#I was starved for wlw stuff

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

Korrasami bc I haven’t posted them yet and international lesbian day was this week

[idkhowtopickausername]

Maybe I should get into shipping Mikoto/Kushina (don’t know what the ship name is) 🤔

[uchinagai]

The rhythm of winter - karina

𝜗𝜚 idol!Karina x figure skater!reader

𝜗𝜚 synopsis : y/n,  one of the biggest names in figure skating and Karina, also a big name in the K-pop industry. None expected these two worlds to collide, even if y/n secretly enjoyed their music, but all it took was 2024 winter Olympics that was hosted in south Korea to make the idol fall in love with the girl.

𝜗𝜚 contains : idol! Karina, figure skater!reader, fem!reader, wlw, mentions of ED, starving, overworking, cursing, bad mental health, strangers to lovers, the reader is 20, angsty but not really, mostly written in 3rd person view, kind of rushed in the end??

𝜗𝜚 w/k : 4.6k+

𝜗𝜚 a/n : english is not my first OR second language so please, ignore anything incorrect. this story is heavily inspired by Alexandra Trusova's 2022 Beijing but then just changed up. first time writing something this big so if spotted any mistakes please ignore them.. some Olympic events are changed for the plot and stuff. . Check out moodboards for a better idea of the vibes they bring to the function hehe… enjoyyyyy :3

Y/n moodboard || Karina moodboard

y/n, a top tier figure in skating known for her dark yet captivating aura. Some may even call her Yuzuru Hanyu's girl version in skating, she was that good. But the girl was mysterious, she had a lot of friends in the industry, Yuzu himself, Anna Scherbakova, Mao Shimada and so many others, but she was reserved from the public eye. Nobody knew her but also everyone did because she still made headlines. It was either about her dark fashion sense, skills, interviews, she was everywhere and was known as “South Korea's pride” that was till the 2022 Beijing incident.

She was promised, she was encouraged, she starved herself for this. She needed that gold medal like breathing, but no. everyone lied to her, including her coach, whom she trusted with everything. She got second, which in her world was losing: “winning is first place, everything else is losing.” She was mad at everyone and everything, they PROMISED her. She needed to land that god sake five quads that no woman has ever landed in history and she did it. She had to stop eating, lose weight, train unrealistically to achieve it yet it was not enough. When she finished her routine she was happy, she landed something no woman has ever done at age of 18 but her own friend, Anna, beat her to it. She was crushed, devastated, to say the least. She cried her heart out, cursing everyone who tried to get near her, her makeup was ruined but she could care less. She was so mad that getting near her was the same as stepping into a minefield—dangerous and potentially explosive. She pushed her own friend away. Was it slightly silly to end your friendship of 8 years over skating? Maybe. Did she care at all? No. This sport is her life and if someone ruins her perfect life, she gets rid of them. She blamed Anna, her coach, judges, everyone. In the changing room she lost it officially to her coach, she kept throwing skates at her cursing her out while the coach just dodged the, tried talking her out but y/n was never gonna have it. When she got back on stage for the awarding she had a mask on, yet it was obvious how shattered the girl was. In the interview said the lines that would change her career:

“I'm never stepping on ice again, I hate it.”

Who was she lying to? Of course she would make a big comeback for the 2024 olympics. She laughed at anyone who thought she was actually going and could freely compete without being threatened by her skills. She took private training in those two years while also working on her mental health away from the public eye, something she was expert in. In two years she also got into her home country's pop music.  K-pop was all over so she gave it a chance and discovered a few groups she enjoyed music of. She loved girl groups. Some of the groups didn’t match her usual aura but yet she enjoyed Girls generation, Red Velvet, (G)I-DLE, Newjeans, Kiss of life, Aespa., she loved the girls. But she had a goal to achieve in her home country: get the gold that was once stolen from her.

Karina, leader and main dancer of girl group Aespa, one of the biggest names in K-pop industry. Everyone was losing their mind over the girl. She looked unreal since her debut and earned the title of “human ai” along. She was pretty, talented and sweet and loved making friends in and out of the industry. She loved her job and the spotlight even more, so when her group got invited to the 2024 Winter Olympics as special guests, she was absolutely ecstatic, buzzing with excitement at the thought of being in the center of attention with cameras and she would also get to enjoy such shows as olympics live. Aespa opened the ceremony with their title track Armageddon and it was time for countries to come out. First was traditionally Greece to open and when it finally came to their country, South Korea, Karina fixed her posture to watch her home country athletes enter. They seemed so cool, Karina thought but a black haired girl seemed to draw her in. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her. Maybe it was the look she gave to everyone, how reserved she seemed, but the girl was for sure interesting. She was wearing a basic white jacket as other athletes walked down while waving their country flag, the girl walked behind, looking around confidently with a small smirk that was till she looked to the side…. Russia.  Her once best friend, Anna, had to be there. Not like she wasn’t expecting her but seeing her was… a painful reminder of everything she had lost and everything she was determined to reclaim. Anna already knew the girl was there, she felt sad watching her from afar knowing nothing was changing between them. On the other hand, Aespa girls sat at a special spot, watching them. Karina couldn’t feel the tension between athletes but her focus never left the girl.

As they walked down and finished everything, she turned to her manager.

“Who was that girl, in the back, looking all scary?”

“You mean y/n l/n? She's figure skater”

“I'm shocked that she actually made the comeback…” said Ningning, shocked in a low whisper..

“Why is that?” Karina questioned.

“You don’t watch the Olympics at all, do you?” winter said, causing girls to laugh while the leader just sulked.

“Long story short, at Beijing 2022 she went crazy… absolutely lost her mind over winning second place.”

“Why? Second place is very good” Karina said.

“That's y/n for you. Her famous quote is “Winning is the first place, everything else is losing.” plus she did something no woman athlete has ever achieved at the age of 18.” Ningning explained as Karina realized just how serious the younger girl was.

The actual tournament was planned a few days later since there were other sports but instead of training, y/n was stuck with government officials of Korea and a bunch of chaebol kids ripping her ear off while talking. She had no interest in being here, she needed to train but couldn’t decline the offer since other athletes were going too and it was hosted by officials. So here she was, standing in front of the table with red wine in her hand. From afar it looked like a vampire had sneaked in, y/n is pale, tall, slender with deep black hair and bloody red lips. Her outfit wasn't anything big either, a black dress tight around her figure, a big puffer chrome hearts jacket, and big boots adding a few inches to her height even if she was tall without them. Her makeup wasn’t anything special either, not like her usual dark concept, it was light but she balanced it with “Kro 02” from Gentle Monster (sorry I really had to specify). Party was… boring to say the least. It was more like money talks between the rich, while athletes and singers were present for formal purposes.

Right, talking about singers.

y/n saw a few familiar faces that she saw on TV which made her slightly excited but had about zero courage to walk up to them. She was too tired of humans in general even if she hasn't seen the public eye for 2 whole years. y/n was shocked seeing how almost flawless these idols were: perfect posture, always collected face and easily socialized with everyone. They had no problem with walking up to any chaebol old or young and starting a flowing conversation. What were they even talking about? God knows. 

That was till y/n spotted her so called ‘bias’ from Aespa standing away from party, observing and seemed like she was just as bored with everything happening in front of her.

They locked eyes.

y/n just locked eyes with the Karina of Aespa.

She felt slightly intimidated by her gaze, that was still the girl's face softened and sent her a small smile which made y/ns heart flutter…  just a little.

None of them dared to step forward first even though Karina felt drawn to the younger one and without her knowledge the feeling was very much the same.

y/n considered Aespa, especially Karina, one of the best groups in their generation. SM for sure knew how to pick visuals AND talent at once because the girl across the table was everything. She was the prettiest girl y/n has ever seen on camera and in real life, the camera does no justice to her beautiful face. Sharp jawline, a smooth nose, and a perfectly shaped nose with amazing facial harmony, the girl was breathtaking. And talent? She had everything an idol needed, she was the main dancer for a reason, her movements were clean and sharp, her vocals were unmatched and the girl could even rap if she wanted to. She was sweet and playful with her fans too. 

She was perfect.

y/n wanted to be as perfect in her job as the older one. Even if they had different professions, y/n looked up to her idol due to her determination and hard work. She knew being an idol was no easy job at all and they trained just as hard. They had a huge hate train too and one scandal could ruin their whole career,

which was new to y/n even if she caused the scene of 2022 in Beijing. She had a huge fanbase who supported her and understood her pain of losing. She was more than grateful but she knew it wasn’t the same for them; they were criticized for everything so it was normal for them to get criticized for even looking at the opposite gender, which was so silly to y/n. So what if she looked at another guy? Doesn’t that mean they’re in love with each other; she was friends with so many opposite-gender figure skaters due to projects or introductions from friends. She could never see them more than a friend and colleague.

While y/n got so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice one of her childhood friends, who was one of the only chaebol kids she could stand, approach her with the black-haired girl next to him.

“Yo, y/nnie.’ 

Pause

“y/n, I call your ass back to this universe!” he says, as he nudges her side to snap her out of her clouds.

“What?”

As she freezes. Karina was next to him, standing there looking right at her. The gaze was alluring, like it was serenading y/n into her; or she was just reading into it deeply before speaking up.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, y/nnie,” she says as she reaches out her hand for y/n to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Karina, was it?” she says as she shakes her hand slightly awkwardly due to y/n being starstruck by the girl's beauty up close.

While y/n was star-struck, Karina was no better; it was like the girl wrecked her whole orbit to bits and was having a hard time staying nonchalant about this small interaction.

“You two finally met. I think y’all know each other from TV a least so I thought u guys would get along. I present Jimin to you, y/n” Jaewon says and whispers into Karina's ear “She’s not very social” which Y/n hears right away giving an offended look.

“That’s not true”

“It is”

“Is not !!”

“Anyways!! I leave you two to it” he says as he grabs a champagne and leaves the girls alone, standing awkwardly. That was till Karina just burst out laughing which caused y/n to tilt her head in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“No- no it's just that it was so silent and awkward I couldn’t help but laugh.”

“Oh right,” y/n says and chuckles awkwardly.

“Well im Karina, of Aespa, I don’t know if you know much about us, but yeah”

“I’ve heard a few thing or two. I'm bae y/n, the figure skater”

“I did my research about you before I came over here, you’re quite interesting”

Oh, that means she probably knows about Beijing…

“Oh really? What did you learn?”

“Well that first, you’re the ‘quad’ queen, seriously those 5 quads were amazing, how long did it take you??”

She knows.

“Quite a lot it was one hell of a deal too,” y/n says as she giggles and and takes a sip from her wine.

If Karina ever had a chance to re-hear the girl's giggles she would give anything, literally. It was so smooth and angelic that it made her want to become more of a funny person so she could get to hear the girl's laughter more.

“How’s the idol life? I don't really know much” a lie. y/n knew everything that was related to Aespa, she followed the fansites of each member and kept up with them WHILE training.

“Nothing exciting, we just had a comeback, if you watched the performance, scandals there, brand deals here, and it a little messy but we managed it!!” says Karina excited “We are a group of four, I'm the leader, ningning, Giselle, and winter”

“Winter? As in season??” y/n jokes as she chuckles. 

‘Yes!! But she’s not cold or anything, she’s the sweetest, it's her stage name. Her actual name is Minjeong, I'm Jimin, ningning is Ning Yizhuo, and Giselle is Aeri.”

“Oh so that’s why Jaewon called you Jimin,’ y/n says as she starts laughing “-also, ningnings name is so pretty, is she Chinese?”

“Yeah she's from Harbin”

“Oh, the cold queen? We would get along, all the ice made me immune to cold”

“What are your plans for this Olympics?”

“Gold.”

“She knows what she wants.” Karina thought.

“By what I’ve seen so far, I think you’ll for sure get that.”

Even if y/n knew that she was good, these words coming from her idol, for sure encouraged her and made her feel more proud.

“Thank you, Karina-ssi.”

—

The time passed, and the party came to an end without her being sick and tired of people talking non-stop, because Karina was next to her, making her laugh and enjoy the might little more. Of course, they exchanged numbers and for the last bid their goodbyes.

Has y/n always been this nervous before the match? No, but she was the last one to come out for her stage, and right before hers, Anna was on the ice and she was magnificent. Y/n knew Anna loved ice just as much as she did and truly enjoyed it. She was talented, determined, and very gentle and smooth with her movements, she was artistic, which y/n lacked a bit. Y/n always focused on tricks and spins while Anna was mesmerizing even if she didn’t have many tricks up her sleeve, she still had an impact on judges; that’s why her current score was looking at 243.12, which was good, but lower than 2022, which made y/n a bite happy, she could beat that, right?

y/ns choreography was complicated but didn’t lack the artistic side of it while also being full of tricks. The program concept was “the fallen angel”. y/n was wearing a dark black costume with hints of silver. The design was a well-fitted costume with metallic and feathered accents resembling broken wings with a combination, but the sleeves were flowy enough to make her movement seem more balanced while having dark smokey eyes.

The coach was talking in her ear, some encouragement but she muffled it out and calmed her breath as she did small jumps at the spot to warm up.

“AND FOR THE FINAL… Y/N L/N, REPRESENTING REPUBLIC OF KOREA!!”

Was announced by speakers as people started cheering for her. At least she didn’t get a black ocean or silence.

The door opened and after stepping on that ice with her black, leather skates everything went black; y/n made her way to the center and the beginning pose was simple: bend down on one knee, head bowed, with one arm extended as if reaching for something unattainable. Slowly “Dies Irae” by Verdi fades in and the choreo begins for a dramatic and intense opening

She Begins with a clean 4S to maintain the technical momentum

then lands 4F, challenging jump with precision to earn high base points and GOE.

 After 4F we get 4Lz with amplitude and control. 

Is she gonna try the same thing? But her body can’t take another 5 quads. As her coach thought, the music fades to “O Fortuna” by Carl Orff, building towards a powerful climax.

4T+3T serves as a technical highlight in the middle of the program.

4Lo Incorporate this difficult quad to maximize the technical score.

There it was; another five quads. The crowd goes loud, she did it once again, these would for sure earn higher than Anna, right? … but she was not done yet while the music goes to the last part, “Symphony No.7, in a major, Op. 92 - II. Allgeretoo” by Beethoven for a solemn and reflective ending. 

3A+2T A reliable combination that adds to the overall technical difficulty.

3Lz Execute later in the program, maintaining a clean technique despite fatigue.

3A+1Lo+3S This combination sequence increases the difficulty, especially in the latter part of the program.

She also did a few spins to earn more points such as Flying Camel Spin (FCSp4) Layback Spin (LSp4) and Combination Spin with Change of Foot (CCoSp4).

Finally. 

The ending pose was with a deep knee bend, one arm reaching upward as if making a final plea, and the other hand placed over the heart.

She got up, and looked at the judges from her lashes, almost glaring with a smirk, she didn’t celebrate like last time for 2022 instead left the stage and made her way to the changing room.

Little did she know, the black-haired girl that she was texting each night was watching over her, with a satisfied look, she didn’t know anything about the tricks y/n landed but they for sure looked amazing and memorable. She watched her 2022 performance and she could feel the change in her. The aura was unmatched, she was magnetic, and everything about her was Karina's style even if the girl texted like an elder due to being slow with the keyboard and not being into texting. As she watched in awe winter nudged her

“Fallen angel got your heart?”

“WHAT?? NO??”

“Oh, she definitely has~” ningning teased causing Karina to glare at her.

“We just became friends and I think she’s very… cool,” Karina admitted as members started making random sounds to make the leader blush.

Younger was sitting in the waiting room, the camera on her, focused on the screen waiting for her overall score.

Technical Element score: 136.23.

Of course, she gets a pretty high score, that’s her best trait.

Program Component Score: 112.14

This was unexpected; pretty high for skating skills, transitions, performance, composition, and interpretation.

Deductions: 3.15

Wait.

Oh my god.

Overall score: 245,22

She just won, not only over Ana but she also won gold for her country with 2 whole points of difference. She was stunned, frozen.

Not like she wasn’t secretly waiting for it but still, it felt unreal. 

She made it.

She was leaving the room for the medal presentation when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anna clapping and cheering for her.

She smiled back at her.

Everything wasn’t over, after all.

As the gold was placed around her neck she bit down on it, for the tradition as she looked up to the crowd waving happily with Ana on her right, with silver.

There she saw the girl.

Clapping and jumping for her, screaming and she couldn’t help but laugh at Karina's silliness. She waved at older as she waved back.

Karina didn’t care about the spotlight or cameras that would capture this moment, she was cheering for her friend and her idol image was her least of worries. She saw how Anna and Y/n looked at each other. She couldn’t put this feeling in words but it for sure made her uneasy. If she could be on that ice, she would snatch Y/n right away and never let them interact but she’s meters away from the stadium and it would for sure cause a scene, so she's standing back, clapping for the winners. She could see how Anna was admiring her Y/n from the lower platform as Y/n was too oblivious due to her excitement. Older was glad Y/n was not paying attention because if she did acknowledge Anna she would drop all of her morals and cause the scene she’s being held back from. But Karina was also very conflicted, why was she feeling like this? Why is she all of a sudden so possessive over the girl? They’re not even that close, yet she yearns for her attention all of the time, calls her, spams her, and says random things JUST to get her attention, so what would older do?

Leave her position as soon as the crowd goes thin and walks to the lounge where athletes are gathered, complimenting each other's performance and just chatting. She spots her desired figure, the whole reason for her to consider being in a relationship late at night, the whole reason why she felt her knees go weak over a smile.

She was standing in front of a girl, y/n's honey-like laughter dripping out of her voice as she spoke with the person.

She was holding a panda plushy, an animal that Karina discovered to be Y/n’s favorite in the interview Younger mentioned. The person in front of her, whose face was shadowed by y/n was still an easy one to recognize.

Anna.

They seem to rekindle their relationship. So it appears.

Karina is probably the only person in this world to hate this sight, so here she is, standing there like a sore thumb watching the two interact with ease.

While she just stood there, the rest of the members decided to follow their leader to wherever she was heading off to and stood behind her.

“Rina?” the youngest called out to her frozen figure making her jump a little and look over her shoulder seeing her members with worry plastered on their faces.

“Yeah?”

Without a response, Giselle nudged her towards y/n and Karina took it as a sign and approached the younger, tapping on her shoulder as she turned around, a small smile flashing on her face.

“Hey,”

“Hey..”

Silence fell for a moment broken by Winter's small slip of a giggle making Karina glare at her over her shoulder while y/n looked at the short-haired girl, crackling a chuckle herself.

“The performance was excellent… I knew you could do it…” Said Karina mentally cringing at her awkwardness while the girl in front of her burst into laughter. Was she laughing at her?

“I never imagined you this awkward, especially over messages and that night at the party,” said y/n causing Karina to relax and now pout.

“I didn’t know how to approach you since you were already talking to somebody else…” she said, causing Anna to peek over her shoulder, a small smile on her face, assuming that idol meant her.

The girl was Slavic and looked like a perfect doll. She had a classical, graceful look with soft, light brown hair that flowed in loose waves. Her facial features were harmonious and refined, with a gentle and approachable expression. Even if on ice, she looked icey, in real life, she made up for all the warmth. Her sweet aura and presence made Karina feel uneasy.

It ate her up inside seeing them so casually together, chatting.

“Hello,” the girl greeted with a small accent slipping, which sounded adorable.

Idol smiled at her and bowed turning her gaze back to the younger.

“Remember, you promised me ice cream” Karina reminds y/n which causes the skate to sigh.

“I thought you would drop that..”

“Not after you told me you have never tasted mint chocolate,”

While the two kept going back and forth, the skater trying to reason with the idol, Anna stood there, watching the two bicker. It warmed Annas’ heart watching a person she associated with her childhood be so lively after everything she had to put herself through. Even if Anna wasn’t there, watching y/n prepare for the 2024 Olympics, she knew she wouldn’t be so easy on herself with food.

She noticed the lack of fat just as they stepped on ice, not like the girl wasn’t already in great shape.

“It was great, catching up, y/n” Anna interrupts the duo as y/n turns around.

“That’s sounding like a goodbye to me,” y/n joked as Anna nodded.

“It’s best I head back now,”

“Oh, sure then, text me… if you ever feel like it,” Y/n says as they hug each other for the last time and bid their goodbyes.

“You never tell me that,” Singer breaks the silence that was once achieved, causing y/n to turn around.

“Huh?”

“Do you like Anna?”

“You’re overwhelming me what is going on??” y/n was lost for words, idol always managed to mess her up, and not be able to form a straight thought. 

“Do you, or do you not love Russian ice skater, Anna Shcherbakova, y/n l/n?” Karina asks determined to find out the question fearing for the answer.

“No, No I don’t, Yu Jimin,” y/n answers back in the same tone but in a slightly mocking way.

‘No’ as an answer was all it took for Karina to lose all her threads holding her back to slide her hand from y/ns jaw to her neck and pull her into a kiss.

Figure skater was frozen, confused, and conflicted but couldn’t help but return the kiss as she grabbed older by her waist, pulling her closer as they savored the moment till both of them had to pull away, panting for air but saliva still connecting the two.

“W-wha?-” y/n looked at the older girl, wide-eyed, her voice barely above a whisper, “What… was that?”

“I think it’s the right time to tell you that I like you,”

“And you thought that was a proper way to say it instead of communicating like adults?”

y/n saying that to Karina felt like she just got rejected, right in front of others she tried to pull away but the second she tried, she felt y/ns grip on her tighten

“I didn’t say I hated it either.”

