEASE 🙏" |

⇨ kk arnold²

⇨ ice brady²⁵

⇨ azzi fudd³⁵

no matter what you or what you do / when i'm alone i'd rather be with you / fuck all these -- / i'll be right by your side, til 3005 ♡ requested -> "wait i love ur fics!! can i request a one shot of azzi (aka sweet angel whose never done anything wrong in her life) and loud & chaotic!reader who were childhood friends and now have the cutest relationship ever?? like a huge opposites attract thingy where reader is a cheerleader and that popular kid, and brings azzi out of her shell? and maybe the team is a bit suspicious at first but just falls in love with their relationship really quickly"

𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

⇨ kate martin²⁰

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬!

best medicine there is ♡ | request: "Okay there's a criminally low amount of Kate martin fics like that's literally my wife 😞 buttt my idea is Kate x reader where reader plays another sport at Iowa and gets injured at a game and Kate is js there with reader and takes care of her after the diagnosis. I js reinjured my knee for the 4th time and would love sum like that 😭🙏" |

[mypochacco]

Sarah Strong x Girlfriend!Reader: NCAA Championship Win HC

— As the buzzer sounds and UConn claims the 2025 NCAA championship, Sarah is immediately mobbed by her teammates, but in the chaos, her eyes are scanning the crowd. She’s not just looking for her family,she’s looking for you.

— You’re on the sidelines, decked out in UConn gear and a custom made shirt that says “STRONGest Fan.” When Sarah spots you, she gives you this tired but huge grin, her eyes lighting up just from seeing you.

— During the celebration, she sneaks over to where you’re standing and pulls you into a quick but meaningful hug. Her jersey is sweaty, she smells like gatorade and adrenaline, but you don’t care. She whispers, “We did it” and you whisper back, “You did it.”

— Right as she’s walking away, a sideline reporter calls her over for a quick post-game interview. She tries to act cool and composed but keeps glancing at you in the background. She completely blanks for a second when the reporter asks a question then mutters, “Sorry, I got distracted,” and smiles sheepishly at the camera, her cheeks just a little pink.

— Social media goes wild when the ESPN cameras pan to you mid-interview cheering, beaming, clearly proud. Then Sarah looks right at you and bites her lip trying not to smile too hard. The clip ends up everywhere: “Sarah Strong’s heartwarming reaction to seeing her girlfriend during championship interview.”

— While things are still chaotic in the locker room, she sends you a blurry selfie with her championship hat tilted sideways smiling widely and the message being “Still can’t believe this is real. Thank you for always being there for me.”

— After the team dinner and celebrations, you two finally get a quiet moment. She pulls you close, rests her forehead against yours, and whispers, “I love you so much. Seriously, thank you for being there for me,not just when everything’s good, but even when things get messy. It means the world to me that you’ve stuck around through it all. I don’t take that for granted, and I’m really lucky to have you.”

— The next day, she posts a photo dump of the championship shots, trophy pics, locker room chaos but the last photo is of you two post-game, both smiling like idiots.

🧍🏽‍♀️.

[afurtivecake]

ships and tropes that fans would be writing in the in-universe exy rpf fandom:

-kevriko is the number 1 ship (at least in the ncaa exy side of the exy rpf fandom) - 200K+ angsty slow burn fics, childhood friends to lovers. i just know that the "post-ski-trip-breakup" did wonders for kevriko shippers

-jerevin (jeremy/kevin) and jerivin (jeremy/riko/kevin) is also very popular. tons of cute, fluffy meet-cutes, high school aus where they meet earlier.

-after andrew and after the "ski-trip breakup", kandrew surges in popularity. the shipping discourse between kevriko and kandrew fans go wild.

-riko/neil, enemies/rivals to lovers fics drop the moment after the kathy ferdinand interview

-andreil is a really niche rarepair. for the real freaks out there who are writing 'murder husbands' dark fics

[pookalicious-hq]

endgame || pt. 2 to tolerate it

caitlin clark x reader (previous paige bueckers x reader) || previous: tolerate it || masterlist

notes: fluff, lmk if you guys want more caitlin stuff!! sorry for taking so long lmao, hope you like it <3

now playing: endgame by taylor swift

Endless streams of black silk flowed along her arms, down the small of her back, the weightless tule pooling at her feet. Gems stitched across the expanse caught sight of the flashing glares, absorbing the endless bursts of light. 

(Y/n) had been positioned at the beginning of the velvety carpet, the expanse of red spreading to the entrance of the 2024 WNBA draft.

With her smiles, she carried along her reputation. She held the weight of tonight's unknown outcomes atop her head, her chin never wavering. Soon, (Y/n) would take the first leap, discarding everything and everyone who dared to trap her in the past. 

Luckily, she wouldn’t be alone. 

“Caitlin! (Y/n)! To your left here, please!”

The two girls moved together in unison at the request. An arm clad in white made its way around (Y/n)’s waist, finding solace in the familiar position. Soft smiles were placed upon their features. Their presence swallowed the venue whole, demanding attention. 

Before, (Y/n) would’ve shied away from the sudden spotlight. She had been taught that seeking attention was greed, and only those who deserved it received it.

Now, she learned from someone else. 

She met a girl whose love contrasted with anything she’d ever learnt before. Every word the girl spoke had been dipped in nectar. Apologizes were sent along with flowers and warmth, there wouldn’t be room for doubt anymore. 

Ever since that night, days with Caitlin moulded into months. Savoured kisses were hidden behind curtains, bodies tangled beneath soft sheets. 

Anyone would assume they had been cut from the same cloth given their natural lines that effortlessly fit together. 

Now here they stood. After a lengthy conversation, the two eventually decided to make their first appearance together. 

Another thing Caitlin had drilled into (Y/n)’s mind; never change who you are.

They addressed no comments towards their relationship. Only offering welcoming replies, carefully steering from the unsaid questions that plagued everyone’s mind: what were (Y/n) and Caitlin to each other?

If they had real answer, they would’ve told any who asked. But, unfortunately that was still a question left unanswered between the two girls. 

Of course, they were friends. They had been friends ever since playing on the same team in seventh grade. They were friends who had shared each other’s first kiss. They were friends ever since they knew what it meant to want the princess, not the prince. 

Being friends was the safest option. They both lead a busy life. There wasn’t much they could do together but send a ‘happy birthday <3’ text when they lived (about) 1000 miles away.

Though, together now, there still lied this unanswered question. 

“Did I mention you look gorgeous, love?” 

Caitlin’s soft murmur travelled across the expanse of (Y/n)’s neck, the sensation sparking warmth throughout her body. She swept her gaze upwards towards the brunette, eyebrows raised playfully. 

“Yeah,” (Y/n) laughed, “like, three times already. You’re so dumb, Cait.”

Her last words were laced with love, of course, Caitlin knew what she was doing. After her comment, (Y/n) stepped out of Caitlin’s reach, continuing her path down the carpet. The brunette’s gaze trailed behind the deep cut of her black gown, she was never out of Caitlin’s sight.

