#like would i use real teams or make them up

[buckleydiaz]

“I’m not gonna disappear, you know,” Eddie says, lowering his mug to meet Buck’s eyes.

“W-what?” Buck stammers, blinking away like he got caught doing something wrong.

“You keep staring,” Eddie says, carefully, “like I'm gonna vanish. Or go back to Texas without telling you or something. I'm not.”

It’s been hours since Buck met him at the airport, drove him home, made him tea. And Eddie’s felt the weight of his gaze the entire time. Buck hasn’t said much, which Eddie isn’t surprised by, honestly. He’s not really in the mood to talk himself. But there’s something quietly devastating about the way Buck is looking at him. Eddie’s not sure what to do with that.

“Sorry,” Buck says.

Eddie sighs. “Don't apologize, it’s not…I don't mind that you’re looking. Just—you know you can talk to me, right?“

“I know,” Buck says. He’s trying to sound casual but his voice comes out just a little unsteady. Enough for Eddie to catch it.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that,” Buck adds, after a beat.

“What?”

“I don't—I don't think you’re gonna vanish. It's just… you look different.”

“You mean this?” Eddie rubs at his chin self consciously.

Buck’s eyes flicker momentarily to Eddie’s face before his gaze drops again. He nods.

After Eddie got the call, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He should have been there. Maybe if he was, Bobby would still be here—with his team, with his family. Not for the first time, Eddie felt like he couldn’t bear the sight of his own reflection. He felt small, useless. He thought maybe it would get easier with time. It didn’t. And with each day, as the guilt grew, so did the stubble on his face—thicker, darker. An awful reminder of the time that passed since Bobby—

Eddie sets the mug down, afraid it’s gonna shatter in his grip.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, and the words taste like ash in his mouth.

“No it, uh, it looks good. You always look good. It’s just—god, it’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Eddie bumps Buck’s foot under the table, keeps it there. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s not stupid.”

“I’m…” Buck exhales, “I’m not sure if you’re real.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it.

Buck shrugs. “Told you it’s stupid.”

“No! No, um, I—what do you mean I’m not real?”

There’s a moment where Buck doesn’t say anything, just stares at his own hands on the table, fidgets with his fingers. Eddie waits. Doesn’t push.

Eventually Buck speaks.

“After the lightning strikes, after the uh—“ Buck clears his throat, “the coma. I had this thing I used to do every morning. A-a checklist. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming. That I was still me.” Buck’s eyes stay locked on his hands, and Eddie desperately wishes he’d look at him again. “Ever since he—“ Buck stops, swallows, sniffs. “I wake up and I pray for this to be a dream. An awful, terrible nightmare. I pray, Eddie. And it’s—“

Buck’s hands are shaking. Eddie reaches out, takes them in his own.

Buck finally looks up. His eyes are impossibly sad and impossibly blue, and Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is. It’s a weird thought to have at that moment, but it’s true nonetheless.

“Sorry, this is so embarrassing,” Buck says, a little wetly.

“Hey, it’s not embarrassing, okay? You’re dealing with it. We all are.”

“Look, I know you’re real. I know that. But also just—everything is so different, you know? Nothing makes sense anymore and you look different. And it’s like—like, how do I know I’m not dreaming?” Buck says. “Does that make sense?”

It doesn’t. But Eddie gets it anyway.

He wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist, lifts his hand up to his face.

“You feel that?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.

Eddie closes his eyes, presses his face into Buck’s hand a little more.

“I’m here, Buck.”

Buck’s hand starts moving on his face, careful fingers trace his cheeks, his jaw, his chin. Eddie’s breath catches when a thumb ghosts over his bottom lip.

“You’re here,” Buck says, voice barely a whisper.

Eddie nods.

“He’s really—“ Buck's voice cracks. “He's really gone.”

“I know,” Eddie says, because what else is there to say?

Eddie’s eyes sting. He lets go of Buck’s wrist and places his hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb gently grazing the base of his neck. He wishes he could press his lips to his temple, like he does with Christopher. He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls him in, presses their foreheads together.

They stay like that, breathing together, until their eyes are red and their cheeks are wet. Eventually Buck pulls away, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan.

“Thanks,” Buck says.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For—for being here, I guess.”

Eddie wants to tell him that he’s always going to be here. But that’s not true. He's leaving in a few days. He’s always leaving.

“Hey, you have a razor here somewhere, right?” is what he says instead.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Buck protests, and Eddie is pretty sure he catches a small hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. ”I think I do.”

[sknyuz]

Can you please do the prompt "three words. just say the three words." With Na Baek-Jin but make it enemies to lovers and full of yearning😭😭💗

prompt — “three words. just say the three words.” pairing — academic rival!na baekjin x reader genre — academic rivals to lovers, highschool, mutual pining, soft angst cw — academic pressure, tension, one kiss, just that type of yearning where you almost hate both of them for it wc — ~700 notes: i wrote this on someone else's laptop so sorry if the layout or my writing is a lil wonky ToT this was pretty rushed/not proofread

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

you and baekjin have been neck and neck for as long as you can remember. same grade, same extracurriculars, same perfectly neat handwriting across test papers the teachers always returned with that look, the one that silently said, again? you two?

he always rolled his eyes when they called your names together, like it was a curse, and you did the same.

still, somehow, every quiz bee, every debate tournament, every single research camp—you ended up beside him. not by choice. just... fate, or bad luck, or the fact that your scores matched to the decimal.

you told yourself you hated him. but sometimes, you caught him looking. there are stolen moments that you two share. like that one time, late night in the library, when you both reached for the same textbook and your hands brushed—and neither of you moved away.

or the time you caught him staring at you mid-question during the final round of an academic bee, and he looked so focused, like he was memorizing your face instead of the answer.

and then there was that out-of-province regional thing last fall—when they messed up the room assignments and you two were forced to share a bed in some tiny guesthouse. the silence was thick. your backs were to each other. but sometime in the middle of the night, you woke up and he was facing you, but neither of you moved.

and now, senior year. your last nationals together. you’ve both just won it all—a team victory, but the only hand you felt trembling slightly against yours was his. his knuckles brushed yours during the final round, and you should’ve pulled away. but you didn’t, your fingers intertwined as you bowed together, closing off your championship run.

later, when the noise dies and the cameras are gone, you find each other alone behind the auditorium. he’s still in his blazer, medal heavy around his neck. the low light hits his profile just right—jaw clenched, throat bobbing.

"you didn’t have to stay back," you say quietly, as you organized the notes in your bag. “everyone’s at that hot pot place by now.”

"i know," he replies, just as quiet. "but... i knew you would."

you scoff. “of course you do.”

he studies you in that quiet, calculating way he does before a competition—except now, there’s no scoreboard, just the way his eyes soften like he’s tired of pretending.

"you know, bakejin, i kinda hate this," you whisper. it slips out. too raw, too real.

"what?"

"this thing between us." your voice wavers. "i mean, do we really still see each other as rivals, or is this just an excuse to keep whatever this is going?" you say, motioning between you and him. “we’re seniors now, baekjin. not kids.” a few months from now you won’t be winning competitions with him, sneaking glances at him while you studied for the next—hell, you might never even see baekjin again.

but baekjin takes a step closer, and your heart starts counting every second like it’s timed.

"then say it," he murmurs.

you blink. "say what?"

"three words," he says. "just say the three words."

your heart stutters.

"i hate you?" you offer, shaky.

he exhales—sharp, almost annoyed. not at you, but at the space between what you’re saying and what you mean. “no.”

you pause.

you know what he means. you know exactly what he means.

but you’ve spent so long pretending you didn’t.

he speaks first, his voice is quieter now. more raw than you’ve ever heard it.

"i love you."

the words land heavy. like a confession and an accusation all at once. and god, the way he looks at you after—like he’s bracing for the moment you walk away. like he already expects you to run.

but you don’t.

you step in, closing the distance. you let your fingers graze his—not by accident like earlier onstage, but deliberately.

"then i love you too," you say, as your other hand reaches up to curl your fingers around his tie, pulling him into a chaste kiss. you were both winners, after all.

note: i accidentally posted this while doing last minute edits lol so i edited it some more and decided to let it stay up instead of reuploading. ig i offer this as a token of my appreciation for the love surrounding my weak hero class works <3

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ weak hero class ֹ ₊ ꒱ @kstrucknet | @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez @slytherinshua @winnie-bunnie @rexxiiia @mrgzzarella @ilyhachii @youmeshii @actuallynarii @midnight--raine @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @trasshy-artist @crowneve @juicyjam @xh01bri @onyourlisa345 @triciawritesstuff @prettywhenicry4 @dripoftheseus @rosieparkk @gacktsa @sopitadearvejas @satorustorm (ask to be tagged or removed)

[billiesbunni]

first post kinda scared 😛

billie x reader, slow burn, your an intern👀

hints around smut😛

Everything in between~

Part 1: The First Meeting

Y/N never expected to meet Billie Eilish. She especially didn’t expect to work for her.

It started with a temp gig—three months on Billie’s team as a social media assistant during the European leg of her tour. Y/N was quiet, always a little outside the circle of louder personalities, and mostly kept her head down editing clips and drafting captions no one would read twice.

Billie noticed her on day four.

Y/N was sitting on the venue floor, back against the wall, headphones in, laptop balanced on her knees, cutting footage from the Paris show.

“You made that?” Billie asked, nodding toward her screen.

Y/N blinked, tugging her headphones down. “Yeah. It’s just a quick edit.”

Billie crouched beside her, silent as she watched the video play. When it ended, she turned to Y/N with a small smile.

“You’ve got good taste,” she said. “You picked the right beats to hit.”

Y/N smiled back, heart thudding. “I just go with what feels right.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “Then your instincts are scary good.”

And with that, she stood and walked away—just like that.

Y/N replayed the moment for days.

⸻

Part 2: The Distance

They didn’t become instant friends.

Billie was warm but distracted. Famous, yes, but more than that—she was tired. Y/N could see it in her posture, the way she curled into her hoodie between soundchecks, the way she stared out of windows like the world outside moved too fast.

Still, Billie started showing up near Y/N more often. Sitting nearby during edits. Asking for second opinions. Making comments like, “You have a calming energy,” before stealing a bite of her granola bar.

Y/N stayed professional, mostly. But her eyes lingered a little too long. Her heart raced when their hands brushed. She told herself it didn’t mean anything.

Until Billie started texting her.

Late night “you up?” messages that led to hours of memes and rambling. The kind of texts that weren’t about work. The kind that made Y/N feel seen.

Still, neither of them moved.

They just hovered near the line.

For weeks.

⸻

Part 3: The Closeness

They got used to each other. Billie started showing up to Y/N’s hotel room, asking to chill. No flirting. Just lying side-by-side, Billie playing with Y/N’s hair while they talked about life and music and things Billie couldn’t say to anyone else.

One night, Billie turned to her, eyes soft and tired.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not a real person when people look at you?”

Y/N blinked. “Like you’re more of a symbol than a soul?”

Billie’s throat bobbed. “Exactly.”

Y/N reached out, gently touched her hand. “You don’t have to be anything with me.”

Billie didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she gave Y/N’s hand a squeeze and stayed close all night.

After that, it was different. Still not romantic. Still not spoken. But the way Billie looked at her lingered a little longer. And the way Y/N felt around her wasn’t just admiration anymore.

It was something deeper.

And more dangerous.

⸻

Part 4: The Realization

Months passed.

Their contract ended, but Billie offered Y/N a permanent role. Y/N accepted.

They fell into rhythm—long tour days, quiet hotel nights. Y/N learned Billie’s silences. Billie learned Y/N’s tells. They moved like planets orbiting each other, aware of the gravity but never quite touching.

Until Amsterdam.

Billie had just played an acoustic set. The crowd had cried. Y/N had cried. And when she found Billie backstage, Billie looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

Neither of them said anything. Not for a long time.

Finally, Billie broke the silence. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so good at pretending you don’t feel this.”

Y/N’s breath caught. “I’m not pretending. I just… don’t want to screw this up.”

Billie stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat of her.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered. “Not you.”

Still, neither of them kissed. Not yet. It wasn’t time.

But something had shifted. And they both knew it.

⸻

Part 5: The Falling

After that night, everything was louder.

Not in volume—but in feeling. The way Billie brushed Y/N’s hand. The way Y/N looked at her when she laughed. The way they both lingered too long in each other’s doorways.

They started falling without realizing it.

Y/N caught Billie singing to herself in an empty stairwell, eyes closed, hoodie up. She watched for a full minute before Billie noticed.

“You always watch me like that?”

“Only when I think you’re not watching back,” Y/N admitted.

Billie smiled. “I always am.”

They didn’t kiss until Prague.

It was cold. Billie’s lips were colder.

But the kiss? The kiss was warm, slow, and full of things neither of them had been brave enough to say.

It was home.

⸻

Part 6: The Love

It didn’t explode. It bloomed.

Billie started calling her “baby” when they were alone. Y/N started waking up in Billie’s bed more nights than her own. They held hands backstage. Shared glances that meant everything.

One night, Billie stood behind her as she edited clips, arms wrapped around her waist.

“You make me feel like myself,” Billie whispered into her shoulder.

Y/N paused. “I love you, Billie.”

Billie’s arms tightened. “I know,” she said. “I love you too.”

And she meant it.

Because love didn’t come like lightning.

It came like light through curtains. Soft. Constant.

And impossible to ignore.

Part 7: The First Time

They didn’t sleep together that night—not in that way.