“You’re so complicated…”

“You still owe me that mint chocolate ice cream date and then I won't be so complicated”

“oh-ohhh, so you’re inviting yourself on a date now?”

“Yes or no jimin?”

“Million times a yes.”

"we are still fucking here," Ningning chimed in.

of course. they followed their leader.

[angelic--kitty]

vampire!rosaria x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, vampire rosaria, finger fucking blood sucking, degradation, semi-public (alleyway), mean dom rosaria

a/n: repost from old account + spooky szn

"mmph-!" your voice was muffled through rosaria's gloved palm, pressed tightly to your lips.

she has your back pulled against her front, her other hand occupied with sliding into your pants. the hand on your mouth slid to your jaw, tilting your face to the side for her.

rosaria's lips slide across your neck, ending up by your ear. "stay quiet." she says, but it's more of a warning. she doesn't cover your mouth now, using her hand to hold your head still as she noses at your neck.

your brain feels fuzzy, going between the fear of the impending sharp bite and the way her fingers are sliding beneath your undergarments.

you wonder briefly if her leaving your mouth uncovered was some sort of test. she knew how noisy you got when she fed off you while you came on her fingers. it's almost like she wanted a reason to punish you.

"rosaria-" your voice is already breathy as you try to turn and look at her. the way she grunts, not even letting your head budge tells you all you need to know.

"what did i say?" she snaps, pinching your clit and you can't hold in your soft whine.

"can't...rosaria, i can't.." you plead with her and she sighs, frustrated, moving the hand on your jaw back to your mouth.

"i deal with incompetence all day. the least you could do is exactly what i fucking tell you." she sighs, but you know she isn't all that upset with you.

not with how she pauses her desire to feed on you just to stuff you full with her fingers. despite the harshness of her tone, she can't deny how sweet you are when your head falls back on her shoulder, and all that slips from your lips are moans.

her fingers rub little circles into your clit, then switching to her thumb so the other fingers can slide down to collect your slick. she can feel the heat radiating off your neck when she feels how drenched you are just from the teasing.

as if taking pity on you, she doesn't mention it, instead pushing a finger into you, feeling you shiver against her. your noises vibrate against her palm, your hands grabbing onto her wrist, holding tight.

once she's got two fingers in you, she's pumping them in and out, rubbing your clit almost tenderly. well, as tenderly as she could manage.

she squeezes your cheeks, pushing your lips into a puffy pout, turning your head to face her the best you could. "i better not hear a fucking noise from you. unless you want all of mondstat to see you with my fingers in your cunt." she grunts, removing her hand.

her hands brush your skin, moving your shirt down your shoulder and finding the exact area she was going to feed on. rosaria sees how your own hand comes up to cover your mouth, thighs pushing together with how well she plays with you.

you sniffle, eyes glazing over as you try to turn and look at her. she sighs deeply, nodding. "go ahead, i'm starving." she answers you, feeling you spasm around her fingers, palm pressed tightly to your mouth.

she takes the opportunity to finally bite into your shoulder, all the while she prolongs your orgasm. her fingers press deeper and faster, pushing you into overstimulation. you're caught between pain and pleasure, wanting more and wanting to escape at the same time.

her fangs press into your skin, licking up the blood pouring out of the punctures, some smearing onto the corners of her lips. she groans at the taste of your blood on her tongue, eyes fluttering shut as she takes everything from you all at once.

[megistusdiary]

vampire rosaria literally pulling you into a random ass alleyway just to fuck and suck your blood 🔥

women will see this and say "hell yeah"

it's me. i'm women!

also, i have been obsessed with mr. vampire by itzy, and i'll pretend it's ms. vampire 🙏

vampire rosaria x sub!fem reader

vampire!rosaria x sub!(fem anatomy/pronouns) reader

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, vampire rosaria, finger fucking blood sucking, degradation, semi-public (alleyway), mean dom rosaria

"mmph-!" your voice was muffled through rosaria's gloved palm, pressed tightly to your lips.

she has your back pulled against her front, her other hand occupied with sliding into your pants. the hand on your mouth slid to your jaw, tilting your face to the side for her.

rosaria's lips slide across your neck, ending up by your ear. "stay quiet." she says, but it's more of a warning. she doesn't cover your mouth now, using her hand to hold your head still as she noses at your neck.

your brain feels fuzzy, going between the fear of the impending sharp bite and the way her fingers are sliding beneath your undergarments.

you wonder briefly if her leaving your mouth uncovered was some sort of test. she knew how noisy you got when she fed off you while you came on her fingers. it's almost like she wanted a reason to punish you.

"rosaria-" your voice is already breathy as you try to turn and look at her. the way she grunts, not even letting your head budge tells you all you need to know.

"what did i say?" she snaps, pinching your clit and you can't hold in your soft whine.

"can't...rosaria, i can't.." you plead with her and she sighs, frustrated, moving the hand on your jaw back to your mouth.

"i deal with incompetence all day. the least you could do is exactly what i fucking tell you." she sighs, but you know she isn't all that upset with you.

not with how she pauses her desire to feed on you just to stuff you full with her fingers. despite the harshness of her tone, she can't deny how sweet you are when your head falls back on her shoulder, and all that slips from your lips are moans.

her fingers rub little circles into your clit, then switching to her thumb so the other fingers can slide down to collect your slick. she can feel the heat radiating off your neck when she feels how drenched you are just from the teasing.

as if taking pity on you, she doesn't mention it, instead pushing a finger into you, feeling you shiver against her. your noises vibrate against her palm, your hands grabbing onto her wrist, holding tight.

once she's got two fingers in you, she's pumping them in and out, rubbing your clit almost tenderly. well, as tenderly as she could manage.

she squeezes your cheeks, pushing your lips into a puffy pout, turning your head to face her the best you could. "i better not hear a fucking noise from you. unless you want all of mondstat to see you with my fingers in your cunt." she grunts, removing her hand.

her hands brush your skin, moving your shirt down your shoulder and finding the exact area she was going to feed on. rosaria sees how your own hand comes up to cover your mouth, thighs pushing together with how well she plays with you.

you sniffle, eyes glazing over as you try to turn and look at her. she sighs deeply, nodding. "go ahead, i'm starving." she answers you, feeling you spasm around her fingers, palm pressed tightly to your mouth.

she takes the opportunity to finally bite into your shoulder, all the while she prolongs your orgasm. her fingers press deeper and faster, pushing you into overstimulation. you're caught between pain and pleasure, wanting more and wanting to escape at the same time.

her fangs press into your skin, licking up the blood pouring out of the punctures, some smearing onto the corners of her lips. she groans at the taste of your blood on her tongue, eyes fluttering shut as she takes everything from you all at once.

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 20

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing a fic! Any feedback is welcome. Friends -> lovers, Caitlin's gay-awakening. I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

Summer in Chicago Freshman -> Sophomore Year, Part 1

~ there is so much smut in this oops ~

NSFW: Wlw, fxf etc, smut, all that good stuff.

They moved in on a Saturday. McKenna wasn’t coming until the next day. 

It rained that morning — just enough to make the stairs slick and the boxes damp around the edges. The elevator worked, mostly. Kate swore it creaked louder every time they used it.

The apartment was bright. Windows lined the far wall — wide and square, looking out over the lake like someone had cut a piece of sky and hung it just for them. The floor was wood. They had a balcony. The kitchen was small. The couch was already in, thanks to McKenna’s cousins and two sweaty hours of “pivot!” jokes.

Caitlin stood by the window, still holding her backpack. The sun was low over the lake. Light spilled in wide and soft — gold brushing the floorboards, catching the curve of the kitchen sink.

“Wow,” she said, voice quiet but full. “This is… yeah.”

Kate leaned on the counter, watching her. “Underwhelming?”

Caitlin shook her head. “Wonderful.”

Kate grinned. “Good. Because you’re stuck in it.”

They unpacked a little. Ate granola bars from their pockets. Caitlin tried to find where Kate had put the silverware. Kate yelled across the apartment about how she folded the towels “correctly,” which apparently meant “wrong.”

By dusk, they were both starving “Wanna go get something?” Kate asked, tossing a hoodie her way.

Caitlin caught it. Pulled it over her head. “Only if we don’t do anything else productive for the rest of the day.”

“Promise,” Kate said. “Just food. And a little lake.” They walked down Belmont toward the lake around seven.

The sky had that late-spring haze — humid enough to sweat through your shirt, not hot enough to hate it. People were everywhere: couples on blankets in the grass, kids with chalk on the sidewalks, some guy in a Cubs jersey walking a cat on a leash.

“Okay, explain,” Caitlin said, pointing at the cat.

Kate shrugged. “You get what you get.”

They stopped at a corner restaurant with string lights over the patio. They split a wood-fired pizza. Caitlin insisted on mushrooms. Kate picked around it with unnecessary drama.

Caitlin caught her smirking across the table. “You’re such a baby.”

“Your palate’s broken.”

Caitlin grinned. “Grow up, Martin. Eat a vegetable.”

Kate laughed, head tipped back, throat bare. The city buzzed around them — a siren two blocks over, a kid on a scooter shrieking past. The train rumbled somewhere above.

Later, they walked along the lake path. Not the crowded part — farther south, near Belmont Harbor, where it got quieter. Boats bobbed in their slips. Someone played music from a speaker tucked in a backpack. The skyline cut sharp against the clouds.

Caitlin walked with her shoulders loose for the first time all day. Her hair was tied up haphazardly, baby hairs curling in the humidity. Her shoes scuffed the gravel like she didn’t care if she kicked a stone.

Kate walked half a step behind her. Watched her quietly. Then, without saying anything, Kate slipped her hand into Caitlin’s.

Not tentative. Not dramatic. Just warm. Steady. Palm to palm.

Caitlin looked down at it — their fingers already laced.

Kate didn’t look over. Just let her thumb brush the side of Caitlin’s hand once. A soft pass, barely pressure. A check-in. A hello.

Caitlin didn’t pull away. Her chest ached a little, but not in a bad way.

She squeezed once. Felt Kate squeeze back.

They walked like that — quiet and easy — for almost a block. Long enough for the rhythm to settle. Long enough for Caitlin Eventually, Caitlin exhaled. Let out a short laugh under her breath.

Kate finally looked at her. “What?”

“I’m sweaty,” Caitlin said. “Sorry.”

Kate smiled without turning. “You’re fine.” Caitlin let go anyway. Wiped her palm on her thigh. Took a breath.

They walked a few more steps in silence before Caitlin spoke again. “I got lost at the Smithsonian once,” she said.

Kate glanced over, surprised. “What?”

“In fourth grade. We were in D.C. for this school civics thing. We were all supposed to stay in our museum groups, and I followed the wrong bus chaperone into the Air and Space exhibit.”

Kate raised her eyebrows. “Did they call an Amber Alert?”

“No, but I cried in the bathroom for fifteen minutes until this guy named Carl gave me a juice box and called my teacher.”

Kate laughed. “You would trust a man named Carl.”

“He had a name tag. And a walkie-talkie. He was legit.”

Kate bumped her shoulder. “So what’s the moral?”

Caitlin shrugged. “I think that’s when I decided big cities weren’t for me. Too many exits. Too many people who don’t look at you.” She paused. “But today didn’t feel like that.”

Kate slowed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Caitlin said, voice low. “It’s just. I’m getting used to it. I like it. But, it’s still new, you know.”

Kate didn’t respond right away. Just nudged their hands back together.

Caitlin let her.

This time, she didn’t let go.

—---------

The apartment felt different at night.

The windows were still open — air heavy with lake breeze, traffic hum, the smell of rain lifting off warm concrete. They hadn’t turned on any lights. Just the soft spill of the city seeping in from the glass.

Caitlin stood barefoot by the mirror on the bedroom closet door, fingers looped in the waistband of her sleep shorts. She hadn’t meant to start anything.

But the way Kate looked at her — soft and steady from the bed, boxers and nothing else, hair wild from unpacking — made something electric curl low in her stomach.

“You’re staring,” Caitlin said. Her voice came out quiet. Rough-edged. Not accusatory. Just a little breathless.

Kate, sprawled on her back, one knee crooked, propped up on an elbow, didn’t blink. “I know.”

Caitlin swallowed. Let her hand fall from the waistband of her shorts. “Come here.”

Kate moved slowly — always cautious, even now, even here. She came to stand behind Caitlin, close enough that their hips brushed.

They looked at themselves in the mirror.

Kate in nothing but stretchy boxer briefs. Caitlin in one of Kate’s old t-shirts and nothing underneath.  The mirror didn’t lie. It showed everything: flushed skin, freckled shoulders, eyes wide and wanting.

Caitlin met Kate’s gaze in the reflection. Her own pulse kicked, hard.

“You okay?” she asked.

Kate nodded. “With you? Always.”

So Caitlin turned, kissed her. Not tentative. Not greedy. Just sure. Her fingers slipped under the elastic of Kate’s waistband, only an inch, and pulled, just enough to feel the heat there.

Kate’s mouth stuttered against hers. “Fuck.”

“Turn around,” Caitlin whispered, and Kate did.

Now she stood in front of Caitlin, framed by the mirror. Long lines. Bare skin. Vulnerable and strong.

Caitlin stepped up behind her. Let their bodies press flush. Her hands rested at Kate’s hips, then slid up, slow and deliberate. Over her sides. Her ribs. Until they cupped her breasts — not possessive, not hurried. Just there.

Their eyes met again in the mirror.

Caitlin stood behind her now. Taller, steadier.

She slid her hands down Kate’s arms, slow and sure. Stopped at her hips. Pressed in, not hard, but there.

Kate let out a breath that shook a little.

“You’re beautiful,” Caitlin said.

Kate shook her head once — like she didn’t believe it, like it still hurt to hear — but she didn’t look away.

Caitlin kissed the back of her neck. Traced her fingers up beneath the hem of Kate’s breasts. Just touched. Light. Teasing. Intentional.

Kate’s eyes fluttered closed for a second.

“No,” Caitlin said softly. “Watch.”

Kate opened them. Let herself be seen. Let herself see.

Caitlin’s hand dipped lower.

She didn’t rush.

She didn’t joke.

She just touched Kate like it was the only thing she wanted to do all night.

The mirror held them: Caitlin wrapped around her like a promise. Her hands moved slowly, thumbs brushing over Kate’s nipples until they peaked under her touch.

“You like that,” Caitlin said — not a question. A fact. A heartbeat spoken aloud.

Kate nodded, cheeks flushed deep.

“You’re so sensitive here,” Caitlin whispered, rolling her thumbs again. “You always get like this for me. Even when I don’t ask.”

And in the mirror — in the warm gold spill of city light, in the hush of their new home — Kate watched herself fall apart.

And Caitlin held her together the whole way down. “I want you to see how much I love touching you,” she whispered. 

Kate nodded — fast, dizzy. “Okay.”

“Look at us,” Caitlin said.

So Kate looked.

Her reflection was flushed. Bare. The curve of her hips framed by Caitlin’s hands. Caitlin’s eyes locked on hers in the glass — hungry, steady, soft.

Caitlin kissed her neck. Nipped lightly behind her ear. One hand stayed at her breast, the other dragged lower — teasing the edge of Kate’s boxers but not pushing past it.

“Tell me what you want,” Caitlin said, her voice low and rough. “I’ll give you anything.”

Kate shook her head, dizzy. “You already are.”

Caitlin smiled — not cocky, not teasing. Just full of awe. “Look at you,” Caitlin breathed. “You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

She rolled her hips forward just enough to let Kate feel how turned on she was — clothed, steady, buzzing with want. Her fingers traced over Kate’s nipples again, slower this time, gentler. Kate whimpered.

“Please,” Kate said, and Caitlin nearly lost it.

She let her teeth scrape lightly over Kate’s jaw, her hand sliding back up to cradle her breast again — full, reverent, thumbs dragging slow, infinite circles.

Kate’s body shook like a live wire. Her eyes were locked on the mirror now — on the way Caitlin worshiped her with touch.

And Caitlin?

She looked at her like she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

Caitlin kissed the curve of her neck, biting lightly. Her fingers skimmed down, dipping beneath the waistband of Kate’s boxers, teasing at the heat there.

Kate gasped.

Her knees buckled slightly.

“You feel so good,” she whispered.

Kate’s hands came up instinctively, bracing against the closet door. Her forehead dipped to the glass. Her body arched back — desperate for more contact, desperate for Caitlin.

Kate’s eyes fluttered. But Caitlin's voice held her there. “Keep watching.”

She did. She saw her own mouth fall open. Saw her thighs tremble.

Caitlin pressed in closer, chest flush to Kate’s back, pinning her gently but firmly to the door. "Stay with me," Caitlin whispered against her ear.

Her fingers paused at the edge of Kate’s boxers — not rushing. "Can I?" Caitlin asked, voice low, wrecked with want but steady.

Kate nodded — fast, breathless. “Yes. Please.”

Then — her fingers slid inside. Slow at first. Deep. Kate moaned — high and desperate — forehead thudding softly against the mirror.

Kate let out a broken sound. Braced her hands against the closet door. Her breath fogged the mirror.

Caitlin pressed in behind her, one arm around her waist now, grounding her.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “Let me have you.”

Kate’s knees buckled slightly. Her forehead dropped to the glass.

Caitlin moved carefully, rhythmically — working Kate open, coaxing her apart with every sure, deliberate thrust.

Kate’s hips rocked instinctively, chasing it. Chasing her.

"Good," Caitlin breathed. "God, you feel so good."

Caitlin didn’t stop. Just kept that rhythm — deep, slow, torturous. Fingers crooking just right, every movement sending heat up Kate’s spine.

Kate's thighs trembled. Her breath hitched every time Caitlin crooked her fingers just right, grinding her palm into Kate’s clit on every slow thrust forward.

“You’re perfect like this,” Caitlin said. Her voice was wrecked. “Let me see you.”

Kate whimpered. Her body rocked with each thrust of Caitlin’s hand, breath wild, mouth open.

Then — Caitlin sank her teeth into the side of Kate’s neck. Not cruel. Not soft. Just claiming.

Kate cried out.

She pressed harder into the door, mirror cold against her stomach, Caitlin’s hand working her open.

Kate watched herself unravel — the way her mouth fell open, the way her body arched, the way her hips drove down onto Caitlin’s hand like she couldn't stand being empty.

Caitlin bit down — hard — at the junction where Kate’s neck met her shoulder. Kate cried out — a raw, broken sound — and the shock of it pushed her closer to the edge.

Caitlin didn’t let up. Ground her hips into Kate’s ass. Fucked her deep, steady, relentless.

Kate’s body slammed against the doorframe in rhythm, every thrust echoing soft, obscene thuds into the small room.

"C’mon, baby," Caitlin rasped, biting down again, hand speeding up now. "I’ve got you. Give it to me."

Kate let go.

Her orgasm ripped through her — brutal and gorgeous — making her cry out, making her legs give out, making her whole body seize and shudder.

And when it hit — when her orgasm broke like thunder down her back — she saw herself come apart in the mirror. Saw her mouth open. Saw her body convulse. Saw Caitlin holding her, claiming her, loving her.

She came hard — legs shaking, breath gone — right there against the glass. Fingers clawing at the door frame. Body pushed flush into the wood.

She slumped against the door, boneless, Caitlin holding her up with one arm still around her waist, the other still buried deep inside.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just ragged breathing. Sweat cooling on their skin.

When it passed — when her body went soft and slack and trembling — Caitlin didn’t move right away. Didn’t speak. Didn’t rush.

She just kissed her way up Kate’s neck. Up the curve of her jaw. Bit gently at her earlobe — and then licked a slow line behind it. Kate moaned, helpless.

And when Caitlin finally did slip her fingers free, she brought them to her mouth — slow, reverent, eyes never leaving the mirror. She tasted her. Sucked two fingers between her lips, tongue curling, lashes fluttering.

Kate made a sound like something between a sob and a curse. Her knees gave out completely.

Caitlin caught her. Spun her around and held her up — barely — before easing them both to the floor in a messy, breathless heap. 

Kate collapsed into her chest, red-faced and ruined. They ended up a tangled heap on the floor, Caitlin cradling Kate against her chest.

Caitlin caught her. Eased them both to the floor.

Kate curled into her. Boneless. Shaking.

Caitlin kissed her temple, her shoulder, her spine. Anywhere her mouth could reach.

"You’re mine,” Caitlin whispered.

Kate laughed, dazed, glowing. “I fucking hope so.”

Caitlin laughed under her breath — low, wrecked, giddy.

Ran her hand up and down Kate’s bare back in slow, uneven strokes.

"I’m serious," she said, grinning into Kate’s hair. "You’re stuck with me."

Kate shifted — not pulling away, just pressing closer, thigh sliding over Caitlin’s hip.

The sweat cooling on their skin made them slippery, sticky in places. Neither of them cared.

"I’m not stuck," Kate mumbled. "I’m anchored."

Caitlin's heart thudded so hard she almost laughed again — or cried. Instead, she cupped the back of Kate’s neck, thumb stroking lazy circles over damp hair.

"You're ridiculous," Caitlin said, voice still shaking with love.

"You love it," Kate said, half-muffled against her chest.

"I do. I love you," Caitlin whispered, so quiet only the windows heard. The city hummed outside. The lake wind moved soft against the balcony doors.