It was a given that they would be separated tonight. Even before their arrival together, they had been the main topic of the night. Everyone wanted to talk to the all-time NCAA leading scorer from Iowa just as equally as they wanted to talk to the March Madness MVP from South Carolina.

Flash

“Please stand here for an interview, miss.”

“(Y/n), who are you wearing tonight?”

“Caitlin, how are you feeling?”

“Please sign my jersey, I love you guys so much!”

Every comment, instruction and praise was met with the genuine smile that places itself on her features. Her gown flowed along the carpet as she made her way towards her third interview of the night. However, her steady gait soon faltered as her gaze found an unexpected variable in her path. The shock rippled through her, momentarily freezing her in place. It had been months since they last spoke, since they last exchanged words that weren't filled with bitterness and hurt.

Paige's presence hit (Y/n) like a sudden gust of wind, stirring up memories that she had buried deep within herself. She remembered the laughter they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the warmth of Paige's embrace. Unfortunately, alongside those memories came the pain of their parting, the arguments, the tears, the lingering sense of resentment.

But, despite those average thoughts that came up on the topic of Paige, (Y/n) now felt something additional, something different. 

As she stood there, her gaze briefly catching Paige's figure in the crowd, a wave of indifference washed over her. It wasn't that (Y/n) harboured any ill will towards Paige—far from it. (Sure, if Paige tripped and fell in that moment she would laugh at her pain, but no one would know that.) She had long since disregarded her for the actions of the past. But forgiveness didn't equate to a desire to rekindle what once was.

Paige Bueckers had exited her life. Whether anyone else thought differently, it didn’t matter. 

Her performance over her college years had granted her a seat at the table. 

Well, her own table.

She stood atop the stage among teammates and competitors she’d met over the years. The only difference this moment held, they would all be happy for each other no matter the outcome. Every player here had earned this moment. 

And no one would doubt that (Y/n) and Caitlin deserved this moment. 

Hard work leads to rewards. 

But, hard work and raw talent lead to a spotlight reserved for the best.

The line defining the two is a delicate balance, one that is forced to put both against each other. Nevertheless, what the media depicts as a head-to-head is never the true case.

Throughout their careers, Caitlin and (Y/n) had unwillingly been placed on opposite sides of a scale. What others perceived as a rivalry, the two girls simply considered their competitive nature. Nevertheless, they found no reason to acknowledge the headlines.

Who would be granted the championship? 

Who would the title of MVP belong to?

Who would win? 

On that significant night, (Y/n) and Caitlin painted a masterpiece of determination and skill. As the clock dwindled to its final seconds, Caitlin conceded—it was (Y/n)'s turn to shine. And shine she did, her brilliance lighting up the court with a mesmerizing career high of 39 points.

South Carolina roared with triumph, claiming the championship banner, while (Y/n) (L/n) ascended to MVP status. Amidst the cacophony of celebration, whispers of debate lingered, but for most, there was no denying—she had earned her crown.

Now, on this electric draft night, (Y/n) waded through a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, her senses alive with anticipation. The air crackled with anticipation, pregnant with the promise of new beginnings and boundless opportunities. Yet, amidst the excitement, one question lingered—whose name would be called first?

With each step, purpose pulsed through (Y/n)'s veins, a steady rhythm guiding her forward. Tonight wasn't just about personal glory—it was the culmination of years of dedication, an opportunity to showcase her artistry on the grandest stage.

As she settled into her seat at the draft table, nerves and excitement tangled in her chest. The room buzzed with energy, a symphony of voices and whispered dreams. But amid the chaos, one figure stood out—Caitlin, a beacon of unwavering support, making her way to (Y/n) with purpose.

"Hey there, superstar," Caitlin's voice, a melody of pride and affection, washed over (Y/n) like a warm embrace. Leaning in, she planted a tender kiss on her lover's cheek, igniting a spark that danced across her skin.

(Y/n) returned the gesture with a soft smile, her heart overflowing with love. "Hey yourself," she murmured, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Caitlin's, their connection a lifeline in the swirling chaos.

"Okay, sassy are we?" Caitlin teased, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her laughter a melody that danced through the air. At that moment, amidst the clamour of the crowd, they were a symphony unto themselves.

Though, soon enough, the minutes they were sharing vanished as the familiar chords sung, marking the beginning of the 2024 WNBA draft. The look shared between the two girls could only be described as duplicated. While their loving smiles spoke ‘good luck’, their eyes held nothing but determination. With one final squeeze to (Y/n)’s hand, Caitlin weaved back through the tables and took her seat. 

Truthfully, (Y/n) couldn’t give a damn about the speech that Cathy Engelbert was reading. The probably scripted words only added to the weight on her heart as she awaited her next team assignment. Despite the dragging minutes, she kept up a facade of interest for the camera.

“And now, we don’t have to wait any longer because the pick is in!”

Those words flipped a switch in (Y/n)’s mind, her senses sharpening as Cathy Engelbert took the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Each click echoed through the room, a metronome counting down to the pivotal moment. The air was thick with tension, electric and charged, every breath laden with anticipation.

The moment drew closer and closer.

“With the first pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the Indiana Fever select…”

The words hung in the air, estatic with possibility. Everyone held their breath as the selection came down to two athletes. (Y/n) glanced over to Caitlin’s table, finding her already searching for her eyes.

“Caitlin Clark, University of Iowa!”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room erupting in chaos as the crowd roared in ecstasy. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a rush, overwhelming and intoxicating.

With her eyes still locked onto Caitlin’s, she broke into a blinding smile, Caitlin mirroring her. In that moment, everything else faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

(Y/n) stood, her heart pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Every step toward Caitlin felt like an eternity, the ground solid beneath her feet. Suspense hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

With a barely contained laugh, she tumbled into Caitlin’s embrace, the world spinning around them. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of Caitlin’s arms around her, the sound of their shared laughter drowning out the noise of the crowd.

“You did it. You deserve this, Caitlin,” (Y/n) spoke, her voice ringing clear over the clamour of the crowd. Her words were a declaration, a testament to Caitlin’s strength and resilience. Her final words slipped out in a hush, “I love you.”

Amidst the cacophony of noise and celebration, Caitlin held onto (Y/n) as if she were the anchor in a tempest. Each beat of her heart reverberated with the pulse of the crowd, her senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting eternity of shared joy and boundless emotion.

As Caitlin finally released her grip, (Y/n) felt a bittersweet pang in her chest. Her heart swelled with pride for her friend, yet beneath the surface, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. In another time, her stomach might have plummeted, her throat constricted by the weight of unshed tears. But now, amidst the chaos of the draft, she found only a sense of serene acceptance.

Her gaze lingered on Caitlin, the embodiment of success and possibility, as she stood adorned in her Indiana Fever jersey. In that moment, (Y/n) glimpsed the future unfolding before her, a future that held boundless potential and untold promise.

