#made the panels at the start of my shift. worked too long on the long gradient

[cornsarts]

Make a terrible comic day apparently!!!!!! I did this on company time!!!!!

[cscorvid]

Under the Desk

Prompt: Sucking Soap under the Desk while he talks with someone part two

You and Johnny had been dancing around each other from the moment you were pulled onto Task Force 141. It started as casual flirting, playful jabs, lingering glances, but it didn’t take long before Johnny was downright pining. Clingy, persistent, like some loyal mongrel that decided you were his and no one else's.

You made him work for it, teased him, made him squirm a little, and if you were being honest, you loved how fucking easy he was to rile up. And maybe, deep down, you liked the idea of taming the Task Force’s wildest dog.

Now, months later, Johnny was yours, and it showed. Bite marks littered your thighs, your hips, the crook of your neck. He could be feral, needy, like he was trying to crawl inside your skin just to be closer to you. But when you wanted him soft and pliant, moaning for you? He melted like putty in your hands. Case in point: right now, with you on your knees under his desk, his cock stuffed halfway down your throat.

It had started innocently enough. A few hours of boring paperwork together, holed up in an unused office, laughing and complaining under your breath. Johnny had been twitchy all day, tapping his foot, shifting in his chair, glancing at you with that heated, reckless look he got when he was trying so hard to behave. You teased him under the desk, sliding your foot up his calf, running your fingers across his thigh. It didn’t take much for Johnny to crack, he never could tell you no, not when you got that look in your eye. Soon enough, you were kneeling between his legs, pants shoved down just enough for you to pull him free, thick and flushed in your hand.

His hand tangled in your hair, gently at first, a soft, grounding touch as you licked the head, tasted the salty precum beading there. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking slow and deep, taking him halfway before pulling off to kiss down his shaft, mouthing at the sensitive skin. Johnny was already panting, hips jerking up into your mouth, so desperate, so fucking needy.

And then: the door swung open.

"Johnny," came Price’s voice, casual, as if he hadn’t just walked into an impending trainwreck.

You froze, blinking up at Johnny, and the look on his face nearly made you giggle. Panic, arousal, guilt, all flashing across his flushed features in the span of a second.

Price, thankfully, hadn't looked down yet. He was too busy flipping through a file in his hands, muttering about mission reports. Johnny gave you a look, wide-eyed, pleading, and you just smirked and slowly, slowly took him back into your mouth.

Johnny bit down hard on his lip, stifling the low, broken sound that tried to escape.

"You get those forms submitted yet?" Price asked, stepping closer to the desk. He still hadn’t noticed you, your body tucked carefully under the wide oak desk, hidden by a hanging panel.

Johnny swallowed audibly, clearing his throat.

"Uh— workin' on it, Cap," he said, voice a little too high.

You hummed around his cock, sending a vibration through him that made his thighs twitch under your palms. You pressed harder against him, your nails digging lightly into his skin, urging him not to fucking move.

Price dropped the file on the desk with a loud thud.

"You’re fallin' behind, MacTavish," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You've been distracted lately. Everything alright?"

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, hollowed your cheeks, then swallowed him down to the base again. Johnny’s hips bucked, and you squeezed his thigh hard in warning.

"Aye," Johnny rasped, gripping the edge of the desk so tight his knuckles went white. "Just, uh, a lot on my plate."

Price gave a noncommittal grunt.

"You need help, you ask for it," he said. "Don’t need you drowning in paperwork before a big op."

Johnny nodded stiffly. He wasn’t hearing a word of it, not when your mouth was heaven around him, your tongue teasing along the vein on the underside of his cock, your hand working what your mouth couldn’t reach.

You peeked up at him through your lashes, loving the way his chest heaved, the way his pupils were blown wide with lust and panic.

Price checked his watch, muttering something about checking in with Laswell, and turned to leave.

You took that moment to suck him down hard, and Johnny’s breath hitched audibly, a broken little whimper he barely managed to muffle into a cough.

"You good, MacTavish?" Price said, pausing at the door.

Johnny nodded furiously, voice strained.

"Peachy, sir."

Price eyed him suspiciously but finally left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The second you were alone, Johnny slumped in his chair, releasing a ragged, wrecked moan.

"Fuckin' hell, love," he gasped, threading both hands into your hair now, no longer gentle, desperately guiding your head as he thrust up shallowly into your mouth.

You let him. Let him fuck your mouth with short, stuttering little movements, every muscle in his thighs quivering under your touch.

"You're— fuck, you're evil," he choked out, voice cracking. "Nearly made me— fuckin'— come while Price was right there."

You pulled off just enough to pant against the head of his cock, stroking him with your hand.

"Maybe that's what you needed," you whispered, voice thick with arousal. "Somebody to catch you being the desperate little thing you are."

Johnny whimpered, full-on now, shameless. No front, no bravado, just Johnny, wrecked and needy, yours.

You took him back in, messy and hungry now, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with your lips and tongue, relentless.

It didn’t take long. He was already so close, so wound tight from holding back.

"Fuck— fuck— comin', love, I'm—"

You moaned around him, encouraging, and Johnny spilled down your throat with a desperate, broken cry. Hot and thick, salty on your tongue, and you swallowed every drop, not stopping until he was twitching and gasping above you. When you finally pulled off, Johnny slumped back in his chair, flushed to his ears, eyes glassy and dazed.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking.

Johnny reached for you blindly, dragging you up into his lap, burying his face against your neck with a wrecked little groan.

"You're fuckin' evil," he murmured again, voice muffled.

You just laughed, threading your fingers through his hair.

"Maybe," you said. "But you love it."

[love-lilacs]

this version of you | frank langdon x reader

Frank hasn’t let go of your hand, but his eyes flicker between them and the sidewalk in front of you, uncertainty threading through them. You feel the pulse of it—the space between what has always been  “friends” and the new possibility of something more.

His thumb brushes the back of your hand, just once, but it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine. You try to ignore it, but the tension is too much to ignore now. It’s there in the way his glance flits to you.

warnings: angst angst and more angst. i finished the pitt and this is what came of it. frank and his wife are divorced and have been separated for some time. drinking. feewings.

word count: 3.0k

Day shift was finally ending.