And inside their small new world — just four walls and two foolish hearts trying to learn how to hold each other — everything felt stupidly, impossibly right.

Kate shifted enough to glance up at her — flushed, wrecked, utterly radiant. "You ruined me, you know," she said, mock stern. 

"I’m gonna be cocky as hell now."

"You already are," Kate teased, dragging her fingers lightly along Caitlin’s spine until she shivered.

"Yeah, well," Kate said, grinning, "now it’s justified."

Caitlin smiled so wide it hurt her cheeks. Pulled Kate closer — tangled up, pinned and safe — and kissed her hair again.

—-----

Caitlin woke to light spilling across the hardwood floor and the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing. For a second, she didn’t move. She just let herself feel it — the soft give of the mattress under her spine, the smell of lake air drifting through the cracked window, the vague ache in her thighs that made her smile.

Somewhere near the kitchen, Kate was humming.

Caitlin rolled over slowly, a blanket tangled around one leg, and caught sight of her: bare-chested, in a pair of low-hanging boxers, hair still damp from a quick rinse in the sink. She was reaching for something in the cabinet — maybe a pan, maybe a mug — and Caitlin felt it like a punch behind the ribs.

Not lust. Not exactly. Just fuck, I live with her.

Kate glanced back and grinned like she felt it too. “Do you want pancakes or burnt pancakes?”

Caitlin yawned into her pillow. “Surprise me.”

The morning stayed easy — boxers and old sweatshirts, syrup on fingertips, Caitlin sitting cross-legged on the counter swiping at a piece of toast Kate burned on purpose, apparently.

And then Kate said, too casually, “Hey — I got you something.”

Caitlin blinked. “What?”

Kate pulled something from the drawer by the sink — a tiny box, white cardboard, already a little crushed at the edges.

“I was gonna give it to you last night, but then you seduced me and ruined my plan.”

“I did not—” Caitlin started, but Kate was already handing her the box, face flushed.

Inside the box: a sleek brass key on a leather fob, engraved in small, neat script with two words.

superstar residence.

Caitlin stared.

Her throat went tight — not from the joke, not from the cheesiness — but from how fucking Kate it was. Thoughtful. Personal. Embarrassing in a way that made her heart lurch.

Kate stood frozen by the counter, hand on the back of her neck. “It’s dumb, I know. But you said you’ve never had your own keys before and—”

“I love it,” Caitlin said, voice rough. “Like, deeply love it.”

Kate breathed out. “Good. Because I couldn’t return it even if you hated it. I carved it myself with my teeth.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“An idiot who labeled your keychain, thank you very much.”

“I love it,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Kate flushed. “Good. Because you’re definitely on garbage duty now.”

The moment barely had time to settle before a knock slammed against the front door.

“Yo!” McKenna’s voice rang from the hallway. “We’re gonna need a sock system if y’all are gonna keep christening every flat surface!”

Kate froze mid-step. Caitlin shrieked — actually shrieked — and nearly toppled off the counter trying to yank her sleep shorts up with one hand while covering her chest with the other.

The toast hit the floor. A spatula clattered into the sink. Kate cursed, grabbed the nearest hoodie (Caitlin’s), and pulled it over her head backwards. Caitlin tripped into her trying to hop into a pair of boxers that definitely weren’t hers.

“I can’t find my bra!” Caitlin hissed, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Kate yanked open a drawer, grabbed a dish towel, then froze. “That’s not helpful!”

They crashed into each other once more — frantic, half-dressed, ridiculous — and then sprinted for the door in bare feet, flushed and laughing and glowing.

Kate caught Caitlin’s hand mid-run, grinning like an idiot. “You’re stuck with me now,” she said.

Caitlin laughed, breathless, eyes lit from the inside out. “Good.”

—----------------

By the end of May, their days fell into something like rhythm.

Caitlin ran every morning, out along the lake path before the city was fully awake. The breeze off the water still smelled like spring then, fresh and a little cold, enough to sting her lungs when she pushed too hard. She timed herself sometimes. Other mornings, she just ran until her body felt like hers again. She’d come back sweaty and pink-faced, tug off her hoodie in the hallway, and collapse dramatically on the couch while Kate made toast.

Kate had started her physical therapy internship that week — a place out in Lincoln Park with concrete floors and bright lighting. She left the apartment in scrubs and sneakers, hair pulled up in a bun, and Caitlin always stole one last kiss before she slipped out the door.

Caitlin was getting to know the city. Slowly. Her way. Little cafes with four tables and chalkboard menus. Bookstores where no one looked twice when she wandered for an hour. She liked the buzz of it all — trains and traffic and too many people in not enough space. She liked coming home even more.

McKenna was around — finishing up a class, working part-time, half-living on energy drinks. And she clocked everything. Every glance. Every brush of hands. Every time Caitlin came out of Kate’s room in one of her sweatshirts.

“You guys are disgustingly cute,” she said one morning, watching Caitlin eat yogurt out of the tub while perched in Kate’s lap.

“You love it,” Kate said without looking up from her laptop.

“I tolerate it,” McKenna muttered, scrolling her phone. “Barely.”

That Friday night, the Mario Kart tournament started around 9.

McKenna had a spreadsheet. Kate had opinions about the Rainbow Road physics. Caitlin had wine.

The couch was too small for four people, but they made it work. McKenna sprawled sideways with her legs over the armrest, a half-empty bag of chips balanced on her chest. Gabby was on the floor, shouting at the screen like the characters could hear her. Caitlin sat sideways across Kate’s lap, controller in hand, brow furrowed in furious concentration.

“Go left!” Gabby screamed. “Other left!”

“Shut up!” Caitlin yelled, thumb mashing the wrong button.

“You’re in a ditch,” McKenna added helpfully, one chip falling off her shirt. “Like emotionally, but also on the course.”

Caitlin groaned. “I’m losing. This game is stupid. Everything is stupid.”

Kate’s chin rested on her shoulder. “You picked Toad again,” she murmured. “You always pick Toad.”

“Toad has a low center of gravity,” Caitlin said defensively.

Gabby snorted. “And no dignity.”

Caitlin huffed. Threw her head back dramatically against Kate’s chest. “Make me win,” she demanded.

Kate’s hands flew up, laughing. “I’m literally behind you. I can’t even reach the buttons.”

“You can press me instead,” Caitlin muttered, too fast to think, too cocky not to mean it.

Everything stopped for half a beat.

McKenna choked on her chip.

Gabby made a strangled noise and rolled off the floor.

Kate blinked — then broke into the most dangerous grin Caitlin had ever seen. “Oh, is that how it is?”

“I didn’t mean—” Caitlin started, flushing hard, shifting like she might escape.

Kate wrapped her arms around her waist, locking her in. “Too late, superstar.”

Caitlin let herself laugh, let herself lean back into Kate’s chest. Her heart was pounding, but in the good way. The kind of pounding that didn’t mean run — it meant stay.

Gabby flung a pillow at them. “Disqualified. Horny on main.”

“Sock system,” McKenna said solemnly, still recovering. “We need one.”

Kate buried her face in Caitlin’s shoulder, her smile so wide it hurt. Caitlin could feel it. Could feel everything — their friends, the laughter, the weight of Kate’s arms around her, the soft ache in her cheeks from smiling so long.

“You’re just mad I’m hot,” Caitlin called over her shoulder.

“You’re hot and a sore loser,” McKenna said, tossing a pillow at them. It missed. “Deadly combo.”

Caitlin twisted in Kate’s lap — flopped sideways and kissed her cheek, sweet and obnoxious. Kate grinned into it, flushed and pleased.

It was like that now. Easy. Real. Stupid in the best way.

She didn’t say anything right then. But in the quiet corner of her mind, Kate was thinking: This is what it’s supposed to be. Not just sex or safety or the rush of being chosen — but this. Laughter. Friends. Inside jokes that spiraled into chaos. Caitlin loose in her arms, warm and wild and glowing.

—-----------

Gabby popped the cork on the last cheap bottle of wine like she’d done it a hundred times in this exact kitchen. She poured two glasses, handed one to Kate, and hopped up onto the counter like she lived there.

“Is she asleep?” she asked.

Kate nodded, curling into the arm of the couch, a blanket bunched around her legs. “Out cold.”

Gabby smirked. “You wear her out?”

Kate shot her a look — half scandalized, half smug. “Maybe.”

Gabby cackled. “Oh my god, you’re disgusting. I’m so proud.”

Kate laughed, shaking her head. “She’s just… so much. And I mean that in the best way.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘so much.’”

Kate’s face went a little red. She sipped her wine to buy time. “She’s—intense. In her head all the time. But when she lets go?” Her voice dropped a little. “It’s like the whole room melts. And it’s not just sex, it’s—it’s how she looks at me. Like I’m not something she has to hold back for.”

Gabby was quiet for a beat. Then: “That’s hot.”

Kate laughed again. “It is, actually.”

Gabby leaned forward, wine glass dangling from her fingers. “Okay, but, real talk. You’ve been out forever. You’ve done the hookups, the flings, the let’s-not-label-it summer situationships. You’ve never done this. Like, the soft domestic lesbian thing. The actual home.”

Kate swirled her glass. “Nope. Never.”

“So why now?”

Kate looked over. Her face softened. “Because she’s not a role. She’s not an idea. She’s Caitlin. Messy, brilliant, sarcastic Caitlin. She burns so bright sometimes it hurts to look at her. And she still picked me.”

Gabby blinked. “Damn.”

“I know,” Kate whispered.

A pause.

Then Gabby grinned. “So she’s the one who pulls your hair now?”

Kate nearly spit out her wine. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m just saying,” Gabby said, raising her glass. “To the death of the emotionally avoidant phase and the birth of Big Soft Girlfriend Energy.”

Kate clinked her glass with hers, grinning like an idiot. “Cheers to that.”

Gabby sipped, eyes twinkling. “Also—if you ever need toy recs. I know a place.”

Kate raised a brow. “Why does that not surprise me.”

Gabby winked. “It shouldn’t. But seriously. I like this version of you. Happy. Half-naked. Bruised up from love.”

Kate grinned into her glass. “Yeah. Me too.”

—-------------------------------------- 

It started with smoke.

Thick and sudden, curling out of the kitchen like a warning siren.

Kate stumbled out of the bedroom barefoot, still half-asleep, boxers low on her hips and an old t-shirt clinging to one shoulder. “Caitlin?” she called, rubbing her eyes. “Are we under attack?”

A crash. A curse. A pan hitting the stove with the unmistakable clang of surrender.

Kate blinked through the haze and found Caitlin fanning a skillet with a paper plate, wearing nothing but one of Kate’s hoodies and a pair of boxer briefs that didn’t belong to her.

“Happy birthday!” Caitlin said, too loud, too bright, like enthusiasm could erase the smoke.

Kate leaned against the doorway. Took in the disaster: the charred edges of something vaguely pancake-shaped, the open bag of flour dumped sideways on the counter, the faint singe in the air. “Is this an attempted homicide?”

Caitlin scowled. “I was trying to make you breakfast.”

Kate padded closer, kissed the side of her head. “I can’t wait to chew this extremely flammable gesture of love.”

They ended up on the fire escape with two mugs of instant coffee and a box of Pop-Tarts, legs tangled, Caitlin barefoot in Kate’s lap, the city waking up beneath them.

Kate tilted her head back, letting the breeze wash over her. “This is perfect.”

Caitlin snorted. “You’re so easy to please.”

“No,” Kate said. “You’re just easy to love.”

Caitlin went very still in her arms. And for a second, the world got quiet — not hushed, but reverent.

Then Caitlin dug something out from behind a potted plant and shoved it at her. “Here.”

Wrapped in old newspaper, because they’d forgotten to buy wrapping paper. Taped shut with pink duct tape. A mess.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Is this a threat?”

“It’s your birthday,” Caitlin said, trying to sound casual and failing completely. “So shut up and open it.”

Kate peeled the paper back slowly. Then stopped.

It was a tiny photo album. Leatherbound, hand-sized. The kind you had to flip through with your thumbs.

She opened it.

The first photo was from back in October — Kate in her team warmup, turned slightly to the side, laughing at something off-camera. Caitlin had written underneath it: I liked your face before I knew what it meant to me.

She kept turning.

A Polaroid of Kate asleep in the locker room with her hoodie pulled over her face. One of their feet tangled together on the bus. One blurry, late-night shot of Kate in the mirror brushing her teeth, Caitlin’s finger just barely in the frame.

There were game shots too — Caitlin had taken them from the sidelines or the bench. Kate boxing out. Kate stretching before warmups. Kate with her hands on her knees, catching her breath.

One had You, holding everything together scribbled at the bottom.

Kate didn’t speak for a long time.

“I didn’t really know how to say most of it,” Caitlin said. She scratched at the back of her neck. “So I just… kept taking pictures.”

Kate turned the last page. There was a selfie taped inside — the two of them, pressed cheek to cheek, Caitlin wide-eyed and Kate pretending not to smile.

Below it, in Caitlin’s handwriting: You’re my favorite view.

Kate pressed the album closed with both hands. Her eyes were glassy when she looked up. 

And kissed her — soft, slow, steady — like she didn’t know how else to say thank you.

She didn’t need to. 

“Happy birthday, Martin.”

Wrigleyville was already pulsing by the time they stepped off the train. People in jerseys crowded the sidewalks, music blared from open bar doors, and someone had already spilled a margarita into the gutter.

Kate, in her navy Cubs cap and cut-off tank, looked entirely at home. Electric with happiness. Summer-kissed. Bright.

Caitlin, in borrowed sunglasses and a T-shirt that said Keep Calm and Don’t Boo the Ump, looked like she was trying not to combust.

“You good?” Kate asked, glancing over as they crossed the street toward the stadium.

Caitlin nodded. Swallowed. “Just never been to a place this loud where I wasn’t holding a basketball.”

Kate smirked. “You’ll live.”

They found their seats along the third base line — high enough to see the skyline, low enough to feel the heat coming off the turf. Kate bought a pretzel the size of her face and a beer that cost $14. Caitlin refused to let her hold both at once.

“I swear to God, Martin, if you spill on me again…”

“You say that like it’s happened before,” Kate said, grinning.

“It has! You baptized my hoodie with nacho cheese at the Northwestern game.”

“Allegedly.”

The sun beat down. The Cubs were already down two by the fourth inning, but Kate didn’t seem to care. She was leaning back in her seat, beer in one hand, one leg stretched out so it brushed against Caitlin’s.

Caitlin, for her part, was pretending not to be mesmerized by how happy Kate looked.

“You like it?” Kate asked during a pitching change.

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Just watched her for a second — sunglasses perched on her head now, hair sticking to her temples, mouth curved soft around the rim of the cup.

“Yeah,” Caitlin said quietly. “I really do.”

Caitlin insisted on paying for everything — the pretzel, the beers, the souvenir hat she made Kate wear backwards (“You look like a hot twelve-year-old boy,” she said, nearly choking on her own laughter).

Kate played along, arms around Caitlin’s waist when they waited in line for more fries.

“You’re really doing this,” she said softly.

Caitlin blinked. “Doing what?”

Kate pressed a kiss to her temple. “Making me feel like this is mine.”

They stayed through the seventh inning stretch. Sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” off-key with the rest of the stadium. Caitlin spilled mustard on her thigh. Kate tried to lick it off and got elbowed for her efforts.

And when the Cubs hit a home run in the eighth — crowd erupting, strangers high-fiving — Caitlin didn’t think. She turned and kissed Kate full on the mouth.

Not quick. Not cautious. Just… proud.

Kate blinked at her when she pulled back. Eyes wide, dazed. Then she grinned. Like the whole damn summer was worth it for that one kiss.

“Guess you like baseball after all,” she said, voice rough with happiness.

Caitlin tucked her face into Kate’s shoulder, flushed and giddy.

“Shut up,” she said.

Kate kissed the side of her head and didn’t.

The train ride home was quieter.

Kate leaned against the window, cheeks still pink from the sun and beer, legs splayed without apology. Caitlin sat beside her, close enough that their arms brushed. The city flickered past — gold streetlights, darkened windows, a couple laughing too loud on the platform.

Neither of them said much. Didn’t have to.

Back at the apartment, McKenna was gone — something about karaoke and a guy she met at the gym. They kicked off their shoes and left the lights off, moving through the familiar dark like they belonged to it. 

Caitlin changed into a soft tank and shorts. Kate stripped down to boxers and that same ribbed sports bra that always made Caitlin’s brain short-circuit. She flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan.

Caitlin didn’t follow right away. She paused at the window, letting the lake pull her in for a second — a black stretch of water laced with boat lights, the hush of wind off the glass. The city felt slow for once. Like it was holding its breath just for them.

Behind her: sheets rustling. A soft, familiar voice. “Hey.”

Caitlin turned. Kate was on her side now, hand extended, cheek half in the pillow.

“Come here.”

So she did.

Climbed into bed and curled around her. Kissed her slow. Deliberate. A good kiss — the kind you feel at the base of your spine. She shifted closer, one leg between Kate’s, one hand at her waist, skin bare under her fingers.

Kate sighed into it. “God, I love your mouth.”

Caitlin smiled against her lips. “Only my mouth?”

Kate made a noise low in her throat. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish.”

“I wasn’t planning on starting anything,” Caitlin murmured, teasing now, fingers already slipping under the waistband of Kate’s boxers. “I was planning on continuing.”

Kate’s breath caught — not startled. Just destroyed.

They rolled slowly — bodies twining like instinct, like music, like gravity had gotten softer for them alone. Caitlin ended up above her, knees bracketing Kate’s hips, tank riding up her back. She looked down, heart pounding in the best way, like adrenaline and trust had finally figured out how to live in the same body.

Kate reached up. Slid her hands under the hem of Caitlin’s tank, thumbs smoothing over bare ribs. “Can I?” she whispered.

Caitlin nodded — breath shaky. “Yeah.”

They moved together, neither chasing control, just closeness. Skin to skin. Nothing choreographed. Caitlin lowered herself until their mouths met again, hands tracing familiar terrain — waist, hip, thigh, the dip of her back, the edge of her bra. They kissed like it meant something. Because it did.

Kate’s hands slid down, under Caitlin’s shorts now — thumbs hooking in the waistband, fingers steady.

“You okay?” she asked, low.

Caitlin nodded again. “With you? Always.”

And that was it — that was all they needed.

They touched each other at the same time. No games. No teasing. Just the hush of fingers sliding past fabric, breath stuttering, hips lifting. Caitlin’s forehead pressed to Kate’s. Kate’s hand curled around the back of her neck.

The bedroom was quiet except for their breath.

Kate lay back against the pillows, bare shoulders sunk into cotton and Caitlin’s weight warm along her side. The windows were cracked. A breeze slipped in from the lake, soft and restless. The air smelled like city heat and June.

Caitlin shifted — slow, deliberate. One leg slung over Kate’s hip. One hand on her chest, just resting there. The other buried in Kate’s hair.

“Hi,” Kate whispered.

Caitlin smiled without lifting her head. “Hi.”

Her fingers traced the edge of Kate’s jaw, then her collarbone. She leaned in. Kissed her — once, then again, deeper. Kate kissed back with the kind of steady hunger that said she’d been waiting for this all day.

Not out of urgency. Out of want.

Caitlin broke the kiss first. Eyes darker now, but still steady. “Can I?” she asked, thumb skimming the waistband of Kate’s underwear.

Kate nodded. “Only if I can too.”

That made Caitlin laugh — quiet, breathy, turned-on as hell.

They moved together. Not perfectly. Not choreographed. Just honest.

Caitlin shifted until she was half-straddling Kate’s thigh. Her hand dipped lower, under cotton, finding heat and wet and the startled stutter of Kate’s breath. At the same time, Kate’s hand slid into Caitlin’s shorts, fingers curling where she knew she’d find her — already aching, already open.

The moment tilted. Tipped.

They touched each other at the same time.

Fingers sliding under waistbands, slow and deliberate. No rush. No teasing. Just this. Just them. Skin to skin in the quiet dark, nothing but breath and heat and the steady thrum of want.

Caitlin’s hand found Kate — soft and slick and already pulsing with need. Her breath hitched, hips rising, and she bit down on a gasp before it escaped. Across the sheets, Kate’s fingers slipped between Caitlin’s legs at the same time, sure and searching. Their hands tangled for a moment — clumsy, laughing, flushed — until they found a rhythm. Until it felt like breathing.

Caitlin shifted to her side, tugging Kate closer, and let her hand drift between them. Kate was already warm there — soft and slick and open. Her breath caught. “God, you—” she started, but didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.

Kate’s fingers moved too, mirroring. Finding Caitlin’s heat, slipping lower. Their hands tangled for a second, laughing into each other’s mouths. Then they settled. Rhythm and pressure and want.

They moved together — fingers working in tandem, hips lifting, thighs trembling. Caitlin’s forehead dropped to Kate’s shoulder as pressure built and built and built. Kate’s breath came in shallow gasps against her ear, her body twitching with every pass of Caitlin’s hand.

“Eyes on me,” Kate whispered once, voice hoarse, and Caitlin obeyed. Met her gaze in the dark, both of them undone and wide open.

Caitlin obeyed.

Lifted her head. Looked. What she saw made her knees weak.

Kate — pink-cheeked, lip caught between her teeth, eyes blown wide with pleasure and love and something deeper than either — touching her like she meant it. Like she knew her. Like she was hers.