Returning to her own table, (Y/n) was met with sympathetic glances and unspoken assumptions. But she brushed them aside with a knowing smile, the genuine ecstasy of Caitlin's triumph shining through her features. For in that moment, she understood that second place held no sting, no bitterness. Caitlin's victory was her own.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the attention shifted to the second pick of the night, belonging to the LA Sparks. (Y/n)'s heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement. She couldn't help but steal glances at Caitlin, who was now enveloped in the embrace of her family, her smile radiant with joy.

As the tension mounted, (Y/n)'s mind raced back to all the years of hard work and putting up with undeserved bullshit. She remembered the countless hours spent on the court, the sacrifices made, and the people she overcame. It had all led to this, the culmination of a lifelong dream.

But amidst the anticipation, there was a sense of contentment that washed over her. She had already achieved so much, and seeing Caitlin's success only fueled her determination. Her focus remained unwavering, her heart filled with pride for her lover.

And then, it happened.

"With the second pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the LA Sparks select... (Y/n) (L/n)!"

The words echoed through the room, but Mayari hardly registered them at first. It was as if time stood still, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had just been announced.

But then, reality crashed over her like a wave. The cheers of the crowd filled her ears, and she felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. The room seemed to spin, the lights blurring into a dazzling array of colours as she stood, her legs trembling with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. The warmth of the moment enveloped her, and with every beat of her heart, she felt the weight of everything she had worked for lifting off her shoulders.

Just then, amidst the applause of the crowd, she heard melodic notes of her name being called out.

Suddenly, (Y/n)’s world tilted on its axis as she was swept up into Caitlin’s embrace. Their gazes locked smiles mirroring one another in joyous ecstasy. The sounds of the cheering crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding of her own heart and the warmth of Caitlin's arms around her. 

"I love you too," Caitlin whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

(Y/n) felt her heart swell, her emotions threatening to overflow. They rested their foreheads against each other, their breaths mingling as they shared the profound intimacy of the moment. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in their shared victory.

The fans in the crowd went wild, their cheers and applause creating a wave of sound that crashed over the two girls. Cameras flashed, capturing the raw emotion etched on their faces. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, one that neither of them would ever forget.

As they finally pulled apart, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble out of her throat, the sound drawing an admirable expression from the brunette. She turned to face the stage, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. This was it—the moment she had dreamed of for so long.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) made her way to the stage, the cheers of the crowd propelling her forward. She felt the warmth of their support, the love and pride radiating from every corner of the room. This was her moment, a testament to all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the unwavering determination that had brought her here.

As she stepped onto the stage to accept her LA Sparks jersey, she glanced back at Caitlin, who was watching her with a look of pure, unadulterated pride. (Y/n) knew, in that moment, that they had both achieved something extraordinary and that this was just the beginning of their journey.

With the weight of the jersey in her hands and the future spread out before her like a vast, open sky, she felt a profound sense of peace and accomplishment. The journey had been long and arduous, filled with moments of doubt and resilience, but standing there under the bright lights, she knew it had all been worth it.

As she held up the jersey, a symbol of her new beginning, her eyes swept across the sea of faces, each one a blur of colors and emotions. The lights above her were warm, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in a surreal, dreamlike quality.

Her gaze found Paige amidst the cheering crowd. Paige's smile was radiant, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression a blend of pride and a quiet acknowledgment of their shared past. The sounds of applause and cheers seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thudding of (Y/n)'s heart. The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken words, a silent reconciliation and mutual respect woven between them.

(Y/n)'s heart swelled, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest, filling her with a deep sense of closure and peace. She returned Paige's smile, a genuine and heartfelt gesture, before her gaze naturally found its way back to Caitlin. Caitlin's eyes sparkled with joy, her love and pride shining brightly, grounding (Y/n) in the whirlwind of emotions surrounding her.

Caitlin's eyes were bright with joy and love, reflecting everything (Y/n) felt in that moment. The applause of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as they shared a private, intimate moment amidst the public celebration. Caitlin, in all her seriousness, blew (Y/n) a kiss, a tender gesture that drew a smile out from her. (Y/n), with a smile, reached out as if to catch it and then graciously tucked it into her pocket.

As she stood there, the weight of her journey lifted, she knew this was the beginning of a new chapter. With Caitlin's silent encouragement echoing in her mind, she felt ready to embrace whatever came next. The next step would be difficult, but it was hers to shape, and she would no longer be alone.

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SHIT'S BEEN TOUGH. anyways hope you liked it, if you wanna see more cc x reader lmkk also next chapter of midnight love will come out soon IM SERIOUS I PROMISE DON'T HATE ME

anyways thank you for the support love you guys, mwah <3

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @idratherbesleepingrn , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung, @ktaerssoi, @evangelinexo , @c999sh , @yazmunson , @choibeomkai , @ekisokay

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — one

part one | part two | part three

summary — she didn’t handle the sports section of the campus newspaper, but apparently, she did this week. interviewing hockey players was easy, though—unless one of those players happened to be peter parker.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — i don’t own peter parker. and pls don't come for me with the accuracy of this situation i'm begging

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, sewer slide jokes (very briefly), possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

“You’re joking. You’re pulling the biggest prank I’ve ever seen, you are the impractical joker,” she huffs out, her eyes wide as furiously clicks her mouse, “I’m gonna die. I’m writing the note tonight—farewell, my lovely!”

“Woah, okay,” MJ, her roommate, had only just entered the room when she was bombarded with a sudden rant. She didn’t even have time to take down her ponytail of thin, red braids before her eardrums were assaulted.

“I mean it.” Spinning her chair, she meets MJ’s eyes.

“I literally just got here,” MJ plops down on the bed in front of the desk, “Care to tell me why you’re writing that note?”

“I’m a dumb, dumb girl, that’s why,” she groans in response.

“We already knew that.” MJ’s words only cause the girl in front of her to shoot daggers with her gaze; “Sorry, sorry. Why are you a dumb, dumb girl?”

“God, okay, so,” she lets out a loud sigh, “Eli is gonna be gone for the rest of the month—Europe or something, good for him. Anyways, they needed someone to cover his assignments for him until he gets back, and I volunteered, but, like, only to be nice, y’know? I did it as an obligation. But…”

“But?” MJ pressed.

“I just got an email, and it’s me,” she grumbled, “They’re putting me on Eli’s assignments.”

“Hm, I see,” MJ’s lips curl into a frown as she gently rubs the girl’s arm, “Too much work?”

“Oh, no, my stuff’s easy,” she waved her off, “Just reading the poetry submissions. I mean, it can be exhausting, but it’s not too bad.”

“Then what is it?” MJ cocks her head.

“Eli…Eli does sports,” she shuddered. MJ couldn’t contain the loud laugh that slipped out, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“You’re worried about sports?” She giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“It’s not funny!” She smacks MJ lightly, “Sports aren’t unbearable or anything, but, like, why me? I don’t know enough! I’ll screw it up, I’ll lose my spot, they’ll stick me back in—”

“Relax,” MJ grabs her shoulders, bringing her closer, “First off, no, you won’t lose your spot, we both know they’d be losing their minds without you. Second, they wouldn’t just throw it on you if they thought you’d give them bad work, right?” She eyes MJ almost suspiciously. There’s a momentary stare-down before she relents.

