secretlifeofliyahh

[secretlifeofliyahh]

busy woman (unless you call tonight)

pairing: dallaswings!paige bueckers x corporate!fem!reader summary: you were a busy woman with color-coded spreadsheets and calendars– no time for feelings! until a missed connection at gate 18 starts haunting the corners of your mind, at least. contains/warnings: slow burn-ish, missed connections/chance encounter, very soft angst, mutual yearning, reunion, fluff. not proofread! let me know if i missed any warning! word count: 4.1k a/n (pls read): okay so i know i have tons of requests but i feel so uninspired to write them lately (i think im burnt out from writing besties) so i tried finding something that would inspire me to get my mojo back and ig here it is?? my peace offering to anonnies hahahaha im sorry T^T i hope this will do until my next request update!! now playing: Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter

This day could not get any worse.

Well, that’s what you’re hoping for at least. 

You’re currently slumped in an airport seat with the posture of someone who’s been awake for too long and is running on 6 cups of caffeine. The voice of the flight attendant crackles through the megaphone, and you brace yourself like it might to tell you something new, something you’re desperate to happen.

It doesn’t.

“...Flight 5001 to New York has been delayed again due to weather. We appreciate your patience…”

You shut the noise out after that. 

As a matter of fact, you don’t feel any bit of patience in your body. You feel like crying, smushing your face into your carry-on. 

Your phone is at 9%, and unfortunately for you, the powerbank in your bag is pretty much drained too. Your laptop is dead while your data’s running low, meaning you can’t finish the report due for tomorrow’s meeting. Even the overpriced granola bar you’ve packed is gone, eaten too early out of anxiety. What makes this worse is that you’re alone– your coworkers are on different flights, and as fate would have it, theirs didn’t get delayed.

You seriously wonder what on earth you did for you to deserve this. It’s not like you’re a bad person, and you’re a responsible citizen who doesn’t miss out on paying taxes and other fees. You CLAYGO, try to cut down on things that can harm the environment– you’re a model employee, for goodness’ sake! And yet, those who slack off don’t have it worse than you do. 

A frustrated huff leaves you again, and you push your head back against the cold metal seat. The ceiling lights are flickering above you like even the airport’s tired of trying too.

At this point, you’ve reread the same three emails on your phone over and over again because, well, they’re the only thing you can look at. You can’t scroll through social media since you’re data’s one reel away from disappearing on you, and there’s only so much people-watching you can do before the boredom returns to existential dread. 

“You look like you’re about to have a full breakdown any minute from now.”

The voice cuts through your internal spiral, light and amused.

You turn your head to the right and see the person, clad all over in gray clothing. Their legs are stretched out, the hood of their jacket pulled all the way over their head. You didn’t even notice them sitting beside you.

She glances at you from beneath the hood, and you see a small grin and unmistakable blue eyes. The face is slightly familiar, and you stare a second too long to be able to piece her identity together.

It’s Paige Bueckers.

You’re not big on sports– heck, you’re hardly updated with the competitions and leagues of the sport you play– but you’ve heard of her name once or twice from the media. You’re aware that she’s a basketball superstar, arguably one of the most famous players of her generation.

You have no time to fangirl over a celebrity you barely watched though, and you’re pretty much too irritated to ask for an autograph you’d probably regret not getting in the future. That’s why, before you could stop yourself, you’re already haughtily answering her, “That’s because I am.”

Paige Bueckers is silenced, obviously stunned with your tone. You expect her to call you out for it, and maybe even move seats, far away from you. But instead, she laughs after a minute of contemplation and scrutinizing you. 

“I get ya,” she says, grin widening now, like she’s even more amused with your attitude. “This is actually a cursed gate, Gate 18. Every time I fly through here, there’s a delay.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly, curious about her and how she responded. 

“Then why keep flying through here?”

She only shrugs. “I’m pretty stubborn.”

That makes you laugh, catching her and you yourself off-guard. The tension in your chest finally cracks just enough to let some air and relief through you. You lean back again, facing the ceiling. 

You can hear the thunder rumbling from a distance, but you’re focused on the surprisingly comfortable silence that has settled between the two of you.

Then, Paige leans over, offering her phone. You look at her inquisitively, and she asks you, “Is there anything you need? Like hotspot or music?” She gives you a small smile. “I promise I got good taste in music.”