Caitlin’s fingers curled harder. Kate’s back arched.

It didn’t take long. Caitlin felt it first — that stretch of heat in her belly, that helpless climb. She bit her lip, whimpered, pressed in harder. Kate moaned against her neck, hips jerking.

“Now,” Caitlin choked. “Come with me. Please—”

And when it hit — they tumbled together. Shaking. Clutching. Fingers still inside. Foreheads pressed. Lips parted.

Together.

Still breathing each other in.

Still shaking from the way it could feel — equal. Enough. Real.

They rocked into each other, thighs slick and shaking, both of them right there — right on the edge.

Kate’s mouth crashed into hers the same moment it hit. The wave pulled them both under.

Bodies clenching. Fingers buried. Lips parting around each other’s moans.

They stayed like that — shaking, gasping, pressed forehead to forehead — until the aftershocks passed. Until the world went still again. Until the only sound was their breathing, tangled and uneven.

And when Caitlin finally blinked — when she could see again — Kate was smiling at her, soft and stupidly in love.

—------

The week after Kate’s birthday passed in a kind of golden blur.

Long mornings. Slow coffee. Caitlin went running by the lake most days, headphones in, the wind off the water cooling the sweat on her skin. Kate started her internship — khakis and polos. They left each other notes on the fridge. Ate cereal out of mugs. Took turns hogging the laundry machine.

They ended up in the park one afternoon without meaning to — too hot to be inside, too full of leftover birthday cake to do anything productive. They found a patch of grass under a tree, Caitlin dropped down into the shade, and Kate followed with a book she wouldn’t end up reading.

Caitlin stretched out across her lap, one arm slung around Kate’s thigh, cheek pressed to her stomach. She fell asleep like that — sweat-damp and smiling, legs tangled, fingers curled against Kate’s ribs.

Kate read maybe five pages total. Spent most of the time brushing her hand through Caitlin’s hair, watching her breathe. Every few minutes someone walked by and smiled at them — that kind of slow, soft recognition you get when you look at people and think: yeah, they’re in it.

She didn’t care. Let them look. Let them see.

—----

They got dragged to the bar by McKenna and Gabby on a Friday night in mid-June. It was hot in that sticky, city-summer kind of way, where the air clung to your skin and your clothes felt like they’d melt off if you breathed too hard.

Gabby had burst into the apartment wearing platform boots and eyeliner so sharp it could wound. “You two,” she said, pointing dramatically, “are officially at risk of becoming lesbians who compost and die in matching flannel. We’re intervening.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “We’ve never composted.”

McKenna tossed a crop top at Caitlin. “Yeah, but you have slow-danced in the kitchen to Phoebe Bridgers three nights this week.”

“Allegedly,” Caitlin muttered, blushing.

“You two are one homemade candle away from cottagecore lesbian death,” Gabby declared, tugging them into the apartment. “You’re coming out. Both meanings.”

The place was called Neon Garden. The floor was sticky. The air was humid. Rainbow flags curled from the ceiling vents and every speaker screamed Britney’s Gimme More at full volume. There was a line at the bathroom, a drag queen on the mic, and a man in leather chaps getting cheered on for doing the splits by the jukebox.

Caitlin’s eyes went wide the second they stepped in. She stuck close to Kate — practically glued to her side — hand clasped tight and eyes scanning the crowd like she was expecting to be called out, spotted, outed.

“You okay?” Kate asked, leaning in, breath warm at Caitlin’s ear.

“I will be,” Caitlin said. “I think.”

Kate kissed her temple. “We don’t have to stay long.”

They did, though.

They ordered drinks — Caitlin stuck to cider, Kate tried something fluorescent that tasted like danger. McKenna and Gabby disappeared into the dance pit before the second sip, limbs already flailing to the beat.

Kate didn’t push. She leaned back against the bar with Caitlin still pressed against her side, arm curled loosely around her waist, letting her breathe.

Caitlin didn’t say much for a while. Just watched. Observed. Women dancing with women. Hands on hips. Laughter. Sweat-slick smiles. No hiding.

Two girls kissed against the wall near the bathroom. Another pair danced so close it was practically foreplay. Nobody stared. Nobody flinched. Just joy, sweaty and shameless.

And then — halfway through a Charli XCX remix that made the whole place throb — Caitlin tilted her head. Looked at Kate.

“Dance with me,” she said.

Kate blinked. “Here?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes, grinning now. “No, in the Walgreens next door.”

Kate’s lips twitched. “Romantic.”

“Shut up and come on.”

Caitlin dragged her into the mess of bodies. Arms looped around her neck. Hips pressing close. The lights pulsed violet and red across her skin. Caitlin’s face was flushed, smiling, eyes bright and open.

Kate swore her heart cracked right down the center.

They moved together — not polished, not planned, just theirs. Caitlin’s giggle lit up the space between them when Kate spun her too fast and nearly sent them both tumbling. Her mouth was still parted when Kate kissed her.

It wasn’t a peck. It wasn’t careful. It was stupid and hungry and thrilled — a claim, a laugh, a we’re here.

Someone whooped beside them. A flash went off in the corner. Kate didn’t care. Caitlin didn’t blink.

Caitlin didn’t pull back. She pressed in — chest to chest, hips snug, mouth parted like she had something else to say and forgot it the second Kate kissed her again.

The bass throbbed beneath their feet. The crowd moved around them, all heat and lights and sweat and music, but Caitlin only moved against Kate — slow, steady, sure.

Kate’s hands slid lower. Palmed the backs of Caitlin’s thighs. Pulled her up onto her toes, just enough to feel the full line of her. Caitlin gasped into her mouth, hands tightening on Kate’s shoulders.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Kate breathed.

Caitlin smiled against her jaw. “Not yet.”

Then she rolled her hips — once, twice — a slow, devastating rhythm that made Kate’s knees go loose.

“Fuck,” Kate whispered, forehead tipping forward to rest against hers.

Caitlin bit her lip. Did it again.

They were still moving. Barely dancing now — just rocking into each other, caught between the music and the ache.

Kate’s hands gripped her harder. Caitlin arched her back a little, gave her more to hold. The strobe lights flared, turning them silver for a second. Sweat ran down the curve of Caitlin’s neck. Kate chased it with her mouth.

Someone jostled them. Caitlin stumbled. Kate caught her, held her upright, didn’t let her go.

“You good?” she asked again — not teasing this time.

Caitlin nodded. Her eyes were dark, wild, glittering. “I want you.”

Kate swallowed. Hard. “Let’s go.” And Caitlin didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd like she already knew the way.

They tumbled into the back of the cab like they were still dancing.

Caitlin slid in first, legs crossed and still buzzing, hair wild around her shoulders. Kate followed, slammed the door shut behind her, and the second it clicked — Caitlin climbed into her lap.

Not subtly. Not politely.

Just need.

Just now.

Kate’s back hit the seat with a soft thud. Caitlin’s thighs straddled hers, denim hot and rough on skin. Her arms draped around Kate’s shoulders like they belonged there.

“You’re staring,” Caitlin whispered, voice hoarse.

Kate leaned in and kissed her neck — once, then again. Caitlin melted against the seat, breath catching.

“You looked so good tonight,” Kate murmured.

“I always look good,” Caitlin said, smirking, cheeks flushed.

Kate bit gently at her jawline in retaliation. “Smartass.”

The driver cleared his throat.

They didn’t flinch.

Caitlin’s fingers slid into Kate’s hair. She pulled her closer, lips brushing hers — slow, then firmer, then real. The kiss deepened, hands wandered, knees pressed together.

“I’m not playing,” Caitlin whispered back.

Kate tilted her head, lips grazing the edge of Caitlin’s jaw. “We’re in a cab.”

“You think I care?”

The car turned. Caitlin rocked with it, hips pressing into Kate’s lap. Hard. Slow. Deliberate. Her breath hitched. So did Kate’s.

Outside, the city blurred — streetlights and wet pavement, a siren in the distance.

Kate’s hands found Caitlin’s waist — fingers flexing, unsure where to hold her with any ounce of restraint. “You’re not playing fair,” she murmured.

Inside, Caitlin kissed her like she was starving.

Kate groaned. Her hands slid lower. Gripped the curve of Caitlin’s ass through her jeans. Caitlin gasped into her mouth, then did it again — another grind, tighter this time, drawn-out and aching.

“Fuck,” Kate muttered, voice wrecked.

The driver coughed once.

Caitlin didn’t stop.

She curled her fingers in Kate’s hair, tugged gently until their foreheads met. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “Say it.”

Caitlin kissed her again — deeper, messier, a little dangerous — until the cab hit a red light and they had to pretend they weren’t about to fall apart in public.

They didn't succeed.

Kate dragged her mouth to Caitlin’s ear. “Soon as we’re home,” she breathed, “I’m not letting you walk for a week.”

Caitlin laughed, low and breathless. “You promise?”

“Oh,” Kate said. “You’ll beg me to break it.”

Caitlin bit down on a smile — on a moan — on whatever ridiculous, feral sound was about to fall out of her mouth.

Kate grinned, all teeth. Dragged her hands up the backs of Caitlin’s thighs. “You gonna be good til then?”

Caitlin rocked forward, slow and sharp. Their hips met like a punchline. Kate’s head dropped back against the seat with a thud.

That’s when the driver cleared his throat. Loud.

They both froze.

“Uh,” the driver said, eyes very pointedly not looking in the rearview mirror, “just a reminder that this isn’t that kind of Uber.”

Caitlin turned red so fast it could’ve been a sunburn. She dropped her forehead to Kate’s shoulder and nearly wheezed. “Oh my God.”

Kate was no help. “Sorry!” she called to the front. “She’s really enthusiastic about… baseball.”

“Right,” the driver said. “Well. Keep it G-rated back there unless you want me to pull over and let you walk.”

Caitlin groaned. Kate wheezed into her neck. They adjusted. Mostly.

Ten blocks left.

They didn’t make it easy.

And by the time the cab door slammed shut behind them, they were already laughing again — the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you’re drunk on each other, on summer, on being alive and shameless and twenty-something and in love.

—------------

It started in the dairy aisle at 5pm. After Kate finished work. 

When some girl — all winged eyeliner and charm — sidled up while Caitlin was trying to decide between two types of yogurt. “Are you always this focused,” she asked, “or is it just Greek men that get you hot and bothered?”

Caitlin blinked. Laughed, awkward. “Uh—honestly? I just don’t trust fruit on the bottom.”

The girl grinned. “Bold stance.”

Kate saw it from down the aisle. Heard it. Watched Caitlin smile — polite, a little sheepish, not flirtatious but something. And Kate? She said nothing. She didn’t storm over. Didn’t mark territory. Just clenched her jaw and grabbed the oat milk.

Kate didn’t say anything in the car.

Not on the walk upstairs. Not when Caitlin unlocked the door. Not even when Caitlin dropped her keys in the bowl by the sink and turned around smiling, like she hadn’t just charmed some tall redhead into giving her a coupon and a compliment over the plums.

Kate just watched her.

Silent. Steady.

Caitlin’s smile faltered. “What?”

“You know what.”

Caitlin blinked. “I really don’t.”

Kate stepped forward. Slow. “She asked if you were single.”

Caitlin laughed. “Yeah, and I said no—?”

“You giggled,” Kate said. “You blushed.”

“I was being polite!”

Kate didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t need to. She backed Caitlin up until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. Then she pushed her — not hard, just enough — until Caitlin was sitting.

“Take your shirt off.”

Caitlin stared at her. “What?”

Kate bent down, mouth at her ear. “Now.”

Caitlin swallowed. Lifted her shirt over her head.

Kate didn’t kiss her. She stood and looked.

“Mine,” she said. Voice like gravel. Like certainty.

Caitlin’s breath hitched. “Yeah.”

Kate climbed into her lap, knees on either side of her thighs, hands braced on Caitlin’s bare shoulders.

“You don’t get to look at anyone like that,” Kate said. “Not when you’re mine.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

Kate kissed her. Hard. Final.

Caitlin whimpered, hands flying to Kate’s hips.

“You gonna flirt with strangers,” Kate said against her mouth, “or you gonna say who you belong to?”

Caitlin gasped. “You.”

Kate’s hand slid between them. Caitlin arched. “Say it again.”

“You, Kate. You.”

Kate didn’t stop. She didn’t soften.

Her hand stayed between them, pressed firm against Caitlin’s waistband, fingers dragging slow, threatening circles over the cotton. Not teasing. Not playful. Just holding her there.

“You said I could take my time,” Caitlin breathed — not protesting. Just wrecked.

Kate’s eyes locked on hers. “You took your time,” she said. Her voice stayed low, controlled, thick with heat. “You flirted back.”

“I didn’t—” Caitlin started, but Kate pressed in harder, and she gasped.

“You smiled,” Kate murmured. “You laughed. You touched her hand when she passed you that fucking coupon.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“But you’re mine,” Kate said again, voice sharper now. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Caitlin whispered.

Kate pushed her back — one hand on her sternum — until Caitlin lay flat on the mattress, hair fanned out, shirt discarded, mouth already parted like she was waiting to beg.

Kate stood over her. Watched her. Eyes trailing over every inch like they belonged there — like she didn’t need permission to look, only patience to devour.

Then she reached for Caitlin’s waistband.

“Tell me to stop,” she said — same voice, same heat, but now laced with care. “If you want me to stop, I stop. You say the word, and it’s over.”

Caitlin shook her head so fast her voice couldn’t catch up. Her fingers curled around Kate’s wrist. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

Kate slid her hand beneath the waistband and tossed her panties and shorts off the bed.

Skin on skin.

Caitlin gasped — back arching, thighs twitching under the weight of it.

Kate moved slowly. Purposeful. Fingers slipping lower, dragging through wet heat like she wasn’t surprised.

“Oh my God,” Caitlin gasped.

Kate didn’t smirk. She didn’t gloat.

She leaned down — nose brushing Caitlin’s cheek — and whispered, “This is what happens when you flirt with someone else. I remind you.”

Caitlin moaned — low and shaky, hips rolling into her hand.

“I remind you,” Kate said again, “who makes you feel like this. Who gets you like this. Who gets you off.”

“Kate—”

Kate pressed her mouth to Caitlin’s neck. Bit down lightly. “Say it again.”

“You,” Caitlin choked. “You, you, only you—fuck—”

Kate’s fingers curled inside her. Deep. Deliberate.

Caitlin shattered. Didn’t even come — not yet — but broke, hips jerking, thighs clenched, hands clawing at Kate’s back.

“You’re mine,” Kate breathed, curling her fingers again, palm working rhythm. “You belong to me.”

“Yes,” Caitlin gasped, almost sobbing now. “Yes, I’m yours. Please—Kate—baby, don’t stop—”

Kate didn’t stop.

Didn’t rush either.

She fucked her with the kind of purpose that only comes from knowing a body by heart. Fingers deep, rhythm steady, thumb brushing just right — slow, mean, devastating.

Caitlin twisted in the sheets, legs open wide, hands fisted in the bedding. Her head tossed side to side.

“You flirt with her again,” Kate whispered, “and next time I’m going to fuck you where she can see.”

Caitlin cried out. Loud. Real.

Kate didn’t stop.

She pressed her mouth to Caitlin’s ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Caitlin couldn’t answer. Her whole body was shaking now — heat climbing, breath ragged, thighs locking.

“I see everything you want,” Kate said. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

“I’m not,” Caitlin gasped. “I’m yours.” 

Kate didn't kiss her again.

Not right away.

She leaned back just enough to drag a hand down Caitlin’s chest — fingers pulling out of her all at once, reverent — then slid off her lap with deliberate slowness.

Caitlin blinked up at her, wrecked, breath ragged. “Kate—?”

Kate didn’t answer.

She opened the nightstand drawer.

Pulled out the vibrator — sleek, familiar, small enough to look harmless. But Caitlin’s breath caught anyway.

Kate met her eyes. All heat. All hunger. But calm. Controlled.

Caitlin watched her. Eyes glassy. Lips parted. 

“I want to ruin you slowly,” she said. “Can I?”

Caitlin’s hips lifted before her mouth could answer. Caitlin nodded — fast, breathless — but Kate didn’t move yet.

“I need to hear it,” she said, stepping back toward her. Her voice dropped to something rougher. “You want this?”

Caitlin’s mouth opened. Closed. Her body swayed toward her without thinking. But her voice followed. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please. Please, yes.”

Kate’s smile was slow. Dangerous. Worshipful.

“Good girl.”

That broke something in Caitlin. She shuddered — thighs tightening — and slumped a little where she sat, knees already falling open like her body couldn’t fake composure anymore.

Kate stepped between her legs.

Ran the tip of the toy up Caitlin’s inner thigh — still off, still teasing — slow and deliberate, watching her tremble with every pass.

“You gonna be good for me?” she murmured, hand bracing Caitlin’s jaw. “Let me play?”

Caitlin moaned. Shaky. “I’ll be so good. I’ll be anything.”

Kate kissed her, finally.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was claiming.

Then she eased her back on the bed — slow, careful, but in charge — until Caitlin was laid out, knees bent, panties pulled to the side with one practiced hand.

She dragged the vibrator down Caitlin’s stomach — featherlight — then turned it on low.

The buzz filled the space between them like a dare.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” she said, voice barely a whisper, trailing the toy up Caitlin’s slick folds without pressing in. “You’re gonna keep those legs open. You’re gonna stay right here with me.”

Kate pressed the toy just beside Caitlin’s clit.

“Say it.”

Not on it.

Beside it.

A tease.

A warning.

“I’ll take it,” she gasped. “I’ll stay open. I’ll be good.”

Kate pressed the tip to her clit.

Caitlin jerked — hips snapping like she’d been shocked. “Oh—fuck—”

Kate didn’t ease her in. 

Didn’t fake softness.

She held the vibrator there — steady, merciless — and watched.

Watched Caitlin arch, back bowing off the mattress. Watched the tension ripple through her thighs. Watched the way her mouth fell open, no sound, just breath.

Not a scream.

Just a shudder.

Just lightning ripping up her spine.

Kate didn’t move the toy. Just held it — precise, perfect, cruel.

Caitlin’s hips bucked. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets. “Kate—”

“Already close?” Kate asked, voice like warm velvet. Her free hand skimmed down Caitlin’s stomach — light, teasing, wrecking. “That easy for me?”

“I haven’t— I can’t—” Caitlin gasped. “Please, I—”

Kate leaned down, breath hot at Caitlin’s ear. “Not yet.”

And then she pulled it away.

Just an inch.

Caitlin sobbed. “No—please, I was—”

Kate smiled, soft and firm all at once. “You teased me in the dairy aisle.”

“I didn’t—”

“You smiled,” Kate murmured. “You let her touch your hand.”

“It was a coupon—”

Kate pressed the toy back down for one second — just enough to make Caitlin cry out — then pulled it away again.

Caitlin buried her face in her arm and screamed.

“You smiled,” Kate repeated. “And you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Caitlin choked. “Always yours. Please.”

Kate took pity.

Just enough.

She turned the dial up one click — higher now, dangerous — and brought it back to her clit. Held it still. No circles. No teasing. Unforgiving. 

Her thighs spasmed. Her stomach clenched. Her spine bowed off the bed. Every inch of her screamed toward release.

But just as she broke again — just as the orgasm started to claw up her spine — Kate pulled it away.

Caitlin sobbed, full-body. “Please, Katie—God—please—I need—”

Kate dropped her mouth to Caitlin’s neck. Kissed her once, sweet and devastating. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

She gave her one more pass. Slow. Inevitable.

Another climb.

Another stolen edge.

It happened three more times.

By the end, Caitlin wasn’t speaking in sentences anymore.

Her voice had thinned to sounds — gasps, sobs, half-words torn straight from her throat. Her thighs trembled so violently Kate had to hold her down, one forearm braced across her hips to keep her grounded, the other hand still gripping the toy.

Her chest heaved. Her eyes were glassy, wide, gone.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please, Katie, please—I can’t—”

“You can,” Kate murmured. Calm. Absolute. Destroying. “You will.”

Caitlin shook her head, desperate. “I’m—I’m gonna break—”

​​“You already did,” Kate whispered. “Now you’re mine.”

She pressed the vibrator flush to Caitlin’s clit — hard, unrelenting — and held it there.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Caitlin screamed — the sound raw and unmistakable, ripped from her lungs like it had been waiting there all night. Her back bowed violently off the bed. Her hands clawed the sheets, tore them, clung like the only way to survive was to stay tethered.

Kate moved one hand to cradle the back of her head — gentle now, anchoring — while her other held steady, keeping her right on the edge, right in it, until Caitlin finally choked out:

“Katie, I can’t—please, I—”

Caitlin was gone.

Her body trembled on the edge — wrecked, soaked, held wide open by hours of teasing and love and denial. Her thighs quaked. Her arms had gone slack. She’d cried herself hoarse.

But her orgasm still hovered — just out of reach. Like she wasn’t allowed to come until something in her broke back open.

Kate saw it. Felt it.

Saw the want tip into ache.

Saw the ache tip into fear.

She set the toy aside — slow, quiet, final — and kissed Caitlin’s knee. Crawled up between her thighs. Pressed their foreheads together.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered.

Caitlin whimpered. Eyes glassy. Lips parted, breath ragged. “Please,” she whispered. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Kate said. Soft. Steady. Sure. “Let me help.”

She reached down — slow, reverent — and slid two fingers inside.

Caitlin arched immediately.