But they did fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, fully clothed, Billie’s breath warm against Y/N’s neck, their fingers laced under the blanket.

The first time happened a week later, in a quiet hotel room in Berlin.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t planned. It was slow, reverent—an extension of all the things they hadn’t said in words but had been saying for months with touch, silence, and closeness.

Billie kissed Y/N like she’d waited a lifetime.

And when they finally came undone, tangled in each other’s limbs, Billie whispered, “I’ve never felt this safe with anyone.”

And Y/N whispered back, “You don’t have to run anymore.”

⸻

Part 8: The Questions

After that, things weren’t perfect.

There were questions.

What did this mean for the tour? For the team? For their careers?

They kept it private—for now. Not hidden, but sacred.

Y/N wasn’t a secret.

She was just theirs.

Billie’s team slowly caught on. Finneas smirked when Billie offered Y/N her jacket without being asked. Their tour manager gave a knowing nod when Billie insisted Y/N ride with her on the bus instead of the crew van.

No one said anything.

They didn’t need to.

⸻

Part 9: The Studio

Back in L.A., Billie invited Y/N to the studio for the first time.

Y/N sat quietly on the couch while Billie stood in the booth, headphones on, recording the bridge of a new track—soft, aching, vulnerable.

When Billie emerged, sweaty and tired, she sat beside Y/N, head on her shoulder.

“That one’s about you.”

Y/N turned slowly. “What?”

“I started writing it before I even admitted I liked you. It didn’t make sense until you said ‘I love you.’ Now it’s a whole damn song.”

Y/N cupped her cheek. “Play it again.”

Billie did. And Y/N cried.

⸻

Part 10: The Jealousy

The jealousy hit Y/N by surprise.

A fan had posted a photo—Billie with another female artist, laughing, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, taken at a release party. Perfect lighting. Perfect smiles.

Y/N knew it was nothing. Billie had told her she loved her. Billie had chosen her.

Still, it hit something raw.

That night, Y/N was quiet.

Billie noticed immediately. “Talk to me.”

“I know it’s dumb,” Y/N whispered. “But when I see other people with you—people who can be public with you—it gets to me.”

Billie pulled her close. “They don’t know me like you do. They’ll never touch the parts of me you have.”

Y/N looked up. “Promise?”

Billie kissed her. “On everything.”

⸻

Part 11: The First Fight

The first real fight came over something small.

Y/N had forgotten to bring Billie’s jacket to a shoot. Billie snapped. Tired. Anxious. Cold.

Y/N snapped back.

“I’m not your assistant,” she hissed, slamming the car door.

Billie froze. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know. But you made me feel like one.”

They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride.

Later, Billie showed up at Y/N’s place with takeout and a handwritten note that said, “You’re not my assistant. You’re my anchor. And I’m sorry.”

Y/N pulled her in without a word.

Some fights end in slammed doors.

Theirs ended in tearful apologies and forehead kisses.

⸻

Part 12: The First Public Moment

It was a grainy paparazzi photo.

Billie holding Y/N’s hand in a New York alley, hood up, fingers intertwined.

It went viral within an hour.

The internet exploded with theories. Billie didn’t say a word. Not for weeks. Then one night, at a small benefit show, she sang the love song she wrote for Y/N and changed one line.

Instead of “they don’t see me,” she sang, “she sees me.”

The crowd noticed.

Y/N watched from backstage, her heart in her throat.

Later, Billie pulled her aside. “I don’t care who knows anymore. Let them see.”

Y/N kissed her like they already had.

⸻

Part 13: The Homecoming

Y/N moved in during the spring.

Not officially. Not with boxes or announcements.

It started with a toothbrush. Then Billie cleared a drawer. Then Y/N’s sweater lived on the couch, and her laptop charger lived under Billie’s bed.

One morning, Y/N found Billie in the kitchen, barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, pouring coffee into two mugs.

“You’re up early,” Y/N mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“I wanted to make you coffee,” Billie said simply.

Y/N stepped behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.

“This feels like home,” she whispered.

Billie leaned back into her. “It is.”

⸻

Part 14: The Forever

They didn’t talk about forever.

Not directly.

But Billie started writing more songs with “we” instead of “I.”

Y/N started planning her travel around Billie’s schedule instead of her own.

They talked about adopting a dog. About building a studio in the house. About taking a break from the noise.

And on a quiet Tuesday night, curled up on the couch with Billie’s legs over hers and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn between them, Y/N looked at her and said:

“I’d stay here forever.”

Billie didn’t blink. She just said:

“Then stay.”

And Y/N did.

[maskedbyghost]

possessive reader but somehow johnny gets involved 👀👀 take that how Ever you will

cw: smut, jealousy, possessive!reader, bondage? Well, there was only one way this could play out—because let's be real, the reader’s not sharing Simon with anyone. Hope you enjoyed the madness. Let me know what you think!

It was a normal night. You went out with Simon and his team for drinks, nothing crazy. Johnny was being his usual loud, flirty self, the way he was with everyone, but something about the way his eyes lingered a little too long on Simon’s smile, the way he leaned in when he talked to him, that smug little grin—yeah, it got under your skin fast.

And sure, maybe Simon didn’t notice, or maybe he did and didn’t care, but you were watching the whole time, sipping your drink and fuming quietly, feeling that tight little burn coil up in your chest every time Johnny laughed at something Simon said like it was the funniest shit he’d ever heard.

And Simon just smiled, just sat there looking so fucking good it made your stomach flip, leaning back in his seat with that relaxed, warm look on his face that made everyone want a piece of him. But he was yours. Yours. And you weren’t in the mood to play it cool.

Then, like salt in the wound, on the way out, Simon had the audacity to say, “Johnny should crash with us—it's closer than base, and he's had a few.”

You just nodded, didn’t say much, but your jaw was clenched so tight your teeth hurt. Johnny, of course, was all, “Cheers, mate,” like he didn’t just spend the last three hours flirting with your man.

Oblivious. Fucking oblivious. You were already planning your next move. Because no one—not even one of Simon’s closest friends—was gonna walk into your home, into your space, and forget who the hell Simon belonged to.

You didn’t say much when you got home. Just followed them inside, waited until Johnny was in the shower, and then grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him aside.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at you with concern that almost made you forget you were pissed.

You nodded. “Fine. Just wondering if your friend has a habit of flirting with guys in relationships or if that was just a special show for tonight.”

He blinked. “Johnny? Babe, he’s not—”

“Don’t,” you said. “I know what I saw. I know what he wants.”

Simon raised his hands. “Alright. Then what do you wanna do about it?”

And maybe you smiled too fast. Maybe your eyes were a little too bright when you said, “Make it real clear who you belong to.”

Which is how you all ended up in the bedroom—Johnny on a chair in the corner, his hands loosely tied behind his back with one of Simon’s shirts, looking half-confused and half-curious, and you on the bed with Simon already under you, flushed and breathless and looking like he’d never say no to you even if he wanted to.

You slid your hands down Simon’s chest, straddling him, eyes flicking back to Johnny just long enough to make sure he was watching.

“You see this?” you said, voice low, possessive in a way that made Simon’s jaw tighten and his breath hitch. “This is mine. Every inch. Every sound. Every fucking part of him.”

Simon groaned as your hands dipped lower, as you leaned in and bit at his neck, leaving a mark that you knew would last. He didn’t even try to stop you—just held your hips tighter, let you move however you wanted, completely content to be owned by you.

You kissed him hard, full of teeth and tongue, not pulling back until he was dizzy, until his hands were gripping you like he couldn’t handle being away for even a second.

“You’re gonna sit there and watch,” you said to Johnny, not looking at him this time, too busy tugging Simon’s clothes off. “And you’re gonna see exactly what you’ll never have.”

“You’re mine, yeah?” You asked Simon when the last piece of your clothes hit the floor. “Say it.”

Simon nodded, voice low and strained. “Yours.”

“You come home to me.”

“Always.”

“No one else gets you.” You looked right at Johnny as your fingers wrapped around Simon’s cock, stroking him slowly. “Not your friends, not your teammates, not anyone.”

Johnny was quiet, stiff in the chair, trying to figure out what the hell was happening while you climbed onto Simon’s lap and sank down on him with a low groan that made Simon’s eyes roll back. “Fuck,” he hissed, hands gripping your hips.

You started riding him slow, dragging it out, keeping your eyes on Johnny as you moaned and rocked your hips. “This is mine,” you said, fingers digging into Simon’s chest. “Only I get his cock. Only I get to make him cum.”

Simon’s hands slid up your back, holding you like he was holding on for dear life, trying not to lose it already because the way you were moving, the way your voice dropped into that husky, dark tone—it had him dizzy. “Jesus,” he muttered, breath shaky.

You leaned in, kissed his jaw, biting just a little, grinding down harder. “Tell him who owns you, baby.”

Simon groaned, his head falling back against the mattress. “You do. All yours.”

You turned to Johnny, who was shifting in the chair now, not even hiding the flush creeping up his neck. “You hear that? All mine. You don’t get his hands, or his mouth, or his fucking moans. He fucks me. He fills me. He begs for me.”

Simon was panting, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your thigh, hips jerking up into you, and you grinned down at him, dragging your nails down his chest. “Gonna cum for me?”

He nodded, eyes glassy. “Can’t hold it—fuck, you feel too good—”

You came first—hard, loud, and proud, nails digging into his chest like you were staking your claim. And the second your high started to come down, you grabbed Simon’s face, forced him to look you dead in the eyes as you breathed, “Do it,” you whispered, bouncing harder. “Give it to me. Right in front of him, baby.”

He came with a rough, broken sound, face pressed against your neck, breath catching hard in his chest as his whole body tightened up. His hands gripped whatever they could find, his fingers digging in as he needed to hold onto something, and his hips jerked deep a few more times, and he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

He was swearing under his breath, his voice low and wrecked; the pleasure hit him all at once, and he didn’t know what to do with it, just riding it out with little shudders as it all poured out of him.

You didn’t even look at Johnny as you slumped against Simon’s chest, both of you a mess of sweat and heaving breaths. “You alright there?” you said lazily over your shoulder.

And Johnny? The poor guy had gone quiet halfway through, jaw slack, eyes wide, and by the end of it, he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, obviously trying to hide the fact that he’d gotten way too into it.

You turned your head and gave him a smirk. “Still think he’s up for grabs?”

He didn’t say anything right away. He just blinked, cheeks flushed, hands still tied, and when he finally opened his mouth, it wasn’t what you expected.

“I need to find someone that crazy about me.”

“Good luck,” Simon laughed, dragging you down for another kiss. “There’s only one of her.”

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @xiisblogs

[ablobwhowrites]

A kingdom celebration.

(for the first iteration of ruler y/n cookie is here. And hopefully I cook with this idea as this is just dumb little things I did.)

The sun shines brightly in the sky as birds chirped in the trees and flew high in the skies. Gingerbrave decided to go on a walk to get a better view of the kingdom and its buildings but was confused by seeing the civilian cookies of y/n's kingdom began to set up decorations as many where in their homes cooking as ginger brave was very confused as well as the cookies that gingerbrave brought into the y/n’s kingdom. Little cookies running around playing games as the adults helped with decorations and some taking out tables. “What on earthbread is going on?” Gingerbrave said as he saw colorful decorations strung on houses, street lamps as well as trees and even the castle but soon as beautiful as everything was and the smells coming from houses as people cooked in their houses, gingerbrave saw y/n walking out of the castle as they were being escorted by one of the guard cookies. “Hey y/n! Y/n!” Gingerbrave shouted as he ran to y/n with them looking to where they heard their name and saw Gingerbrave stop once he got to y/n.

“Oh Gingerbrave, lovely day isn’t it?” Y/n said as they looked to the decorations being hung up as well as their cookie citizens set up for the festive day. “I wanted to ask you. What’s going on with all the cookies? Is it some kind of holiday?” Gingerbrave asked as y/n remembered that gingerbrave and his friends were still new to their kingdom. “Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. It’s more of what my citizens set up every year or so, but it’s an anniversary of the kingdom a my citizens do like making a big deal about this celebration. But clover has me on a very strict schedule for events like this but I do try to lend a hand for my citizens, even just a little." Y/n said as they smiled and gingerbrave looked as cookies carried out big pots and trays of food to the tables, y/n's guard who has been escorting them had leaded a bit down to y/n's side. "My monarch, the bakery is still waiting for you. We mustn't keep them waiting." The knight said as they got back to standing up fully as y/n gasped, "Oh my, I nearly forgot I needed to go there! I need to make my dish for the celebration, I'll see you at the celebration tonight!" Y/n said as they rushed a bit to get to the bakery in the kingdom and y/n's guard cookie looked at gingerbrave. "It's best to have your food ready for tonight or do you not have any for the celebration?" The cookie guard loomed over gingerbrave who laughed uncomfortably "yeah! I do, I should probably tell the others to get ready as well!" Exclaimed as he ran away to find strawberry, wizard or just any of the other cookies as the guard cookie went over to y/n.