You stare at her for a hot minute, then glance down at the phone. “...Hotspot and a powerbank would save my ass right now,” you mumble, almost embarrassed. “Only if it’s not gonna cost you much, though.”

Paige rummages through her own carry-on then hands you both a powerbank and her phone. She taps a few times then flips it so the screen with the QR code is facing you. “Knock yourself out. Unlimited everything.”

Your eyebrow jumps at that, but a smile is tugging the corners of your lips, pretty much entertained with this celebrity stranger. 

“Okay, flex.”

She only smirks at you as you take the powerbank and scan the code. “Perks of the job.”

Your phone is connected not too long after, and relief washes all over you. Notifications start rolling in again– all the emails, personal messages, and a few missed calls. You swipe them away and head straight to another application to continue editing your presentation. 

As silence settles back in, Paige takes another look at your direction, casual but as interested as a young kid peering into adult matters. “Big meeting soon?”

You let out a sigh and nod at her. “Yeah, tomorrow morning. Can’t miss it unless I wanna deal with a crapstorm and possibly a penalty from the boss.”

Paige whistles, the sound low. “Oof. That serious?”

“Yeah.” You put your phone down, realizing it’s kind of rude to not look at her while she’s talking to you. You twist your body towards her direction and fix your sitting posture, and finally see Paige face-to-face. 

Damn. She’s kinda cute.

“You good?” she asks, but there’s a lazy, playful grin on her face now, likely realizing how she shut you up with just the sight of her face.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “Yes, I’m good. And yes, it’s that serious. I head a big and crucial department in the company, and we’ve been prepping for this for months. It’s an important pitch to some people higher up the food chain, and if I’m not there– well, I don’t exactly trust all the others to know by heart, the way that I do.”

She nods slowly, and she’s speaking in a softer tone now, “This delay really can screw everything over.”

“Exactly.”

You let the weight of that hang in the air. It’s not even just the flight that’s messing with everything right now. This delay symbolizes many other things, from your efforts being wasted, to a system that’s seemingly rigged against you no matter how hard you work your ass off.

Paige stretches out her legs again. She’s resting her chin on her shoulder now as she’s watching you. “You talk about this like it’s life or death.”

You shrug, even if it’s hardly something to shrug about. “It kind of feels that way sometimes.” Then, after a pause, you add, “Damn. Saying that out loud makes me feel pathetic.”

She shakes her head immediately. “Nah, you’re not pathetic. You’re just… really entangled in it. Like, it’s your baby, or something… Am I making sense?”

You chuckle at her attempt. “Somehow.”

“What do you actually do, by the way?” she asks. “What’s your day-to-day?”

You try to explain with less jargon and give the condensed version of your monotonous life. You tell her about coming up with monthly strategies, describe your weekly deliverables, and tons of emails you have to respond to. You mention a funny anecdote about managing teams that does the job of making your harsh task sound light to an outsider.

Paige doesn’t look bored, so that maybe tells you being a storyteller isn't out of the box if you ever get fired after tomorrow. She’s listening closely, eyebrows slightly knitted in concentration as she tries to understand your foreign world.

When you finish, she simply says, “That sounds really exhausting.”

You huff. “‘Cos it is.”

She offers you a crooked smile. “You ever think about quitting and running away to sell fruit shakes somewhere in a beach, east of the country?”

“Every Friday, around four pm, maybe.”

Paige laughs, and it’s not a mocking one, just bright and understanding. “Let me guess: that’s when the fourth back-to-back meeting for the day finishes, and your soul finally leaves your body?”

“You do get it,” you quip with a smile.

She lets out another laugh. “Yeah, I do. I have media meetings, PR stuff, and brand sessions where they try to tell me who I’m supposed to be. Unfortunately, it’s not just playing games and putting on my favorite sneakers.”

You soften at that. 

You expected her to be some untouchable personality– someone who’d never understand why you’re barely holding it together after a flight delay. But Paige Bueckers is more than just any other celebrity, apparently. She’s here, in front of you, opening up enough to let you know how human she is as well.

She ends up opening Netflix on her iPad, to a comfort sitcom that you instantly recognize the moment the intro sequence plays. It’s been months since you last watched an episode, and you’re honestly grateful– it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Paige offers an earbud with an expectant look and waits for you to take it. And you do.