Not just from pressure. From recognition.

Because this was what she’d needed.

Not just touch.

Not just release.

Kate.

Her. Inside.

Present. Real. Home.

“Oh my God,” Caitlin gasped, voice broken open. “That—fuck, that’s you—”

Kate curled her fingers deep. Slow. Steady. Knowing. Her other hand cupped Caitlin’s jaw, grounding her. Thumbing tears off her cheek.

“That’s me,” Kate whispered. “I’m here.”

Caitlin sobbed — not in pain, not even from the build — just from the sheer relief of it. Of feeling Kate like that. Inside her. With her.

Kate pressed her mouth to her ear. Voice breaking too. “I love you, baby,” she whispered. “I love you.”

And that was it.

That was the key.

Caitlin shattered.

Her orgasm ripped through her like a resurrection.

She screamed, arched, sobbed — all at once — hands flying to Kate’s shoulders like she was trying to hold herself together, but her body was already gone.

Kate held her through it.

Held her in it.

Fingers still deep, rhythm steady, love radiating from every point of contact.

Caitlin clenched hard around her — wave after wave — body not letting go but giving in, surrendering to the flood.

She collapsed into Kate’s chest, breath torn and shaking, still trembling like an aftershock long after her orgasm passed.

And Kate stayed.

Didn’t rush. Didn’t speak. Just kept whispering:

“I love you.”

Kate held her. 

“You’re okay.”

Rocked her. 

“I’ve got you, superstar.”

Breathed with her until her heart stopped racing like it was trying to run away.

Caitlin was crying. Silent and real. Hands clinging to Kate’s shoulders like gravity was a choice and she couldn’t trust the floor.

Kate kissed her temple. Her cheek. The curve of her jaw.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. Over and over. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She wrapped both arms around her. Let Caitlin feel her chest rising and falling. Let her feel the steadiness, the quiet, the promise of it.

And then, just as her breathing started to slow — just as her body started to return to itself — Caitlin added, broken but certain:

“I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.”

Kate pulled the blankets up around them. Kissed her again.

“I know,” she said. “Me neither.”

And held her. Quiet. Steady. Whole.

-------------

Later they were lying in bed, limbs tangled, sheets rumpled around their waists. It was late — almost midnight — but neither had made a move to turn off the lamp. Caitlin lay on her side, one arm curled under her head, watching Kate trace idle shapes along her hip bone

“Can I ask you something?” Caitlin said softly.

Kate looked up. “Always.”

Caitlin hesitated. “When I touched you… back in Iowa. The first time I used my hand. And later, when I watched you in the mirror…” Her voice dipped, cheeks flushed even in the dark. “It’s different. Isn’t it?”

Kate nodded slowly. “Yeah. It is.”

“I mean, not just physically,” Caitlin said, still tracing. “But… what it means. What it feels like. For you.”

Kate stayed quiet for a beat. Then: “It’s about letting go. But also… being seen. Receiving, for me — it’s not just about climax. It’s about trust.”

Caitlin shifted, propped her head up on one arm. “So when I edge you — when I take my time — that’s okay?”

Kate looked over, eyes soft. “It’s more than okay. It’s everything. When I let you in like that — when I let you wreck me — it’s not because I need control. It’s because I trust you not to break it.”

Caitlin blinked. Her throat felt tight. “Okay,” she whispered. “Yeah.”

Kate smiled, small and real. “It’s hard to explain. But I think—when you touched me like that, it was the first time I didn’t feel like I had to hold myself together.”

Caitlin blinked. “You always seem so put-together.”

“I know.” Kate’s hand paused. “That’s the problem.”

She took a breath. “Most of the time, I give. I perform. I lead. It’s who I’ve had to be. On the court. In life. Even in bed. But when I let go — when I let you take me apart like that — I’m not managing anymore. I’m not in control. I’m… held.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. “That’s what it is for you? Letting go?”

Kate nodded. “And knowing that you’ll still want me when I’m not in control. That you’ll still see me. Still love me.”

Caitlin kissed her shoulder, slowly. “I do.”

“I know.” Kate said it like a fact.

Then Caitlin added, barely above a whisper, “What would it feel like, for me? If we used… something else?”

Kate didn’t move, but Caitlin felt the shift. A pulse beneath her skin.

“You mean—”

“I mean a strap,” Caitlin said. Then rushed: “I know we’ve joked, I know I said— but I don’t just want it to be a punchline. I want to understand it. Why people use it. Why it might feel good. For you. For us.”

Kate was patient. “It’s not just about the motion. It’s about being filled. Not like ‘filled by a guy’ or whatever bullshit porn taught us. It’s… fuller than that. It’s pressure. Depth. Trust.”

Caitlin’s eyes flicked down, then back. “But wouldn’t it feel… disconnected? Plastic?”

Kate smiled. “That’s where people get it wrong. The toy’s just the tool. What matters is who’s behind it.”

Her thumb brushed Caitlin’s cheekbone. “You’d still be wrapped in me. Pressed into the bed by me. You’d feel my hands on your hips, my mouth on your neck. You’d feel me watching you come apart.”

Caitlin’s breath hitched.

Kate kept going. “And for me? It’s not about being a man. It’s not about pretending. It’s about giving you something fucking real. Something that pins you there, holds you open, fills you so you can’t think of anything but how fucking close we are.”

Caitlin shivered.

Kate pressed a kiss to her hairline. “I’d love you full of me,” she said. “Not because I need to dominate you. Not because I need to ‘fuck you like a man.’ But because I love you. And I want you to feel what I feel when I let go with you.”

Caitlin bit her lip. “But it’s not—like—trying to be a penis.”

Kate shook her head. “It’s just a toy. Just a tool. What makes it real is us. The way we use it. The way we feel when we do.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Caitlin admitted. “I didn’t think it was that. I just… I don’t know. I grew up thinking those kinds of things meant one thing, and I never saw anyone like us in the picture.”

Kate reached over and brushed a knuckle along Caitlin’s cheek. “Yeah. Same. But it’s not about a guy. And it’s not about pretending.”

“Then what is it?”

Kate’s voice dropped — not because she was hiding anything, but because she was finally saying something she didn’t always let herself speak. “It’s about surrender,” she said. “It’s about letting someone in, literally and emotionally. It’s about trust. About wanting to be filled up because you feel safe being seen that way.”

“Can I ask you something else”

Kate’s fingers paused on her back. “Always.”

“It’s kind of… dumb.”

“Still always.”

Caitlin hesitated. Then: “If we used a strap… like, with you wearing it and, um, me taking it… how would that feel good for you?”

Kate didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. She just shifted so they were face to face in the dark. “That’s not dumb.”

“I just—” Caitlin stumbled. “I want to understand. Because I don’t, not yet. And I want to. I want to know what you’d feel.”

Kate’s voice stayed soft. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s talk about it.”

Caitlin waited.

Kate brushed her fingers along Caitlin’s arm, thoughtful. “It’s not like… direct stimulation. Not in the way it is for you. But it’s a different kind of pleasure. Not less — just different.”

“Different how?”

Kate smiled. “It’s in the giving. In watching you fall apart. In making you feel good. It’s physical in a whole-body kind of way. My hips move. My muscles tense. I feel your breath, your heat, your nails in my back.”

She paused. “And there’s a harness. It presses in the right places. Rubs just right when I move. If I’m turned on already — which I will be — I’ll feel everything.”

Caitlin blinked. “Even though it’s not you inside me?”

Kate’s thumb brushed her jaw. “But it is me, Caitlin. I’m the one holding you open. I’m the one rocking into you. I’m the one reading your body — chasing your sounds, your breath, your pull.”

Caitlin flushed.

Caitlin flushed.

“It’s not about a penis,” Kate added, voice firmer. “It’s not about being a guy. It’s not about replacing anything. It’s about presence. About power, if you want it. About giving, always giving, in a way that leaves no room for doubt.”

Caitlin’s breath hitched. “And for me?”

Kate leaned in, kissed her temple. “It’s a different fullness. A different stretch. One that stays with you. That presses deeper. That lets you be held in.”

She hesitated, then added, “Sometimes when you’re so in your head, when you don’t know how to ask for help or softness or quiet… something about being taken care of that way — it lets you stop thinking. It gives you permission to just feel.”

Caitlin closed her eyes.

Kate’s hand settled at her waist. “It’s not about gender. It’s not about roles. It’s not about who wears what.”

“What is it about?”

Kate’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s about trust. Letting someone all the way in. Wanting to feel claimed. And safe. And adored.”

Caitlin was quiet for a long moment. Then: “I want that.”

Kate smiled. “I know you do.”

“Is it okay if I’m still nervous?”

Kate pulled her closer. “Of course it is. Nervous means you care. Nervous means you’re brave.”

Caitlin buried her face in Kate’s shoulder.

Kate kissed her hair. “We’ll go together. Pick it out together. Try it together. There’s no rush.”

“And if I panic?”

“Then we stop,” Kate said simply. “And I hold you. And we try again someday. Or we don’t. And that’s okay too.”

Caitlin nodded against her skin.

Kate held her tighter. “You already let me in, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’d still love to do it with a strap too,” she whispered, grinning.

Caitlin groaned. “You’re the worst.”

Kate kissed her again. “But honest.”

They fell asleep tangled like that — limbs warm, hearts full, and the future unfolding slowly before them.

—----------

The next morning, Caitlin woke up to Kate’s voice in the kitchen, arguing with a toaster.

“It’s literally your only job,” Kate muttered. “Heat. Bread. That’s it.”

Caitlin didn’t move. She stayed curled on the couch, one arm tossed over her eyes, body sore in the best way, mouth tugged into a half-smile.

The apartment smelled like coffee and burnt ambition.

She found Kate at the counter, hair still wet from a shower, wearing a tank that definitely wasn’t hers and a scowl aimed directly at the toaster.

“You look like a domestic threat,” Caitlin said.

Kate glanced over, half-smiling. “You’re a menace in my sleep shirt.”

“Yours now.”

Kate poured her a cup of coffee. No words, just the ritual of it.

The morning stayed easy — cheap toast, legs over each other on the couch, McKenna yelling at them for stealing her yogurt again.

Later, Caitlin decided to lift at the gym. Kate walked her there. They held hands down Belmont, letting the city pass around them like background noise.

That night, Caitlin sprawled on the floor reading while Kate worked on something for her internship. The fan clicked in the corner. The windows were cracked open. The room smelled like takeout and lake air.

At some point, Caitlin set her book down.

“Hey,” she said. “About what we talked about.”

Kate looked up.

“The, um… store. Strap-on.”

Kate’s smile was warm. “Yeah?”

“I still wanna,” Caitlin said. “Just maybe not tomorrow. Maybe later this week?”

Kate reached out, touched her ankle. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And Caitlin nodded. Quiet. Solid.

She didn’t look away.

#wnba#kate martin#caitlin clark#wnba basketball#f/f fanfic#fluff#wnba players#womens basketball#katelin#kate x caitlin#katelinfanwrites#wlw#fanfic#headcanon#smut#wlw smut#uconn wbb#wbb#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#wnba draft#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#paige bueckers#paige x azzi#azzi fudd#paige buckets#iowa women’s basketball#wlw post#wlw nsft

[nixon-stars]

ooooooh you wanna yap about Clara so badddddd (please yap about her please please please please please)

HI YES I REALLY DO

I dunno how much I'll talk but I'm putting in the lil read more antway

HIIIIIII SO

For those not in the know, Clara is my sweet evil baby girl also the main antagonist for my oc world and story, rn going under the name 'Pakshapuram' (definitely going to change it tho, also 'paksha' coming from Sanskrit for wing and puram being a common suffix for towns in south india, like Kanchipuram)

She was born and raised in Pakshapuram, a city town thing that is one of a few cities around the area (this area is pretty isolated the only people that come through were born and raised or shifty guys working through black market sort of trades).

She was born the only child to Amara, who with no partner and no other kids and a big expectations on her, put everything into raising Clara. She's a pretty typical Indian mum though, rarely giving affection or praise, but it works, and Clara knows she's well loved.

She is also a bharatanatyam dancer!! Which doesn't help with the pressure but whatever, Clara's life is good, she has her mum, lots of friends, people all around her that want to help, and most importantly she has Xavier.

Xavier, I could talk about him forever, but what you need to know is that he and Clara are CLOSE. Always together, never separated, all the aunties look on and call them "heart and soul" (ഹൃദയവും ആത്മാവും) they don't leave each other's side right

But there's no good character without a touch 🤏 of trauma so, yayyyy

While dancers learn bharatanatyam, after they learn everything and stuff they get this big ceremony debut into their official career, it's called an Arangetram, and it's a bigggg deal okay?

Also like a year before this, Amara find out she's expecting!!!! Gives birth to a baby boy!!!! Very healthy!!!! Nothing will happen to him promise!!!!!!

Anyway on the day of Clara's Arangetram, she goes to her aunty's house to get dressed quickly in her saree (if you've ever tried to put on a saree you KNOW this isn't quick in the slightest)

She comes back and 😱😱😱 her mum is a statue wthhh?????

And her baby brother is gone?????? (It has nothing to do with amara's old wlw situationship that ended terribly and sourly and left a lot of unanswered questions and lingering feelings whattt)

She's confused af obviously and angry and WHO TF TURNED MY MUM INTO A STATUE y'know very justified, and she overhears some people talking about how Dragons???? might be responsible????

You need to know that dragons are heavily venerated in Pakshapuram, the religion of the city revolves around how important dragons are too the world right and how they shouldn't be touched or anything yeah

An old guy came up and said that he had known about a prophecy that something like this could happen and blah blah blah Clara's in charge now

But like she's sixteen so that's alottttt of pressure to put on a literal child you would think? NOPE they said make her queen now

So now Clara's in charge and also A GRIEVING TEENAGER and she is stressed

And woahhhjj perfect timing famine through the land!!!!!!!

Every one is really hungry and Xavier, who is now general, asked her what she wanted to do about it and maybe just maybe let's use the food we had stored just in case something like this happened????

Clara goes "no girl im using that"

And Xavier's like "what why we don't need to use those???"

And Clara like "yeah we do thats what I'm referring the troops I sent to go find a dragon for me to kill to get revenge for killing my mum"

And Xavier's like "you crazy bitch people are starving can you be insane later"

Clara throws a temper tantrum and exiles him woooooop #girlboss

Years pass and Xavier's making a under ground resistance against Clara because she has moved on from killing people with her ignorance to just killing them if they disagree with her which isn't cool

Clara goes very insane with the grief and stress and everything she's soooo unhappy and very evil about it she's talking to the statue of her mum and she's not doing well

And here's about where the main story starts, and I haven't even talked about the protagonists

Anyway I wonder what happened to that baby brother????? 🤔🤔🤔 I guess we'll never knowwwwww

[insomniacaesthetic]

Ok so if you are still doing the Bellatrix lestrange request. I request a WLW with hermione granger if possible. Go wild frankly. I need the touch starved and over protectiveness and usual insanity. You have free reign.

Okay soooo as much as I LOVE reading this stuff.. I personally write x reader. But I will read tf out of bellamione fics if anyone has any recs

I’m currently reading under my skin by HarryToad if anyone cares.

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

Hello!!! :D Hope you've been having a nice day so far! 💖

For whe writers truth & dare ask game: 🍓🥤🦷🏜️🥐

hi!!!! you too!!!!! it's been pretty uneventful for me lol.

thanks for the ask!!

heres the ask game if anyone wants to see it.

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

It was elementary school. 5th grade or so, but I was deeply invested in TMNT 2012 with a few of my friends. We would all talk about it, and at one point I wrote a little story in my notebook by hand without knowing what it was called about the show (its long since lost in a flood that happened years ago rip) but I found ff.net months later because I had two infatuations. TMNT 2012 and the original teen titans. I even remember reading fanfic on deviantart. I was really big into April and Donnie and Beast Boy and Raven. I didn't start posting anything until my Wattpad days around 14-16. That was about bandom, Pitch Perfect, then Citrus (I have made bad choices and I meme on myself now but I was JUST THAT STARVED for wlw ships.) Anyway wattpad account got deleted and there was a whole thing where my email got hacked and everything just is gone. (its really soulcrushing to lose work like that). But yeah!! I got back into fanfic during 2020 and the pandemic because I had watched a movie and just decided to write for it. I don't recommend reading anything of that era because it's cringe and just... no.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIEND GHOST!!!! @localowlhousefanatic. THEIR WORK IS AWESOME AND THEY WRITE SOME AMAZING VEESHA STUFF. ALSO SHOUT OUT TO @witch128chick!!!

Can I give multiple fanfics I love though?? I can't add everyone due to time but I'll give a couple.

TOH:

1.) learning how to be (with you by my side) by uniqueusernamegenerator (<- THIS is my favorite toh fanfic) 2.) I’ll Catch You by Black_Cat_Autumn 3.) all i got is my heart (and my pride) 4.) warm coffee, summer blues by uniqueusernamegenerator 5.) "I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? by kfaerie 6.) The Rest is History by amityadmirer for Shannon_shannon_shannon 7.) No Tip Necessary by Rohad 8.) i want you to be here (but please don’t come near) by stongrays 9.) Tallmity and Petite Luz future au by the_Shan_yousee 10.) You're My Rainbow in the Dark (HAITUS) by Underw0rld

Arcane: 1.)the oldest game by thehaakun 2.) the heart is a bullet by thehaakun 3.) The World Ends, Or Doesn't by Misthios 4.) how big, how blue (how beautiful) by panglosian

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Story sprints are a godsend. Also plotting helps alongside voice memos. I don't really have someone to bounce ideas off of but it helps me to verbalize what I'm thinking if I'm stuck so sometimes I talk through what I'm thinking aloud. Also making playlists or mood boards/collages of character outfits. Just giving you a more visual aspect of what you want to write.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Just genuine praise of my work feels nice. I don't get comments often. Sometimes they give me anxiety too. Maybe if you have any pointers of my fic to say something like that??

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

FOG HORN SOUND EFFECT. SORRY BUT IT CRACKS ME UP.

[getouyuri]

"too man for me" is so real BAHAHAH nanami's cool but i like them a little bit fruity what can i say. and on that note thank you for being one of the few people here writing wlw x reader stuff cuz i eat that shit UP every time

MEEEEE and I like the devastatingly pretty men too 😭 shaking my head rubbing my temples… which is exactly why I just can’t get behind nanamiiiii idkkk i just cannot muster up much emotion towards himmmhrjsernen

you’d think that I’d be the same with toji cos he’s very #Man but he somehow bypassed that and he’s been branded as ‘wife’ in my head. i look at him and i’m like awww my wife 😁🥺 don’t know how this came to be but well!

and i’m glad that u eat it up ^_^ plating more servings for u rn 👩🏽‍🍳

jokes aside I love writing wlw x reader and i especially love the fact that you all enjoy it. i feel like in most fanbases it’s rare that you see someone writing that, Especially among jjk fans 😭😭 like off the top of my head, the only creators i know of (and tbf this is far as #I’m aware, im definitely missing some) that write wlw x reader for jjk are nana and this one person that’s no longer active

which sucks so bad like mannnn 😭 we starving out here

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 7

“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: our thirteen remaining players were let loose in the Dandenong Ranges in southern Australia with no supplies, no maps- nothing but each other! Even though Team Mojo hit a rough patch while Team Yaoi pulled themselves together for Julia’s sake, it was Albert’s environmental expertise that pulled the Mojos to the finish line, and landed Team Yaoi back in economy. Will they continue to stick together to defend their fellow castmates against Patrick? Will Team Mojo ever stop getting lost in every location we drop them in? Find out now, on Total Takes World Tour!”

Early morning light sifts through the open windows of the first class cabin, awakening everyone bright and early. At this altitude, there are no clouds to filter out the sunshine, let alone trees and houses, so it’s up and at it for Team Mojo. 

Michela yawns and helps herself to the breakfast buffet set up across from the mocktail bar. Chris’ off-limits hot tub bubbles in the background, and the faint sounds of the flat-screen television in his private quarters makes its way through the silence in first class. 

Albert shifts up next to her, taking up a paper plate and sorting through the assorted vegan options (which, albeit, aren’t very impressive). 

“I honestly don’t get how you can just not eat like that,” Michela smiles, helping herself to a large heaping of bacon. “I’d probably starve to death.”

Albert chuckles. “It’s an acquired taste, I suppose. But it’s for the greater good,”

“Does that stuff really make a difference? I mean… no offense, but you’re just one guy,”

“We were taught that no change is too small,” he shrugs, pouring himself some hot water for tea. “I try to live by that.”

Patrick peers over the back of his plush seat from the seating area, eyes narrowed. After a few moments, he plops back down and leans over to Sha-Mod. “Those two are awfully chummy, aren’t they?”

Sha-Mod adjusts the paper napkin tied over his face. “What? I mean, I guess, but they’re just friends, right?”

“‘Friend’ is just a longer way of saying ‘ally’,”

Sha-Mod takes a moment to count on his fingers. “Oh, yeah. Guess that’s right,”

Patrick puts an arm around Sha-Mod and roughly pulls him closer. “Listen, buddy, you get it. We’re two lone wolves, standing apart from the pack!”