“I hate that you’re right,” she sighs, spinning her chair around. MJ stops the spin by putting her hands down on the arms of the chair.

“Thought you’d be used to it by now,” she giggles, “So, what do you have to do?”

“I don’t know.” Is the mumbled reply.

“You didn’t even look?” MJ laughs again, “You were losing your mind, and you didn’t even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry that I’m sensitive,” she huffs. Her gaze moves back to the laptop before her. The email is open on the screen, so she begins scrolling through it, MJ reading the words over her shoulder. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she gets to the end.

“Fuck this,” she almost slams her laptop shut, but is stopped short by MJ.

“Slow down!” The redhead slaps her hand out of the way to read the rest of the email.

The ESU hockey team had made it to the NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey tournament for the first time in six years—and they were doing damn good. Eli had been tasked with interviewing the team captain as well as a few other star players, but, of course, it was no longer Eli's job.

"Oh, come on,” MJ rolled her eyes, “They gave you a Google Doc with questions, all you have to do is ask them and write down their response."

“That's the problem, I have to ask,” she shivered.

"You've done interviews before!" MJ was ready to smack her.

"With professors! And cool artsy people! Not hockey guys," she cringed, “I bet half of them are in a frat. They're probably gonna be assholes and tell me I have cooties."

“Are you twelve?” MJ groaned, “You sort of lucked out with this—half the work is already done for you! You don’t need to write up any questions!” A sigh left her lips as she took on a more comforting tone: “If it makes you feel any better, Harry is on the team.”

Ah, Harry. MJ had been seeing him for a little over a month by now. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. A little full of himself, but nice enough to talk to. Her eyes roved over the list of players she was set to interview. Sure enough, Harry Osborn was there. So was Miles Morales, who was described as an extremely promising freshman. Zack Coleson, who had the highest number of goals for the season. Last on the list was the team captain: Peter Parker.

“I can talk to Harry,” MJ offered, “I can let him know that it’s you doing the interviews. I’ll make sure he tells them to go easy on you—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, “That might make it worse. And they already know that it’s not Eli coming. Or they should, at least”

“You sure?” MJ quirked a brow, her features crinkling in a way that was only intelligible as concern.

“They’ll be walking on eggshells around me if they know I’m chickenshit, I won’t get a good interview,” she sighed. Even if the interview wasn’t what she wanted to do, she was going to have to. And she would do a good job—a great job.

“You got this, Kitty,” MJ squeezed her shoulders. The nickname pulled a smile from her, and she gave into MJ’s touch.

“We’ll see about that,” she relented. Her eyes traveled back to the computer screen. The interviews were scheduled two days from now at the Stark Memorial Rink.

“Hey, MJ,” she hummed, “Could you grab me my noose?”

The rink was colder than she expected. The empty stands provided no body heat, not to mention there was a literal sheet of ice on the floor. Tugging at the strap of her messenger bag, she took slow, careful steps to the plexiglass.

Clink.

Her eyes widened. There were around ten to fifteen guys in full gear out on the ice, and another ten to fifteen more on a bench near the glass or flitting around the edge of the rink. She was nervous, so she got there early. Now, she was stuck watching them practice.

Leaving was so tempting. She could go back to her dorm, or better yet, leave college entirely. She could just give up and fall off the grid, cut her credit cards, throw her phone in the ocean, sail off to Greece—

“Hello?”

She cursed the muffled voice that pulled her back into reality. Blinking, she found that standing before her was one of the very hockey players she’d seen skating on the rink before her. He was tall, and gear under his black and purple jersey made him appear far more bulkier than she theorized he was. He slipped his helmet off to reveal brown, curly hair that was drenched in sweat.

“Hi,” she replied, trying not to sound as nervous as he would. He cocked his head at her as he popped out his mouth guard.

“This is a closed practice,” he said, though, he didn’t sound all too upset that she was here.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” she nodded quickly, her fingers toying with the strap of her bag again, “I’m a bit early, I’m supposed to be interviewing some people on the team. I’m—”

“Kitty?” She was interrupted by the sound of a voice as well as skates scraping across the ice. Glancing past the guy in front of her, she saw Harry slide off the ice and clomp to benches where they currently were.

“Hey, Harry.” Her lips were screwed up in a tight grin. He’d heard MJ call her Kitty once, and now it was the only thing he’d refer to her as.

“Kitty?” Mystery guy repeated the name with a hint of intrigue.

“It’s not my real name, my friends just call me that,” she shook her head.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, swinging an arm around the shoulder of the guy in front of her.

“I’m Eli’s replacement,” she explained, trying to plaster a friendly smile to her lips, “I’m doing the interviews.”

“Aw, shit, why didn’t MJ tell me we got the cool Kitty-cat on the case?” Harry grinned.

“Could you try to never say those words again? Really hated it, thanks,” her nose crinkled.

“You got it.” He tried to point finger guns at her, but with the thick gloves on, it just looked like he was pointing his whole hand.

“Hey,” he started up again, “You’re a little early, so practice isn’t over yet, but we’re almost done. It’s just the four of us, right?”

“Right,” she nodded in response. It was a relief that they’d been briefed on the situation.

“Alright, well, I’m Harry, obviously, Miles and Zack are on the ice somewhere, and this right here—” Harry jostled the shoulders of the Mystery guy, “—is Peter. Oh captain, my captain!”

Peter chuckled as Harry clapped him on the back. The noise that emanated from the friendly hit was harsh, but Peter didn’t move a muscle.

“Right,” she nodded, “So, I figured we could do them individually? There’s some sort of specific questions for each of you.”

“Sounds good, Kitty,” Harry replied. She’d smack him if he said that name again.

“Sit tight for a bit,” Peter spoke up. Even with the stubble on his chin, his smile gave him a boyish appearance. He looked her up and down quickly, “We can try to wrap up practice early.”

'A bit' ended up feeling like forever. At first, she tried to distract herself with her phone, but it didn't work: she would open apps, scroll through them, then close them just to reopen them over and over again. So she organized her bag, which took about five minutes. Time seemed to tic by in a tauntingly slow manner. It was only when she saw a few of the players emerge from the locker room did she let out a breath of relief. She immediately sucked that breath back when she realized that she would actually have to talk to some of them.

Harry went first. It was easy enough to go through the questions with him. It was like talking to an over-eager relative at a family reunion, one who was just dying to talk about all the new things they're doing. Miles wasn't all that bad to interview, either. He was a lot more nervous than she was. His awkward pauses and constant strings of 'um' and 'uh' was almost comforting. Then came Peter.

"Kitty," he grinned as soon as he saw her seated on the bench next to the rink. He no longer wore his gear—just a hoodie and a pair of gray sweats. His hair, however, was still wet and tousled. She gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

"That's not my name," she replied. Before she had time to properly introduce herself, his raspy chuckle was already echoing through the open arena.