The show starts playing between you, and your slide deck is completely forgotten on the side. She shifts beside you, slumping more against the bench and stretching her legs out in front. You mirror the movement without realizing, and the two of you unknowingly look like a lazy couple, just waiting the storm out in a second-rate airport.

It’s easy, in a way that nothing else has been today.

At some point– after the second episode, maybe– she nudges a slightly squashed protein bar toward you, the wrapper half-opened. You take it without comment, breaking off a piece and chewing slowly. The taste is bland, but the kind gesture and your rumbling stomach sure make it tastier.

Time stops dragging momentarily. 

The storm outside still rumbles occasionally, but with how you are right now with this nice stranger, the sound has faded into the background minutes ago. Your phone is clutched loosely in your hand, and you’re supposed to be answering those emails or reviewing your personal script for tomorrow’s meeting. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your head falls ever so slightly as you watch the screen, and a slow ache begins forming behind your eyes. It doesn’t register until now how worn out you actually are. The next thing you know, you’re blinking slower than usual, your head dipping gently once in a while. 

You straighten yourself quickly, cheeks burning, when you catch yourself swaying more to your right, where she’s seated. “Sorry,” you mutter, suddenly too aware of how close the two of you have become.

Paige doesn’t flinch. She just gives you another amused smile. “You’re good,” she tells you, voice low. “You can sleep if you want.”

You shake your head in refusal. “Won’t be able to get up if I do.”

She hums softly in agreement, straightening in her seat now too. “I get that.”

Silence settles between the two of you again, but there’s something held in it, like the air is holding its breath for what’s next to come.

Then, the speakers above you crackles again, this time more harsh and intrusive than you last remember it being.

“Flight 5001 to New York is now boarding. Again, flight 5001 to New York is now boarding.”

The both of you flinch slightly at the announcement, pulled back into reality as if someone had yanked the curtain open on you. You two look at each other, not really saying anything else yet. You’re just unplugging the earbud and your cord from her powerbank, before handing them back. She takes it wordlessly as well, and your breath hitches at the very slight contact between your fingers.

It’s not much, nothing too electric, but you feel it anyway.

You then stand, adjust your coat and shoulder your bag. Paige stands too, slower, more relaxed. She stretches her arms over her head and lets them fall back to her sides with a soft exhale.

Then, you two pause, continuing to stare at each other as if that could convey everything you want to tell her, ask her, right now.

Paige’s gaze lands on your phone, like she’s considering asking for something– your number, your socials, anything.

But nothing is said. Nothing is asked.

She just gives you a soft, shy smile– the kind that makes something stir in your stomach wildly. You can only offer one in return.

Paige lifts her hand in a wave, and you do the same before stepping toward your gate.

There are no promises and no expectations between the two of you. There’s just the warm and content feeling of being in a safe bubble for a short moment, before going back to your fast-paced worlds.

As you walk away, you don’t look back, but you still think about her the whole way to your seat. And even when the plane lifts off and the city begins to shrink beneath you, the weight of her gaze follows you into the sky.

It’s been a some weeks since the incident at the airport.

It’s long enough so that the ache of a missed connection can dull to a certain point, but still not enough for you to forget about it entirely.

You didn’t expect to think about her after that flight, much less still be thinking about her until now, after a whole month has passed.

But you do. Not constantly– just in the quiet pockets of each day. Even when the world keeps moving, and your schedule is more packed than ever, you somehow have moments wherein your mind lingers in Paige-related scenarios and thoughts. 

You think about her when you’re driving to and from work and the local sports radio is on. She’s stuck in your brain as soon as anyone in the breakroom mentions basketball passing. When you’re alone in yet another hotel room, scrolling mindlessly through channels, you still end up at ESPN, watching some WNBA game that doesn’t have her team playing.

Your memory of Paige as your head almost rested on her shoulder is soft, almost out of focus, but you’re sure it happened. It’s real enough to you that sometimes, you still remember how her laugh sounded when you grumbled about your flight and the things going on at work.

But, oh well, life goes on.

Your inbox continues to be a mess, and your calendar is packed with meetings again. You pretty much slid back into your routine with ease, often pretending that the airport thing never happened. It makes things easier too, to just think of it as a strange blip in your very controlled and linear life. She was a passing moment, you just insist when your mind finds the image of her smile again.

But sometimes, when the nights are quiet and the hotel room feels cold and unfamiliar, you wonder… Does she ever think of you too? 