"YOU TELL US NOW!?" Chili pepper cookie shouted as gingerbrave looked at the ground awkwardly as he tried to remember when y/n told him about this celebration but nothing "w-well! We can just make something real quick! I'm sure it's not hard to make a dish." Gingerbrave said with confidence in his voice. "Excuse me, coming through!" A cookie said as the small group saw two cookies carry a very large pot that was full of maybe soup but who knows and gingerbrave felt a bit weary. "How many cookies are attending this thing?" Wizard cookie shocked as who even has the big of a pot just laying around and what could even be inside of it. The small team of gingerbrave split up to tell the other cookies who didn't know about the celebration. Y/n and their guard held two big baskets with a cloths over the baked goods so they would stay good until the celebration as they walked out, y/n saw the new cookies that gingerbrave had brought to the kingdom rushing around some desperately getting ingredients for things and y/n got a bit worried at the sudden rushing around of the new cookies.

The sun soon was going down as day light faded but gingerbrave and his friends still were trying to decide what to make for the celebration and quick. "What about a soup? It's easy to make and you can't really mess it up." Wizard cookie suggested "No! No! No! No! It should be something great! Like a roasted jelly!" Custard Cookie III shouted with glee. "No that would take to long, it takes about 2 hours for it to roast." Wizard cookie shot down Custard cookie's III idea, "maybe something small like candy? It could work and some candy is easy to make in a short time." Strawberry cookie suggested and wizard cookie thought about it. "How about just coming empty handed? I mean we are still new and I don't think they'll be mad at us for not knowing." Chili pepper cookie knew that what ever food or dessert is suggested won't have enough time to finish. "No, it's rude to show up empty handed and especially after what y/n has done for us, it's the absolute least we can do." Wizard cookie argued as chili pepper cookie rolled her eyes "okay but how were we supposed to know if no one told us. That can be a excuse." Chili pepper argued back as a back and forth argument happened with wizard and chili pepper. Gingerbrave was thinking hard, 'what would be fast to make yet the tastiest to make?' Gingerbrave thought.

Y/n set the baskets on the tables as the sun finally set, the lanterns that where hung up flicked on with cookies finally settling down in their chairs with even the new cookies joining in with the newly added seats. A cookie guard helped y/n up on a chair to stand tall as all the cookies quieted down and looked to y/n who cleared their throat a bit. "My citizens! And new cookies. We are here to celebrate the anniversary of this kingdom and I wish to say how grateful I am to you all for helping this kingdom grow to the small village to this now grand kingdom full with old and new faces. Now let us all dig in and enjoy this celebratio-".

"WAIT! WE GOT OURS!" Gingerbrave shouted as the small group of friends rushed to the table gingerbrave panted as he held up the medium try of food to y/n. The tray of food looked questionable as it was somehow bubbling as if it was just taken out of the oven or whatever it was cooking in. It seemed like a roasted jelly with some kind of seasoning and some kind of sprinkles with other and what looks like maple syrup somehow. Y/n like a bit concerned about how they managed to make something like a jelly roast look like a dessert somehow. "My monarch you don't need to try their dish." A cookie guard said as y/n looked at the small group who worked hard on this dish then to their guard who was silently telling them not to eat or even take a bite out of that dish. "Well, I'm very proud of you for making this dish. You've obviously worked hard on it how about you set it with the others." Y/n said with a kind smile as gingerbrave, wizard, Custard III, strawberry and chili pepper cookie felt happy that y/n was proud and went to go set their dish on the table somewhere. "I don't think what they made was edible." Clover whispered to y/n as they got down. "Yeah, please make sure they don't eat it. I don't want them to get sick." Y/n whispered back as y/n didn't want anyone to get sick but also didn't want to discourage the gingerbraves group so they had one of the guard taken the dish after the celebration and luckily no one touched it but gingerbrave and his group were to occupied that y/n was proud of them for making a dish all by themselves.

(Anyways that it for this fic. But if you like it please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's you have. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[theonlyonesora]

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Chapter 5 - Viva Las Vegas

A few monhs had passed. The intensity of that weekend faded into something softer, easier to live with. Things between Lily and me had returned to their usual rhythm—jokes over iced coffees, late-night walks, stealing each other’s clothes, and laughing until our stomachs hurt.

But there was something else now. Something unspoken. A third pulse in the room.

Oscar had started calling more. Not just to talk to Lily—but sometimes to ask me how I was, what I was up to, if I’d watched the latest F1 drama unfold on social media. And when Lily visited him on weekends, I started receiving photos from both of them—funny selfies, inside jokes, stupid TikToks. Their "we miss you" energy had begun to feel... different.

It was like they wanted me closer. Like they didn’t know how to ask.

Then one afternoon, in the middle of folding laundry and blasting ABBA, Lily walked into the living room with a grin that was dangerous.

“You’re going to Vegas.”

I blinked. “Come again?”

“Oscar has a race there next month. He said you should come with me.”

I dropped a towel. “Are you serious?”

“He already bought the ticket,” she said, sitting beside me on the floor, all breezy and casual, as if she didn’t just casually rearrange my whole life.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Flight, hotel, paddock access. All of it.”

I stared at her. “He’s paying for everything?”

“He insists. He says it’ll be fun. I say it’ll be chaotic.”

I swallowed. “And you?”

Lily just smiled. “I think it’s time.”

Las Vegas.

I’d never seen so many lights at once. Neon and noise. Glitter and gasoline. It felt like someone took adrenaline and poured it into the shape of a city.

Oscar picked us up at the airport himself, wearing a hoodie and cap like it could possibly hide who he was. He looked tired, but his smile when he saw us was real.

And he hugged me.

Not like a friend-of-my-girlfriend hug. Not awkward. But not too much either. Just… warm. Familiar.

Like we’d done this a thousand times before. Even though it was our first.

“This is going to be a fun weekend,” he said into my ear.

I shivered.

Dinner was at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Strip. Lily wore red. I wore black. Oscar sat between us, spinning his wine glass and smiling like he had a secret.

The conversation was light. Easy. Full of inside jokes and playful teasing. Lily flirted with him like no one was watching. I flirted with her just to make him laugh. And Oscar—well, he watched us both like he couldn’t decide which fire to get closer to.

At one point, Lily leaned toward me, voice low: “You look good tonight.”

“So do you.”

Oscar, catching the whisper, grinned. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” I said, sipping my wine, locking eyes with him. “Unless you’re into that.”

Lily choked on her drink.

And that was when I knew.

Something was going to happen in Las Vegas.

Maybe not tonight.

But soon.

And no one would be able to pretend after that.

.

Qualifying had been electric.

Oscar had finished second, the kind of lap that left the entire paddock buzzing. Vegas was alive—hot, loud, glowing like it never slept—and we walked through it like it was ours.

Lily and I had been by the garage, watching from behind the scenes with team radios pressed to our ears. She knew exactly what to listen for. I was just pretending to be calm.

Oscar waved the moment he saw us, peeling off his helmet, sweat-dampened curls a mess, grin wide and shining. He looked at Lily, then at me, and I swear the flicker in his eyes was the same for both of us.

After the press, the meetings, and the debriefs, we found ourselves in the elevator of the Wynn, 32 floors up, still humming from the rush. The hallway to the suite was silent, plush, golden. Oscar held a bottle of team champagne under one arm, Lily walked barefoot because her heels had murdered her feet, and I was texting our group chat to let them know we were alive.

The suite was too nice. A skyline view, glass walls, velvet everything. And one massive king-sized bed.

“Wait,” I said, pausing. “Only one bed?”

Oscar set the champagne on the table with a smirk. “They must’ve assumed.”

Lily turned to me, unbothered. “You’re the little spoon.”

“I always get elbowed when I’m the little spoon,” I complained.

Oscar opened the champagne with a soft pop. “We can alternate shifts.”

“Hot,” I said dryly, snatching a glass. “Very poly of us.”

One bottle in.

We were on the floor, backs against the bed, laughing over a stupid TikTok Oscar had filmed of Lily trying to sneak into the paddock disguised as a staff intern. She almost got away with it.

Lily was lying across both our laps, head on my thigh, feet in Oscar’s hands. She was tipsy. Glowy. Beautiful.

I looked at her. “You’re going to be so hungover tomorrow.”

“I’m always hungover around you,” she mumbled. “Emotionally and otherwise.”

Oscar brushed his thumb along her ankle. “You're both a menace.”

I raised my glass. “To menacing.”

He clinked his against mine. “To danger.”

Lily didn’t move, but her voice softened: “To us.”

There was a pause.

Us.

I felt it. Oscar felt it.

The wine, the heat, the way she was draped across us like she belonged there.

Maybe she did.

Later, when we curled into the bed—all three of us Lily between us — limbs tangling, warmth and skin and unspoken questions pressing into the dark—Oscar whispered something against my neck:

“You feel like home already.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I was afraid of what I might say back.

The Next Morning, we woke to Oscar’s name trending and not just Oscar Piastri P2 Las Vegas.

No. This was different.

Someone had caught a photo—maybe from the hotel lobby, maybe at dinner the night before. The three of us, laughing. Too close. Too much eye contact. Someone had zoomed in on Lily’s hand on Oscar’s shoulder, and mine on Lily’s thigh.

It wasn’t proof.

But the internet didn’t care about proof.

“Oscar Piastri’s girlfriend and her hot friend—what’s going on?” “Throuple energy. I’m calling it now.” “Why do I want to be the fourth?”

Lily rolled over in bed and groaned into the pillow. “We’re going to be memes.”

Oscar was already scrolling. “Well… at least we’re attractive memes.”

I took the phone from him and threw it on the floor. “No phones before breakfast. New throuple rule.”

They laughed. But no one disagreed.

Tag List:

@freyathehuntress, @mimisweetz, @aleatorio1234, @totallynotluluu, @rorabelle15, @prongslena, @linnygirl09, @mangotaitai, @forensicheart, @devilacot, @lilorose25, @landofotographyy

[elliesglock]

ice analysis part ll | after pazzi cuddle

after pazzi cuddle:

this is when carol and ice start acting REALLY WEIRD. but baby truthfully im not looking at that cause what the hell is pazzi doing in the background? paige and azzi are kinda standing together behind the bar and paige is dancing for the camera. i assume azzi is trying to get her attention for a while before she shouts "PAIGE!" right into her ear. aweeee she not used to not having her girls attention. but azzi from the way paige is grinning and her eyes are looking in different directions i don't think she meant to ignore u baby trust 😭 she kinda pulls paige's face to look at whatever she's trying to show her and it lowkey looks like they either kiss again or get really close to doing it. ice covers it with her arm (babe the damage is already done but i appreciate you keeping them safe) and i honestly can't see what they're doing. i think they just got really close or had a little moment tbh. they were close and touchy this whole live so im not surprised. i don't think they're sober enough to even recognize they're being extremely obvious which says to me this is just an everyday natural thing for them. cause flirting w someone and showing ur true intentions while drunk is REAL. and pazzi showed their intentions and who they with too quick. okay so nothing really happens until this next part. it's brought up in the live about a guy named ryan, and that's who i am assuming kayla is talking to and maybe in an argument with. so this is when the two brainiacs azzi and kayla have the wonderful idea imo to give kayla a hickey to make him jealous. you can hear paige go "are you deadass right now?" which might not be directed at azzi or it could be why she later says to distract paige so she doesn't get mad when she gives her one. she legit says "can someone go distract paige? paige is gonna get mad." maybe paige is listening to their talk and is like are you deadass azzi no!! if it was just a friendly thing why would paige CARE who azzi's joking around and messing with. obv it's because she doesn't want her girlfriend to be giving hickeys and paige is also naturally possessive asf over azzi. in her head that stuffs only for her. especially after making out with her and the liquors flowing i'm sure she's even more feral and wants azzi all to herself. but before this you can hear someone come to paige and ask if "a's good?" which just seems so coupley to me. like you go up to someone's girlfriend and ask them if their girls too drunk. idk how they're gonna fix that because both of the girlies are drunk as a skunk. i think aubrey takes one for the team and goes to distract p because you can hear paige going "AUBREY AND I WE LOCKED IN BRUH". and during this time everyone's looking behind the bar giggling because im assuming azzi is giving her a hickey. you even hear yanna say "bro it's a movie when he gets here!". now just to preface this a FRIENDLY funny thing that is happening between friends i am not insinuating azzi is cheating on paige because that's not what's happening at all. before i get the warriors in my inbox. azzi says she needs a shot after that (no you don't babe) and she just gave kayla (and what it sounds like to me) a hickey. little tiny moment a couple minutes after this where ice shows a comment of someone saying paige and andre 👀? and her and carol laugh about it for like a minute cause they know who she with and what she doing in that bar. around the same time, where tf did paige and azzi go haven't we haven't seen them for a good five minutes....they in that bathroom for sure. ice evens reads a comment that asks where's paige and her and kayla kinda stumble over each other trying to figure out an answer.

first ice looks around and doesn't see her (she's w her girl making out in that bathroom im telling you), then kayla says she's playing cornhole, then ice says she's getting them shots. like okay keep joking but we know u fr don't know where paige is. and they also say they don't know where azzi is either. so my agenda that they've been making out this whole time in the bathroom or somewhere off the in corner shall prosper. then azzi and paige come walking back together and lemme just say they looking ROUGHHHH. paige comes dancing but they but they both look so tense and blushy. idk im convinced for sure they had something going on. lowkey ice was being hella careful for the rest of the live cause 1. we don't see paige and azzi again (i think that slight little kiss in the beginning started something elseeeeeee. like they eventually just had to go somewhere and take care of some business tbh) also the whole bar empties out from around her so someone had to of told their drunk asses to move away from the live.

i didn't really watch the end cause im lazy oops but lemme know if there's anything i needa add cause i didn't see anything else. thank you for reading guys! lemme know any thoughts you have!! 🤍

and with that L's in the chat for ice, i'm sorry this live continues to be your destiny and u also had deal w this drunk ass paige all night ❤️‍🩹

[chris-continues]

Robert “Bob” Reynolds HC’s

CONTAINS: brief mentions of drug use, eating disorders, abuse, insomnia, emotional constipation, Bob is freaked out by the fact his body contains the wretched side of self destruction he wants to ignore and control + fluff and angst

-his main love language is quality time. He enjoys being comfortable in someone’s presence, and I feel like he also really appreciates words of affirmation time to time. After constant negative self reflection, it’s reassuring to think others don’t feel the same about him.