“You alright?” you ask Frank, nudging his shoulder with your own. Truthfully, you wouldn’t be able to move him if you tried. You’re not dainty by any means—four years of Emergency Nursing have ensured that you can hold your own—but Frank is his own beast. He’s sturdy; you know he likes to lift and run at least three times a week, working off adrenaline from long stints in the emergency room.

He shrugs, pulling his old crimson Harvard hoodie over his head. “Oh, yeah, stellar. My ex-wife has my son, and after a stressful shift of saving lives, I get to go home to an empty apartment.” His tone is dry, sarcastic, and beneath it all, you know something inside him is bitterly hurt by the turn his life has taken.

You close your locker—albeit a bit more loudly than probably necessary. “Come on. Me, Mel, Santos, and Robby are going to grab drinks. Your attendance is mandatory.”

He glances sideways at you, shouldering his backpack. “Mandatory, huh? Sounds like I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t.” You smirk, mirroring his action and slinging your own bag over your shoulder. “You’re broodier than normal, and Robby said if you get any grumpier, he’s going to send you to gastro for an ulcer check.”

“I’m not brooding.” He scoffs. You don’t answer, only peering at him out of the corner of your eyes, a smirk tugging at the side of your lips. 

The two of you exit into the fluorescent-lit hallway and towards the cool night air. Behind and around  you, the E.R. hums, a never-ending blur of motion and crisis. Just another Thursday. 

“You know,” You say carefully. “you don’t have to pretend like everything is fine all the time.”  

Frank stays quiet for a beat, gaze fixed ahead. “I deal with it. That’s enough.”

That silences you. You’ve seen the storm that brews at Frank’s edges. That passion and drive within him. The storm brewing beneath the surface is relentless and all-consuming. It’s what makes him an excellent doctor. It’s what made you soft for him all those years ago, when you had gotten your first job out of college and he started his residency. You both were young, and those late nights and long hours built a bond between you. But Frank had Abby, so you shoved your heart’s desires down to your core, settling for an easy friendship instead.

Frank stops in front of the exit doors, pulling it open for you. “Let’s go. I’ll even buy your first round.”

The grin that splits your face is easy, unforced. “Now you’re talking.”

As you step into the dark Pittsburgh night, cool air greets your skin, a springtime promise of green and flowers coming soon.

The bar is one of those low-lit neighborhood places— wood-paneled walls, baseball and Stanley Cup Playoffs playing on the T.V., the smell of overly sweet liquor and smoke clinging to the air so tightly you’re sure no air freshener could possibly rid the scent. The crew has claimed their regular sticky booth in the corner: Santos is already halfway through a beer, Mel’s nursing something bright pink and looking around as though she’s late for something, and Robby’s telling a story that involves far too many hand gestures.

You slide into the booth across from them. The day’s stress lifting off of your shoulders as you settle next to your friends. Mel immediately brightens. “Long time no see!” 

“We see way too much of each other for people that don’t live together.” You tease, settling down. Abbott grumbles something incoherent from Robby’s side. 

“And you love us anyways.” Whittaker smiles; the boldest he’ll get. 

Frank sits unceremoniously next to you, placing your usual bottle of Angry Orchard Cider in front of you. 

“Hey, he lives!” Santos snarks, a Cheshire Cat smile splitting her face. “Didn’t think Langdon ever left the hospital unless he was dragged out.”

Frank lifts his bottle in a mock toast, “Guess I make exceptions.”

Mel eyes him, skeptical. “You good?”

Frank shrugs, takes a sip. “Define good.”

The table quiets for just a moment, just long enough for the silence to get a little heavy—before Robby jumps in. 

“Alright, enough feelings. Did I tell you about the guy who came in and tried to convince us that he “fell” on his Batman figurine?”

Laughter bubbles up around the table, the prior conversation slipping away and into the din of the bustling bar. Even Frank manages a smile as you tilt your head ever so slightly so that your cheek brushes his shoulder. When he looks down, he can see the way your lips pucker at the bottle opening and your eyelashes flutter contentedly. Something warm and fluttery settles in his core. Something he hasn’t felt before. 

—

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ with us, you know,” you say quietly.

You and Frank have drifted away from the others. The buzz of background chatter fills the space, but neither of you have been talking for a while. He nurses his third beer, watching the bartender cut limes with surgical precision. The two of you have the sides of your legs pressed together despite the large amount of space the bartop offers. Frank is unbelievably warm and you can smell the last bits of cologne and laundry detergent that cling to him.

He doesn’t look at you. “Saying it out loud won’t change anything.”

You lean against the bar, facing him. “No, but maybe it stops it from eating you alive.”

Frank scoffs. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” you say. “But for how long?”

That lands. He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the glass in his hand like it might solve something.

Then, finally: “You’re not wrong. But I don’t know what to do with ‘right’ anymore.”

It’s the most you’ve gotten from him in weeks. Perhaps stupidly, you push it. “It’s not a crime to feel things.”

"Yeah, well... feelings don’t really fix much, do they?"

Frank glances at you briefly, then looks back down at his drink, voice growing lower. 

"But I guess everyone has their moments."

Frank shifts, elbows resting on the counter, his gaze flicking to the door, then the window. Outside, it’s started to rain, tapping lightly on the glass, like the world itself is breathing. You find comfort in it as the bar behind the two of you begins to empty. Mel wraps you in a hug, Santos squeezing your arm, and Robby wishing you and Frank a good night as they brave the rain. 

You don’t want to break the moment, but you can’t help it. "You ever think you could just—stop?" you ask, the question hanging there between you both.

Frank doesn’t answer right away, his thumb running absentmindedly along the lip of his bottle. His jaw tightens for a moment, like he’s weighing the words, but when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before, almost hesitant.

"Sometimes," he says, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "But I don’t know what to do if I did. I don’t know how to breathe without it all."

His words feel raw, more honest than he’s been in a long time. The air between you thickens, and it’s hard to ignore the way his shoulders seem to slump just slightly, like he's giving you a glimpse of the side of him that’s usually hidden.

You lean in a little closer, your voice low, careful. "You don’t have to be that person. The one who keeps everything running."