"You said that's what your friends call you, right?" He cocked his head as he sat down on the other edge of the bench.

"You're not—” If she could just make it through the interview without fuss, she'd be one person away from being free, "—right. That's what my friends call me."

"I'm going to be recording this, just so I can reference it later," she explained almost monotonously.

"This isn't my first time," he responded with another light laugh. She had to physically bite her tongue to fight off any comments. A soft click sounded from her phone as she started a new voice memo. Her eyes scanned the list of questions on the page before her. Some she'd already asked to Harry and Miles: How does it feel to make the tournament? What is the atmosphere of the team right now? She chose a fresh question to start with.

"What's it like to be the captain of this team? Are you proud? Overwhelmed?" She asked, her voice taking on a new tone closer to a news anchor than a regular person. Peter's lips curled up at the change.

"I'm proud, yeah," he nodded, his voice smooth, "This is a great group. But we all work our asses off, so I'm not surprised by how far we've come. Being their captain is really something."

"And—"

"Do you normally do sports? For the paper, I mean." Before she could even get her next sentence out, he interrupted her. Her grip on the papers in her hand tightened.

"No, not normally," she grit out, "And going along with your thoughts on being captain, what about making it to the tournament this year?"

"It's the best feeling in the world. It's something I've been chasing after for years now, finally getting to it is just...sort of indescribable." Even when his tone is nothing but sincere, he can't wipe the cocky grin from his lips.

"I can imagine," she smiled tautly in reply, "What was it like working your way up to captain? Was it a personal journey, or did you get support from the team?"

"I'd say it was an even mix of both," he hummed, "Do you like hockey?"

"What?" She furrowed her brows.

"Are you a hockey fan?" He reiterated, "Because our next game is home, and it's sort of packed, but I could get you some tickets assuming you don't have some already—"

"No—Peter," she let out a frustrated huff, tapping on her phone to momentarily pause the recording, "This is an interview, not social hour."

"Aren't interviews inherently social?" His smirk was infuriating.

"I mean that I ask the questions, you answer them," she grumbled, "Do you act like this with Eli? Are you not taking me serious because I'm a woman?"

"What?" His smirk fell immediately, "What? No—no. I'm taking you seriously, I take women very seriously. I'm all for women. They're great."

"Then can we just do this interview and get it over with?" She sighed, her finger hovering over the unpause button. He nodded, but before she could resume the interview, he quickly added: "But do you want tickets?"

Ignoring the question, she carried on. Peter seemed to mellow out after a while and didn't interrupt again. It was almost surprising how well he'd listened: he was giving her real, insightful answers to her questions without a hint of flirtation. The final interview with Zack flowed easily, and she fled Stark Memorial Rink as quick as she could.

Transcribing the interviews was the easiest part. Days later, she would be hunched over her computer in the darkness of her shared dorm, playing and replaying the recordings and typing out the words onto the screen. Her concentration was briefly interrupted, though, when the door opened and a stream of light threaded its way through the room and onto the back of her head.

"Light bad!" She slapped her hands over her eyes, "Light very bad!"

"You're gonna go blind if you keep staring at your computer in the dark," MJ spoke in a warning tone, but ultimately closed the door.

"Then blind I must go," she sighed, swiveling on her chair to look at her roommate, "How was class?"

"Normal," MJ shrugged, sliding her bag off her shoulders, "But I have a little something for you."

"Something for little ol' me?" She gasped in dramatized delight.

"Yes," MJ grinned widely as her hand reached for the zipper of her bag, "Close your eyes."

She obliged immediately, her nose scrunched in anticipation, "I hope it's a million dollars. Is it a million dollars? Am I close?"

"Almost," MJ giggled. After a moment of anticipation, MJ gently grabbed her hands and place something into them. It was thin and papery and rectangular. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a white envelope with 'Kitty' written out on the front. Her brows furrowed at the unfamiliar handwriting.

"Is there a check for a million dollars inside?" She asked as she cocked her head.

"No clue, it's not from me," MJ shrugged.

"Then who's it from?" Her fingers slid under the lip of the envelope.

"Harry gave it to me to give to you," MJ grinned, "He said it's from Peter."

She should've sailed to Greece when she had the chance. Inside the envelope were two tickets—Empire State University versus Pennbrook University this Saturday at seven. A long groan left her lips before she finally met MJ's eyes.

"You never got me that noose I asked for."

a/n — not sure how i’m feeling abt this one guys. hockey peter has been causing me brain rot tho so i couldn’t help myself.

[shecanball]

I remember last season when the WNBA started getting more recognition because of CC, Kamila Cardoso and Angel and how the amount of racism and discrimination basically took away from the love and purpose of the game. Would you mind sharing your thoughts on this? It made me sad to see Angel get the blame for it just because she likes to compete. So what if she's confident and likes to talk trash sometimes, it makes the game more fun. But I don't think it's right to target the Sky altogether

It just makes me so sad because I truly love this game and people who don't even watch games are using it to spread hate and push narratives. Angel definitely gets the most hate and I think it all stems from her pointing at her ring finger in the NCAA championship two years ago. Sadly because she's on the Sky they're gonna take all the hate they have for her and direct it toward the entire team. I feel like it's all misogynoir. Women's basketball can't just be basketball because anything having to do with women "needs" drama to be marketed and talked about. And like you said god forbid black women be confident and competitive. Even CC said in her Athlete of the Year interview, "the more we can elevate Black women, that’s going to be a beautiful thing." So these hateful people should stop trying to use her as their poster child because she's not like them.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Do I Look Like Her?

Fandom: Women’s Basketball (WNBA/NCAA)

POV: A’dahlia Bueckers- Paige Bueckers (OC Daughter)

Summary: A’dahlia Bueckers, navigates legacy, pressure, and identity while forging her own path—on and off the court.

Inspired by “Do I Look Like Him” by Tyler, The Creator

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom

She said that I make expressions like her.

My legs to my shoulders and my chin like her.

My waist and my posture like her.

But I’m not her.

I never had a dad. Never needed one either.

Mama always said I was made with love—and science.

IVF, a little planning, a little hope.

And two women who loved each other enough to raise someone like me.

And still—sometimes—I stare in the mirror and wonder:

“Do I look like her?”

The answer depends on the day.

When I was five, I liked watercolors more than sports.

At six, I was a menace on the monkey bars.

Seven? Softball. I quit after two games.

Eight? Soccer. I was too aggressive.

Nine? Volleyball. I liked the shoes more than the game. And maybe because mama, played it professionally.

But ten… ten was basketball. And that stuck.

I’d always watched Mom—Paige—on TV. Even the grainy high school tapes. Her passes, her footwork, the way her eyes scanned the floor like she saw the game in slow motion. It was mesmerizing.

But I didn’t start playing for her.

I started because it felt right. Like home.

By middle school, people already had something to say.

“She moves like Paige.”

“She has her jump shot.”

“She’s probably been training since diapers.”

Not entirely wrong. But they never mentioned Mama. Never asked if she taught me how to box out or scream for rebounds or ice after games. Never asked if Mama was the one who dried my tears when I missed open layups.