And in those moments, the ache returns– small, persistent, and harder to ignore.

You arrive in San Francisco with a full itinerary and no time to entertain anything else besides work.

The company you’re consulting for has flown you in with barely any breathing room. The moment you get to your hotel, you only have 30 minutes before you’re about to be thrown into back-to-back meetings, presentations, and dinners by your assistant. 

Once Day 2 finishes, your hotel room is more of a crash pad than a space for reflection and rest. 

“I hate this fucking job,” is all you can mutter under your breath once you exit the hotel and go to a nearby convenience store, hoping to find a fulfilling ready-to-eat meal. 

You don’t even notice at first.

You’re walking through the aisle, checking your phone with one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. There’s a familiar hum of white noise– your clacking heels, low conversation, ding of the bell above the store’s doors. Then, a voice– sharp, bright, and extremely familiar– cuts through that.

“Are you stalking me, or is this just fate again?”

You freeze.

When you glance up, you almost drop everything you’re holding. Right in front of you is Paige Bueckers, again, standing at the other end of the aisle. She’s wearing a simple t-shirt and sweats, and that same lopsided grin that lives so rent-free in your brain.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you breathe out, but your lips are already curling upward.

Paige starts walking towards you, arms slightly raised like she’s as surprised as you are.

“We’re playing against Golden State tomorrow. I figured you’d show up again somehow. You clearly have a thing for airports and cities I’m in.”

You scoff softly, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I’m here for work, genius. And I’m not stalking you!”

“Yet.”

You let out a laugh, a quiet and incredulous sound. Of all places, of all times, this is where you run into her again, but somehow, it feels just right– for you two to be standing in front of each other again.

Before you can say anything else, Paige tilts her head a little and asks, “You free tomorrow night? You should come to the game.”

You hesitate. If she just knew how much of a mess your schedule is: you have a report to finalize, hundreds of backlogged emails labeled with “[URGENT],” then there’s that client dinner to attend. Everything about your life right now screams ‘no’ to anything else besides work.

But… is this really the life you’d like to live? Paige Bueckers is literally here, with you, offering you to come watch her play. She’s looking at you like that rainy night at the airport, full of interest and anticipation.

“Seriously,” she follows up, “I can get you a ticket. Good seat. No pressure, but…” she shrugs, “it’d be cool to see you there at the sidelines.”

The part of you that’s usually so good at saying no folds.

“Okay,” you say, then blink, in disbelief that you had actually said that. 

You don’t know what you’re doing. You barely know here. But you also remember how you both easily slipped into a warm conversation. You remember how the silence between you that night was anything but comforting.

After some terrible acting through the phone about your stomach being botched, your assistant finally let you go with a warning and hung up to reschedule your meetings for the next day.

You show up to the game twenty minutes early, wearing your work clothes and a cap just in case the jumbotron catches your face and a coworker happens to be watching. 

You feel like a fish out of water, surrounded by fans in jerseys and sneakers, incredibly knowledgeable about the players and their sport. Some have their own foam fingers, and others are holding handmade signs. The energy in the arena is incredibly exhilarating that even a non-sports fan like you can’t help but clap and cheer at the athletes doing their warm ups.

You sink into your seat, hands curled around a cup of overpriced soda, your large tote bag wedged awkwardly between your feet. 

You didn’t expect that Paige would get you courtside seats. You weren’t even entirely sure where Paige said she’d leave the ticket until a hotel staff delivered it himself right at your doorstep. 

Now, here you are, pretending to be someone who knows what the stats the courtside reporters are currently talking about mean. You truly tried to listen and understand so that you’d at least have an idea, going into the game, but after a solid three-minute time period, you’re now just mindlessly watching the people in the arena while counting the minutes until the game starts.

Then, you see Paige.

She’s at the far end of the court with the rest of the Dallas Wings during pregame drills, with her hair tied up, jersey slightly untucked. Focus is etched across her face like any other athlete on the court, but when her eyes scan the stands and land on you, she breaks out of it.

She doesn’t wave or call attention to herself. She only gives you the briefest nod, and a small, almost imperceptible smile. It makes you feel like you two are in on something no one else knows, and it immediately disarms you.

The game starts with a burst of movement and noise soon after, and before you can fully process that small exchange, the crowd roars to life. The arena transforms into something even more electric than it already was during the warmups.