Frank finally looks up at you, his gaze intense—searching, maybe—like he’s seeing you for the first time. His blue eyes soften for just a second before the walls harden back into place.

"You think I have a choice?" he asks, voice a little rougher now. “It’s what I’ve always been and I just- I don’t have that anymore.” 

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the question in the pit of your stomach. You want to reach out, to close the distance between you both, but the moment feels fragile. It’s too soon. This version of Frank isn’t yours. Instead, you settle for a quiet, honest answer.

"I think you do," you say softly, eyes holding his. "But it’s okay if you don’t want to. Not yet."

Frank’s breath catches, and for a long moment, the two of you are locked in that quiet space, neither of you speaking, but both of you feeling everything in the silence. It’s as if everything that’s unsaid is hanging between you, suddenly too real to ignore, too important to push aside.

Finally, Frank shifts, a chair behind him scraping softly against the floor as he leans in slightly—closer than he’s ever been, closer than you expected. His eyes flick to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again. Your lips part, breath catching. 

"You’re something else," he mutters, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It's the first real smile you’ve seen tonight, and it hits you like lightning, hot, white energy reaching down to your toes

Your heart skips a beat. You want to say something—anything—to keep this moment from slipping away, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you simply let the quiet between you deepen. 

Too soon, he pulls away, leaving you a flushed mess in front of him. “Let me walk you home.”  

You nod, finishing off the last of your drink as if it could possibly make your forget exactly what just transpired between the two of you.

And then, without thinking, you reach out, just a little, your hand brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but the contact feels electric. He doesn’t pull away, and when you look up, his eyes have softened again, something unspoken passing between you.

His voice drops lower. "Don’t do that. You know what happens when you do."

You can feel the tension, the unacknowledged weight of what’s been building up between you both for so long. But tonight, the words are no longer necessary. Instead, it’s in the way your fingers linger on his, the way his breath seems to hitch just slightly when he looks at you again—closer, too close to be just casual.

For a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. Not the patients, not the work, not the endless chaos. Just the feeling of being here—together, in this quiet space you’ve created, where everything else can wait. 

Frank squeezes your hand once. “Ready to go?” It’s not a question. He knows you are. But he still checks, ensuring you know exactly what he’s going to do next.

The air between you both feels thicker now on the walk, charged with something unspoken. Frank hasn’t let go of your hand, but his eyes flicker between them and the sidewalk in front of you, a nervous uncertainty threading through them. You feel the pulse of it—the space between what has always been  “friends” and the new possibility of something more.

His thumb brushes the back of your hand, just once, but it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine. You try to ignore it, but the tension is too much to ignore now. It’s there in the way his glance flits to you. You stop in front of your apartment building, facing each other. 

The rain has slowed now, small drops that hit your clothes, but not enough to leave a wet mark. They dry before the next one hits. 

Frank’s voice comes out quietly, hoarse, like he’s fighting something, pushing it down. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?"

You swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat. But you don’t pull away. Instead, you press your fingers against his, just enough to show you’re still here. “Maybe I do.”

His gaze sharpens, like a challenge in his eyes. His fingers twitch against yours, but he holds back, still caught somewhere between wanting to pull you closer and keeping his distance. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the space between you so close you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you lean just a fraction closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. Your heart beats a little faster now, conflict pulsing in your core. Years of yearning finally culminating in this moment. It’s all been a dull drone, a bruise that only hurts when you press at the right angle. 

You shift on your feet, your face so close to his now that you can count the tiny flecks of gold in his stormy eyes. The quiet between you is heavy, pulsing with every breath. Your fingers move, brushing against his again, and this time, there’s nothing tentative about it. He raises his other hand, brushing his fingers over your cheek bone with a butterfly touch. 

It’s a fairytale moment. Years of wanting him, loving him, for all he’s truly been. Not the charade he puts on for everyone, not the excruciating effort he felt he always to put in for Abby just so she might feel even a fraction of love for him. It’s every damn daydream you’ve had finally coming true. It’s real, it’s warm, and as his lips finally finally brush against yours- 

It’s not right.

Because this version of Frank doesn’t belong to you. This version of Frank is aching and lonely, looking for whatever comfort anyone can provide him. You can’t be the one to warm his bed tonight, hoping he’ll be there when you wake up. You don’t think your heart could take it if he wasn’t. 

Despite every alight nerve in your body begging you to stay, your eyes flutter open.

You pull away, just a fraction, just enough to break the spell. Frank blinks like he’s waking up from something he didn’t mean to fall into. His hand is still on your cheek. Yours is still wrapped around his.

“I can’t.” You breathe, heart shattering as the words leave your lips. “This version of you doesn’t belong to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Frank doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. “What the hell does that mean?”

You step back, forcing space. The air feels colder immediately, no longer comforting. “It means this—whatever this is—you’re not here because you want me. You’re here because you’re tired. Because you’re lonely. Because you’re drowning and I just happen to be here.”

He flinches. The words sting, even if he knows they’re true.

“That’s not what this is,” he says firmly, but it’s too defensive, the same tone he uses when advocating for a stubborn patient. 

You meet his eyes. “Isn’t it?” You ask weakly.

Frank takes a breath like he’s about to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, he just scrubs a hand down his face, tense and restless. “So what, you want me to pretend I don’t feel better when I’m around you? That I can’t finally fucking breathe when I’m around you, even just sitting there, not talking?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you reply, tears welling in your eyes. “I know you’re carrying a lot. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. But you can’t dump it all at my feet and then kiss me like it doesn’t mean something, like it’s just another release valve.”

Frank steps forward. Just one step. Close again. His eyes are dark, unreadable. “And if it does mean something?”

Your breath catches. “Then maybe figure out what that something is before you ask me to jump with you. I can’t do it. I’ve- I’ve wanted you for too long.”

The silence between you stretches, taut and heavy. Neither of you blink. Neither of you breathe. He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your face, like he's afraid it’ll disappear if he turns away too fast or says something too quickly.

“I didn’t plan this,” he mutters. “You know that, right?” He says it like a vow, and you know, you just know, that it’s true. 

“I know,” you say. “But that doesn’t make it fair.”

He looks down, thumb absently rubbing at a scar near his knuckle. You’ve seen him do it in the E.R. when things get tense. You’ve never told him you noticed. You’re not sure he could handle being seen like that right now.