“Um… I guess,”

“I always thought you were the best of the Takes Three,” 

“Huh… really? Cause we always agreed McLovin carried. He’s the best at Guitar Hero,”

Patrick grits his teeth and then forces a smile. “Yes. You could go solo if you wanted, they’re holding you back if anything,”

“Really? Cause-”

“That’s not the point! I’m trying to say that you and I should krck them before they krck us,” he says, slashing across his throat with his finger. “The chick will definitely make merge, but the guy’s vulnerable.”

“But Albert is nice,”

“B-but Albert is nice,” Patrick mocks. “That’s what you sound like. You’re the most vulnerable player on the team, since you’re not in an alliance.”

“But you aren’t either!”

“Please,” he says, slicking his hair back. “I’m unexpendable.”

---

PATRICK: “Talking to him is like trying to teach a can of sardines to sing opera,”

---

Mal snaps a quick picture of Bonnie and Max as they sleep beside each other and quickly giggles to herself as she uploads it to her blog. 

“Bonmax is so trending on Twitter right now,” she squeals maniacally. “People are having discourse over whether it’s moral or not to ship them, since they’re so mlm/wlw solidarity-coded.”

Ass massages their temples. “I don’t know what any of those words mean. Stop talking to me,”

“Isn’t it weird to ship them since they’re both in relationships?” Courtney asks, yawning. "I mean, rpf is-"

“As if. It’s called fanon interpretation,” Mal crosses her arms. “My mutual is a total Maxulia shipper and he’s got like 1.3k followers.”

“A WHAT?” Julia shouts from down the bench. 

Across the cabin, Staci stretches and turns to the rest of the team, who are still fast asleep. 

---

STACI: “Okay, so, a part of my undergrad program is about leadership- I was hoping to take the hit points by really overcompensating on my participation and my exams, but... maybe this show would be good practice,”

---

“Up, up, rise and shine!” she shouts, pacing up and down the bench and clapping their hands. “Let’s load up on breakfast and then hit the books for strategy!”

“Hm?” Kelly mumbles, half-awake. 

“What books?” Max asks, rubbing his eyes. “The Art of War?”

“That’s an excellent suggestion,” Staci says, bouncing a pointing stick in their hand. 

---

STACI: “So, in most groups, everyone will assume the role of a communication maintainer- but since our team is so divided, I’m just going to try to do all of them before everyone gets on board. First up: Social-Emotional,”

---

“Does anyone have any more ideas? I’m all ears!”

“Ooh, me! I do! I have lots of ideas!” Phillip says, picking up his notebook and rushing over. “Do you want to hear a poem?”

“I would love to!” Staci smiles, watching as Phillip leafs through several crude crayon gore drawings to get to the poems. 

“Who died and made her queen?” Max grumbles. Bonnie elbows him and he rolls his eyes. 

---

MAX: “Okay, admittedly, I haven’t exactly been picking up the slack here. But who could blame me? This team is hopeless! Besides, I have… other things to worry about,”

---

“Good morning, passengers! We’ll be landing in about twenty minutes, so buckle in and hold on tight!” Chris shouts. 

Everyone who’s up scrambles back to their seats and straps in as the plane begins nose-diving, much to everyone’s horror. Bonnie and Max hold onto each other as they head straight down, and Mal makes sure to get and upload and picture before returning to screaming with the rest of the cast. 

At the last second, Chef pulls up and the plane lands smoothly on the tarmac and the doors open with a hiss. 

The morning is crisp, cloudy, and chilled as everyone steps down the rickety stairs and onto the pavement. 

“No amount of first class perks will ever make up for these landings,” Sha-Mod says, rubbing his back. 

Patrick follows him out, cracking his neck and grinding his teeth. 

“Welcome one, welcome all, to Wales!” Chris says, gesturing to the rolling green hill behind him. 

Mal looks from side-to-side. “Where?”

“Here, you idiot,” Ass snaps, putting their hands on their hips. 

“No, where are the whales?”

Courtney sighs and pinches the bridge of their nose. Julia just rolls her eyes. 

“Nice team you’ve got there, sweetheart!” Patrick yells from across the tarmac. She grits her teeth. 

---

PATRICK: “Now that Julia and I are back to sworn enemies, we make quite the pair of rivals. I mean- she’s her team’s leader, I’m my team’s leader, she’s cunning, I’m brilliant, she’s decent, I’m gorgeous… like a match made in Hell,”

---

“Wales?! We’re only an hour from my grandma's house!” Sha-Mod says merrily, jumping with joy. 

Michela raises an eyebrow. “You’re from Wales?”

“No, England is right over… there, somewhere,” he gestures vaguely off into the distance. Michela shrugs. 

“Your first stop is Cardiff. To make things a little more fun- for me- we decided to make it a little scavenger hunt,” Chris says, pulling out three slips of paper. “These will have the clue to your next location.”

“Um,” Courtney says, reading Team Yaoi’s slip. “Are these-?”

“These are in WELSH!” Ass says. “None of us can read this!”

“Too bad,” Chris shrugs. “Shoulda thought of that before you came to Wales, huh?”

“YOU BROUGHT US HERE!”

“Beautiful language, isn’t it? I love the use of W's. Well, see you at your next stop!” the host says, waving goodbye and walking into the plane. Ass groans. 

Julia sighs and ropes in the team. “Okay, so Mal can run Google Translate on her phone. That’ll give us a head start, but we gotta stick together, okay?”

Courtney looks up to Mal, who’s happily typing away. “Where did Mal get a phone? I thought I trashed hers back in Chicago?”

“I think she steals them, but that’s not important. Let’s just avoid fighting. That’s all I ask of you,”

Staci watches the scuffle from afar and shakes her head, grinning. 

---

STACI: “Authoritarian much? Everyone knows you catch more flies with honey than vinegar,”

---

“Okay, team, let’s all go around in a circle and brainstorm. I wanna hear ideas from everyone,” Staci says sweetly. “Kelly, why don’t you start?”

“Maybe it’s a code. Ooh, does anyone here speak hieroglyphs?”

“That’s a great point, Kelly. Does anyone here speak hieroglyphs?”

Max grits his teeth. 

“No one? Okay, Bonnie?”

“I can get back in the plane and grab my tablet. If I can connect to the internet, we can-”

A loud whoosh and a strong current of air blows past the group as the plane takes off. Bonnie sighs. “Okay. I’m out,”

“Max?”

“Murder-suicide,”

“Okay, well, I’m not sure that’s very helpful, but thank you for sharing,” Staci says. “Phillip?”

“I actually had a dream about this once, except I was in an airport that was also a petting zoo, and it was in China but everyone was speaking in Arabic, and I had to get to the pretzel stand but no one could hear me because I was invisible,” he pauses once he notices everyone’s blank expressions. “I have prophetic dreams, by the way.”

---

PHILLIP: “They all hate me,”

---

“And then I was suddenly in my grandma’s house, but the dishwasher was in the bedroom, and my buddy Eric's Uncle Dale was there, and then-”

“Okay, ENOUGH,” Max says. “Let’s just find someone and ask.”

“Now there’s an idea! I knew this would work eventually,” Staci claps. Max glares at her. 

---

MAX: "Staci's always been a little high on her own fumes. Which is to say, completely and utterly detached from anything that resembles reality,"

---

Team Mojo trudges through Cardiff, Michela leading the rest of the group behind her like a mother duck and a line of ducklings. She holds up their slip of paper to street signs, restaurant names, and any Welsh she can find. 

“Anything yet?” Patrick says. “I didn’t do my 4k gold face mask last night and I’m feeling puffy.”

“Calm down, your royal highness,” Michela snaps. “Unless you have a better idea?”

Sha-Mod scratches his chin, looking around the city. A strong breeze blows past them, pulling off Sha-Mod’s face napkin. He screams in terror and runs after it. 

“We lost him again,” Albert says, turning as Sha-Mod runs off. 

“He’ll find his way back. He’s like a pigeon,” Michela murmurs, walking ahead. 

---

SHA-MOD: “Two seasons ago, I said that I would never show my face on TV- and I meant it! I have withstood lakes, small, vicious animals- Scary included- explosions, and hurricanes- I guess the stress of being alone this season was just too sha-much for Lightning,”

---

Sha-Mod walks back in frame with a bag of chips tied around his face. Patrick rolls his eyes. 

“Hey, guys! We found a match!” Michela says, bringing the group back towards her. She holds up the paper under a sign off in the distance. “National Museum Cardiff, up ahead!”

---

“I think I’m doing pretty well,” Staci says, leading the group behind her as they walk through the city. Kelly nods. “You’re doing great!”

“We’ll have this team put back together in no time!” she says confidently. “Just a little Social-Emotional nurturing, and I’ll bring together a safe and welcoming environment. That’s the first step- I learned it in communications class.”

“Wow, impressive! College must be fun,” 

“It is, I’m learning a lot. Honors is tough, but I’m tougher, right?” they grin. “That’s what my mom says.”

Kelly nods. Max rolls his eyes from behind them. 

---

KELLY: “Watching our little friend group grow has been a real treat- I know not everyone gets to do that. Austin is in a relationship, Staci is in university, and I’m… well, I’m here!”

---

“Miserable,” Max mutters, kicking a rock along the road. He sighs loudly. Bonnie tries to ignore him. Then, he sighs again. Louder. Bonnie grits their teeth. He sighs again, groaning a little this time, and they finally give in. 

“Okay, fine. What’s up?”

“It’s about… well, you-know-who,”

“Figures,” they mutter. “What now?”

Max fidgets with his tie and looks at the ground. “I was given an… anonymous tip… to watch out for them. For him, I mean,”

“An ‘anonymous’ tip, huh?”

He shrugs them off. “Unimportant. I just don’t get why she’s being so distant about it,”

“You trust her?”

“Yes, yes, of course, but… at the same time, do I?” Max thinks aloud. “I want to. It just feels like she’s keeping something from me. I can’t stand being lied to.”

Bonnie grumbles to themselves and then sighs. “I’m… sorry, I guess. What’s your damage? I mean, what’s your deal? I mean… you get what I mean,”

He shifts slightly. “Michela isn’t the first person I’ve been with,”

“Huh. You don’t say,” Bonnie scans him over, raising an eyebrow. “Well… I’m all ears and no lips. The only person I’d tell is stuck in a studio in Toronto.”

“I went to a pretty religious private school. My family isn’t Christian, but it was top in the province, so… well, you know,” he says, looking at his feet. “Before I… um, looked like this, there was a girl I used to see. She couldn’t tell anyone, obviously,” he rolls his eyes. “But it was like she couldn’t tell me anything, either. I guess it was embarrassment, or something, but it was always distance and secrets with her. I could never figure out if she was upset and lying, or being honest, or implying something, and no matter what I did it was always the wrong thing… I’m not an oblivious person,” he insists, pointing sharply. “But I’m not always good at this romance thing. I guess it just makes me paranoid now.”

“Well, damn,” Bonnie says. “So, you don’t think Michela is lying but your train of thought is-”

“Working overtime to convince me she is,” he sighs. “I know it’s irrational but it doesn’t make me sleep any easier.”

“Couldn’t you just talk to her about it?”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Don’t make me pull out the Caesar card again,”

“Okay, but in my defense- not talking about it just forced him and I to spill the beans on live international TV in front of all our friends and peers,” Bonnie says. “Would you rather it be that?”

“I get the point,” he sighs. “I just can’t get this feeling out of my stomach.”

Bonnie lightly punches his shoulder. “We’ll get you there somehow,” 

---

“This is the place,” Courtney says, walking up the steps of the National Museum. 

The rest of the team hovers behind them, watching cautiously as they approach the large double doors. They reach out a hand and grab the handle. The door doesn’t budge. 

Courtney pulls at it again, then turns around. “It’s locked,”

“Try harder,” Ass cups their mouth and shouts. 

“How will trying harder unlock a door!”

Julia sighs and steps between the two. “Shut up! Both of you! Chris might be somewhere around here, or this is some kind of… I don’t know, puzzle. But arguing about it just wastes time and destroys my brain cells!”

The team grumbles to themselves as Julia scans the exterior. Ass storms past Courtney and tries the door again. 

“You’re not going to open it,” they say, watching with an unamused expression. 

Ass struggles, pushing against the floor and leaning back as far as their body will allow them. “It’s just stuck,”

“That’s a funny way to say locked!”

“Not everyone has a weak grip like you, princess!”

Ass roughly yanks the door, shaking it slightly while they and Courtney bicker. After several minutes of scuffling, they release the handle and shout in frustration, kicking the base. 

A slip of paper unlodges itself from the crack between the wall and the door and floats to the ground. Ass grins, swiping it off the stone. “There. See?”

“See what? You didn’t open the door!”

Mal types rapidly on her phone and smacks her gum loudly from the base of the stairs. “Ohhhh, yeah. Forgot to mention, Google says the museum is closed on Mondays,”

Courtney and Ass glare. “That information would’ve been helpful BEFORE WE GOT HERE!”

“Whatever,” Julia says, swiping the next clue from Ass’ hands. "Where to next?"

---

“Sheep?” Max asks as the slightly-annoyed local walks off. “We have to-”

“I know, it’s not my favorite either, but it’s what the clue says,” Staci says. “I’m positive you’re gonna do great, Max!”

He blinks. 

---

STACI: “The next role is the supporter, which is basically just what it sounds like. Let’s get motivated!”

---

Team Friendship rushes to the ends of the city, meeting a large road leading out into the country. Off to the side, sure enough, are three herds of sheep. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bonnie sighs. 

“Sheep farming is an important economy, so I’d watch your tone,” Chris says, dropping in on a jetpack and startling the sheep away. “Glad to see you’ve made it this far- you’re just a few hours away from your final destination. While it’s currently in England, many scholars argue that it was first built right here in Wales- you’re going to Stonehenge!

“Thank you for explaining that, Chris,” Staci says sweetly. Her team unanimously gives her odd looks. 

“You’re welcome,” the host grins. “Now, I’d get to rounding up your herd and setting off- I hear Team Yaoi is hot on your trail.”

---

“Okay, edge of the city- let’s go!” Michela says, pointing ahead. She and Albert run while Patrick walks casually behind them, picking at his cuticles. 

Sha-Mod lingers behind, looking from side to side before hurrying to catch up with the group. 

---

SHA-MOD: “Who am I without Lightning? Without Takes Three?! Am I anyone? AM I STILL SHA-FABULOUS?”

---

Team Yaoi arrives just as Team Friendship sets off, leading two other herds of sheep behind them. The four look between each other nervously. 

“Okay, it’s just some sheep. We can do this,” Courtney says, picking up a stick off the ground and waving it around. “Get! Get! Come on!”

“That is so not how you do that,” Ass crosses their arms. Julia shakes her head and sighs. “We need a herding dog, or something,”

The two stop and turn to Mal behind them. 

---

“Yeah, I don’t know if this is really for me,” Patrick says, chuckling to himself as he watches Michela try to get their sheep's attention. “I’m more of a wolf, not much of a dog, if you know what I mean.”

Michela snorts. “You’re more like an inbred cat with IBS, but sure! Now, move it!”

Albert tries using a stick to guide them, but the sheep graze on, unbothered. He shrugs to her, and she groans.

“I don’t get it. I’m trying everything I learned about,” he says, tossing the stick behind him. A few sheep bleat nervously and walk away. “What! What am I doing wrong?! Animals like me!”

“Maybe these sheep are just neurotic?” Michela mutters. Patrick smirks. 

Seconds later, Sha-Mod comes tumbling out of the city behind them, landing chips-first on the ground. When he stands, the plastic bag is deflated and partially open, and crispy potato wedges are falling from the top. 

Sha-Mod sits up, groaning, and sees the entire herd surrounding him. He shrieks. 

“No! No, it’s okay! They want the food!” Albert says cautiously while he and Michela watch with wide eyes. “Get up very, very slowly, and walk towards us.”

Patrick chuckles. “You’ve got to be kidding. These dumb animals won’t hurt you! If anything, you need to assert your dominance as the more intelligent species through fear! Watch,” he storms over to an ewe, shaking his fist at them. “Listen here, lesser species. I have the upper hand, and I-”

The sheep bleats and walks over to him, nuzzling against his pant leg. A few join afterwards, going in circles around his legs and playfully nipping at him. He screams in terror. “GET THEM OFF ME!”

“No! They like you!” Michela palms her forehead and then whisper-shouts. “Don’t scare them! Walk over here, slowly!”

Patrick whimpers in fear and edges forward, shuffling his feet towards Michela. Albert watches in horror. 

---

ALBERT: “All those hours studying, camping with wildlife, volunteering at free-range farms- and it’s Patrick who’s the better shepherd. This is… what’s happening to me?”

---

Patrick finally reaches Michela and throws himself in her arms, crying. She rolls her eyes and pats his back. “There, there. They’re not going to hurt you,”

“Do they bite?” he asks shakily. 

“No,” Albert says from afar. He turns to Sha-Mod, who’s still surrounded by the rest of the herd. “Let’s go.”

---

Team Yaoi walks alongside each other, panting as the day wears on. 

“Wish we could ride these useless things,” Ass mutters. “What are they even good for?”

A sheep angrily bleats at them and they back off. Courtney rolls their eyes and leans in to pet one. “I dunno, I think they’re kinda sweet,”

“Whatever,” they murmur in response, earning another eye roll from Courtney. 

Julia hangs at the back of the group, watching the two up front. Mal darts into frame for a moment, running around her ankles and barking before circling the group once again. 

The sound of laughter and sheep appears from behind the team and Julia turns a bit to catch a glimpse of Team Mojo following them up the crest, sheep in line and following Sha-Mod and Patrick in the front. 

The latter grins and waves as they pass by. “See you at the finish line, sweetie!”

Julia grimaces, but waits til the team disappears up ahead to make comment. 

“I hate that guy,”

“What’s your deal with him, anyway?” Courtney asks. Mal pops up out of nowhere, covered in grass and dirt, and states matter-of-factly: “Exes. Messy breakup, but even messier relationship,” and then she ducks back to the ground to run around the herd again. 

Julia rolls her eyes. “Yes, thank you, Mal,”

“Ooh, fun. Any juicy gossip to share?” Ass asks, crossing their arms and grinning. 

“Well, I-”

The familiar ringing of the song bell sounds and she grits her teeth. “No way am I going to-”

“It’s sing or lose!” Chris says, popping into frame on his jetpack. “And from the looks of it, your team can’t risk losing you. So get singing! Oh, and for the challenge, why don’t we throw some Welsh in there?”

Julia palms her forehead and sighs. “I love Wales in the springtime, rwy’n caru Wales in the fall,”

“Good job, Jules, keep it up!” Courtney cheers on. 

“It’s the country of love in the summer, but now it’s just a bummer! Cause-”

Far up ahead, Patrick clears his throat. “Julia broke my heart and chewed it up and spit it out and then stepped on it and threw it down a sewer and called it names and then laughed!”

Michela rolls her eyes. 

“Oes, my friends, you must never trust a girl!” 

Julia goes on front behind. “Oes, my friends, he’ll make you wanna hurl!”

“Oes, my friends, she will,” Patrick pauses to take a deep breath. “Break your heart and chew it up and spit it out and step on it and throw it down a sewer and call it names, and then laugh!”

“Oh, brother,” Michela mutters. Albert nods in agreement. 

Far ahead of them, Team Friendship picks up with Staci: “Oes, my friends! We are gonna make it through!”

Max grits his teeth as their sheep run off again. “Um, no, my “friend”, we just lost another ewe,”

Back to Julia: “Oes, my friends, I’m telling it to you,”

“Oes, my friends, now I’m telling you the truth,” Patrick says up ahead. 

Julia takes a deep breath. “If you date a boy you met on TV and then break up with him, and then break up with him again, and then finally actually break up with him, even though you were nothing but nice, you will still-”

Patrick picks up as the tempo changes. “We end up on TV! She won’t even see me! And the girl won’t even admit I dumped her FIRRRRST!”

“Is it over?” Michela asks, holding her head. Albert nudges her. “We lost Sha-Mod again.”

She grabs his arm weakly. “Can you please. I feel sick,”

Albert looks around her to where Patrick is humming to himself and leading the herd. “I don’t know if I’d feel good about myself leaving you with him,”

“I’ll be fine. Just go deal with Sha-Mod,”

He sighs, but walks off anyway. 

---

Team Friendship arrive first at Stonehenge, despite their sheep going AWOL around them. As soon as they reach the finish line, Max collapses in the fetal position on the floor. 

“YAYYYY, we did it!” Staci pumps her fist. “Go, team!”

Kelly squeals and claps their hands. Phillip watches as Bonnie sits down next to Max’s lifeless body and pokes him with a stick until he moves. 

“Do we win something,” the goth asks, balancing their head in the palms. 

Chris, sitting in a plush chair and enjoying a cup of tea, shrugs. They grumble to themselves. Team Yaoi arrives next, looking around. 

“I guess we lost them,” Julia says with barely-restrained joy. 

---

JULIA: “Would Patrick being gone solve all my problems? No. But it’d be sooooo satisfying, wouldn’t it?”

---

“I guess you did, but we can’t do the next part of your challenge without all teams available, sooooo…” Chris says. “Time to wait!”

The teens groan. 

---

“Sha-Mod!” Albert yells, wandering the rolling green plains. “Sha-Mod? God, how can anyone get lost out here? There’s nothing!”

He takes a step forward and hears a loud crunch. He winces. “Please don’t be a snail,”

“Nah, just me,” 

Albert looks down and sighs in relief. He lifts his shoe off the bag of chips and steps off of Sha-Mod, who’s buried in the dirt below him. “Dude. You have to get up and come back to the team,”

“Why should I? I’m no one,” 

“You- okay, you have to get up. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,”

Sha-Mod rises from his shallow grave and sighs. The bag of chips slips off his face and is carried off in the breeze, and he shrieks. “My crisps!”