You don’t expect to enjoy the game as much as you do– honestly, you thought you’d be zoning out after the first quarter and politely check emails from under the seat. But truly, it’s impossible not to get swept up in the energy and the rhythm of it all.

You cheer when the crowd cheers. You gasp when someone lands what you assume is a hard foul. You flinch when Paige hits the floor once, then find yourself watching her more than any other player on the court.

It’s only then you realize for yourself that Paige is a damn good player. Even if you’re no analyst, you can easily tell that she’s quicker on her feet than the rest, and the gears in her head are always turning for possible plays to call out. She makes it look effortless, and now that you’re watching her, something loosens in your chest. 

It’s refreshing to be in another kind of chaos– a refreshing one. You don’t appreciate until now how much you needed to be out of consecutive in-person and Zoom meetings, tight schedules, and endless tasks to accomplish. That, once in a while, being immersed in the thrill of a game and the hum of a crowd, can make all the difference.

By the time the buzzer sounds and the Wings seal their win, your throat is actually sore from yelling, and you’ve completely forgotten about your emails.

As the team huddles at the sides and fans slowly file out, a man in a dark t-shirt approaches you. He doesn’t look like security, but definitely someone official.

“Miss y/n?” he greets politely, glancing at your lanyard. “Miss Paige Bueckers asked if you could come with me.”

You blink a couple of times, unsure if you heard it right, but you follow the man anyway.

He guides you down a corridor behind the bleachers, through a maze of side doors and restricted access signs, until finally, you’re waiting in a private lounge. 

As you wait alone on the couch, there’s an itch at the back of your mind that tells you to check your phone and see what your tomorrow looks like. It tells you to respond to that calendar reminder you snoozed earlier, but you don’t. Instead, you wait in silence, subconsciously expecting in excitement.

Paige steps out after several more minutes of waiting, towel slung over her shoulders and hair still damp from a shower. Your breath catches the way it did back in the airport, when you had your first good look at her.

“Hi,” she says, eyes lighting up in a way that feels impossibly familiar, like no time has passed at all. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You smile back, trying to ignore how fast your pulse is racing right now. “You said you’d get me a ticket. Kinda rude not to show up.”

Paige laughs, the same soft and warm laugh that has your stomach churning with butterflies. 

“Fair,” she replies, grinning widely now.

There’s a moment, one that’s long enough for something to stretch between you again, one like back at the airport. You still don’t really know her, not the way people normally get to know each other, but you know– you feel– the connection is here, stubborn and real.

“So,” she begins, glancing at the hallway behind her like there’s a question she’s debating. “I was thinking… If you’re free, maybe we could grab some dinner? Or lunch out tomorrow? Just us… to, y’know, actually talk more.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something responsible– something about an early morning meeting or missed deliverable– but it never makes it past your lips. 

Because if Paige Bueckers wants to be penciled into your calendar, you’ll move things around.

You’re a busy woman, unless she calls you tonight.

images except the dividers belong to respective creators; found in pinterest. links: https://pin.it/32YJOmUAL; https://pin.it/4pWvwbvb0; https://pin.it/2lvozRh5b.

[secretlifeofliyahh]

FLATLINE

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, angst, one kiss

↳ side note: paige comes home and sees you

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 paige bueckers x fem!reader (angst | one kiss | gxg | very long)

You weren’t supposed to see her.

Not again. Not here. Not in Minnesota. Not after she left you standing in the damn hallway of Hopkins High with nothing but a shaky breath, wet cheeks, and a heart that hadn’t stopped flatlining since the day she boarded that plane to Connecticut.

But here she was.

Back in the place she once called home. Back where it all started. Back in the grocery store parking lot at 7:47pm on a Thursday like her presence wouldn’t rip something raw and unresolved open in your chest.

She saw you before you could duck your head.

“Y/N?”

Her voice was exactly the same — soft, lilting, just enough rasp to remind you of summer nights on your porch when she'd read you poetry with a flashlight under her chin and pretend it was Shakespeare.

You froze.

Not from fear. Not from surprise.

From anger.

“You really came back?” you said, teeth clenched.

She blinked, already defensive. “I mean… it’s home.”

You laughed once. Bitter. “Oh, now it’s home.”

She flinched.

Because she knew.

She knew what she did. She knew what she left behind.

You.

She texts you later.