“You think I’m using you.”

You hesitate, a lump rising in your throat.  “I think you’re using this—the quiet, the closeness, the way it feels easier when you’re with me. And maybe that’s not the same as using me, but it’s just not something I can do.”

Frank nods once. Slow. Measured. And then he lets out a laugh, low and bitter. “You’re probably smarter than me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“No,” he says, stepping back this time. “But it explains why you’re the one walking away.”

“I’m not walking away.” You snap, clenching your fists. 

“Aren’t you? When was the last time you took a risk? You’re so scared to get hurt that you won’t do anything that could possibly lead to something you want.” He says it factually, sharply. You’ve hurt him, you know that, and he’s reaching for whatever he can to make you feel how he does. 

You blink, stunned by his words. In all your time together, he’s never said anything so cruel to you. 

“Whatever.” His eyes are still locked on yours. His shoulders are still hunched. “I wanted you. As you were then, as you are now.”

You almost stop him. You almost say something—anything—to soften it. But you don’t. Because this needs to hurt, or it won’t mean anything later.

He turns toward the street, pausing under the glow of the flickering streetlamp. His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward like they’ve finally caved.

Something breaks inside you, realizing he truly is leaving. “Frank-”

“I’ll see you around,” he calls without turning.

And then he’s gone.

You don’t go inside right away. You stand frozen on the stoop, feeling the place where his hand had just been, the warmth fading from your skin as the tears finally fall.

[dukestags]

Scrap and Smoke

Karl Heisenberg x Male FTM Reader

You woke up on a cold slab of metal, the ache in your bones screaming louder than any alarm. The ceiling above you was stained with rust and pipe residue. The air stank of oil, iron, and heat.

You sat up slowly, biting back a groan. Every part of your body felt used—like you'd been tossed into a blender and barely crawled out. You touched your ribs: fractured, maybe. At least two were bruised. Dried blood clung to your binder under your shirt, stiff with old pain.

Something hissed.

You looked around, startled.

The room was dim, lit by red emergency lights and sparking wire. Machines lined the walls—some looked half-human, half-metal, twitching unnaturally even while dormant. And standing just out of reach, leaning against a steel pillar, was him.

Karl Heisenberg.

Trench coat like a cape of smoke. Sunglasses hiding his eyes, but not the way he studied you. A metal hammer rested against his shoulder like a war banner.

"You alive, or should I start carving your name on a scrap pile?"

Your voice rasped. "Funny. You're a comedian."

He laughed—short, rough, like gravel sliding through gears.

"Smart mouth. Didn't think you'd make it past the front gate. The Lycans almost turned you into mulch."

You forced yourself to stand. Your legs shook, but you held your ground. "I don’t know where I am. I didn’t come here on purpose."

Heisenberg tilted his head. "No shit. Nobody comes to this dump for the scenery. You're in the village—Miranda's little sandbox of horrors. And this—" he motioned grandly to the rust-covered machinery, the echoing scream of unseen engines— "is my kingdom."

Your brow furrowed. “You live in a goddamn factory?”

His grin widened. “Better than a swamp or a haunted dollhouse. You’ll meet the rest of the freak show if you survive long enough.”

You glanced down. Your clothes were torn. Blood had dried along your side. You reeked of smoke and steel and sweat. You didn’t remember how you got here—just snow, panic, running from something. And now... him.

“I’m not part of whatever shit Miranda’s doing,” you said quietly. “I’m just trying to survive.”

He stared at you for a long second. Then another.

“You got balls,” he said finally. “I’ll give you that. Most people piss themselves when they see my pets.”

You glanced warily at a twitching torso of bolts and sinew mounted to the wall. "I might still. Give me time."

That made him laugh, full-bodied and wild. You didn’t smile, but you didn’t flinch either. He noticed that.

“Alright, kid,” he said, voice dropping into something almost thoughtful. “You wanna survive? Then get your ass up. You’re in the factory now. That means you work or you rot.”

...

Your first few days were hell. Heisenberg didn’t treat you gently—he tossed you into the scrap rooms with nothing but gloves, a dented welding mask, and instructions barked through a speaker.

But you worked. You fixed broken drones. Rewired panels. Even salvaged old mechanical limbs from the pile. You weren’t a genius like him, but you could keep up.

And he noticed.

Sometimes, he’d lean over your shoulder, muttering snide commentary. Other times, he’d catch you wincing from your cracked ribs and sigh loudly before tossing a painkiller your way.

One night, you were soldering parts together, biting your lip as your binder dug painfully into your bruised ribs. You shifted too fast—pain shot through your side. You hissed and leaned back against the wall.

Heisenberg caught the sound.

"You binding under that?" he asked suddenly, voice unreadable.

You froze. "...Yeah."

He was quiet.

Then: "You wanna... take a break? I can weld for once and let your masochistic little ribs breathe."

You stared at him, unsure whether to trust the offer. Then: “You gonna make a joke about it?”

He shrugged. “No. I don’t give a damn what’s under your shirt, kid. You pull your weight, you’re good in my book. Just don’t pass out on my damn floor.”

Your throat tightened.

“…Thanks.”

He lit a cigarette, handed you one too. "Don’t get sappy on me. You’re still on shit duty tomorrow."

But his tone was softer. And his eyes lingered just a little longer than before.

The factory was asleep.

Well, as asleep as a place like this could get—pipes still hissed, valves groaned, and unseen machinery churned in the depths below. But the usual barking orders and clanging metal had quieted. Even the Lycans had retreated to the tunnels.

You sat in the corner of the upper catwalk, legs dangling over the edge, watching the fog of your breath swirl in the freezing air. Your ribs ached, even through the new shirt Heisenberg had begrudgingly thrown at you yesterday.

It was oversized. Smelled like motor oil and cigarette smoke. Definitely his.

He didn’t say why he gave it to you. Just grunted, “Yours was useless. Try not to bleed on this one.”

You hadn’t taken it off since.

You heard the footsteps before you saw him—boots clunking along metal walkways, that familiar dragging hum of his hammer behind him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, coming up behind you.

You shook your head. “Didn’t even try.”