The spotlight was always angled at my mom.

The echo of her name louder than mine.

It got worse when film started circulating. Scouts clipped highlights. Blogs started making “Next Bueckers?” videos. Videos of side-by-side footage comparing my no-look passes to hers.

I watched one of those videos in my room late one night. The screen split down the middle: Mom in her UConn days on the left. Me on the right.

We both drove left, spun, step-backed, pulled up.

We both made the shot.

I should’ve felt proud.

Instead, I whispered:

“Mama, I’m chasing a ghost. I don’t know who she is.”

Mama came in holding a basket of folded laundry. She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at the paused video.

“She’s not a ghost,” Mama finally said. “She’s your mom. And you’re not chasing her—you’re learning from her. Big difference.”

“But everyone thinks I’m chasing her,” I muttered. “And sometimes I do too.”

She set the laundry down and sat beside me on the bed.

“I’ve never lied to you, baby. And I never will. But you need to believe me when I say: you are your own person. You came from both of us, but everything you’re building is yours. Not Paige’s. Not mine. Yours.”

The first time I cried after a post-game interview, I was sixteen.

I’d dropped 31 points, 8 assists, and 6 steals in a playoff game. We won by twenty. But the reporter smiled and asked me:

“So, what’s it like trying to fill your mom Paige’s shoes?”

I laughed at the time. Polite. Poised.

But the second I got home, I slammed the bedroom door.

“I’m not filling anyone’s shoes,” I said through tears when Paige came to check on me. “I’m wearing my own.”

Paige sat on the floor with me, her knees pulled to her chest.

“I know,” she said. “I know how hard it is when people don’t let you just be. I went through that too… I just had to prove myself as Paige. Not as someone’s daughter. But you—” she looked up at me, eyes soft, “you have to prove yourself as more than my daughter. And that’s a whole different fight.”

I wiped my nose with my sleeve.

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough unless I’m you.”

She pulled me into her lap.

“A’dahlia, I don’t want you to be me. I want you to be you. And for what it’s worth… I think you’re already better.”

I don’t think people realize what the last name Bueckers carries.

In airports. In gyms. On game day programs. It’s a crown and a curse.

A brand I never asked for, but one I refuse to run from.

Because somewhere deep down, I’m proud.

Proud that Paige Bueckers is my mom.

Proud that Mama believed in me when I didn’t.

Proud of the late nights, the tears, the drills, the ice baths.

So yeah, I started watching film again.

Not to compare—but to study.

I watched mom’s vision, her feel for tempo, her movement. I broke it down, built it back up, and mixed it with my style.

I’m stronger than she was. Faster in transition. More vocal on defense.

And I pass like her, sure. But I shoot like me.

Senior year came like a thunderstorm—loud, fast, and impossible to ignore.

Every school you could think of wanted me.

Stanford. LSU. South Carolina. Duke. UCLA. Oregon. UConn.

The hardest part? Nobody asked if I wanted them.

They just assumed UConn.

Assumed it was destiny.

Assumed I wanted to wear Paige’s number and relive her legacy.

But I didn’t tell anyone my answer.

Not mom-Paige.

Not Mama.

Not even myself—not until the night before Signing Day.

I was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, staring at the five hats on the table. I’d narrowed it down to UConn, Stanford, LSU, South Carolina, and Duke.

Mom walked in and paused.

“Need help?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Already decided.”

She sat beside me. “So why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I chuckled softly.

“Because maybe I have.”

She didn’t respond, just waited.

“I’ve spent so long asking myself if I look like you,” I said. “Not just my face, but… how I play. How I lead. How I move on the court. But what scares me most is that people won’t see me. Just… the ghost of Paige Bueckers.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look hurt. Just said gently:

“You gave me love and affection, attention, protection. I would never miss something I’ve never had.”

I looked at her, surprised.

“That’s the song I’ve been listening to.”

She nodded.

“I know. Mama played it the other night. She cried.”

I swallowed hard.

“I would never judge you,” I whispered. “Cause everything worked out. I mean it.”

A long silence passed.

“You’re not my shadow, A’dahlia,” Paige finally said. “You’re the sun. Bright as hell. Blinding sometimes. But always yours.”

I didn’t announce my decision until the cameras were rolling. Gym packed. Teammates buzzing. Five hats on the table.

I stared at them, hands steady, mind clear.

And I picked up the navy one with the silver letters:

UCONN.

Gasps. Cheers. A few people even stood up. The cameras snapped. Mama cried.

Then I saw mom bury her face in her hands.

And I smiled.

Not because I was following my mom.

But because I was writing the next chapter of my story.

That night, we sat on the back porch. Me, Paige, and Mama. Just us. Moonlight cutting across the yard, a breeze teasing the hem of my sweatpants.

“I didn’t choose UConn because of you,” I said quietly. “I chose it because it’s where I can become the player I want to be. The leader. The person.”

Paige leaned her head on my shoulder.

“Then you picked right.”

Mama nodded, voice thick with emotion.

“You’re everything we dreamed of,” she whispered. “And nothing we expected.”

I smiled through a sting of tears.

“I’m everything I strived to be,” I said. “So, tell me… do I look like her?”

They looked at each other.

“No,” Mama said.

“No,” mom echoed.

“You look like you.”

So maybe I make expressions like her.

Maybe I move like her.

Maybe our footwork is twins.

But I’m not her.

I’m A’dahlia Bueckers.

Made with love.

Built with fire.

And chasing no one but myself.

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                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[peachhcs]

multi-million university of michigan soccer complex with samy hughes (speical guest star: will smith!)

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy shows mike around the umich women's soccer complex with will tagging along (i figured we needed some happy content between the breakup angst, so here’s some happy content before the breakup happened :))

2.7k words

another little lost in the drafts blurb. this was entirely inspired from will's video where he showed the conte forum with mike. i think that's my favorite video, so i recreated it with samy showing off umich's. (i don't know actual numbers for the umich women's soccer team so i made some up oops) i've never really used gifs for the pictures, but wowow take a look at him HAHA

au masterlist

"alright everyone, this week i'm in the heart of michigan, the university of michigan in ann arbor. i'm here with a hughes legacy and also the youngest sibling, samy hughes," the brunette quickly waved at the camera with a smile. "just in her rookie season she's led the women's soccer team to the ncaa finals this past season and now she's here to give me and will smith a tour of the athletic complex," mike rounded off the intro and the camera panned into samy and will's faces. the two smiled.

"so, it's the first time i've had a young couple on before. i just interviewed you a few months back and now we're in michigan with your girlfriend," mike said to will and motioned to samy.

"yeah, thanks for having me back again on the channel," will chuckled.

"yeah, of course. i mean i was so excited when samy said she had time to do this with us and when i leaned you were in umich too i just had to get in on it. you guys have been like the talk of the internet for the past few months, so i'm excited to get my take in," mike laughed and so did samy and will.

"we have a bet going on who's gonna get more views on their video," samy said.

"oh really? who do you think is gonna win?" mike wondered.