“can we talk?”

You leave her on read.

She tries again the next day. Then the next. Until finally, it’s Saturday night and your chest feels too heavy with everything you’ve never said, and she sends you a final one:

“i’m outside.”

You look out the window. She’s in that same gray hoodie she used to wear after practice, leaning against her car like she doesn’t know you’ve dreamed of yelling at her for years.

You walk outside.

You don't say a word.

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye,” she mumbles before you can open your mouth. “So I didn’t.”

You squint at her through the porch light.

“And you think that’s an excuse?”

“No,” she admits. “But I was seventeen. I thought if I left fast enough, it’d hurt less.”

“For who?”

That lands.

She shifts her weight. Looks down at her shoes. “You,” she says, almost like a whisper. “Me. Both of us.”

“You didn’t just leave, Paige. You disappeared. I had to find out from your mom that you were gone. You kissed me the night before and said you’d call, and then I never heard from you again. You acted like we—like I—meant nothing.”

“You meant everything,” she says immediately.

You scoff. “Yeah. Sure. That’s why you couldn’t even text back once.”

“I didn’t know how to deal with it. You were the one person who made this place feel like more than just a stepping stone. And I needed to leave. For me. For my career. But if I stayed for you, I knew I’d never go.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that?”

“I was a coward.”

The words hang in the night.

“I thought about you every day,” she continues, slower. “In dorm rooms. After games. On the court. I looked for you in every crowd like maybe you’d show up and scream at me or something.”

You finally look at her fully, throat dry. “And what would you have done if I had?”

“I would’ve deserved it.”

The porch light flickers. She’s standing so close now you can smell that same vanilla body wash she used to steal from your shower. You hate how much of her you remember.

“I didn’t just lose my girlfriend,” you say, voice cracking. “I lost my best friend.”

“I know,” she whispers. “And I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me—at least not how I was back then.”

You laugh bitterly. “Then why are you here now?”

She swallows. “Because I never stopped loving you.”

The silence after that is so loud it could break the moon.

You breathe, just once, before speaking.

“You don’t get to come back and say that like it’s supposed to fix everything.”

“I know.”

You take a shaky step toward her. Then another. And then you’re right there, close enough to see the shimmer of guilt in her eyes.

“I don’t forgive you,” you say.

She nods.

“But I missed you,” you add, a whisper.

“I missed you more.”

And then, you don’t know who moves first—but her hand is on your cheek and your fingers are in her hoodie and she kisses you like nothing’s ever changed, like time is a liar, like seventeen didn’t shatter everything you ever had.

Just one kiss.

One breath between two broken girls who never got their goodbye.

And maybe this isn’t a beginning. Maybe it’s not even a second chance.

But it’s something.

And for now, that’s enough.

END.

TAGLIST @2prettyyjayahhh , @24hrssofnea , @americasfavoritelesbian , @archivessofkassidee

[secretlifeofliyahh]

Ok so we saw reader being down bad for the team but what about the team being down bad for reader

UConn x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Where the Hell Is She?

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:Reader’s always around. Always clinging to someone, stretched out across a teammate’s lap, braiding hair during film. But today? She’s gone.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:Team angst, soft yearning, fluff, a little chaotic love

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Mild language, thirsting teammates, clingy team dynamic, sapphic tension

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.5k

ᴠɪʙᴇ:“Why does the gym feel cold?” / “It smells like her hoodie.” / “I literally can’t stretch without her sitting on me.” / “Tell her to come back I’m gonna freak out.”

It starts small.

KK walks into the gym and looks around like someone forgot to turn the lights on. She blinks twice, turns to Ice, and whispers, “It’s quiet.”

Too quiet.

No one’s sitting on the benches singing old Beyoncé. No one’s draped across a pile of duffel bags pretending they’re royalty. No one’s running up behind Nika just to jump on her back like it’s a routine.

She’s gone. And the silence is loud.

“Where is she?” Caroline asks mid-stretch, glancing at the locker room door like reader might come bursting through late—dramatic, loud, laughing, holding a smoothie for someone that isn’t even hers.

Coach Geno shrugs like it’s casual.

“She’s got class until 5. Some labs and meetings. Told her to take the day off.”

The gym deflates.

“The whole day?” Aaliyah asks.

Bri mutters, “I don’t like that.”