Karl didn’t say anything for a while. Just lowered himself beside you, the metal creaking under his weight. You handed him a cigarette from your pocket. He took it without a word and lit both.

For a moment, the only sound was your breathing and the quiet flicker of flame.

Then he said, “You been here... what? Three weeks now?”

“Give or take.”

“Haven’t tried to run.”

“Wouldn’t get far,” you muttered. “Besides, I don’t have a death wish.”

He smirked around his cigarette. “Could’ve fooled me. You showed up half-dead. Took on a welding torch with cracked ribs. Sleepwalk into the lower mines with the Lycans once, remember that?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “Still better than where I came from.”

Karl turned to look at you. Really looked. He took off the sunglasses for once, resting them on the bridge of his coat. His eyes weren’t what you expected—sharper, yeah, but tired. Human.

“Where was that?” he asked.

You hesitated. “Place that never let me be myself. Made me fight for every inch of who I was. And when I didn’t fit their box, they tried to break me to fit it.”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t pity you. Just nodded.

“Same,” he said eventually.

You glanced at him. “Miranda?”

Heisenberg’s jaw clenched. “She tore me apart. Rebuilt me into her freak puppet. Thought giving me powers would make me loyal. Thought she could twist me into her little monster.”

He looked down at his hand—metal shrapnel pulsing under the skin, glowing faintly. “But I’m not hers. Never was. I’m my own goddamn machine.”

You nodded slowly. “She did all this to you?”

“She tried to turn me into a weapon. Forgot I could turn myself into a bomb.”

Silence stretched between you again. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence you only shared with someone who understood.

Then softly, without looking at you, Karl said:

“You’re the first person I’ve let stay here this long. Everyone else I either scare off or tear apart.”

“…Why me?” you asked quietly.

His lips twitched, but not in a grin. “Because you don’t flinch when you look at me.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding like a faulty generator. “Maybe I should.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe. But you don’t.”

He stood up suddenly, flicking his cigarette over the edge. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”

You followed him through twisting catwalks and sealed doors, deeper into the back end of the factory—where the metal walls turned to old stone, remnants of a forgotten castle.

He brought you to a hidden chamber. A place even the Lycans didn’t go.

Inside, lit by a single buzzing lightbulb, was a makeshift workbench—and dozens of hand-welded objects scattered on shelves. Small metal animals. A warped sculpture of a wolf with red glass eyes. A pocketwatch with no face.

“These are yours?” you asked.

He nodded. “Projects. Shit I make when I can’t sleep. When I need to feel like I’m still... me.”

You picked up one of the pieces—a lopsided little figure made of bolts and wire. Looked like a man. One arm outstretched.

Karl stared at it. “…That one’s new.”

“You make it recently?”

His voice was low. “Yeah. After you passed out last week. Thought you were dead.”

You held the figure gently. “You built me.”

He grunted. “Don’t make it weird.”

But you smiled. And he didn’t stop you.

Before you left the room, he touched your shoulder. His hand lingered. Warm. Strong.

“You ever need something,” he muttered, “even if it’s just to breathe... you come here. Got it?”

You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Yeah. Got it.”

And for the first time since you arrived in this nightmare world, you felt something sharp and unfamiliar spark in your chest.

Hope.

[sourszt]

𝟏:𝟏𝟗 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — jack delroy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — nsfw, p in v sex, reader helps jack ‘relax’, slight coercion/convincing, unprotected sex, on a counter/table ? LMAO, rough sex lowk, cant think of any other tags, except its not proofread!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — this takes place right before the halloween special lol, def might be ooc jack but idgaf!! this took me two days to write i lowkey forgot how to write smut ?? discovered i was a lesbian and forgot how het sex worked my bad yall! anyways enjoy cuz i have yet to see a fic about this man.

the studio was buzzing with excitement when you arrived. crew members blew by you from every direction, barking orders and carrying pieces of halloween decorations that would be strewn around the night owls’ set within the next hour. tonight was the halloween special that was expected to bring jack’s show to the top, and he’d said he wanted you there to see it.

you’d only been there a couple of times — jack advising against you visiting him too often in case people started suspecting things about your relationship.

it was his first since madeleine had passed a year ago, and he wasn’t quite ready to go public yet. especially if it meant it would hurt any chances of the show not beating johnny carson’s tonight show.

afterwards would be your time, he promised you.

you hugged your coat closer to your body as you tried to navigate the set yourself, skimming over the panels beside every door until a familiar face came into view. you sighed, instinctively grinning when you spotted leo fiske, the show’s producer.

his stress-lined face shifted the moment he saw you, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. “how are ya, sweetheart?”

behind his sunglasses, he looked you up and down and hummed softly. you flashed him a tight grin and pulled your coat shut. he was charming, sure, but sometimes he was more direct than you liked. something told you that he knew about you and jack, and probably threatened the latter with it, but if he did he hid it well.

“i’m alright,” you kept the atmosphere light with a laugh, “where’s jack?”

the mention of his name made the man roll his eyes and scoff. “jackass has been locked up in his dressing room for the past half hour.” you pouted, realizing how much pressure he must be feeling. “end of the hallway to the right. i’ll slide you a fifty if you can untwist his panties, alright?” leo joked, gently patting your shoulder before brushing past you. you watched him go for a second, watching him beckon a female crew member over for something.

you hurried down the hallway to the door leo had directed you to, relieved when you saw jack’s name next to the door. knocking gently, you waited for him to call you in. “jack?” you called out when he didn’t reply.

boldly, you cracked open the door and stuck your head inside, finding jack sitting at his makeup vanity while an artist stood poised at his side, patting powder onto his forehead.

she startled when she heard your entrance, and flashed you a curt smile before returning to jack. he noticed you only when the woman had paused for too long and gestured you inside.