-he struggles with terrible insomnia due to nightmares. After his abuse, he’d shake and thrash a lot in his sleep. His addiction developed after he was looking for an escape

-he doesn’t like to cry in front of others. He thinks throwing himself into the fray is the best thing to do to be tolerated by others (for instance, trying to help the team when they fought their way out of Valentina’s incinerator). Self sacrifice is what he believes makes him the most useful tool (hence why he didn’t care if he stayed behind because he didn’t have a real reason to live)

-he’d be freaked out and feel called out by books like ‘I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream’ because they highlight the awakening of the desperation and vile nature of humanity

-when he does sleep, I feel like he’d find a weighted blanket suffocating but in reality once he has one he’d like it. Curled onto his side, not quite fetal position but a loose fetal position

-very startled by loud noises and very jumpy due to his past. His teammates don’t comment on it out of respect

-obviously his memory suppression is a coping mechanism for his trauma, but while aloof I feel he’d become a bit frustrated he can’t remember the small things he’s grown to enjoy. He starts to keep a small diary of each day so he won’t forget it

-I feel like he has a decent spice tolerance and is the kind to pant with his mouth and try to lick his lips to alleviate the pain (which only worsens it)

-runs his tongue over his teeth when he’s thinking

-his lips are a bit chapped because he tends to fidget w his lips often (pressing them together, biting them, etc)

-he’s a tentative kisser but once he’s comfortable he legit melts into it. Think crouching down to your level, sighing happily and everything

-he likes to hold your head to his chest and vice versa. The world is overwhelming, but he has you- of course he does. You’re his sweetheart.

-every time you two go to a posh gala or event Valentina forces the team to attend, he’s always awed by you. Hopeful glances towards you, his throat bobbing, the works. Yelena guides him to ask you to dance, teasing him. Of course, you say yes, one hand on his chest and the other intertwined with his own.

-he sometimes struggles fathoming that you would want to be with him. He’s grown accustomed to being alone, left aside, but you and the team always try to include him. You especially- you care about him so much.

-he’s ‘dated’ people before, but less formal dating and more carnal relationships to help one another with highs and to get hookups for meth

-his laugh is so beautiful. I’m not talking about just snickering, but a full belly laugh- maybe Walker falls flat on his face after saying “watch this” with his fucked up taco shield

-gets shaky and clammy hands when nervous

-maybe he had ARFID as a kid or smth and was forced to eat whatever his dad threw at him. Gave him an eating disorder for awhile so while on a high he’d just do it to sometimes prolong when he had to eat or make his appetite bad enough he could stomach something

[vro0m]

Maybe this is my own bias wanting to see things that are not real but both Charles and Lewis strike me as drivers (at least in this current moment and season) who do care about the team overall doing well and would be ok with strategists using them to maximize team points? If they would just take fast and smart decisions, I don’t think the drivers would question it too much. But this constant hesitation and unclear calls over time also builds up a feeling of uncertainty in the drivers maybe because then you start to question what is actually taking so long, do they not know what to do, etc

Just me analyzing for you for free on the basis of gut feeling alone! You’re welcome vrooms! (Would love to hear your thoughts on this more though for real. )

I think most drivers are fairly okay with collaborating when they are in a car that's not very competitive. The closer they get to the front the less they're willing to put the team ahead of themselves. In this context it did seem to me like they were okay with swapping the cars around when needed, and could have done it better and more efficiently if the engineers weren't hesitating about it. It's like the strategy team is the one unwilling to prioritise the team, which makes no sense.

I agree with the uncertainty thing. Imo the big issue is that drivers need to trust their engineers deeply because the engineers can't spend too much time explaining stuff over radio. Look at what happened with Max and GP. GP said "stay within 5 seconds of George" and Max asked why. GP refused to elaborate, he said "just do it". And Max does what he's told in these cases because he knows he can trust GP and the team behind him.

Charles and Lewis can't trust their engineers because they don't trust that the team is making good decisions. Yesterday I brought up the first race I watched that got me into F1. It was back in 2019 and Charles was already contesting the team's decisions over radio. At length. That's an issue.

Similarly, do I remember correctly that when mclaren got back to the top they also had to adjust because suddenly we were listening to radio calls lasting several dozens of seconds?

So yeah on the one hand, they should be making decisions faster. On the other hand, for the fast decisions to be accepted by the drivers without further dicussions, they need to be able to trust that those are the correct decisions. And that's the deeper issue for me.

[bylertruthr]

i’ve been wondering. why do people get so mad when people ship Byler, while they nonetheless support and like other ships that include Mike/El (example: Elmax)?

well the only logical explanation for this is that, if we’re being real, Elmax has almost a zero percent chance of being canon in S5. i think we can all agree with that. so people ship it because it’s fun and because their dynamic is cute, so what’s the harm in shipping them romantically right??? well that’s the thing. they KNOW it won’t be canon. that’s why they ship it, because it has almost a 0% chance of destroying their ‘perfect ship’, (aka Milkvan).

on the OTHER hand, the reason Milkvans (and some general fans) are pissed off with Byler shippers is because it actually has a chance of becoming canon in S5. think about it— what other possible reason could they be so mad at us for shipping them together? because they’re two boys?? but aren’t Elmax also two girls? so that’s not a valid excuse.

they see how our theories and proof make sense, yet they still call us “delusional” and that we’re “trying to make a character gay” because that’s the only responses they can ever come up with. to add to it, it has literally never been confirmed or denied that Mike is straight or not. so we are technically allowed to theorise about his sexuality and his possibly internalised homophobia; unlike Will who is canonically gay and in love with Mike (confirmed by Noah Schnapp, who plays Will, himself.) (also to all those who ship him with El, please get help. i mean it. <3)

it’s also the fact that if Will were a girl, i mean, just think about it— almost EVERY Milkvan shipper would be ready to admit that there’s something between Will and Mike. i can guarantee that 70% of Milkvan shippers would probably be team Byler. but they can’t see the signs because, number one, they’re less obvious to the GA, and number two, they’re both guys, so obviously their chemistry is just platonic, right? 😒

again, i’m not saying that affectionate male friendships shouldn’t be normalised in TV shows. i absolutely think they should be. but it’s the fact that there’s so much evidence backing up our theories and claims that makes us believe that this is not just a “simple affectionate male friendship.” again, we’re just called delusional because we DARE to believe in a queer couple being endgame. isn’t that crazy, when you think about it?

if you’re ever having Byler doubt, do not let those milkvans brainwash you into thinking you’re imagining things, because you’re not. you’re one of the few who can actually detect possibly hidden romantic innuendo, and i’m proud of you for that. you’re not delusional. you’re not desperate for a character to be queer. you’re simply observing and seeing very clear facts.

thank you for reading my rant if you made it this far 💕😭

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 23 PART 1

AHHH we're so lucky we got such an amazing CC game today. Was sad Kate wasn't with her at Carver and inspired me to crank this out.

This is a series of team & CC/KM vignettes from Caitlin's sophomore Fall, ranging from ~ September - Halloween when the season picks back up on Nov 1.

Wanted this to be lighter so more head canons of team at college, scavenger hunts, doing dumb college shit together and bonding. I consider the other half of this chapter really one with this, but apparently i write too much bc i had too many character's for one post and I wanted to split it up at an appropriate time. So Halloween half will come tomorrow :) worth the waiit! (Read chaps seven & eight halloween freshman year here for more context).

NSFW: WLW, Smut, Edibles/drug use, plot. All revious chapters below.

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.

Kate walked across campus with her hands deep in her hoodie pocket and heat still sitting low in her spine. Not adrenaline. Not nerves. Just… something solid.

She was sore. Not the bad kind. The kind that reminded her what she’d given Caitlin earlier that day. Caitlin had pulled her in, sharpened her, kissed her slowly, and said you’re back like it was already true. Maybe it was.

Now, Kate moved with purpose. Sunglasses on. Hood up. Headphones in—Drake playing low. Just enough to keep her thoughts quiet.

Caitlin was probably still on the couch. Loose-limbed. Glowing. Sore in a way Kate didn’t let herself think about too long.

There was film. Strategy. Leadership meetings.

If they were going to be great—actually great—it wasn’t going to be by accident. Not because Caitlin had to hero 40 minutes a game. Not on hype. Not luck.

It would be because they built something tight. Disciplined. Real.

She hadn’t said it out loud. Not to Caitlin. Not to anyone.

But the thought stuck to her ribs: What if she leaves?

She hadn’t meant it the first time. But now it showed up too easily. Her parents were back. NIL conversations were taking over for every athlete, not justin Caitlin. Nothing next year was guaranteed.

So Kate left a note. Sharp. No frills. YOU’RE EVERYTHING. DON’T FORGET.

By the time she stepped into the film room, her jaw was set. Her body was calm.

Monika twirled a pen like she meant to use it. McKenna leaned back like the chair was hers. Coach Bluder had her coffee and her calm. Jan stood by the wall, arms crossed. Watching.

Kate nodded once. Sat down. Crossed one leg over the other. Back straight. Hands still.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to—not yet. The room smelled like dry-erase markers and disinfectant. A whiteboard hung behind them, still haunted by last week’s notes.

Coach Bluder broke the silence. “Alright. Let’s talk about goals.”

McKenna raised her hand. “No losing.”

“Great,” Bluder deadpanned.

Monika shrugged. “Win the Big Ten. Make the elite Eight minimum.”

Kate didn’t say anything.

Jan tilted her head. “Katie?” Kate looked down once, then back up. Her voice was even, clipped. But the edge was there if you listened.

“We have a shot. A real one.”

Bluder nodded. “We do.”

“But only if we stop waiting to get serious. Not in January. Not when we’re 4–0 and feeling good.”

“We will be 4–0,” McKenna said.

Kate didn’t flinch. “Not the point.”

Monika raised a brow. “You think we’re not locked in?”

“Caitlin wants a championship,” she says. “Not just for herself. For all of us. But she’s not going to wait around forever for it.” Kate sighed. “I think we’re not aligned,” Kate said. “We train hard. We know plays. But we don’t know each other. Not the way we need to. Not for March.” She leaned forward, elbows to knees. “I’ve been on teams with talent. I’ve been on teams with chemistry. This year has to be both. This year has to be everything.”

She didn’t say: We have the most-watched player in the country, and she might not stay if we blow it. Didn’t say: She finally believes in this place again. I can’t be the reason she stops.

But Jan heard it anyway. Her eyes narrowed. Not harsh—just sure.

Bluder looked at Kate. “So what’s your pitch?”

Kate sat up straighter. “Structured team bonding. Captains running extra lifts. Accountability pods. Small group check-ins. And we lead it—top down. No exceptions.”

Jan raised an eyebrow. “You want a culture reset.”

Kate nodded once. “I want to do whatever it takes to win with the people I love.”

Silence.

Then McKenna, leaning forward. “I’m in.”

Monika smirked. “Tell me where to be, Captain.”

Jan didn’t say anything. Just watched her niece, quiet.

Later, when the others filed out, Jan stayed back.

“You’re doing good,” she said.

Kate shrugged. “Just trying to lead.”

Jan gave her a long look. Then: “You’re scared she’ll leave.”

Kate exhaled through her nose. “She loves it here.”

“But you think if it stops being enough—if it gets too hard—she’ll go.”

Kate didn’t answer.

Jan stepped forward. Rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Then make it more than enough,” she said. “Don’t chase her. Lead like she already chose you.”

Kate nodded once, slow. Breath tight in her chest.

Later that night, she opened the team group chat.

KATE: 7:30am lifts start tomorrow. I’ll bring the aux. Don’t make me regret it. GABBY: So can I DJ? KATE: define “DJ” SYDNEY: does this mean i have to wake up before 9am? MCKENNA: lfg everyone's coming. yes sydney i'll pour ice water on your head tomorrow at 7.

Kate didn’t respond.

She just dropped her phone on her nightstand, pulled her hoodie over her head, and set her alarm.

—-----------------------

The weeks slipped by fast and loud. Not soft. Not easy. But good.

7:30 lifts turned into law. Kate never made a speech about it. She didn’t have to. She just showed up, every day, already warm, aux plugged in, waiting. 

The team followed.

Sydney brought complaints. McKenna brought spreadsheets and chaos.

They weren’t perfect, but they were building something.

The mornings bled into workouts. The workouts into practices. Bodies sore. Voices hoarse. Monika ran point on pod check-ins. Nobody said it, but it was starting to feel real.

Caitlin didn’t say much. She didn’t have to. But she watched.

Watched Sydney show up on time, even when she was dragging. Watched AJ stay late to rebound. Watched Gabby bark orders and do extra sets. They weren’t trying to impress her. They were trying to belong.

And that meant something.

She hadn’t asked for any of it—hadn’t expected them to care this much. But every time someone dived for a loose ball, stayed to stretch, checked in without being told... She felt it. That tug in her chest. The one that used to only happen during fourth quarters and film sessions.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who wanted this. Maybe she wasn’t alone in it anymore.