They try to focus, really—they do. But it’s hard when no one’s offering to braid your hair. Or fix your sock. Or call you “baby” in front of Coach just to stir the pot.

There’s no lap to sit in. No random back hugs. No unnecessary piggyback rides.

She’s gone. And the whole team is touch-deprived like it’s withdrawal. KK sits on the floor during water break and just stares at her empty spot on the bench.

“She always sits there,” she says to no one.

“She eats my snacks there,” Ashlynn adds.

“She eats my snacks too,” Bri chimes in.

“She eats everybody’s snacks,” Paige says. “Why is that making me sad?”

Nika’s staring at the group chat like she can summon her through sheer willpower.

🧿: u left me here w these sad losers

🧿: is this punishment?

🧿: i’ll be good. come home.

You react to the message. A heart. That’s it. No paragraph. No voice memo. Just vibes.

Aaliyah leans her head on Paige’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna scrimmage without her.”

“Shut up and guard me,” Paige says.

But she doesn’t mean it. No one means anything today.

They run plays half-heartedly. They don’t even bicker over who gets aux. Ashlynn’s hoodie still smells like reader’s perfume and she won’t take it off even though she’s sweating.

“It’s like a hug,” she says softly. “Shut up, let me have this.”

By hour two, Caroline’s literally lying on the court mid-drill, muttering, “I miss her. I miss her so bad.”

“She was just here yesterday,” Ice groans.

“That’s not enough.”

Then comes the breakdown. Group chat chaos.

🇭🇷: she didn’t kiss my forehead yesterday i just realized

🧊: y’all think she loves us still or she moved on

HEY ARNOLDS: i’m calling her

Coraline🗝️: DO NOT CALL HER SHE SAID SHE’S IN CLASS

🪣: does she remember us 😞

🇭🇷: i need her to bite me or something. like fr. knock my chakras back into place

HEY ARNOLDS: don’t talk to me unless you smell like her hoodie rn

They practice like ghosts. Geno yells. Nobody moves fast. Nobody dives for rebounds. The ball slips out of hands like reader’s not there to clap and say, “You got it, baby. Run that back.”

KK lays on the court and mutters, “I can’t stretch without her sitting on me. I literally can’t. This is physical pain.”

It is. And then? Finally?

She sends a pic. In class. Pretty as hell. Whiteboard in the background, notes half-written, lip gloss popping. Peace sign.

“Y’all good?”

“Y’all miss me or sum?”

Paige throws her phone across the gym. “SHE KNOWS.”

She knows how bad they’ve got it. She knows they’re a mess. And she loves it.

She walks in like nothing. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair messy from the wind and a protein bar in her mouth.

It’s late—almost 9PM—but the whole team’s crammed into Nika, Jana, and Paige’s dorm like they don’t all have their own beds. Blankets on the floor, snacks everywhere, some random rom-com playing low on the TV.

The door opens. She steps in.

And for two whole seconds, no one moves. Just…staring.

She looks up, chewing slow.

“Hey,” she says, voice casual.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD—”

“WHERE WERE YOU—”

“DID YOU EAT TODAY—”

“COME HERE—”

“NO GIVE ME A HUG FIRST—”

KK tackles her first, arms around her waist, face in her hoodie. “Don’t ever do that again. You understand me? Don’t ever go that long without touch. I was hallucinating.”

Ashlynn grabs her hand like it’s her emotional support rope. Aaliyah’s rubbing her arm like she’s real and not a ghost.

Paige literally just sits on the arm of the couch and stares.

Her? She just walks further in, like none of it’s crazy. Pulls off her bag. Kicks off her slides. Pops open a Tupperware of leftover pasta and starts eating, one forkful at a time.

“Mmm. Y’all watching 27 Dresses?”

Like half the team isn’t circling her like vultures in love. Nika throws a blanket over her lap and immediately curls up under it, head on her thigh. Jana leans into her other side like it’s a race to absorb the most skin-to-skin.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just keeps eating. Pauses only to press a kiss to Nika’s hair like it’s routine.

“You miss me or something?” she asks, licking pasta off her fork.

“You think you’re funny,” Paige mutters, but she’s sitting a little closer now, pink in the cheeks, like she’d rather die than admit how feral she was today.

She smirks. “Y’all so dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic,” KK says. “We were starving. Emotionally. Physically. Tactically.”