“give us a moment, will you?” he murmured to the makeup artist, who nodded and left the room.

you waited until the door was shut and her footsteps had gone quiet before sliding your arms around jack’s shoulders from behind. “how’re things going?” you asked with a coy grin, pecking him on the cheek.

he groaned when he saw a faint mark from your lipstick and realized he’d have to get another touch up later. “as great as they could be.” he replied rather bitterly, making your smile falter slightly. you gave him a curious look in the mirror, and that was his breaking point. his head lulled into his palm, paying no mind to how his fingers ruffled his gelled hair. “i swear to god, fiske thinks i can’t fuckin’ do it. he doesn’t think i can pull it off tonight.”

you hovered beside him for a second, unsure of how to console him. “what do you mean? tonight’s been all the talk for a week now, it’s gonna do great, baby.” you tried to reassure him, gently shaking him by his shoulders in his seat.

this seemed to ease his nerves just a little and he sighed, sliding a hand up to grab your hand. he found your eyes in the mirror and smiled for the first time that night, then looked down at your outfit.

you’d picked his favorite red dress, pairing it with the little devil-horn headband tucked away in your purse. it was shorter than you liked it to be, often having to tug the glittery fabric back down the curve of your hips, but jack loved when you wore it. tonight was a special occasion, so you figured he’d appreciate it.

“i just don’t know what i’m gonna do. what if he’s right?” jack continued to ramble. “you know, he keeps tellin’ me christou’s gig isn’t gonna gain enough traction to get us up. gus was tellin’ me that he’s called an act in last minute and he hasn’t run it by me yet — i swear to god, if it’s that jackass carmichael—” he huffed and stopped when he realized he was getting too worked up.

he hadn’t realized you had peeled yourself off of him and was tossing your coat onto the couch beside him. “hand me a smoke, won’t ya sweetheart?” he pointed loosely to your purse, knowing you were carrying some.

you two smoked the same brand, so he often stole yours. you didn’t mind.

you handed him a cigarette and he leaned in for a light. he sunk back into his chair as he blew out a puff of smoke, the tension steadily chipping away.

“baby, you need to relax, alright?” you cooed softly, stealing a quick drag of his cigarette. “you’re gonna do great. you always do.” your lithe fingers gently rubbed at his shoulders, smiling as his eyes fluttered shut and he melted under your hands.

“c’mere.” he grabbed your wrist and tugged you around his chair, steadying you with his hands on your hips before him. his eyes raked down your body and he sucked in a sharp breath. “relax, huh?” jack’s voice was low now, deeper. it made your breath hitch in your throat.

“jack, i…” your eyes flickered over to the unlocked door and you took a step back. your ass bumped into the edge of his vanity. a startled cry escaped you. “you’re on soon.” you whispered with an uneasy grin. although, he wasn’t live for another hour or so.

as much as your stomach fluttered at the look in his eyes, you feared the embarrassment if someone were to walk in on you two. especially if you weren’t public yet.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” jack groaned, chasing you out of his seat. his hands caged you in against the vanity, one reaching out to smash his cigarette out into the ashtray beside you, and his body pushed against yours. he practically forced you on top of the counter, a few bottles and trinkets toppling over in your little scramble. jack took the chance to nudge his knee in between your legs, humming with satisfaction at the small whine you tried and failed to keep inside.

you ducked your head shyly, but he moved with you, coaxing you into looking up. when he had you, he could tell there was no going back. your lips parted as you glanced down at his.

“that’s it.” he whispered with a gentle smirk before he kissed you. you sighed into it, feeling his urgency as his tongue slipped past your teeth. your fingers wrapped tightly around his biceps, your legs threatening to give out underneath you.

they instinctively parted when you felt the tip of jack’s finger trail up the top of your thigh. your skin dimpled with goosebumps and you shivered. he had such a feathery touch until he reached the hem of your dress, stealing a quick glance at how it bunched up at the fat of your hips and revealed your red panties.

then his hand dipped in between your thighs, his fingers prodding at your clothed cunt. you whined, a little too loudly, and jack flashed you a warning look.

“can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?” he whispered. you hardly had the mind to nod, let alone comprehend what he was saying. your mind was fucking spinning trying to get a grip, and it didn’t help that jack’s middle finger was lazily circling your clit over your panties. “what’s that?” he taunted, chin lowering with expectancy.

“mhm, yes, yes i can,” you eagerly nodded, words stringing together in a barely coherent murmur.

“good girl.” jack groaned. he slipped his hand into the waistband of your panties, a smirk dancing on his lips when he felt how wet you were. “you wanted this, huh?”

you hadn’t entirely realized that he was talking to you, too busy working your hips against his heavy fingers. your body felt like it was on fire. you desperately pleaded for him to hurry up, for both of your sakes.

he looked down at your clumsy fingers as they tried to unbuckle his belt, but it was like it was welded around his waist. frenzied whimpers filled the room until jack finally helped you, almost taking pity on your incoherency. while he worked at the zipper on his trousers, you quickly slid your panties down your hips and around at least one foot. the thin lace dangled from the toe of your heel when jack captured you in another fervent kiss.

you feel the tip of his cock catch just below your clit and your breath caught in your throat. one of his hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you to the very edge of the counter. your legs widened for him, waiting.

he granted you relief, easing himself into your tight cunt. he groaned into your neck, stilling so he didn’t cum on the spot. “god, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” his voice shook.

he went until his hips were flush with yours, watching how your face contorted with pure ecstasy. your lips parted in a high cry and your eyes squeezed shut, and your head lulled back. jack stole the opportunity to latch onto your neck, adorning your skin with kisses and licks. you pulled him closer with your arms around his neck.

“shit, jack,” your fingers raked through his hair, neither of you caring about how pissed hair and makeup were going to be with him. long, dark strands fell over his forehead and tickled your skin. “jack.”

he loved how his name sounded in your mouth. how he always managed to get you like this, though for some reason it was quicker than usual that your face flushed and your eyelids drooped with arousal. it stirs something deep in his stomach and he slams into you, setting an unrelenting pace. he didn’t care that it rocked the vanity mirror back into the wall with a hollow thud.

your thighs hug his waist and your ankles meet behind him, silently pleading for more. “greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he whispers with half a grin. he draws a strained cry from you with each deep thrust, your cunt clenching in fluttering pulses around him.