And that scared the shit out of her. But it also made her want to play harder.

For them. With them.

She didn’t say any of it. Just nodded when Monika handed her the practice notes, and said, “We’re getting there.”

--------

And then came the Camp Games.

Gabby claimed it was “team bonding.” McKenna called it “chaos with cones.” Monika just muttered, “This better not involve glitter.”

No one knew who actually planned it. They all just showed up on the rec field at 4:00 PM sharp—water bottles, cleats, Gabby with a whistle she definitely stole from the training room.

Gabby shouted, arms wide like she was announcing a revolution. “Today we test your strength. Your stamina. Your soul.”

“You’re not God,” Sydney muttered.

Gabby clapped her hands like a camp counselor on espresso. “Alright! Team One: Caitlin, McKenna, Monika, and AJ.”

Caitlin fist-pumped. ��Let’s go.”

“Team Two: Kate, Gabby, Sydney, and Jada.”

Kate raised a brow. “Seriously?”

Gabby grinned. “Random draw.”

“You are the random draw,” Kate said.

“And I’m here to cause balance,” Gabby replied, deadly serious. “Also? To beat Caitlin Clark into the dirt.”

“You wish,” Caitlin called from across the field, arms crossed.

Kate met her eyes across the grass. “Try me, superstar.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Caitlin shot back, already tying her laces tighter.

The first event was dizzy bat relays. McKenna spun so hard she careened into a cone. AJ ran backwards on accident. Somehow, Caitlin still carried them to a photo-finish win.

From the other side of the field, Kate pointed at her. “I’m still not scared.”

“Give it a minute,” Caitlin said, jogging past her.

Next: tug-of-war. Gabby wrapped the jump rope around her forearms like she was entering the octagon. Kate stood anchor, feet dug in, biceps flexing.

Caitlin stared from across the rope.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Kate said under her breath.

“You should be,” Caitlin said. “I’m competitive and petty.”

“You’re also small.”

“Fast,” Caitlin corrected.

“Still gonna lose.”

“Over my dead body.”

Gabby blew the whistle.

They pulled.

AJ screamed. Sydney cursed. Gabby cackled.

Caitlin dug in, legs burning, teeth gritted.

Kate grunted and gave one last heave—and Team Two won.

Caitlin dropped the rope and stared at her, breathing hard. “Enjoy it. It’s your last one.”

Kate smirked. “We’ll see.”

Third event: human knot.

Gabby shoved her team into the mess like it was dodgeball tryouts. “We’re flexible and emotionally intelligent,” she yelled.

“Speak for yourself,” Sydney muttered.

McKenna attempted yoga. Jada nearly punched Gabby in the face. Monika gave directions in three languages. Caitlin, in the center of it all, shouted, “Can we get organized for five seconds?!”

“You sound like my therapist,” AJ said.

Kate’s team finished first. Barely.

Gabby did a cartwheel to celebrate.

Final event: the gauntlet. Cones. Leapfrogging. Dizzy spins. One mini hoop zip-tied to a trash can.

Caitlin cracked her knuckles. “This is mine.”

Kate leaned in, close enough to catch her eye. “You sure?”

“I was born for this,” Caitlin said.

“Then show me.”

Gabby blew the whistle.

Caitlin flew. Over cones, around bodies, through chaos.

Kate watched from the sidelines, heart hammering. She knew that posture. That fire. The way Caitlin didn’t hold back, didn’t slow down, even when it was supposed to be a joke.

She spun. Shot.

Swish.

First make all day.

She threw both hands in the air and shouted, “LET’S GOOOO!”

McKenna tackled her. AJ high-fived her. Monika yelled, “MVP of pettiness!”

Kate walked over slowly, clapping once.

“That was hot,” she said.

Caitlin raised a brow. “That was victory.”

Kate tilted her head. “Pretty sure it was a tie.”

“We won by vibes.”

“Debatable.”

“Eat grass.”

“You wish.”

They stood there, flushed and smug and way too happy for two people who just spent an hour pretending this was all just fun.

Later, in the dining hall, Caitlin collapsed next to AJ with two grilled cheeses and a gallon of Gatorade. Her face was red. Her voice was hoarse.

She still couldn’t stop smiling.

McKenna was telling someone about her “elite leapfrog form.” Sydney swore she saw God mid-spin. Gabby recapped the day in third person.

Later that night, the hallway buzz had died down. Group chats slowed. The only sound in the common room was the muted hum of a fridge and the occasional clink of ice in someone’s water bottle down the hall.

Kate was already there—hoodie half-zipped, knees pulled to her chest on the couch, remote in one hand, half-watching a muted episode of Shark Tank. Her hair was damp. Her body looked like it had finally remembered how to rest.

Caitlin dropped onto the other end of the couch, stretched her legs out. They didn’t speak for a minute.

Caitlin stretched out her legs with a quiet groan. “My legs are destroyed.”

Kate smirked. “You did try to out-sprint the laws of physics.”

“I won two events.”

“You nearly face-planted into a garbage can.”

Caitlin grinned. “Still counts.”

They sat for a beat. The light from the TV flickered across the walls.

Then Caitlin said, softer, “You felt really... present today.”

Kate blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Caitlin shrugged. “You just seemed locked in. With the team. With all of it.”

Kate nodded slowly. “Trying to be.”

Caitlin looked at her. “It matters.”

Kate raised a brow. “To who?”

“To me,” Caitlin said. “To all of us. When you lead like that—when you’re really in it—it changes the whole room.”

Kate let that settle. Then, gently: “Why does winning matter so much to you?”

Caitlin frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kate turned toward her slightly, knees almost touching. “Winning. Pushing. Needing to be the best at everything. Even in a dumb relay race with Gabby screaming about glory. You don’t ease off—not ever.”

Caitlin opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her fingers found the frayed edge of her hoodie sleeve.

“It’s not about proving something,” she said. “Not really. It’s about… what happens when I’m in it.”

Kate tilted her head. Said nothing.

Caitlin exhaled. “When I’m locked in—when the ball leaves my hand and I know it’s good before it even hits the net—something clicks. Like the world slows down. Like I’m outside of it, but also exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Her eyes stayed on her lap, but her voice steadied.

“I can remember every step of a play. Where everyone was standing. The angle of their feet. The arc of the pass. I can feel it—like it’s still happening. I play it back in my head like a movie. Like... I don’t know. Like instant replay, but in my brain.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Caitlin nodded. “You remember Indiana last season? Senior night. Tie game. 63–63. Twelve seconds on the clock.”

Kate blinked. “That fadeaway?”

“You had #14 on you—Daniels. Six-one and twitchy. She overcommitted on the screen and you split it anyway. You faked the drive, pulled back baseline. Two dribbles. You planted your left foot just inside the hash and rose. That little kick you do with your right leg when you shoot off-balance?” Everyone thought you were gonna pass out to McKenna, but I knew. You had that twitch in your shoulder you get before you spin. I watched their forward bite early, and you—God, you were already in the air.”

Kate let out a breath. “Jesus.”

Caitlin wasn’t done. “The arc was clean. Ball left your hand with 1.2 seconds left. I watched their 5—#44—start to crash the boards before the buzzer even sounded. And I knew. Before it even dropped, I knew.”

Caitlin kept going. “And I can still see it. The arc. The release. The way your wrist snapped. The girl under the basket flinched before it went in, because she knew too.”

Kate swallowed.

“And it’s not just your shots,” Caitlin added. “I remember my own too. Sophomore year of high school, state semis. We were down by two. I got the inbound with six seconds. Drove right, crossed left at the elbow. Their guard trailed. I pulled up from thirty. My right foot landed just behind the volleyball line. There was 0.3 left when it went through.”

Kate let out a low whistle.

“I didn’t even watch it fall,” Caitlin murmured. “I just knew. The net sounded right. My balance was perfect. It felt… holy. Like something outside myself was moving through me.”

She looked up at Kate, eyes soft but electric. “That’s why I push so hard. That’s why I care. Not to prove something. But because those moments? That feeling? The divine one? It doesn't just happen. I have to earn it.”

Kate didn’t speak for a long beat. She just stared at her, her throat working.

Then she reached over and took Caitlin’s hand.

“You,” she said, voice low, “are not normal.”

“I think it’s my gift,” Caitlin said. “And I don’t mean that in a cocky way. I mean it like—I was built for this. Like God or the universe or whatever just handed me this thing and said, go be a superhero. And if I don’t live up to it, if I don’t try to be the best every second, I’m wasting it.”

She finally looked up, and her voice dropped lower. “Sometimes when I’m on the court, I feel like I could do anything. I feel... holy. Like I was meant to be here, doing this. Like nothing can touch me.”

Kate didn’t speak right away. Her throat was tight. She reached over, slow and certain, and rested her hand on Caitlin’s knee. “I’ve never heard you talk about it like that,” she said quietly.

Caitlin shrugged. “I don’t. Most people just think I’m competitive and crazy.”

Kate’s thumb moved in a slow arc. “You are. But not in the way they think.”

Their eyes locked. Something settled between them. “I love that about you,” Kate said.

Caitlin swallowed. “What?”

“That you know what you were made for,” Kate said. “That you chase it without apology. It’s not just intensity. It’s... devotion.”

Caitlin’s eyes shone, just a little.

Kate leaned closer. “And if you’re a superhero,” she whispered, “then I get to be the one who keeps you human.”

Caitlin’s breath caught.

Kate’s voice was low. “You think we won't see you anymore? If you lose?”

Caitlin swallowed. “I don’t know. I think I’m scared to find out.”

They sat with that. The only sound was the soft shift of fabric as Caitlin leaned her head back against the couch.

Kate reached out and ran a hand along Caitlin’s shin, light and steady. “I think you're a super hero whennot scoring forty.”

Caitlin looked over.

“I think you're meant to be where you are when you’re laughing" Kate said. “When you’re trash-talking McKenna. When you’re tying your shoes too tight before practice and muttering about rebounding drills.”

Caitlin gave a small laugh.

Kate’s voice dropped. “I saw you today. Not just because you were winning. Because you were with people. Letting them see you back.”

Caitlin didn’t answer. Not out loud.

But she leaned in.

Their knees bumped.

Kate nudged her gently. “I want to win too, you know.”

“I know.”

“Not just for the title.”

Kate looked down at their legs, pressed side by side.

“For us,” she said quietly.

Caitlin nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Then let’s.”

Kate turned, just a little, enough for her knee to press more fully against Caitlin’s. Her hand lifted — tentative, careful — and brushed a loose strand of hair from Caitlin’s face.

Caitlin didn’t pull away. She leaned into the touch.

Their eyes locked. Steady. Open.

Caitlin tilted her chin up first. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Kate didn’t smile. Not really. She just leaned in and kissed her—slow, deep, reverent. The kind of kiss that spoke fluently in silence. That said, I choose you. Right here. Right now.

Caitlin’s hand slid up the side of Kate’s neck. She kissed back like she meant it. Like she’d been waiting for it all day. All week. Maybe all year.

Kate’s fingers brushed Caitlin’s cheek like they’d done it a thousand times, like it was instinct now. Caitlin turned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. When she opened them again, there was no hesitation.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Kate leaned in, slow and sure. Their mouths met—no fireworks, no frenzy. Just warmth. Just weight. The kind of kiss that deepened as it moved, like water finding the shape of something it already knew.

Caitlin’s hand slid up to cup Kate’s neck. Kate tilted her closer, kissed her again. Deeper now. Caitlin exhaled through her nose, breath catching as Kate’s thumb traced the curve of her jaw.

No rush. No fear.

Just this.

Caitlin shifted first, unfolding her legs to straddle Kate’s lap slowly, knees pressing into the couch cushions, one hand bracing on Kate’s shoulder. Her body folded into the space like it had always belonged there. Kate pulled her in tighter, their foreheads pressed together, breath shared.

“Still feel like a superhero?” Kate whispered, voice rough.

They didn’t undress fast. They didn’t need to. Caitlin pulled her sweatshirt off and let it fall behind them, then pushed Kate’s up over her ribs. Skin met skin, slow and warm. The kiss never broke—just shifted, deepened. They moved together like they had time. Like they were learning each other all over again.

Caitlin guided them back, Kate easing her down onto the cushions, fingers drawing quiet paths along Caitlin’s waist, up her spine. She whispered her name like it was sacred.

And when Caitlin whispered back, “Don’t stop,” it wasn’t about sex. It was about being seen.

Later, tangled in each other under a blanket that barely covered their legs, Caitlin lay with her head tucked under Kate’s chin. Their bodies slick with heat, their limbs humming, the window cracked open to let the early fall air in.

“I meant what I said,” Caitlin murmured.

Kate pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know.”

“You’re not just the one who keeps me human,” Caitlin said. “You make me feel safe in my own skin.”

Kate closed her eyes.

They didn’t speak again. They didn’t have to.

The only sound was the soft rhythm of their breathing, perfectly in sync. Like the pulse of a team. Like the beat of a win already beginning.

—------

Two Fridays later, McKenna blew up the group chat at 6:03 p.m.

MCKENNA: chaos begins at 6:30. MCKENNA: locker room. MCKENNA: wear shoes you can run in or you forfeit your dignity.

Sydney replied with a string of question marks. Gabby replied with a selfie wearing a glitter headband and war paint. Caitlin sent a thumbs up and then threw on a hoodie, already half-laughing.