“She’s literally our team love language,” Bri mutters, stealing a bite of pasta from her bowl like it’ll bring peace.

The night goes on and not a single part of her body is untouched. There’s a hand on her ankle. Someone’s fingers tracing her knuckles. Her shoulder’s being used as a pillow. Her lap is fully occupied.

And still—she just eats. Calm. Totally unbothered.

Until finally, she speaks, soft and smug.

“Y’all weird when I’m not around.”

KK nods, eyes closed, head on her chest.

“And we’re not apologizing.”

[secretlifeofliyahh]

𝐊𝐊 𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐗 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

𝐬𝐲���𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. the title..? duh 😭

📝: first time writing for a uconn/wbb girlie😘 love me some kk so enjoy!

── she definitely gets super hyped because of how many people follow you 😭😭

── she LOVES showing you off on live

• kk is on her live with paige and ice in her room, and she sees you come into the room and she waves you over with a smile.

“Baby come here!” She says, smiling.

You walk over and she grabs you by the hips and pulls you over infront of the camera. She looks at you for a moment then looks back to the camera.

“Everybody look who just walked in the room.”

The fans flood the comments saying “ohhh” , “👀” , “she bad af!” ,“who tf is that ?? 😍” ,”She fine as hell”, “KK GOT A GIRL!? SINCE WHEN???”

kk grins knowing they commenting on you and she looks at you.

── calls you ‘baby’ or ‘mama’ on lives to get fans reactions (oh the edits will be rolling in😭)

── she will be playful and blushing hard when asked about you in interviews

── WILL go off on people who disrespects or talk bad about you on live

• “girl boo, nobody cares what you think about my girlfriend” she says with the most sassiest attitude

── always want you in her room when you come over

── loves being on your streams, lives or videos

── borrows some of your jewelry

── I can definitely see her smacking your butt on live 😭😭

── DEFINITELY DEFINITELY DEFINITELY will do random tiktok dances to get your attention 🤦🏽‍♀️

── she'd absolutely LOVE hyping you up every time you create content, so she'd always be your hype woman for your videos (paige, azzi, ice, etc will be your hype women also 🤍)

── she will ask for pictures and videos of you everyday to post

── will ask paige and them to take pictures of you two (be like 20 pictures in the camera roll 😭😭)

── sometimes kk watches you do your makeup, even though doesn’t even knows what half the makeup is, she just watches you do it anyway 😭😭

── overall just LOVES YOU

©solefae.

[secretlifeofliyahh]

goofy!kk arnold x goofy!reader hc

- ok first off you guys are always making stupid ass tiktoks. one of you guys are always asking eachother other to do one with another.

- “baby we should do this tiktok right now” kk said basically shoving the phone in your face. i imagine it being something like this and she’d be hella handsy with it too,or even that trend when you recreate poses LMFAO.

- speaking of tiktok its too many tiktoks of you guys dancing, best hype man ever. this girl is practically screaming “aye” when you start dancing.

- “AYEE, period baby keep going!!”

- don’t get me started on when she start doin her “bow bow bow” dance, you’d be right behind her doing some crazy shit too. and the team would not beat amused.

- “oh my gosh, they at it again” ice sighed, shaking her at yall bs.

- y’all definitely did the “grabbin on my shirt trend” kk would be a little confused at first then start turning up with you.

- “bae what the hell-”and this girl just immediately get hype.

- whenever kk is on live, you right there on live with her. even if you doing something else she always finding a way to put you in it.

-“okay yall so my girlfriend finna show yall how to..” kk said doing her lil smacking noise, and you go right along with her.

-“boom you gotta add a little bit of powder and not much or it’s gonna look pale and cakey” you explained giving the live a makeup tutorial. while kk smiling on side admiring you.

- and if you’re not doing that you just end up singing for them, kk encouraging u in the background.

- “ou yall my baby ate it up”.

- the team forever on look out when you two are out together, y’all somehow find a way to get into something.

- “wheres kk and y/n ??”

• and y’all just pop out of nowhere with the most ridiculous and random ass hat or coat on.

- to finish it off, you guys are always taking silly ass pics together and post them on your page.

• i get vibes that y’all would post something like this or kk would post evil 0.5s of you.

- and everyone just eats it up and loves and adores yall relationship.

❦.

kk is literally my baby, and my twin.

hope yall enjoyed. PLEASE give feedback !

mwah.