"i said her because everyone always wants to know what she's doing," will chuckled.

"are you two really competitive with one another?" mike pointed between will and samy. the two exchanged a glance, shrugging.

"i mean..yeah kind of. sometimes we can get really competitive over the summer when we're playing street hockey or something," samy explained briefly.

"makes sense. so we're standing in the locker room, can we see your stall?" mike asked and samy nodded. she led the boys to her stall where her name was up on the outside door.

"wow, i like these doors. that's kind of fancy," mike said quickly opening and closing the door.

"yeah it's nice so like our stuff isn't out everywhere and it makes the room look more clean and put together so our stuff isn't everywhere," the brunette explained.

"so you're next to some of the older girls. shannon and carrie," mike read off the names on either side of samy's stall.

"yeah, it's nice having them next to me. they definitely spread out the freshman so we're by an older player and like can talk to them when we want."

"do they offer good advice?" mike raised his eyebrow.

"yeah, i'd say so. they treat us good." samy chuckled. the girl led the boys through the kitchen area and into the lounge.

"here's where we hang out a lot before games and sometimes on the weekends. we can watch tv, talk, play games, whatever."

"what do you think will? are these more comfier than the ones at bc?" mike asked and sat down in one of the chairs. will sat down, relaxing back into the cushions.

"they feel like the same to me?" will laughed.

"okay, same is good," mike nodded and stood back up.

"what's your favorite activity to do in here before games or on the weekends?" mike asked samy.

"probably just talking and getting to know everyone more. we like playing cards a lot," the girl chuckled.

"what kind of cards? poker? uno?"

"a lot of uno, sometimes we play bs," samy grinned.

"bs?"

"like bullshit?"

"i don't know if i've played that before.." mike scratched his head while samy and will's mouths dropped open in disbelief.

"you've never played bullshit before? you've had to," will exasperated.

"wait, explain it to me."

"it's like you have a certain amount of cards and you have to convince people you have however many cards of 1, 2s , aces, spades, whatever and if someone doesn't believe you they call bullshit," samy explained the game.

"oh, wait. that does sound familiar. maybe we don't call it bullshit where i'm from," mike laughed.

samy continued leading the boys through the facility. she showed them their gear room and recovery room where girls went to get treatment for something that was hurting.

"wow, here's a sign for you. 15 final fours. 5 national championships," mike nodded in approval.

"yeah, we walk by this sign going out to the field. it's great motivation for every game and i probably stand in front of it before every game just...you know taking it all in," samy nodded.

"that's pretty incredible. now it will be 16 final fours after this past season," mike nudged her shoulder making the brunette chuckle.

"it's definitely a really good achievement and something i'm very proud of for just being a freshman."

"i mean you should be proud. you basically led your team to the finals. that doesn't happen a lot. when you guys argue do you ever like bring up how many national titles your schools have to one up each other?" mike teased samy and will.

"not that we argue, but sometimes i bring up the fact that our hockey team has 9 national titles," samy laughed and will rolled his eyes.

"does that make you wanna get a national title to get closer to michigan?" mike also laughed.

"yeah, sometimes," everyone grinned while samy led the boys to the mini shooting room where girls could practice their goals.

"damn, this is nice," mike nodded.

"it's open pretty much all day. i mean if i can't sleep sometimes i come here and shoot goals to get my energy out," samy chuckled.

"really? i mean i would do if i had open access to something like this. do you have any superstitions before games?"

"yeah, i have a few. i've had a lot of them since high school, but i have to always wear the same pair of socks before every game. i need to eat exactly 2 apples and i have to always wear a braid in my hair," the girl chuckled.

"wow, those sound intense. have you ever forgotten to do one and it messed up the game?"

"one time in high school i only ate one apple and we lost the game by a point. i believed then that i needed to do all those things to lead us to victory," the three of them laughed.

"alright, i wanna do a quick 1v1 or 2v1 situation. loser runs the entire football field. i made will do this when i was with him in boston," mike said, eyes sliding towards the blonde.

"yeah, alright. let's go to 2 goals then," samy immediately agreed and picked a soccer ball out.

"you getting in this smitty?" mike asked the blonde standing to the side.

"i mean..i don't know. she's a good shooter, so..i'm not sure if i wanna run the entire football field," will laughed.

"oh, he sounds scared," mike looked at samy. the girl only shrugged.

"come on, get in here. it's two of us and a pretty small area.," mike urged will to get in. the blonde gave in and got in next to the older man.

they got into position to block samy's shots, but the girl was good. they could hardly keep up with the ball as she passed it through her feet and dodged will's advances to make her first goal.

"damn," mike said.

"i told you she was good," will said and mike waved him off. they set up again and samy went in from a different side. she managed a small hat trick and kicked the ball over their heads.

"wow, you are good," mike nodded.

"i mean she goes to a d1 school," will pointed out and samy chuckled.

"is this what happens every time she makes you play with her back home?" mike looked at will.

"yeah, pretty much. i can't ever get past her if we're on different teams," will admitted almost shyly.

"i mean you have to at least be better on the ice then?" mike wondered. will grimaced, looking at samy and slowly shaking his head.

"not..not always. maybe now because she hasn't played in awhile, but before..she had me," will said with a small blush.

"oh right, i forgot you dominated on the ice for a good sixteen years. you're just better at everything then," mike said and samy nodded.

"yeah, pretty much. my brothers taught me everything i needed to know on the ice. soccer was all me," the girl smiled.

"so tell me, what was your decision and commitment process? i mean..did growing up in ann arbor play a big role in that?" miked asked as the three walked back out into the hallway.

"yeah, pretty much. quinn and luke both came here and i really loved the campus because i was at every home game. it's also super close to home and i love the idea of being close to home and my parents. plus, knowing i was continuing my brothers' michigan legacy was really special to me and i wanted to follow in their footsteps because i look up to them a lot," samy explained.

"that's really special that you and your brothers have such a close bond. were they excited when they found out you were going to umich?"

"yeah, they definitely were. they showed up to my high school signing day and i had no idea they were coming so they found out i chose michigan there and that was a really special moment," samy nodded.

"there wasn't any way smitty could convince you to go to bc with him?" mike teased a little.

"i toured the campus with him and i mean, it was absolutely beautiful and i actually was torn between bc and umich for the longest time, but ultimately, michigan is always where my heart will be in the end."

samy led the boys into the workout room where they had training and lifting every morning.

"your trainer here is insane, i heard," mike commented and the girl nodded.

"yeah, he's one of the best. he's been with women's soccer for years and he knows how to push us the right amount to get us to our full potentials."

"alright, i wanna see you two do a pull-up contest. smitty, if you get more than her, you redeem us and we don't have to run the football field," mike proposed with samy and will exchanged a laugh.

"okay, deal. we see how many we can do in like 30 seconds?" the hockey player looked over at his girlfriend.

"yeah, sure," she chuckled.

the two grabbed onto the pull-up bars side by side and started their pull-ups. they made it look easy with how smoothly they went through each pull-up. mike had the timer going, making impressive faces at the camera at how easily samy and will did their pull-ups.