“fuck,” he hissed, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knows you wouldn’t either. your cries were growing louder and louder and more frequent. the mirror kept tapping against the wall and things kept rolling off of the counter and onto the floor. tears gathered in your eyes, painting your eyelashes each time your eyes squeezed shut. though each time you did, jack would remind you to look at him. he gently shushed you at first, then used his mouth when you weren’t listening.

your back arched into his chest as you came with a cry of his name, jack murmuring into your ear, “good girl, that’s it.” your body seemed to melt in his arms, going near slack as you came down from the high he was fucking you through.

it was only a few more thrusts until he came, barely managing to pull out before painting the insides of your thighs. he knew you would be pissed that it got on your dress once you realized, but he didn’t care.

after a minute of blissful silence, jack checked his watch. “shit, fiske’s probably lookin’ for me.” he rolled his eyes as he buckled his belt, praying to god that his beige pants were relatively stain-free.

if push came to shove, he’d tell him that he spilled his drink in his lap. he gave you room to get to your feet, watching with quiet pride as your knees wobbled pretty noticeably.

you tugged your dress down your hips, absently searching for a tissue box. a smile crossed your lips when you looked up and you lifted yourself onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“knock ‘em dead, baby.”

lowkey surrounded this smut based on the “secret relationship” trope and the last line. lowkey ass and rushed but enjoy!

[heavenly-fae]

million dollar man p2

the wizard x reader

warnings | smut, soft dom!wizard, afab!reader, breeding + creampie = yay, praise, overstimulation, dirty talk (he’s perverted ok.) age difference

a/n | happy valentine’s day my loves!! look look i would've posted dis sooner but i thought. hey valentines is soon wouldn't it be cute to post it on that day so im sorry to make u wait ;3; but i hope it was worth it!!! as always i hope yall enjoy <3 crossposted on my ao3

“honey, do you think you can help me with one more thing?”

you fail to register how eagerly you’ve been nodding your head, begging for the wizard to use your body for his own pleasure. you purposefully arch your back into him, he jolts feeling your lower back pressing against the hard tent in his pants. he breathes out a low chuckle, almost breaking his composure and rutting into you like he was an impatient, young man again. 

it's the soft, but needy, grip of his large palms against your hips that calls you back. he leans forward pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, his facial hair making you shudder. he arches a brow, and you feel his coy smile going wicked at the edges. "you’d like that wouldn't you, hm? me fucking your sweet little cunt?" his voice was low and calm, a stark contrast to your panting and whiny noises of desperation.

the question made your head spin and in a daze, you agreed. pleas for him, and filthy words you never thought you'd ever utter to the great and powerful wizard you work directly under spill out from your lips. you almost whine in protest as his hands leave his hips to unbutton his pants, shifting the material low enough to pull out the evidence of his need.

you shuddered feeling him passing the hot tip of his cock through your cunt, gathering wetness before landing at just the rim of your clenching hole. your shaking hands grasp at the control panel for balance as he guides his aching cock to your tight hole. his heavy length stretched you, filling you up inch by inch, he let out a soft groan of your name, his hands coming up to grip your hips so tightly it almost hurt.

the wizard wore a filthy smile on his lips, god having such a precious little thing like you around his cock nearly made him start using you like his own personal doll. as much as he enjoyed the thought, he felt the urge to indulge in you, taking you apart piece by piece. he pushed in before stopping and pulling out ever so slightly and then rocking his hips deeper than the last. "you doing alright, honey?"

you only nodded, as quiet gasps and groans escaped you after each stroke; going deeper and deeper inside of you. "i-its a lot…” you muttered, his cock jumping slightly as you spoke. he then bottomed out, forcing a gasp from your throat, followed by a long drawn-out whine. "oh oz–!" you moaned, earning a quiet groan in return.

"hm, was that too much?" he remained pressed against you, leaning forward a bit to press his chest against your back again. you shook your head, and slowly took a deep breath.

“ah, that’s good, i don’t want you to break just yet,” he slotted his head over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your neck. you softly whined, a silent plea for him to start driving his hips into you. 

“oh sweetheart…” he whispered before gripping your hips and beginning to pull out. the slow drag of his cock against your walls was euphoric. he pulled out maybe halfway before thrusting back inside fully, the head of his cock reaching deeper than before. you let out a wanton moan with each thrust as his hips gradually began to pick up the pace. he gripped your waist in a firm hold, pulling your hips back into him as he thrusts. “look at you, taking me so well, like you were made for me,” he grinded his hips into you at the perfect angle to make you squirm.

"a-ahh—" you had to collect your breath. being his, you didn’t mind that at all. “i’m yours, your ozness” you whined, feeling the way he twitched and pulsed inside of you.

"is that so," he purred, splaying a hand over your lower tummy. he continued to grind his hips into you, hardly pulling out as he ground his hips against your ass. "squeezin’ me so tight honey, i think you don’t want me leaving hm?" he cooed, resuming his steady pace. you couldn't help but moan at his words, your body sinking further into that euphoria with each pass of his cock over your sensitive g-spot. the wizard hummed leaning back to watch your form bent over for him while your cunt clenched and pulsed around him.  

your mouth hung open just a bit, hands grasping at the control panel, still mindful enough to not set anything off. “this little spot right here, hm? like that?” he was abusing your g-spot at this point, hitting it each time he fucked back into you. nodding quickly your lungs fought for breath as his hips slammed harder into your cunt. his experienced hand reached around until his fingers were slipping through your folds and up to your swollen clit. your back arched and your legs trembled as you cried out.

“m-mmhm! feels—so good—!” you whined. the knot in your tummy was being wound tighter by the second, mind was buzzing in anticipation and want. even if it hasn’t been long since your last orgasm your body begged for another. the wizard chuckled and pinched your clit just right, stroking it between his fingers while you writhed in borderline overstimulation.

"i’m—m’ gonna cum, a-ah…" you gasped out.

"aw, so soon?” he teased snapping his hips into your ass before grinding into you again. “go ahead sweetheart, you deserve it for being so good for me.”

his command and praise made your head spin. your clit was pulsing hard and with each second you could feel that pounding heat growing and swelling in your lower belly until it was too much. you gasped for air all while the wizard continued to fuck you through your orgasm. the slick sounds of your wetness and the slap of his pelvis against your ass only pulled you deeper into the high. it started to ache, your clit felt raw with each pass of his fingers his hips never relenting from grinding into you. tears rolled down your cheeks from pleasure, he thought for a moment of drinking them up.