When they got there, a whiteboard waited with three columns: Teams, Points, and Dares. The markers were already bleeding. Someone had drawn a stick figure puking into a trash can. Beneath it: Last year’s loser.

No one admitted who made the board. Everyone blamed Gabby.

“I’m not saying I organized this,” she said, dramatically holding a clipboard she absolutely brought from her room, “but if we don’t make memories tonight, I will file a grievance.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “With who?”

“My future therapist,” Gabby said. “Now shut up and team up.”

By 6:15, the locker room smelled like dry shampoo, lip gloss, and adrenaline. Someone was blasting the “Hot Girl Megamix” from a Bluetooth speaker duct-taped to a water jug. Jada rolled in with a glitter fanny pack. Gabby wore war paint (lipstick). AJ brought a notebook labeled “Team 2: Kill List.”

Caitlin stood near the whiteboard, sipping half a Gatorade and watching the rules take shape in real time.

DARES:

Convince a stranger to dance with you (video required)

Find a bathroom with a bidet

Take a selfie with someone named Dave

Steal a frat flag

Do a shot mid-challenge

Kiss a stranger on the cheek

Make a TikTok on a dining hall table

Climb something taller than you

Get a picture inside a moving vehicle you do not own

Bonus: get Professor Lasky to say “ball don’t lie” on camera

And twenty five other random ones.

Teams were chosen Hunger Games style—one captain picking, then the next, no trades allowed. Caitlin landed with Gabby, Sydney, and Jada, Kylie. Kate got Monika, McKenna, and AJ.

Gabby screamed, “LET’S GO YOU ABSOLUTE MENACES,” and immediately shotgunned a White Claw.

“I’m not saying this is rigged,” Gabby announced, “but I feel spiritually aligned with this team.”

“You’re literally carrying a whistle,” Jada said.

“It’s for ambiance.”

Kate didn’t argue. She was already watching Caitlin across the room. Hoodie pushed up to her elbows, hair tied back, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Relaxed.

Kate hadn’t seen that in a while. Not like this. Not without some kind of edge.

McKenna clapped her hands. “You have ninety minutes. Each dare is worth between five and twenty points. I’m the judge. I accept bribes.”

Gabby raised her hand. “What kind of bribes?”

“Surprise me.”

The teams burst out of the locker room like it was a playoff sprint. It felt like a game. Like something no one had to be good at. Just in.

The first dare was get a selfie with a professor.

Monika saw her old psych prof across the lawn. Sydney yelled “DR. HARTMAN, WAIT” while Caitlin speed-walked backward into frame. Ten points.

Caitlin’s group sprinted across campus for “photo in the fountain”. Caitlin ripped off her shoes, splashed in barefoot, dragged Monika in with her, and screamed “JUSTICE FOR MID RANGE JUMPERS” at the top of her lungs.

Somewhere, group of freshman stared. Sydney waved.

Kate’s phone buzzed in her hoodie pocket.

MONIKA: ur girlfriend is unhinged. SYDNEY: send help. CAITLIN: [attached photo: soaked, grinning, standing in the fountain like it was the Olympic podium]

Kate grinned despite herself. “Jesus.”

Gabby elbowed her. “You’re in love with a menace.”

“I am,” Kate said.

She didn’t mean to sound proud. But maybe she was.

Half an hour in, the scoreboard was chaos. Steal a cone had been completed by everyone. Kiss a stranger on the cheek nearly started a fight, until Sydney found a drunk grad student in a cowboy hat who agreed “for democracy.”

Gabby convinced four ROTC boys to harmonize a sea shanty. She conducted them with a baguette.

Across campus, Kate's team scaled the side of the business school loading dock to get a group photo with the hawk statue. Monika sweet-talked a security guard into letting them ride an elevator to the roof. McKenna sprinted to the old gym to reenact her freshman-year concussion fall for “historical accuracy.” AJ filmed the whole thing while eating Cheez-Its out of her hoodie pocket.

Kate’s team earned twenty points by finding a statue and recreating its pose with full dramatic commitment. Caitlin’s group got fifteen for leapfrog down the quad hill. Monika tripped halfway and Caitlin laughed so hard she rolled into the grass and stayed there.

That was where Kate found her.

“Where’s your team?” Kate asked as she passed Caitlin near the library steps.

Caitlin was barefoot, dragging a foam finger and grinning like a problem child. “Gabby stole a golf cart.”

“Jesus.”

“I think Sydney’s kissing someone for points on a scooter.”

“Of course.”

“Are you jealous?”

Kate smirked. “Should I be?”

Caitlin stepped closer. “You tell me.”

Then she took off running—bare feet slapping the pavement, hair flying, laughing in that full-body way Kate had only started to hear again this semester.

Kate shook her head and jogged after her, breath caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief.

By 8:00pm, the quad was alive. The group chats were unhinged.

GABBY: who has the bidet?? AJ: why did you bring glitter SYDNEY: she told the bartender we were in the olympics JADA: technically we are athletes MONIKA: technically i’m tipsy MCKENNA: technically i just got us a selfie with the dean

They reconvened outside a house near campus—McKenna’s new off-campus grad housing place. The lights were on, music thumped, and there was a box of lukewarm pizza on the porch.

Kate leaned against the railing, drinking a spiked seltzer and watching Caitlin hold court by the fire pit. She was flushed, giddy, eyes bright in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Gabby threw an arm around her and shouted, “THIS WOMAN STOLE A FLAG.”

“It was already falling down,” Caitlin said.

“You scaled the porch!”

“I’ve got good balance!”

Gabby declared herself MVP anyway. Monika tried to file an appeal. 

Jada held up a phone. “Proof,” she said, grinning. “For the record. This team carried me.”

Kate walked over, handed her a water, and touched her lower back. “You good?”

Caitlin leaned into the contact. “I think I might be,” she said. Quiet this time. Real.

Kate pressed her fingers into her hand.

Across the lawn, Monika chugged from a Solo cup and declared, “This is culture.”

McKenna yelled, “Postgame breakdown, let’s go!” and gathered everyone in a giant circle on the grass.

They went around, one by one, recapping wins, losses, mistakes, near-arrests, and Sydney’s newfound romantic interest in Max-the-scooter-guy.

When it got to Caitlin, she shrugged. “We didn’t win. But I kind of loved every second.”

Kate nudged her. “Even the foam finger part?”

“Especially the foam finger part.”

The circle turned into a pile. Someone brought out a speaker. Someone else started dancing badly. Someone passed around a bag of marshmallows, half-melted and completely unroastable.

Kate sat behind Caitlin on the grass, arms wrapped gently around her waist. The night had quieted around them—buzz of laughter still humming in the distance, the sky soft and wide above. Caitlin leaned back into her chest, fitting there like she’d always belonged, her breath steady, her body warm.

Her voice came quiet, almost careful.

“I didn’t think I’d have this,” she said. “The stupid dares. The mess. The laughter. I thought it would always just be me. Playing hard. Going home. Keeping it all inside.”

Kate didn’t answer right away. She just let the words settle. Let them stretch out between them and soften.

Then, with steady hands, she laced their fingers together. Her thumbs brushed the backs of Caitlin’s knuckles like a promise.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Kate said, low and certain.

Caitlin nodded, eyes half-closed. “I know,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know how much I needed this. How good it could feel to be… held. And still myself.”

Kate pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there a second longer than she needed to.

And Caitlin leaned in closer, letting the safety wrap all the way around her. Letting herself believe it was hers to keep.

—------------------

Caitlin wasn’t sure who declared it “Academic Reset Sunday,” but McKenna brought whiteboards and color-coded schedules, so nobody dared argue.

They spread out across the library’s quiet second floor—pods of athletes hunched over laptops and notebooks, highlighters scattered like confetti. Sydney tried to quiz Jada on macroeconomics with flashcards shaped like basketballs. Gabby kept shushing everyone, loudly.

Kate had claimed a table in the back corner, far from the stairs, tucked beneath a skylight and a crooked poster about plagiarism. She looked unfairly good in a crewneck and blue-light glasses, legs kicked out in front of her, laptop open but untouched.

Caitlin slid into the chair beside her, a little too close. She didn’t open her laptop.

Kate didn’t look up. “Are you planning on studying?”

“I’m planning on pretending to.”

Kate leaned back in her chair. “So you came here to flirt?”

Caitlin tilted her head. “If I flirt in APA format, does it count as work?”

That earned a quiet laugh. Kate reached out, tugged Caitlin’s chair even closer with her foot. Their knees bumped under the table. Caitlin’s breath caught.

She opened her laptop, finally. But didn’t touch the keyboard. Instead, she pulled out her phone.

Two seconds later, Kate’s screen lit up.

CC: Your legs look illegal in those jeans.

Kate’s eyes flicked over. She didn’t react, at least not visibly. Just typed back.

Kate: Focus on your readings, superstar.

CC: I’m trying. But you keep flexing.

Kate didn’t look away this time. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m focused,” Caitlin whispered. “Just on the wrong subject.”

Another buzz.

Kate: You want me to drag you into the stacks and make you earn this A?

Caitlin’s throat went dry.

Her laptop was open to a syllabus. She couldn’t read a single word of it.

Across the room, Gabby giggled at something McKenna was scolding her for. Sydney threw a pencil and missed. But the back corner stayed still. Quiet. Charged.

Caitlin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, then typed:

CC: Say more.

Kate didn’t reply. She leaned in—just barely—and said, low, “If I do, you’ll fail out.”

Caitlin blinked. Swallowed. Sat very, very still.

They didn’t touch. Not technically.

But their knees stayed pressed together. Their bodies tilted just slightly in. The air between them practically hummed.

A shadow fell across the table.

“Hey—uh, Kate?” a voice said. “Sorry. I heard you took Econ 203 once ?

It was Emily, a freshman with a messy bun and a nervous grip on her syllabus. She clutched a textbook like it might bite her.

Kate blinked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah. You in Barnard’s section?”

Emily nodded. “Her slides are insane. I don’t even know what ‘inelasticity’ means.”

Kate smiled—gentle, warm, professional. The version of her that wore a captain’s band like armor. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”

Caitlin stayed quiet. She scrolled meaninglessly through her open doc, every word blurring past. Her body still buzzed with what Kate had texted. What Kate hadn’t said out loud. Her knee kept brushing Kate’s. Her skin was too hot for a library.

Kate talked Emily through a few formulas, sharp but kind, drawing graphs on a post-it note. Caitlin watched her—watched the way she explained things like she wanted them to land. She knew this Kate. The helper. The one who stayed late. Who never asked for credit. Who always carried weight like she was built for it.

And even as her voice stayed steady, Caitlin could see it: Kate’s fingers still tense on the pen. Her foot tapping once, quietly, under the table. Like she hadn’t forgotten what had just passed between them.

When Emily finally left—grateful, still confused, clutching the sticky note like a map—Caitlin turned slowly.

Kate didn’t say anything. Just exhaled once.

“You’re such a good person it’s disgusting,” Caitlin murmured.

Kate arched an eyebrow. “Turned on?”

“Dangerously.”

Kate bit her lip to keep from smiling. “We can’t.”

“I know.”

“But you’re thinking about it anyway.”

Caitlin’s voice dropped. “Every second.”

Kate’s hand drifted under the table, her fingers sliding just above Caitlin’s knee. Not rushed. Not reckless. Just steady—like she knew exactly how close she could get without getting caught.

Caitlin’s breath caught. Her hips shifted the slightest inch toward her. Their thighs touched, warm through denim. Neither looked at the other.

Kate reached under the table, hand sliding up the inside of Caitlin’s thigh—just above the knee, not quite scandalous, but dangerous enough. Her thumb moved in slow circles. Caitlin’s breath hitched.

Kate texted again.

Kate: Meet me in the stacks. Five minutes. Or I’ll lose my mind.

Caitlin didn’t reply. Just stood, slow and smooth, and stretched like she might be going to refill her water bottle. She didn’t look at Kate. Didn’t have to.

Kate followed three minutes later.

They found the far corner of the third-floor stacks—silent, dim, one flickering overhead bulb and a stray copy of a science textbook on the floor. It smelled like dust and paper and something electric.

Caitlin backed against the shelf. Kate didn’t waste time.

Their mouths crashed together in a kiss that had waited hours. Built across texts, glances, touches under tables. It was hot and tense and borderline sacrilegious in a library.

Caitlin’s fingers gripped Kate’s sweatshirt. Kate’s hand found her waist, her hip, her ribs. She pushed Caitlin gently into the shelving like it might keep her grounded.

“I thought we were being subtle,” Caitlin breathed, forehead pressed to Kate’s.

Kate brushed her lips just beneath Caitlin’s ear. “No one’s ever made me forget where I am like you do.”

Caitlin swallowed. “I missed this.”

Kate’s fingers tightened at her waist. “You mean me?”

“I mean all of it. Your hands. Your mouth. That look you get when you’re about to ruin me.”

Kate exhaled, sharp. “Jesus, Clark.”

Their eyes met, close and dark and charged.

Kate’s voice dropped to a rasp. “Say the word and I’ll show you how much I missed you.”

Caitlin’s pulse kicked. “Why are you still talking?”

Kate kissed her—harder this time. Less permission, more promise. A crash and a prayer all at Kate’s hand slid up the back of Caitlin’s neck, fingers threading into her hair. Caitlin leaned into it, mouth parting slightly, heart thudding too loud in the quiet.

They stayed like that—lips grazing, breath shared, bodies barely touching but everything between them wide open.

For one suspended second, nothing else existed.