“Here,” Albert says, taking off his windbreaker and tossing it over Sha-Mod’s head. “Now let’s go.”

Sha-Mod crosses his arms and turns his head, the windbreaker swaying. “No,”

“Why not?”

“I’m no one. No one needs me,”

Albert takes a long, deep breath. “Okay. Fine. What’s wrong?”

“I lost my Lightning,” he sniffles. “I’m no one under that picture.”

“That’s not true. You have a face,” he pauses. “You… you do have a face, don’t you?”

“A dumb one,” he cries. 

Albert shakes his head and sits down next to him. “I guess I know how you feel. I’ve been feeling like a failure lately, too. A nobody,”

“Did you also go on a reality TV show for three seasons without showing your face and then realize no one really knows you?” 

“Um… no. I just meant more in a symbolic sense,” Albert says, raising an eyebrow. “I just lost my job, my whole life. I don’t really know who I am without it.”

“Oh, I see. I guess I get it. Lightning was my job,”

“Your job was… Lightning?”

Sha-Mod nods. “Now who am I? A sweaty windbreaker?”

“It’s not… never mind,” he mutters. “So, you don’t want to show your face, but you also don't-don’t want to show your face?”

He nods. 

“Okay. Makes sense,” Albert murmurs. “What’re you afraid of?”

“Well, originally I did it because I didn’t want my likeness to be on international TV in front of millions of people, but eventually I just couldn’t take it off! It was like a part of me… now, who am I without it?”

“You’re Sha-Mod. I mean, whatever your real name is,” Albert says. “You’re not a piece of paper.”

---

ALBERT: “There are a lot of things I’ve said today that I’d never imagined myself saying before. And yet, they make perfect sense. What is wrong with this show,”

---

Sha-Mod sniffles. “Or a windbreaker?”

“Or a windbreaker,” Albert says reassuringly. “Maybe it’s time to face the world, Sha-Mod. Show us the real you.”

“Um… I don’t know. I think I’m just going to keep this on. I like it,” he says, standing. “Let’s get back to the team.”

Albert sighs, but stands and follows anyway. 

---

Team Mojo arrives at Stonehenge last, trudging themselves and their sheep behind them. 

“FINALLY!” Ass snaps. “We thought you got eaten by… whatever lives out here!”

“British people,” Kelly whispers. Staci nods. 

“Welcome one, welcome all to the final round of your Great British Race-Off!” Chris says, then leans into Chef to whisper. “We’re allowed to use that, right?” Hatchet shrugs. 

“Your final task is simple- a delicious, traditional British feast in front of the scenic Stonehenge,” the host goes on as Chef disappears and comes back pushing a table with a few covered dishes. “Each team will select the player with the strongest stomach- last man standing, wins.”

“It’s British food,” Ass puts their hands on their hips. “How bad could it be?”

“Your first dish: Jellied eels!” Chef shouts harshly. “Now eat up!”

Silence. Ass blinks. “I volunteer Mal,”

“I second that!” Courtney says. Julia shrugs. 

“Um, so… who’s gonna…” Kelly asks slowly. “Cause I’m on a vegetarian diet this week!”

Max rolls his eyes. “Convenient. I say we make the prince of darkness over there do it,” he jabs his thumb backwards to where Phillip is cowering in fear from the rays of sunlight coming out from between the clouds. 

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Bonnie crosses their arms. Phillip shouts Hey! Before scampering behind Chef for shade. 

“C’mon, guys! We can reach a solution that makes everyone happy if we work together!” Staci says. The team glares between each other.

---

STACI: “Role number three: Harmonizer. Preventing and mediating conflict. I can do that, no problem… right?”

---

“Okay, if no one else wants to… I’ll do it,” 

No one on Team Friendship argues, much to Staci’s horror. Across the lawn, Team Mojo isn’t faring much better. 

“It can’t be me. I’m vegan!” Albert says, raising his hands defensively. 

Patrick grumbles. “I have a fragile palette,” 

“I’m British intolerant,” Michela says. 

As the three bicker, a hero emerges from the fog. “I’ll do it,”

Everyone turns. Patrick holds back a laugh. “You’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it! It won’t phase me!” Sha-Mod insists. “I’m immune! And thanks to my new best friend, Albert-” Michela turns to Albert with a raised eyebrow. He shrugs and mouths talk later. “-I know I can do anything I set my mind to, with or WITHOUT my sha-swag!”

Team Mojo stares for a few moments before Patrick shrugs. “Better him than me. Go get ‘em, tiger!”

---

Sha-Mod, Staci, and Mal sit side-by-side at the long table, staring at their uncovered platter of gelatin and eels. 

“Mmmm, eel-icious!” Chris chuckles. “You’ll get five whole courses of delicious, top-tier British dining. The last man standing- or alive- wins first class and immunity for his-or-her-or-their team. Ready?”

Sha-Mod nods confidently. Mal scrolls through her phone. Staci is pale. 

“Dig in!”

Sha-Mod starts off courageously, shoveling in forkfuls of eel. Mal chews casually, typing something with her free hand. 

Staci pokes at the meal with her fork. 

“Come on, we don’t have all day!” Max shouts. Kelly elbows him. 

“You’ve got this, girl!”

Staci smiles nervously, and then takes a very slow, very cautious bite. She immediately gags and coughs. Albert winces from nearby. “I don’t know if I can watch this,”

After a grueling ten minutes (most of which was waiting for Staci to finish) Chef rolls out the next course. “Black pudding, a staple of the classic English breakfast,”

Staci sighs with relief. “You know, pudding actually sounds good,”

“Oh… noooo…” Sha-Mod mutters. Their smile drops. 

Chef pulls off the silver covers on their dishes, revealing black hockey-puck like pellets. “Pig’s blood and fat, a la mode,”

Albert goes pale and turns around. 

---

ALBERT: “I don’t have a problem with other people eating meat. When it’s, you know, not condensed into a black disk and made of blood,”

---

Sha-Mod tears into his pudding like a wild animal. Staci squirms and looks back and forth between their plate and their team behind them. Kelly gives them a thumbs up. Max rolls his eyes. 

By the time Sha-Mod and Mal finish, Staci takes her first bite. 

“Course number three: dressed tripe! While its popularity has wavered since the Victorian era, some places still enjoy this yummy meal of boiled and bleached stomach lining,”

Sha-Mod is beginning to cough and wheeze as he barrels through each platter. Staci is gagging between each bite. Max rolls his eyes. 

---

MAX: “Better her than me, but at the same time: I’m glad to see little miss perfect isn’t such a genius, after all. Her little dream of leading the team is cute, but come on- she’s the human equivalent of a marshmallow,”

---

Mal slurps up each bite with ease, popping in a pair of earbuds to watch YouTube while she eats. Team Yaoi watches, bewildered. 

---

MAL: “I’m used to eating whatever I can find. For the last six days of my fifth annual One Piece binge, I survived on canned tuna from the Cold War era and rainwater,”

---

“Next up, pork pies!”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Staci says, looking to Sha-Mod. He shrugs. Chef rolls out a thick pie, full of pink meat and she whimpers. “I-I don’t know if I can…”

“Don’t you dare lose!” Max shouts. “You need to set a good example for the team!”

She frowns and takes a cautious bite. Albert, now a sickly shade of green, leans on Patrick’s shoulder for support. He quickly swats him off and Max grins as Albert lands in the grass. “How’s it taste, Staci!”

“Bad!” she shouts back. “It’s too much meat!”

Albert groans. 

---

“Well, well, well. I’m impressed!” Chris says, pacing between the three. “Not a single chicken yet. Since you’re all still here, we’re making this a race to the end!”

Chef brings out the final platters, setting them before each player. “First player to finish wins! Welcome to your final round- stargazey pie!”

“Aww, that’s so cute! Are they shaped like little stars?” Kelly asks. 

The host grins widely. “Not… exactly,”

Chef pulls off the silver covers and reveals three perfectly normal pies- but each is full of fish heads gazing towards the sky. Staci goes pale. 

“Ready? Set? Eat!”

Mal twirls her fork around her fingers and takes a deep bite without looking away from her blog. Staci swallows deeply and begins cutting up the meal while Sha-Mod peers down at it from under the windbreaker. 

“Sh-Sha-Mod!” Albert says from the ground. “My coat! Please don’t get anything on… my coat…” and then he faints again. 

Sha-Mod pauses and thinks for a moment. Then, he stands. 

“You’re right, I don’t need this anymore!” he says. 

Patrick holds up a finger. “I don’t think that’s what he meant,”

Sha-Mod ignores him. “It’s time to stop hiding. I don’t need to be anyone but myself!”

He tears off the windbreaker, tossing it to the side. Everyone gasps as Sha-Mod reveals himself to be… a perfectly average white boy. 

“Are you kidding me!” Ass shouts. 

Sha-Mod takes a deep breath. “It feels good to breathe. And I can finally see you guys!”

Michela massages her temples. Patrick shakes his head sadly. 

“All this time, I’ve been hiding- initially, I was afraid of being seen humiliating myself- but I think I was just afraid of being myself. Well, I’m not afraid anymore. I’m Sha-Mod, and I’m going to win this thing!”

A loud ding rings out and the camera pans over to Mal, who’s just finished her meal. She pushes the plate back and posts a Tweet. 

“And Team Yaoi has won… again!” Chris says. “Since Sha-Mod’s plate is untouched, we’ll be seeing Team Mojo at the elimination ceremony.”

Team Yaoi cheers. Once the fanfare has died down, Julia grins and waves goodbye to Patrick. 

---

JULIA: “Now, all I have to do is convince the team that Patrick has got to go. Not that it’d be hard. I mean… look at him,”

---

Julia peers around the corner of first class, looking both ways before creeping down the hall. She stops outside the bathroom confessional and waits for a moment before Albert walks out. 

She grabs him by the windbreaker and quickly covers his mouth, looking around for witnesses again before pulling him away. “We’ve gotta talk,”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he whispers sharply. 

“Shut up. Listen, I think we can all agree that Patrick is doing nothing but being a big baby drama queen, as per usual,” she says. “I want him gone. You want him gone. Your little girlfriend wants him gone. This is a no-brainer.”

Albert raises an eyebrow. “What do you get out of this?”

“Satisfaction,” she scoffs. “I know Patrick. If you don’t get him first, he’ll get you.”

Julia releases him and walks off quickly. 

From around the corner, Patrick glares. 

---

“Team Mojo- not looking too great, huh?”

The four remaining players look between each other. Chris continues. “Michela, you’re safe. Albert, you too,”

“Patrick- you’re not exactly a fan favorite here. And Sha-Mod, your revelation cost your team the win,” he goes on. Patrick smirks and crosses his arms tightly. Sha-Mod looks nervous, his expression visible for the first time. “Patrick….

You’re safe. Sorry, Sha-Mod.”

“What?” Michela asks, standing. “That’s impossible, we all voted for Patrick!”

Chris shrugs. “Hey, I just count the votes. Don't shoot the messenger,”

Albert guides Michela back down to her seat. Patrick looks back. “Some team, huh?”

“Why are you surprised! We hate you!” Albert hisses. Patrick glares. 

“Well… I had fun,” Sha-Mod says, strapping on the chute. “Thank you, Albert. My boyfriend and I’ll write a song about you!”

Albert forces a smile and a double thumbs-up. Sha-Mod walks to the plane door, salutes, and jumps out backwards. “Don’t forget to pre-order our Christmas albuuuuuuum,”

“What an exit,” Chris says. “Well, off to the hot tub!” and with that, he leaves the contestants in the cabin. Patrick stands shortly after, making glaring eye contact with both Albert and Michela, and then disappears. 

Albert glares back. 

---

ALBERT: “I had a sort of... revelation today. Sha-Mod is right- everyone’s hiding behind some kind of mask. While his was… well, literal, mine was my job. And now that it’s gone, all I’m left with is me,” a long pause follows, and he smiles widely. “I guess what I’m saying is that no one is prepared for what’s coming.”

[fitzrove]

pink and white 🩷🤍

🩷 Pink: Do you find a certain character (or characters) easy to write? More difficult -- and if so, do you avoid writing that character (or those characters) when possible?

I have this whole thing where most of my POV characters, in fanfic, are similar to each other - ie. some flavour of "emotionally suffering repressed young man"... 😭😅😅 So I definitely don't go out of my away to avoid it, and it does come pretty naturally to me at this point. Sometimes I worry about "fandom brain" taking over, ie. my takes on the character/s becoming too out-of-character. I really don't like reading extremely out-of-character stuff, to me being in character to an acceptable extent (but tbh that varies for everyone) is usually important in fanfic because it's what people (at least me) are looking for to be emotionally fulfilled while reading yknow.

My writing process is also very instinctual (it's like that for academic writing too), I will just start writing and try to combine what I think the character would do and say with what I know about the source material and possible additional context. So yeah, sometimes I actually start worrying that this is having an influence on and giving some level of bias to my work... but oh well, people seem to like it and I always try to improve 😂😅

🤍 White: What's a fanfic scenario or idea you'd like someone else to write so that you can read it?

Omg there's literally so many... One I'm thinking of is an affaire/elisabeth AU where Rudolf and Taaffe are childhood friends instead of Taaffe and FJ and they have this whole complicated antagonistic yet also deeply personal (not an innuendo) relationship going on. Someone told me they were working on one and I'm waiting with great anticipation... (😂😂😂 this is a targeted vaguepost)

On another note - always a [redacted] for canon divergent (ish) genderbent wlw todolf 😭 it's so niche but if done well it can be really good. Ooh and I've been thinking about how fun it would be to have something that tries to unpack stuff from Rudolf's historical context while also being todolf fic akslpdpf, like this whole expectation of strength and military masculinity that he actually worked hard to fulfill (he was a military officer actively serving in a regiment for some years and was very loyal to his men - to some extent the way he was raised worked, but it also led to anxiety when he couldn't measure up, I remember Hamann detailing an incident where his horse ran amok while inspecting the ranks and it was very embarrassing for a young general like him) OR like i once said in a post, the deep disconnect between supernatural imaginary boyfriend and rudolf's belief in science over superstition akdkdk

Also, just straight up any kind of (canon era) todolf fanfic in general, I am starving,,, 😂

[scholar-of-yemdresh]

Master of Poisons by Andrea Hairston

Haven't really posted any book reviews on here for a while, so before the yeah is up I'm once again asking y'all to read this book.

This was a "reread" for me I read it as an ebook 3-ish years ago and decided to try it out as an audiobook. And I've got to say the audiobook really elevated this book for me. The way the book is written is clearly pulling from African oral traditions and I feel listening to it rather than plain reading it really connects to that. A tangent but I saw some people saying that the female narrator was bad? And no she wasn't??? She was fine to me.

I always hear how fantasy now at days has lost the whimsy and magic. That everything is either "grounded low on magic & the fantastical or it's too rigid with it's sanderson "hard magics". To an extent I agree(and I don't it's complicated but tldr there's more to fantasy than GRR Martin or Brandosando clones).

I will place this book in the amorphous "literary fantasy" grouping but it doesn't fall Into the trap that a lot of literary sff falls into, which I greatly dislike. That being de-emphasising and limiting any fantastical elements so it can be taken "seriously" not this book! There's just so much serious literary" SFF that only has a sprinkle of a fantasy that adds nothing and the fantastical element isn't even engaged with all that much, it makes me question why the author even bothered, like just write realistic contemporary/historical fiction and drop the pretense of writing SFF. (No I'm not talking about magical realism or books that aren't super dense with fantasy/sci-fi nonsense)

And like a most litfic it's got big Themes™. The most obvious (to me at least) is the environmental message. This is probably the only Climate Fiction book that I enjoyed mainly because it wasn't as dour and depressing as other Climate Fiction. Yes the poison desert is creeping in destroying the ecosystem and people are starving but the more fantastical elements acted as cushion for me. Because just reading about straight "the earth is dead humanity is dying shit sucks the seas have boiled etc" is not a fun time and hits to close to current reality 😢

I loved the prose and writing style too! It's so depressing that it's got such a low score on Goodreads(3.3/5) with a lot of reviewers saying the book had bad grammar??? Hell no! it's one thing if the writing style isn't for you or found it confusing to follow but bad grammar? It's giving racism. Sorry not sorry, different writing and storytelling traditions and techniques especially when executed so masterfully are not "bad grammar". Stop the cap!

And as a little treat this book does have queer representation, but goes about in a way I wish more modern capital q Queer SFF followed. Basically it doesn't rely on fanfic/romance tropes(you know the ones) or making every queer person a conventionally attractive able-bodied smexy snarky/quippy 22 year old (can you tell I'm not a fan of that style lmao). Both of our "main view point characters are queer. One is a Bisexual middle-aged man(he's currently married to a woman but past relationship with third gender person and attraction to men is implied) and a young wlw girl, with significant characters of a Third gender, called Veson who use "vie" pronouns. Plus a good portion of the side characters were some flavour of queer.

There's so much magic and weirdness it honestly throws you into the deep end with all the new fantasy stuff it hits the reader with. There are some heavy themes this isn't "grimdark" by any means but shit happens.

Highly recommended for people are into: African inspired fantasy, Stand alones, magic that feels magical and unknown, climate fiction, a book that reads like folklore, queer representation especiallyin adult SFF, interesting prose/writing style and being a bit confused when reading.

CW: violence, a bit of gore, slavery, misogyny, transphobia/Binaryism, Sexual violence(off screen), xenophobia, mild sexual content, and the ages of certain characters weren't explicit so certain sexual situations could've involved minors.

[pandalilydorlene]

No because all of the wlw ship tags are completely full of wolfstar, Jegulus and rosekiller stuff. I love those ships too but PLS stopppppp it makes it so hard to find wlw content istg I'm so starved of pandalily and Dorlene posts

Marauders fandom yall gotta stop tagging ships in posts that are not involved!! Like if I'm scrolling through *god forbid* a wlw ship I'm not interested in seeing wolfstar or jegulus throughout the posts WHEN IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM. Thank you for coming to my ted talk jshdksbs

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 14

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing a fic! Any feedback is welcome. Friends -> lovers, Caitlin's gay-awakening. I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

NSFW: Wlw, fxf etc, smut, all that good stuff.

previous chapters below

Kate stood at the edge of the terminal, bouncing on her heels, coffee in one hand, jacket slung over the other. It was freezing outside, but she hadn’t even noticed. Not with the way her heart started racing the second she saw Caitlin coming down the escalator.

Duffel bag over her shoulder. Hoodie pulled low. Hair in a messy braid. Her steps were quick but tight, like her body was working harder than it should have just to stay upright.

Kate smiled. “Hey, superstar.”

Caitlin’s smile flickered. Barely there.

Kate opened her arms. Caitlin stepped into them—but slower than usual. She melted against her, but it felt different. Like her spine didn’t want to relax. Like she couldn’t exhale all the way.

Kate held on anyway. Rubbed her back. Pressed her cheek to Caitlin’s hair.

“You smell like airplane peanuts,” she murmured.

Caitlin huffed a small laugh. “And trauma.”

Kate pulled back to look at her, but Caitlin was already reaching for her bag.

“Let’s go,” she said. “I’m starving.”

Kate blinked. “Okay. Sure.”

They walked to the car in silence. Caitlin talked about the weather, the delay in Chicago, a book she barely read on the flight. But her words came too fast, too light. Like she was trying to fill the quiet before it started asking questions.

In the passenger seat, Caitlin drummed her fingers on her thigh. She turned the heat too high. Then turned it down. Then looked out the window for the rest of the drive.

Kate didn’t push. Not yet. But she noticed.

She noticed how Caitlin didn’t reach for her hand like she used to. How her mouth twitched when they passed the exit for the arena. How her shoulders stayed up near her ears the whole time.

The apartment door clicked shut behind them. Caitlin stood in the entryway for a beat too long, like she needed permission to come all the way back.

Kate hung up her jacket, set Caitlin’s bag down, and waited.

“Do you want to shower?” she offered softly. “Or nap, or—”

“I want pasta,” Caitlin said too quickly, eyes bright and exhausted. “Just. Something warm.”

Kate nodded. “Pasta it is.”

She cooked with care. Not fast, not fancy—just thoughtful. Caitlin sat on the counter, legs swinging. She didn’t talk much this time. No weather report. No jokes. Just watched. Silent. Wide-eyed.

They ate side by side on the couch. Caitlin finished most of it, but didn’t taste it. Her posture was straighter than usual, like she didn’t know how to relax in her own skin anymore. Like every muscle in her body had become a defense mechanism.

Now the movie played, and Caitlin didn’t watch it. She curled under the blanket like it was armor. Kate reached for her ankle and rubbed slow circles, just to say I’m here.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kate asked, barely above a whisper.

Caitlin didn’t look over. “No.”

Kate nodded. “Okay.”

A pause.

Then: “But I might anyway.”

Kate stayed quiet.

“It was like I walked back into my old life, but I wasn’t in it anymore. Like everything fits around a version of me that’s gone.”

Kate kept her eyes on Caitlin. Her thumb stilled, just once, then resumed.

“They asked about LSU again,” Caitlin said. “Said I was wasting time if I didn’t cash in.”