"okay, that's 30," mike stopped them.

"i did like 43," samy breathed out, hands on her hips.

"i got 47.," will said and pumped his fist in the air. the girl rolled her eyes as mike and will high five.

"looks like you're doing a football length sprint," will taunted and samy just shook her head.

"so, as we walk out to the field, i wanna know what got you two together because i know you grew up together and are childhood best friends," mike redirected the conversation.

"basically we just got our shit together and finally realized we have feelings for one another. i think we realized it at the draft this past summer and then at my draft party we had a bit of a..a confession," will explained.

"that's very classy. that awkward like..i think i like you thing," mike nodded with a laugh.

"it's funny because so many people knew we had feelings for one another before we even did. like a bunch of our friends and family always looked at us like: you're for real not together?" samy added.

"that's really funny. you guys are a really great pair i think and you bounce off one another really well. do you guys find it hard sometimes to navigate this new relationship being in different states?"

"it's been a little hard at times because we're so busy and don't get a lot of time to see one another. like..this is the first time we've seen each other probably since new years, but we're definitely making it work. it's easy because we already know one another so well so we know how we work and we skip the awkward phase," samy said and will nodded in agreement.

"wow, first time since new years? i guess that makes sense though because will's pretty busy with hockey," mike said and the two nodded.

"we call and text everyday so we're still talking. we try to facetime every night too and just debrief on our days and try to make it as normal as possible," will added.

"well, i know boston's looking good for a possible national title and you're looking really good for a national titles as well next season, so i hope when i talk to you guys again that will be true," mike said and the two grinned.

"yeah, let's hope so," samy chuckled.

the three made it out to the football field where they graciously turned the lights on for them.

"how about i do it with you and we see who can make it back the fastest," will offered.

"oh, look who's being a good boyfriend and not making his girlfriend run the field alone," mike chuckled.

"you're making these bets like you're gonna win," samy laughed.

"what does that mean?" will looked shocked.

"uh oh. don't tell me she beats you in sprints too."

"she's..she's pretty fast on the field. on the ice sometimes i beat her," will defended himself.

"alright, if you beat him and get under..let's say a minute, i'll give you a prize," mike told samy.

"easy. deal," she said and threw her sweatshirt off. will threw his hat off and rolled his sleeves up.

"on three okay?"

when mike said go, the two were off. samy already had a significant lead, proving that she was faster than will on the field. she started racing back down towards mike who showed the camera that they were at exactly 30 seconds.

samy came in first, high fiving mike's hand and then doubling her to catch her breath. will came in a few seconds later, also panting from how fast he ran.

"damn, that was..that was fast," the blonde panted.

"she's definitely got some speed on you," mike nodded and samy laughed.

"i told you. she's..she's fast," will chuckled.

"well, as promised, here is your prize. custom nike sneakers in michigan colors with your name across the side," mike presented his prize for samy.

"oh my god, that's awesome. thank you so much," the girl beamed, showing off the shoes to the camera.

"alright, i'm hungry. how do you guys feel about jersey mikes?" mike asked and the two nodded.

view all comments

user1 STOP RHEYRE SO CUTE OMG

user2 jesus samy's so good at scoring no wonder why she led the team to the ncaa finals

user3 LMAO WILL PANTING AFTER RACING SAMY ACROSS THE FOOTBALL FIELD

user4 god they're so in love it's so cute i love them sm

user5 literally the best d1 couple

user6 i understand why will is dating her. i'd fold so fast for her

user7 AWWW THEY LIKED EACH OTHER AT THE DRAFT???

user8 god big10 schools are insane. i get the hype now

user9 this girl has a big future ahead of her for sure. i see an ncaa title in her near future

user10 THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER WHEN SHES TALKING OH MY GOD I CANT DO THIS RIGHT NOW SJDJDJDJSJ

user11 will admitting how better she is at him in everything biggest green flag ever we love a man who gives his woman the credit she deserves

user12 god i just know if she stuck with hockey she'd be insane like her brothers but soccer's such a good fit for her too

user13 samy explains bs to mike is hilarious i can't

user14 they're so well spoken. i'm sure samy's learned from her brother's interviews

user15 golden retriever and golden retriever fr

user16 they KNEWW what they were doing putting will in this video too

user17 to be samy hughes ugh i can't anymore

user18 god they're both so lucky

user19 HELL YEAH WILL KNOWS HIS GF IS BETTER THAN HIM IN EVERY SPRINT AND ON THE ICE

user20 the fact that she's also a poli sci major and has a 4.0 is incredible to me like DAMN WILL he pulled a good one

[richarlotte]

New in the life?

One of my older friends is currently in some sort of flirtation with a major player, and I’ve been living for the gossip. None of it is particularly groundbreaking, but it is interesting, and I do think it’s worth reading. 

1. No OnlyFans, no Fansly, no FanFix, and no private Snapchat. The better the player, the more scrutiny is on the girlfriend, especially if he’s a good player at a good school. It’s the same with (most popular) players to an extent as well; your social media needs to be clean with nothing more than modeling photos, nothing that could be considered more than soft (bikini pics are okay, full lingerie shoots are not), and no other links. If you’re with someone who’s pulling in NIL, has sponsorships, or is going to go into the league, you can’t be a liability, and if you are, the team will shut it down immediately and make sure you get dumped.

2. These guys aren’t necessarily looking to get married, but they’re also more religious and a lot more controlling than you’d think. We have a friend who went from playing college basketball at a state school to the NBA; he makes just under $10 million (before taxes) every year, and we’ve always known him to be religious. It should be obvious by now what I’m going to say, but I’ll say it anyway: he and most of his younger teammates are players on the road, but they want to control the image of the girls they’re with publicly and use God and their potential to do that.

3. The bigger and better the team, the more they have to lose. These are players with millions of dollars attached to their names; these are men who sell merch and have fan groups, and there are people who have quite a bit of money tied up in the future of these men. The second you become a real issue, you’re going to be on your way out. You don’t mess with the money; you never mess with the money, and the only people who don’t understand that are people who know what it’s like to have money. You don’t mess with the contract, you don’t mess with the outcomes of games, and you do your best to fly under the radar of watchful eyes.

4. There are 100% handlers. Whenever she goes out on dates with him, they have to go to specific places, they have to be seen at certain events together, and they can’t do a lot of the activities you’d think they’d be able to do. He also has private accounts, he’s not allowed to post normally on his public social media, he’s not allowed to post with her, and he has to be careful about seeming devoted to the game. He’s under the impression (and probably has been told) that the big leagues will only want him if he’s unattached and completely devoted, so the man he makes himself out to be on social media and in interviews is very different than the man we’ve all met. He’s being told what to do by his coaches, their assistants, and by NCAA lawyers.

Again, nothing groundbreaking, but it’s interesting. I love seeing what goes on behind the scenes, and I think it’s fascinating to see the rules that the girls who are with the more popular players abide by in order to have a chance at any sort of situationship/relationship.