Kate’s fingers curled into Caitlin’s waistband. Caitlin’s breath hitched. She was seconds from undoing something.

Then—

Someone cleared their throat.

Deliberate. Loud. A cough, and a voice: “Oh my GOD.”

They turned. Frozen.

Gabby stood five feet away holding a spiral notebook and a Diet Coke. She blinked at them, deadpan.

“Well,” she said. “If it isn’t the Lesbian Shadow Society.”

Kate’s hand dropped like it had been caught in the cookie jar. Caitlin stepped back so fast a copy of Intro to Psych hit the floor.

“Didn’t realize ‘study break’ meant second base.” Gabby took a sip from her water bottle. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Caitlin covered her face. “Oh my God.”

“I came looking for the sociology section,” Gabby said brightly, “and instead walked in on The L Word: Special Collections Edition.”

Kate covered her face with both hands. “Please leave.”

Gabby grinned. “This will live rent-free in my brain forever.”

“Don’t tell McKenna,” Caitlin begged.

“Fine,” Gabby said. “I’ll keep it classy.” She started to walk away, then paused dramatically. “But next time you defile a nonfiction aisle, maybe don’t do it in the dolphins and sea animals section.”

She winked, sauntered off, and added over her shoulder: “Also—ten outta ten form. Proud of you both.”

Kate groaned. “You’re not going to shut up about this, are you.”

“Absolutely not,” Gabby said. “I’m gonna tell McKenna you were doing…research.”

“Don’t,” Caitlin begged.

Caitlin leaned her head back against the shelf. “I hate her.”

Kate laughed, forehead pressed to hers. “You love her.”

“I love you,” Caitlin said—too fast, too full, like it slipped past her guard.

Kate froze for half a breath.

“Good, I love you too.” she said, and kissed her again. Soft. Certain.

—-

The week after the library, everything felt a little lighter.

Caitlin didn’t flinch when Gabby raised an eyebrow. She didn’t duck out of team meals early or sit three chairs away from Kate just to be safe. She let herself be seen—still cautious, still private, but no longer pretending she didn’t care. The team noticed, of course. They didn’t say anything. Not directly. But Caitlin caught the way AJ smiled at her differently now. The way McKenna threw a wink Kate’s direction when Caitlin walked into the gym.

And when Gabby announced, “Team bonding. My kitchen. No questions,” no one said no.

They were walking back from practice when Kate asked, “You gonna come Thursday?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “To Gabby’s stoner bake-off?”

Kate laughed. “It’s team bonding.”

“It’s a felony.”

Kate bumped their shoulders lightly. “You don’t have to get high.”

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed forward, tracking the familiar cracks in the sidewalk. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I’ve only ever done it once. And it wasn’t... here. It wasn’t part of this.”

Kate glanced over. “You’re worried about control?”

“I’m worried about a million things,” Caitlin said. “Testing. Judgment. Cameras. The fact that my body is basically government property.”

Kate nodded. “Valid.”

They kept walking. A squirrel darted across the path and Caitlin flinched, then rolled her eyes at herself. “Also,” she added, quieter, “I’m not great at relaxing around other people. Even when I want to be.”

Kate’s hand brushed hers once. Just once. “It won’t be pressure,” she said. “Just people who love you. And brownies that might kill us.”

That drew a smile. Caitlin looked down. “You’ll be there? With me? Through however it goes?”

Kate gave her a look. “Try keeping me away.”

Caitlin took a breath. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re there, and if no one expects anything from me... I want to try.”

Kate’s grin was soft. “It’s not a big deal, you know. But it’s also kind of a big deal.”

“I know,” Caitlin said. “That’s why I’m showing up.”

Gabby insisted she had the recipe from her older cousin. McKenna insisted she could “absolutely eyeball the dosage.” Sydney just brought a six-pack of Gatorade and said, “Whatever happens, I’m hydrating through it.” Jada and Kylie made everyone promise there'd be no phones, no recordings, no videos.

The team crowded into the kitchen like it was a challenge show. Someone turned on a chaotic playlist. Someone else lit the oven and forgot why. Kate stood at the counter pretending to supervise, arms crossed, trying not to laugh as Gabby stirred the brownie batter like it owed her money.

When the brownies came out, nobody waited for them to cool. Kylie burned her tongue. Monika claimed it tasted “a little herbal.” McKenna declared them perfect and immediately forgot where she put her phone.

Forty minutes later, Planet Earth was in full blast and chaos had taken root.

The carpet scratched lightly against Caitlin’s cheek as she let herself melt into it, limbs slack, laughter still buzzing faint in her throat. Around her, the apartment had descended into stoned chaos—Gabby narrating the penguin mating rituals like a Discovery Channel host possessed, Sydney whispering to a lava lamp, Monika and Jada deep in an argument about whether soup was a beverage.

McKenna sat on the arm of the couch, holding a tortilla like a microphone. “I just think,” she said solemnly, “that no one is ready for my mixtape.”

“You don’t rap,” Kate said from the floor, deadpan.

McKenna flipped her hair. “Yet.”

Gabby crawled over and poked Caitlin’s foot. “Do you think penguins are gay? Like statistically?”

Caitlin giggled. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Gabby waved at the TV, where two penguins waddled in unison. “If they are, I support them. Like I support you and Kate. I would go to your wedding.”

Kate choked on her water. Caitlin buried her face in the carpet.

“You’re so high,” McKenna muttered.

“So are you!” Gabby shot back. “I saw you try to put peanut butter on a candle.”

McKenna paused. “And yet, it still tasted better than your brownies.”

Laughter echoed around the room. Kate’s head dropped back against the couch, grinning. Caitlin let her eyes drift shut, chest warm. The kind of warmth that came not just from the weed, but from being here. From being known.

The chaos simmered. Not gone, just lower—like someone had turned the volume knob halfway down.

Monika curled deeper into a pile of blankets. Gabby lay flat on the carpet now, blinking slowly at the ceiling. Someone sighed. Someone else shuffled to the kitchen for more Gatorade. For a second, it was quiet. Not awkward. Just open.

Kate was brushing chip crumbs off Caitlin’s sweatshirt when Gabby flopped down beside them like she’d just fallen out of orbit.

“Okay wait,” Gabby said, eyes wide, chin propped on her fist. “Can I say something without it being, like, a whole thing?”

Caitlin narrowed her eyes. “That’s literally never worked for you.”

“I’m being serious.”

Kate sighed. “This should be good.”

Gabby rolled onto her back, arms sprawled, eyes locked on the ceiling like it might explain her own brain to her. “So, like… I think I wanted to kiss a girl once. Maybe twice. But not in a gay way. More in a… ‘I bet she tastes like strawberry ChapStick and unearned confidence’ way.”

Caitlin snorted so hard she choked.

Kate turned to her, mock offended. “Wait—was it me?”

Gabby blinked. “No offense, but no. You scare me. Emotionally.”

Caitlin wheezed, head dropping into Kate’s lap.

“So who was it?” she managed.

Gabby hummed. “This girl from summer league. She wore cut-off sweats and had a lip ring and played pickup in Crocs. I thought that was brave. That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” Monika called from the kitchen.

“That I’m, like, at least a little bisexual under certain conditions,” Gabby yelled back.

“I support you!” Monika shouted.

“You should!” Gabby called. “I’m a goddamn pioneer.”

Sydney poked her head out from behind the beanbag. “You thought you were straight until twenty minutes ago.”

Gabby pointed at her solemnly. “And now I am an enigma.”

McKenna raised her Solo cup. “To bisexual chaos and strawberry ChapStick.”

They clinked invisible glasses. Laughter bubbled, bright and hazy.

Then it slowed. Not on purpose. Just the way noise does when everyone starts drifting at once. Someone muted Planet Earth. The jellyfish kept pulsing on the screen, slow and luminous.

AJ, cross-legged in the corner, didn’t look up.

“I kissed my best friend once,” she said. “In eighth grade. We never talked about it.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.

Gabby blinked. “Did you want to?”

AJ shrugged. “I still don’t know.”

A pause.

Caitlin felt Kate shift beside her, a slow exhale brushing against her temple. Their fingers touched, then laced together without ceremony. Caitlin didn’t look over. She didn’t have to. Kate’s presence was steady and close, like a hum beneath the noise. AJ nodded, then lifted her gaze—brief, deliberate—and let it rest on Caitlin and Kate.

Cleaner cadence, same content.

“I just think it’s cool,” she said. “The way you are.”

She didn’t explain what she meant. She didn’t have to.

And Caitlin felt it. That tiny tremor beneath her ribs. That subtle shift of being seen.

Kate didn’t speak. Just let their hands stay locked, her thumb brushing once over Caitlin’s knuckles like a quiet yes.

No one said anything else. Not for a long beat.

They just let it sit there—one more truth, one more weightless permission—in a room that, for once, could hold it.

“You make it feel… normal,” AJ said, eyes flicking away. “I never really saw that before.”

No one laughed. No one made a joke.

Instead, McKenna tipped her imaginary microphone toward AJ. “Bars.”

AJ snorted.

Gabby clutched her chest. “Are we all in love right now?”

“Shut up, Gabby,” Sydney said from behind the beanbag. “The lava lamp is about to climax.”

Laughter again—quieter this time. Softer around the edges.

And Caitlin sat in it, heart buzzing, but not with nerves. With something warmer. Fuller.

She hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t explained herself or made a speech. She’d just been—next to Kate, quiet, unhidden. And somehow, that had been enough to make someone else feel less alone.

She swallowed hard. Let it settle.

There was something sharp and new blooming in her chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Pride.

She looked around the room—her teammates half-buried in blankets and snacks, red-eyed and ridiculous—and felt, impossibly, like she belonged.

And then Kate.

Kate was sprawled just a few feet away, back propped against the couch, one knee bent, eyes soft and hazy. Her laughter had quieted into something gentler now—half a smile, slow breaths, fingers drumming a lazy rhythm against the floor.

At first, Kate didn’t feel much. Just a light fuzz behind her eyes and the way the couch seemed to breathe beneath her.

Then it hit her.

Not like a truck. More like gravity had been adjusted a few notches. Everything was a little slower. A little softer. The colors of the room leaned in. The voices got rounder. Her own body felt… heavy, but not bad. Weighted in a way that made her aware of every place Caitlin touched her—and every place she didn’t.

Planet Earth was still playing. Something was swimming upside down. Gabby was narrating it like Attenborough if he got laid at Coachella. McKenna had a tortilla on her face.

And Caitlin—Caitlin was in her lap.

Well, not quite. On her chest. Curled into her like they’d done this a hundred times. Like it meant nothing and everything. Her cheek was pressed above Kate’s heart. She kept whispering tiny things—you’re warm, this is weirdly nice, I love you the most—like every thought was too important not to share.

Kate’s brain moved like syrup, but her heart? Her heart was sprinting.

She wasn’t a talker high. Not like the others. The weed didn’t make her chatty. It made her aware. Of touch. Of silence. Of every single goddamn nerve in her body that came alive when Caitlin burrowed closer.

Her hand stayed on Caitlin’s hip, circling. Again and again. She didn’t know why. Just… needed to.

The room buzzed around them—light, laughter, someone saying “do fish have knees?”—but none of it stuck. Just Caitlin. The weight of her. The smell of her. The warmth.

Kate felt high, yeah. But more than that, she felt here.

Which was rare. Which was everything.

“Hi,” Caitlin murmured into her sweatshirt.

Kate tilted her chin down. “Hi.”

Caitlin exhaled a soft, wobbly breath. “This is… weirdly nice.”

Kate hummed, her fingers tracing circles on Caitlin’s hip. “You mean the part where everyone’s high out of their minds and Sydney just apologized to the blender?”

“No,” Caitlin said, a sleepy smile tugging at her mouth. “The part where I don’t feel like I have to be anything.”

Kate’s grip tightened. “You never do. Not with me.”

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Her heart fluttered low in her ribs. She felt everything too much—Kate’s voice in her chest, the gentle warmth of her palm, the way her own body relaxed like it had been waiting for this, for the freedom to just exist.

And this time, when she whispered it, it wasn’t from fear. Or ache. Or need.

It was from joy.

“I love you.”

“Oh.” Kate’s hand stilled. Then she laughed too, the sound bubbling up out of her like relief. “Sure you do.”

“I mean it.” Caitlin nuzzled closer. “I love you the most.”

Kate said nothing at first. Just bent down and kissed the top of her head, slow and reverent. Then: “You’re high.”

“You’re warm,” Caitlin countered.

They stayed like that, tucked into each other on the living room floor, while chaos swirled around them and the city pulsed quietly outside. For once, Caitlin didn’t care how she looked. She didn’t care who saw. She just let herself be held.

The edible had softened her edges. Words melted off her tongue easier than usual, and for once, her brain didn’t shout over every moment. Just let it land. Let it be. Caitlin felt her breath match Kate’s—slow, steady, as if the rhythm between them had always existed and she was only just catching up.

AJ stood up to get another brownie and muttered something about how gravity was “suspicious,” which sent Gabby into a fit. McKenna tried to reenact slow motion in real time. It didn’t go well.

Kate didn’t move.

Neither did Caitlin.

At some point, Gabby flicked the lights off. Planet Earth kept glowing on the screen, a deep-sea jellyfish blooming in slow motion, every ripple casting blue shadows across the room. Caitlin tipped her chin up to look at Kate.

Later—maybe minutes, maybe hours—Kate shifted. “Hey.”