“Jesus,” Kate murmured. 

“I kept hearing the word window,” Caitlin said. “Like I’ve got four years to matter and then it’s over. Like I’m already burning through my shot.”

“You’re nineteen,” Kate said softly.

“I know.”

“You’re allowed to be more than a brand.”

Caitlin didn’t answer.

“They invited Tyler to Christmas dinner.” Her voice cracked on the name.

Kate’s fingers tightened slightly on her ankle.

“I didn’t even know he was coming,” Caitlin said. “I sat there across from him and listened to my dad talk about brand strategy. About my ‘market value.’ About how maybe—maybe—I’d make a good wife one day if I picked the right guy to build around.”

Kate’s body tensed. She still didn’t speak.

Caitlin’s voice turned brittle. “It was like I disappeared. Like I’d never left. Like who I am now—the person I’m trying to be—didn’t even exist.” She finally looked over. Her eyes were glassy, but dry.  Her jaw trembled. “I thought I’d come back and everything would click back into place. But I—I couldn’t even want you there. Not really. Not out loud. Not in a room with them.”

Kate shifted closer. “Caitlin—”

“I let them talk about boys,” Caitlin said. “I let them joke about who I’d date. I didn’t say anything when they called me focused or intense or independent like it was a warning label. I didn’t say, "Actually, I’m in love with the girl who rebounded for me every day this fall.”

Kate’s heart stuttered.

Caitlin noticed. Her voice softened. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I heard you,” Kate said, voice rougher now. “But I want to make sure you did.”

Caitlin’s throat worked. “I said I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence, thick and humming.

Kate didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. She just reached forward, cupped Caitlin’s face with both hands like she was holding something fragile. Something holy.

“You think?” Kate whispered.

Caitlin nodded. Barely. “I—I know I haven’t said it before. And I didn’t mean to—”

Kate cut her off with the softest kiss.

Then she pulled back. Rested her forehead against Caitlin’s.

“You just spent five days trying not to disappear,” Kate murmured. “And you still came back with love in your hands. Of course I’m not ignoring that.”

Caitlin swallowed hard.

Kate didn’t say I love you yet.

But the way she kissed her after—that aching, slow, reverent way—said it was already in her mouth, just waiting for the right moment to fall out.

“And I can’t stop hearing his voice in my head—Tyler’s. My dad’s. The coach from LSU. Everyone who looked at me like I was a product. Not a person. Definitely not a queer one.”

Kate was quiet. Then: “You don’t have to name yourself to be real.”

“But what if I want to?” Caitlin asked, voice breaking now. “What if I want to be something and I can’t figure out what it is yet? What if I’m scared to find out?”

Kate leaned in until their foreheads touched. “Then I’ll sit in that uncertainty with you. For as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

Caitlin exhaled like her ribs had been cracking open for days. “I missed you,” she whispered. “I felt like I was drowning in silence, and I kept thinking—just wait. Just get back to her.”

Kate kissed the tip of her nose. Then her cheek. Then her mouth.

“I’m here,” Kate said. “And I see you.”

This time, Caitlin did cry.

Just a few tears. Silent. Honest. They slipped down her cheek like they’d been waiting for permission.

Kate kissed those too. “You’re home,” she whispered. “And you’re safe.”

And Caitlin nodded, because for the first time in five days, she believed it. Even if she didn’t know what she believed in yet. Even if she didn’t know the right word. Even if her whole world was still turning too fast.

She had this.

She had her.

And for tonight, that was enough.

—------

The win against Rutgers should’ve felt like enough. Caitlin dropped 29. Kate hit two clutch threes late in the fourth. The bench had energy. Coach was proud. 90-84.

But as they filed into the tunnel after the game, Caitlin kept her head down. Her hands were already unwrapping her wrist tape. Her jaw stayed tight.

Kate jogged to catch up. “Hey,” she murmured, falling into step beside her. “You were brilliant out there.”

Caitlin nodded, but didn’t look over. “Thanks.”

Kate didn’t say anything else. Just walked close enough for their elbows to brush.

—------

The bar was too loud. Too crowded. New Year’s Eve type crazy.

Too many bodies pressed too close, breathless with liquor and countdown adrenaline. Music thudded through the floorboards. Laughter pinged off the walls. The air was heavy with sweat and cologne and smoke from someone’s vape.

The team was crammed into a corner booth under a glowing neon sign. Someone had ordered mozzarella sticks and they were already gone. Sydney was filming another video for her TikTok. Gabbie had a tiara on sideways. Everyone was talking over everyone else.

Caitlin smiled.

At least, she looked like she was.

But Kate knew the difference.

Knew that the real smile was lopsided, quiet, the kind that curved slowly and disappeared behind her hand when she was really laughing. This one had too much teeth. Too much effort. Like it had been painted on in the car.

She watched as Caitlin peeled the label off her water bottle again and again, fingers working like she couldn’t stop. The wrapper shredded in her hands. Little flakes of plastic fell into her lap.

Kate leaned in, mouth close to her ear. “Hey,” she said gently. “Too much?”

Caitlin blinked, delayed. Her eyes darted to Kate and away again. “I’m fine.”

But her shoulders were too high. Her jaw was locked. Her leg was bouncing beneath the table like she was about to miss a free throw.

She was trying.

Trying to be the version of herself people expected off the court—fun, magnetic, the kind of girl who makes headlines and steals the room without effort. She knew her name carried weight now. Not just in the box score, but in the way people looked when she walked into a space. The way they leaned closer. The way they whispered. The way they expected something.

Tonight, it was as if she’d dressed herself in that expectation.

A tight black dress her mom would call “tasteful.” Hair done with just enough curl to pretend she didn’t care. Lip gloss she’d borrowed from McKenna. She didn’t feel like herself, but she thought maybe this was who she was supposed to be. A brand. A star. The girl who knew how to laugh at the right jokes and pretend the flash of someone’s camera didn’t make her flinch.

Kate touched her knee under the table. “Let’s get some air.”

Caitlin hesitated.

She looked around the booth like she was afraid someone would notice her leaving. Like they’d ask her to stay. Like it was weak to leave the game before the buzzer.

Then she nodded, once. Almost imperceptible. She slipped out from the booth and followed Kate toward the door, one hand curled tight around her phone like a lifeline.

Kate didn’t say anything. She just held the door open and let her breathe.

Outside it was biting cold. Caitlin leaned back against the brick wall beside the bar. Kate stood in front of her, watching her chest rise and fall like she’d just run full court.

“I thought I’d feel better by now,” Caitlin said.

Kate stepped closer. “You played lights out today. 28 points.. We beat Rutgers. What’s not better?”

“It didn’t fix it.”

Kate’s brow furrowed. “Fix what?”

Caitlin shook her head. Laughed—but it cracked on the way out. “I thought if I came back and kept winning, the noise would fade. That I’d drown it out. Outscore it. Outplay it. But it followed me home. And now it’s in me.”

Kate’s heart cracked.

“Every time someone cheers,” Caitlin whispered, “I hear it backwards. I hear the version where they only love me when I’m winning. Where I’m just a brand. A stat. A story they bought into too early.”

Kate didn’t interrupt.

“I want to disappear sometimes,” Caitlin said. “Not forever. Just long enough to remember who I am. Who I was before all of this.”

Kate swallowed. “Okay.”

Caitlin blinked. “That’s it? No speech?”

“No,” Kate said. “Just… okay. You get to feel like this. You get to fall apart without failing.”

Caitlin’s eyes shimmered. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Kate said. “But it’s easier when someone holds the weight with you.”

A silence stretched between them—taut and sacred.

Caitlin stared at the slush under her boots. “I don’t know who I am when I’m not playing.”

Kate took another step. “You’re the girl who hums off-key in the kitchen. Who folds my laundry wrong but still does it. Who leaves her socks everywhere and apologizes with waffles. Who kisses me like she means it every single time.”

Caitlin looked up. “But I’m also the girl who almost broke in half this week. Who sat through Christmas dinner next to a boy her parents wanted her to marry and said nothing because she couldn’t afford to ruin dessert.”

Kate didn’t flinch. “And I still want you.”

Caitlin’s voice wavered. “Even the scared version?”

“Especially her.”

The countdown started inside. Muffled but unmistakable.

“Ten… Nine…”

Caitlin’s breath hitched, caught between her ribs.

“Eight… Seven…”

“I didn’t mean to say it that night,” she whispered, voice raw. “It just came out. I didn’t even know it was there until it was already flying out of my mouth.”

Kate nodded. “I know.”

“Six… Five…”

“I wasn’t ready to say it back,” Kate said. “Not because it wasn’t true. But because I wanted it to be more than reflex. I wanted it to be mine. On purpose.”

Caitlin blinked, startled by the force of it. Her whole body leaned in.

“Four… Three…”

She stared at Kate’s mouth like it was holy. Like she was watching the words line up behind her teeth.

Kate’s smile was small. Devastating. Sure.

“Two…”

“I love you,” she said.

Not soft. Not timid. Not scared.

Like a vow. Like blood in the mouth.

Solid. Like a cornerstone. Like a promise.

Like gravity finally gave in.

“One.”

“I love the way you unravel and pretend it’s poise. The way your hands shake when you think no one’s watching. I love how you try so hard to hold the world together with your bare fucking hands. I love you when you’re brilliant. I love you when you break. I love every jagged edge you’ve ever tried to sand down for someone else’s comfort.”

The clock struck midnight.

The world erupted behind them. Fireworks. Screams. Confetti cannons.

Caitlin didn’t hear any of it.

She was already falling forward, into Kate’s chest, hands fisted in the fabric of her coat like she was drowning in it. Her voice was a rasp, a laugh, a prayer.

“I’m so in love with you it’s fucking ridiculous.”

Kate made a sound—somewhere between a gasp and a moan—and pulled her closer, arms banding around her waist like muscle memory. Like instinct.

They breathed each other in like they didn’t need oxygen anymore.

Kate pressed her forehead to Caitlin’s and let it all pour out in a whisper.

“You are the bravest thing I’ve ever touched.”

Caitlin shivered. Not from the cold. From the feeling of being seen. All the way through.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Kate already knew.

They stayed like that—clinging, trembling, breath fogging between them—as the world screamed past midnight. As the countdown ended and the noise surged. As the new year blazed to life behind glass and neon.

None of it touched them.

Not a brand. Not a headline. Not someone’s idea of who they should be.

Just Caitlin. Just Kate.

Two girls in the dark, heartbeats crashing into each other, holding something real between their teeth.

—-------------- 

The meeting wasn’t framed as a punishment. No one said “discipline” or “attitude” or anything that sounded like trouble. Just: Hey, Clark—can you stick around after practice?

Caitlin smiled. Said sure. Tucked her water bottle under her arm. Followed the assistant coach down the hallway like it was nothing. Like she didn’t already feel her stomach drop halfway to the film room.

But the second she stepped in and saw both assistants sitting there—laptops closed, chairs pulled closer than usual, no one else in sight—her hands started to sweat.

She took the seat they offered. Plastic. Cold. The kind that made you feel like you were already in trouble.

“We wanted to check in,” one of them said, in a falsely light tone. “About how things have been going.”

Caitlin shrugged. “Fine.”

They exchanged a look. One of them leaned forward.

“We’ve been watching. Not in a punitive way,” the other coach added. “But we’ve seen some patterns.”

Caitlin blinked. “Like what?” Caitlin’s spine locked.

They didn’t hesitate: “You’ve walked out of practice early three times in the last month. You didn’t shake hands after Michigan State. Your usage rates up, but your decision-making is off. We’re not mad,” one of them added quickly, like that might help. “We’re concerned.”

She stayed quiet. Her fingers dug into her sleeves.

“You don’t have to respond right now,” Coach Bluder said gently. “But we care about you. Not just your stat line. You.”

Silence.

Caitlin bristled. “I’m here. I’m playing.”

“That’s not the same as being okay.”

Something in her jaw clenched so hard she thought it might crack.

“That’s why we’re starting mandatory check-ins with Dr. Grayson. She’s a performance psych. It’s part of training now.”

Caitlin’s throat went tight. “You want me to see a shrink.”

“It’s not optional.” 

“We want you to have support,” Coach Jan added, lightly.

“I have support,” she snapped.

Another silence. Not cruel. Just heavy.

Coach M tried again. “Caitlin… we’re not saying you’ve failed. We’re saying you matter enough to watch closely.”

That—that—hurt worse than if they’d benched her.

She didn’t make it out of the parking lot before her hands were shaking.

The cold hit her like punishment. But she didn’t go back inside.

Instead, she sat down hard on the pavement behind the gym—knees tucked in, hood up, head in her hands.

They noticed.

The second thought hit harder than the first. It curled in her gut like betrayal and shame and something else she couldn’t name.

Kate knew.

Kate was there, on the sidewalk ten minutes later. Still in her practice clothes, still in her slides. Sitting on the curb like she’d run out of somewhere to be.

Caitlin didn’t look up.

“Hey,” Kate said, soft.

Caitlin didn’t look up. “Did you know?”

Kate hesitated. “I’m the captain.”

“You knew,” Caitlin replied.

Kate didn’t lie. “I’m the captain.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t know they were pulling you today.”

“But you knew they’d been talking about me.”

Kate didn’t lie. “Yes.”

Then Caitlin laughed, sharp and mean and nothing like herself. “So what, you’ve been reporting back? Tallying my bad days for them?”

Kate’s eyes widened. “What? No—”

“I’m not stupid, Kate.” She stood. “I know what this is.”

Kate stepped back like it physically hurt. “What what is?”

“You, standing there at practice, pretending you’re not watching me fall apart while they take notes.”

Kate’s voice broke. “Caitlin—”

“You knew. And you didn’t tell me. You let me keep going like I wasn’t being dissected. Like I wasn’t being pitied.”

Kate blinked. “That’s not fair.”

Caitlin turned to her, eyes shining with something between grief and fury. “None of this is fair.”

“I wasn’t pitying you.” Kate tried again. “I thought you were holding too much. I didn’t know how to help without becoming another pressure point.”

“You could’ve told me.” Caitlin’s voice was rising now. “You could’ve given me that.”

Kate’s voice was barely audible. “I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of being too much.”

Caitlin stared. “That’s my job.”

Silence surged.

Then, quieter: “Do you know what it feels like? To be told, out loud, by grown adults that they’re monitoring your breakdown in real time?”

Kate winced. “They’re not monitoring your breakdown.”

“No? What would you call it?”

Kate swallowed. “They’re trying to help.”

Caitlin stepped back. Just enough to feel it.

“Are you?”

The words hit like a slap.

Kate blinked. “Caitlin—”

“I don’t know who you are right now. My teammate? My captain? My fucking caseworker?”

Kate’s voice cracked. “I’m the person who loves you.” Kate continued, voice shaking. “Even when you wouldn’t let me close. Even when it got hard to tell where your panic ended and your pride began.”

Caitlin blinked, fast. “You think I’m proud?”

“I think you’re scared.”

Caitlin laughed again—this one more broken. “No. You think I’m fragile.”

“I think you’ve been holding the entire weight of your world with no one but me to see it.”

“Then maybe you should’ve told them to back off.”

Kate’s shoulders tensed. “I tried. I told them you were working through it. I told them to wait. But they saw it anyway, Caitlin.”

Caitlin’s voice dropped. “And you just let them.”

“I didn’t let anything. I didn’t know how to help without pushing you further away.”

“You did push me.”

Kate nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“I didn’t want to manage you,” Kate said, eyes wet. “I wanted to hold you.”

“And I wanted to be safe with you,” Caitlin said. “Not watched. Not tracked. Not… pitied.”

Kate stepped forward, desperate. “You’re not a project.”

Caitlin flinched. “Then stop treating me like one.”

Another silence.

Kate held her ground. “You are terrified to be seen needing anything.”

“And you’re too comfortable deciding what I need without asking.”

Kate’s voice was calm, but it cut deep. “You think needing help makes you unworthy. I think it makes you human.”

“I don’t want to be human.”

“Too late.”

A long, shuddering breath.

“I don’t know how to let someone carry it,” Caitlin said.

Kate softened. “Then start small.”

“I don’t know where you end,” Caitlin said, voice raw, “and the team begins. I don’t know if I’m your girlfriend or your player or your goddamn problem.”

“You’re the person I’d choose a thousand times,” Kate whispered.

“That’s not enough right now.”

Kate stepped forward. “Then tell me what is.”

Caitlin’s eyes flooded. “I don’t know! I don’t know how to need someone without losing control.”

Kate stepped close again. “Then we figure it out. Together.”

“I didn’t want to be seen like this,” she whispered. “Not by them. Not by you.”

Kate moved closer again. “Then let me stay. Let me love you through this. Not above it. Not around it. Through it.”

Caitlin looked at her for a long time.

“Don’t ever keep something like this from me again.”

Kate nodded. “I won’t.”

A beat.

Then Caitlin stepped into her arms, just barely.

And Kate held her like a promise.

They stood there, two girls in the cold, bruised by the truth and still choosing each other.

Not breaking.

Bending.

—------------------ 

Dr. Grayson’s office didn’t look like Caitlin expected.

No motivational posters. No bean bag chairs. Just a small window, a tall plant that looked half-alive, and a desk piled high with books instead of folders. There was a couch—but it wasn’t soft and slouchy. It was firm. Structured. The kind that dared you to relax and called your bluff when you tried.

Caitlin sat on the edge of it. Hood up. Ankles crossed. One hand still gripped the strap of her backpack like she might need to run.

Dr. Grayson didn’t sit behind the desk. She chose the chair across from her, mug in hand—Basketball Is Therapy Too painted in chipped gold letters.

“I’m not here to make you talk,” she said. “But I’d like to get to know the person behind the stat lines. If you’ll let me.”

Caitlin didn’t look up. “I don’t know if there’s anyone else.”

Dr. Grayson just nodded. “Then we’ll start there.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—just patient. Caitlin shifted.

“Is this where you ask about my childhood?”

“Nope,” Dr. Grayson said. “Not unless it’s why you missed two free throws in the fourth quarter against Michigan State.”

That got a blink. Maybe even the shadow of a smirk.

“How are your legs feeling?”

Caitlin frowned. “My legs?”

“You’ve played three games in nine days. Slept in two different beds. Almost dropped thirty against Rutgers. Just checking.”

“Oh.” She looked down. “They’re fine.”

“And the rest of you?”

A pause. Then a shrug. “Still standing.”

“That’s a start.”

Dr. Grayson asked about her pregame routine. What she eats after losses. Whether the silence in the locker room feels louder than the cheers. Thirty minutes passed faster than she expected.

Grayson asked about sleep. Not do you get enough, but when you’re trying to fall asleep, what gets in the way?

Caitlin shrugged. “My brain.”

A smile tugged at the corners of the doctor’s mouth. “What does it say?”

Another beat. Then, before she could stop it: “That I have to earn it.”

Dr. Grayson tilted her head. “Earn what?”

Caitlin hesitated. Like she was realizing it at the same time she said it. “Everything.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was pressed, gentle and exact.

“Can I ask one thing?” Dr. Grayson said.

Caitlin tilted her chin. “You just did.”

That earned a slight laugh. But Grayson waited for the nod.

“You said you have to earn everything. What’s the one thing you wish someone would give you… without asking you to earn it first?”

Caitlin’s mouth twitched. Her gaze dropped to her knees. One of her sleeves had a frayed thread, and she wound it tight around her finger like a tourniquet. Her leg bounced, but she didn’t seem to notice.

And then, fast—too fast, like she had to throw it or choke on it:

“To be fucked.”

The air shifted.

Not because it was crass. But because it was honest. Too honest. Like a thought she hadn’t meant to speak, one that had lived just beneath her skin for too long and finally clawed its way out.

“I don’t say that,” she muttered. “I don’t even—Jesus.”

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

But Dr. Grayson didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise a brow. Just stayed still. Present.

“Sorry. That’s not—I didn’t mean—” She exhaled, shaky. “It’s not that simple,” she said. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know.” 

But when the silence didn’t scold her, something inside her slipped. She shifted, breath catching.

Caitlin’s voice cracked. “It’s not about sex. Not just. It’s—” She looked down. “I want to feel wanted. Not because I’m winning. Not because I’m scoring points. Just because I’m… me.”

The word me trembled like it might break apart in her mouth.

“I think I’m scared that if I stop performing, I stop being lovable. That I only get touched when I’m perfect. That if I stop earning it—every minute, every day—I disappear.”

She let out a breath that rattled in her ribs. Her throat worked around the next sentence.

“I don’t want to be admired. I don’t want to be celebrated. I just…” A swallow. “I want someone to look at me up close and stay.”

She blinked hard. No tears, but her face was flushed like she’d sprinted the length of the court and collapsed at the end.

“I want to want things,” she said, “and not feel ashamed after. I want to be touched and not have to explain why I needed it.”

Grayson didn’t move. Her voice was soft but sure. “You’re not asking for too much.”

Caitlin didn’t reply. But she nodded, once.

When the timer went off, Grayson didn’t stand. She just said, “Same time next week?”

Caitlin adjusted her hoodie. “Sure.”

She didn’t thank her. Didn’t smile.

But when she stepped out into the hallway, her shoulders dropped—just a fraction.

And for the first time in a week, she wasn’t holding her breath.

[3frogs-in-a-trench-coat]

do you all secretly imagine that you're holding someone that doesn't even exist in your arms (or vice versa) when you go to sleep or is it just me?