Caitlin blinked up at her.

“You wanna go to bed?”

Caitlin shook her head. “Already home.”

Kate smiled, tired and full. “Me too.”

They didn’t move again. Not when the screen dimmed to black. Not when Gabby fell asleep mid-sentence, still halfway through narrating the polar bear mating season. Not even when McKenna started snoring with a tortilla across her face.

The room faded into soft breathing and scattered blankets.

Caitlin stirred, just enough to press her lips to Kate’s forehead. She didn’t say it loudly. Didn’t need to.

In a room full of everyone—and no one really awake—she whispered it like a commandment.

“I love you, Kate.”

#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

[mintedwitcher]

as a writer, and as someone who likes to analyse media for fun, Bobby's death is quite literally the only logical narrative choice they could make for his character this season.

sure they could've let him survive, let him live through the rest of this season and into s9, but then what? he never gets promoted, never retires, never changes, just stays stagnant at the top of the 118 forever? that's just putting a cork in the bottle. no one else on the team will have any movement with Bobby still in place.

Hen and Buck won't branch out with Bobby still in the captain's seat. (not that I think Buck wants to be captain yet, but that's another post.) Chim hasn't shown any signs of wanting to change his career path, so Bobby dying isn't going to affect that, and Ravi's looking pretty content where he is too. Eddie, of course, isn't even a concern since he's not a firefighter anymore, so his promotional goals aren't relevant.

So it comes down to Buck and Hen. the two who have shown in past seasons that they want more in their lives/careers than what they currently have. taking Bobby out of the equation means that Hen can apply for the captaincy. it means Buck can start learning those ropes in case he ever needs to step up as interim if Hen needs him to. hell it could even mean that Buck might just try for a promotion anyway, since he's had literally zero career growth since he finished his probational year at the 118. (I'm pretty sure there's a rank or two between where Buck is now and the captaincy but I don't know enough about it.)

let's be real, Bobby was never going to retire. he loves his job and his team too much to ever just leave like that. he would never be happy knowing that his team and his wife were still out there at risk and he couldn't do anything to help them. sure he might've liked retirement if Athena retired with him, but she's not going to do that either. so yeah, the only narrative choice that the writers could make this season to shake up the show's dynamics was to kill off Bobby. and it's sad, but its necessary. MCD isn't a bad thing, it can be really useful when its used properly, and this I think is one case where it's been utilised perfectly.

we can be sad, we can mourn Bobby (and I certainly am) but I don't think it's fair to label this as a "bad writing decision" when it's the only logical choice to make.

[buckydeservesthebest]

Truly, the lack of reasoning of Sam's toxic fans knows no limit. Or they just hate the idea that Bucky will stop being the sidekick and cheerleader for Sam that they only considered him to be, and dare to form bonds with someone who is not him.

There is not even evidence that Sam has ever even invited Bucky to join his team. Bucky wasn't even looking to join or form a team in the first place. The situation literally forced him and that's literally what the plot is about. A group of people who do not get along, who do not intend to make a team, but the common circumstances force them to work together, and to connect and empathize in the process.

Having a found family in the same style as GotG DOES NOT mean abandoning your other friendships. This reminds me of real life toxic friends who don't want you to form friendships with someone else because that's "turning your back" on them… it has happened to me personally and I feel the same vibe here.

Ultimately Bucky doesn't answer to Sam and he's not obligated to just do what feels right to him. This same unfair shit happened with the supposed betrayal by temporarily releasing Zemo, when literally he is also an abuser of Bucky. Bucky always planned to return him to prison and literally Ayo understood that.

You toxic Sam fans want to use that silly argument that since Bucky wasn't seen arresting Val it automatically means he's "working with her" when it couldn't be further from reality. Or they come up with the stupid argument that the New Avengers are made up of ex-criminals. Ex-criminals who have literally already redeemed themselves, who are already considered heroes, because literally that's the damn plot of the movie. In the OG Avengers, everyone except Steve were not the people with the highest morals precisely, and that did not make them less heroes.

Sam also worked alongside Ross, the same guy who wanted to have the augmented people under his control, the same guy who said Bruce's body was government property and the same guy who without any remorse sent an extrajudicial execution order against Bucky who didn't even have the right to a fair trial. Where is the betrayal on Sam's part for having allied with the culprit that the Avengers split up and sent an order to kill his friend?

The toxic Sam Stans love double standards the same way the Tony Stans do.

Working together with the government to some extent is NOT synonymous with being subjugated to it. Sam wasn't going to blindly follow Ross's orders. And Bucky and the others would NEVER be influenced by Val, assuming she's not in prison already.

Bucky and the others literally had Val by the leash, they have more control over her than Sam could have over Ross.

The truth is that the ridiculousness behind these arguments that futilely try to vilify Bucky, only sound like pathetic whining because he didn't stay eternally as Sam's support. Bucky is growing up and now he has the opportunity to offer his experience, advice and wisdom to a group of people who need it. Bucky was already even considered as an Avenger since before, John said it in the EP 4 of TFATWS.

Bucky finally stepped out of the shadow of Captain America's sidecick.He has a team that he can lead and mentor. Oh and he dared to have his own team before Sam… how offensive. Because that automatically prevents Sam from forming his own Avengers on his own. This is not so.

So I am gonna wade in on the controversy surrounding the Thunderbolts PC scene.

A lot of people are angry about Bucky and Sam's apparent fallout over the use of The Avengers name- and inevitiably the blame falls on Bucky.

Honestly? I think the real issue is that some fans think Bucky and Sam's relationship is still the same as it was The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, when Sam was basically Bucky's only friend and Bucky was dependent on him.

4-5 years have passed in universe since then, and Bucky now has other friends, connections and his own team. Which means he can't just go around making decisions without consulting them (he's not Tony Stark after all). He has to take account of what his teammates actually want: its not just about Sam anymore.

Its kind of interesting in a way: fans have said that Bucky needs to have his own life and make his own choices and yet the moment he does something which Sam disapproves of, he's lambasted for it.

Which is why I think the real issue isn't that Bucky and Sam have apparently had a falling out: its that Bucky has stepped out of Sam's shadow and is doing his own thing. He's not just Same's sidekick anymore. He's making his own choices, forming his own team, in the public eye as his own man.

Its not just Sam though: we've been so used to Bucky being the supporting role and playing second fiddle to someone else for so long that now he's acting independently its jarring, even shocking.

Bucky doesn't have to have Sam (or anyone else's) approval or permission anymore. Nobody has exclusive rights to tell Bucky what he can do, who he can associate with and who he can work for. That makes people mad.

And don't even get me started about the people loudly complaining about Bucky/The Thunderbolts "working for Val" because that's not what's happening even in the movie.

The Post-Credit scene is set 14 months after the movie: anything could have happened in that time. Val might not even still be alive at that point. Even if she is, it seems the Thunderbolts are only using her for money but she definately doesn't control them (they have the knowledge to bring her down after all).

If your issue is government control then you clearly have a short memory. In Brave New World Ross was asking Sam to form his own Avengers team. Meaning they would have been subject to the government and Ross: who was as bad as if not worse than Val.

Nobody raised objection to that. So, apparently, Sam creating an Avengers team at the behest of a politician and subject to the government isn't a problem.

But Bucky leading a team which pay lip service to the government but are really autonomous and under nobody's control except their own is obectionable.

Yeah that's called a double standard.

[bunnygirl678]

There are not near enough AUs in the Reguri fandom.

The last time I was active in a fandom was almost 10 years ago wiht 616!Stony (steve x tony but like the comics not the movies) and there were every AU imaginable and that was just for the comics side not even if you include the movies (which tbh i wasn't a fan of) I was so spoiled and didn't even know it, now here I am having read through the entirety of the English and Spanish ao3 collection of finished works, what am i supposed to do now???

The answer is...come up with more AUs.

I'm going to write this one once I get a few more fics out of the way, but here goes.

Formula 1 AU (note this is more pokespe than the games so you get the hyperactive red and the tsundere Green)

-Red and Green are childhood rivals/friends having raced in the gokart circut together before they both got drafted for formula 1

-at first they're on the same team but Red keeps winning and Green always places second, i mean it's still podium but Green wants that W

-red is seriously just happy getting to race with his bff/crush, green just wants to fucking win something on his own

-professor oak is like a famous engineer or something who used to race back in the day (think carroll shelby) and everyone compares Green to him constantly and he hates it

-and like Green can do his own repairs cause he’s skilled af

-its the end of the season and despite racing for the same team red and green are neck and neck for first only a few points away from each other

-red wins ofc, green is devastated, he contemplates retiring then a rival team scouts him and promises the best of the best, he just wants to winnnnn

-red is super sad because his favorite thing was racing with green not against him, and he's got this little (big) crush on green and now he has to constantly race against the man of his dreams

-also there are still pokemon, and battles and stuff, but like Green/Red just do cars now lol

-so the question becomes, does red win again the next season, do red and green pull their heads out of their asses and realize they're in love? Do i add this to my WIPs today or tomorrow?

-find out in like 7 months!

I have like a metric shit ton of f1 knowledge cause my ex-husband's family is involved in the business, i can't say more cause i'm not gonna out myself on here lol, but i feel like this would be fun to write

[sysig]

Ellen McLain’s commentary from my trivia playthrough

[gale-gentlepenguin]

So I’ve been looking at the results of this and it’s pretty clear that most people think the conclusion is clear.

But to me, this originally was a very interesting match up. Because of how different the abilities were.

So I decided the best way to determine who would win. I’d divide it up into 6 categories.

Experience

Strategy

Versatility

Teamwork

Powers

Win Conditions

(Vote before reading my reasoning)

____________________________________________

Experience

This is easily going to class 1 A.

While Ladybug and chat noir do have a lot of experience fighting villains, it pales in comparison to Class 1A, and class 1 A learned from other super heroes as well as hands on experience and dedication to training.

Ladybug and chat noir to their credit did give some training to the other miraculars (which did give them the same unlimited power use boost that they have) but that can’t compete with the mountains of experience Class 1 A has.

Class 1A: 1

Miraculars: 0

___________________________________________

Strategy

Ladybug is a great strategist, and some of the other miraculars are good at using strategies as well, including Alya, Luka, and Max. We have seen them be strategic.

The same can Also be said with Class 1A. And they have a LOT more strategists. Izuku, Momo, ida, Uraraka, Sero, Mineta, and Jiro.

And I will be honest, I think this one is a tie. Because I can see both sides outwitting the other.

So I’ll be granting both sides 1/2 point

Class 1A: 1.5

Miraculars: .5

____________________________________________

Versatility

Which powers grant the most usefulness?

I REALLY wanted to give this one to class 1A. Because of how creative they are with their Quirks. But I can’t. Because the miraculous powers are crazy versatile. Especially with the Rooster, ladybug, Snake, cat, and fox on their side. There is so many versatile combos that allows them to be prepared for any situation. And Quirks do have limits, and thanks to that unlimited use that all the miraculars have. It makes the power infinitely more versatile. And basically makes it so that the miraculars have a more sustainable resource than the Quirks. Point goes to the Miraculars.

Class 1a: 1.5

Miraculars: 1.5

_____________________________________________

Teamwork

So I also originally had this for class 1A too, but in a shocking twist. It’s actually a lot closer than expected. But for very different reasons.

Class 1a has camaraderie and can be great at synchronizing. Combining attacks, and coming up with strategies on the fly.

While The miraculars are incredibly obedient to Ladybug. They will follow her orders to the letter, making sure they can achieve victory. They have unshakable trust in their leader.

And because Strategy is a tie. It really comes down to the wire.

So I’m giving it to class 1a.

There is a higher level of trust that can’t be broken. The miraculars are a good team but they don’t know eachother like that. And teamwork comes down to trust. Only ladybug and chat noir have a level of trust comparable.

Class 1a: 2.5

Miraculars: 1.5

____________________________________________

Powers

Who has the better powers?

It’s the Miraculars.

They all have super strength, agility and enhanced durability. And then on top of that, they have their special unique power.

While Class 1a are limited to 1 Quirk (save for a few exceptions)

Sure there are characters like Bakugou, shoto, and Izuku who have crazy powerful powers. But that all fails in comparison to the Miraculars.

Plus it’s just a superior moveset that comes with its own weapon.

Game is tied

Class 1a: 2.5

The Miraculars: 2.5

____________________________________________

Win Conditions

Which group has the most ways of winning?

This once again falls to the Miraculars.

If this was the earlier, season 5 group, with each member except ladybug and chat noir only have 1 use of the special ability. Class 1a would have had a stall win condition.

But the only real win condition they have is to be able to get their miraculous. Something none of them would know. So they would be starting at a disadvantage.

On the other hand.

The Miraculars have several and several are insta wins.

They could beat them down.

Use the bee to stun.

Use the cat to destroy them.

Use the monkey to disrupt their powers (if it works on quirks)

Use the bull to stall (if the invulnerability works against quirks)

Gift to distract them.

the horse to warp them to space or into a volcano.

And the best part is that with the snake miraculous. Ladybug can pick the easiest method.

BUT WAIT! I hear you say.

Can’t Class 1A also send them flying? Well let’s not forget the Power ups. Space, ice, water, just to name the ones we know about.

Class 1A doesn’t have any direct counters to anything that the miraculars can throw at them, while the miraculars can.

So I gotta give the last point to the Miraculars

Class 1a: 2.5

Miravulars: 3.5

___________________________________________

In the end, both are very capable teams. But one is clearly more OP than the other.