“my oh my...” he awed. “i think you can take another right, honey?” even through the overstimulation, you nod eagerly. the wizard muttered a curse under his breath, his composure dropping faintly, as he picked up the pace once more. “you’re wonderful, you’re fucking perfect,” his voice sounded strained, his cheeks flushed. his hands burned into your skin as he placed hot kisses on the exposed flesh of your neck. he panted harshly as he bucked into your ass. “you’re all mine right?” his large hands squeezed your hips. “want me to make sure of it, fill you up?” he asked before your pussy squeezed around him involuntarily.

you could barely process what he had just asked you. oh oz, obviously you wanted him to cum inside. he was twice your age but you needed him to mark you as his. “mmhhm—! please, please sir, i-i want it!” you manage to babble out.

“oscar, call me oscar, dear.” 

he revealed his true name to you in a quick murmur, something only you and just you would hear. he wickedly grinned before kissing your neck and picking up the pace once more. you sobbed as your orgasm built up much quicker than the last. there was no need for him to finger your clit at this point, the grinding of his heavy balls against your clit was more than enough.

“oscar, mmh—“ you slurred out, your hands gripping on some random lever. he cursed under his breath, your name sounded so precious falling from your lips, you could feel his cock hot and throbbing inside of you. “inside please, oscar…” you whimpered, that hot feeling coming closer and closer.

“i know, sweetheart, i know you need it so deep inside hm?” with his filthy words you came undone, a cry escaped you as your body tensed and fell apart. you trembled feeling every wave of euphoria wash over you while your cunt clenched around him once more. only this time it hurt and felt so good all at once.

moving his hand, he grasps your neck, his other arm wrapped around your torso, he hugs your back tightly against his chest as he grinds his hips into your ass deeper and harder into your sloppy cunt. 

“fuck me, you’re—ah—so perfect—” he groaned out, fucking you impossibly harder before stilling. hot ropes of cum spilled from his throbbing cock inside of you. he pressed himself against your back grinding into your cunt, filling you up with each buck of his hips.

“ah-h, i think—i think i was uh, pent up as well,” he chuckled, grinding slowly against you. “was that everything you dreamed of, dear?” you could only hum in agreement as you began to fall into foggy bliss, the feeling in your limbs growing achy and numb. content with the way the wizard had fulfilled your heart’s desire.

[minas-linkverse]

I'd love to see your though proseces for Finding the Founding! (I love that whole mini arc so much! Even if I feel really bad for wild...)

This is the earliest update anyone's asked about, so I'll be starting here. ALTHOUGH... I kind of dread to, because looking at old art is incredibly difficult. I'll do it-- I'll do it for you all and my love for yapping.

Director's commentary: Finding the Founding Full update <-

I was still far from good at comic making, but I was very ambitious, so although the visual story telling in this update isn't up to my standards now, there's some neat things past-Mina did.

The establishing shot is both telling and cryptic-- I'd say it leans too much towards the latter but she tried. The goal was to have enough hints to clue the viewer who knows skyward sword into the fact that this was the Goddess statue courtyard-- Which would ideally build tension. However past-Mina was too waaay too subtle. I took the liberty to edit how I'd do this panel today: having a part of the statue loom over the panel. This way even the viewers who don't remember the courtyard's birch trees can tell something big is waiting.

Altho I do like the detail that there's some wood planks in the background. Reminds the reader that this is post-game and they're doing building 💪

Groose :) The lore with the accessory that Link, Zelda and Groose wear is that he made them for the squad. The motive was actually polyamorous yearning but he's too insecure to admit it yet. You can see he wears his different and it has alternate feathers, it's like. A metaphor for self isolating or smth.👍I love Groozelink but they're not established in the time the comic takes place, so we get a longing flustered groose instead... Not that I've gotten to show that in the comic yet. Er.

At this point in the comic I hadn't settled on a consistant lineweight, and hadn't started using bold outer lines yet. So although the art isn't bad, it looks chaotic and unfinished. You can also see I was using WAY too thick of a brush for the panels and made the text too small. Gotta start somewhere, I guess!

Another ambitious panel, I was trying to have Groose's dialogue make it more poignant that the statue is BIG and STARING DOWN but the art REALLY didn't work with it. The statue looks tiiiny and besides the clouds curving into a halo it's all just a very boring image.

I super quickly threw a fish-eye-lense distortion on the panel to show something closer to what I'd wanted it to look, but didn't have the skills for at the time.

In the last segment of the update Wild has a panic attack type-o-deal which is again made less effective by the art, but past-Mina did try real hard and I respect that.

These two sets of panels were meant to be kind before-and-after transformations.

Wild going from seeing a family talk -> to the wall being torn and the tree destroyed with a guardian on the move. THEN Groose -> melting into a malice skeleton. I really don't think past me did a good job with that. I should've included more details that stayed between the two panels so they'd be more clearly connected. It's a cool idea tho, and in later updates I started to figure out how to execute cool ideas, so... Practise for the win.

Also nobody ever pointed it out at the time, but Wild's hair actually goes from the hairstyle he has in the comic to a hairstyle much closer to what he had back in the war. That and the colour fading from his eyes are deets I can still get behind whole-heartedly.

In the final page of the update there's a massive tonal shift where the art goes simple and the dialogue silly. It really depends on the tone you want for your comic, as this kind of a move can completely undo any tension you built, but in this case I think it's a very well done whiplash feel-good(ish) ending.

I think LV's updates started very amateurish, but I did seem to have a pretty good grasp on pacing and tone since the start. I'm very proud of that.

_

You can probably tell I don't much like this update anymore, haha. I appreciate what it meant for me back then and have nothing against people who still like it. To me its just a great example of all the things where I was falling flat when I first started.

Besides the panic attack wasn't an idea I even liked back then-- It felt like sudden unnecessary melodrama that could've easily been replaced with more nuanced emotions. However I'd seen people hype up all sorts of angsty art in the fandom at the time and felt like if I didn't put in something intense people wouldn't care about my comic. It's silly looking back-- You should be true to yourself when you make art, that way you'll like what you make and it doesn't age as poorly.

Never-the-less, the journey of making this webcomic so far has been really good for my comic skills and although I cringe at the past updates: they're still valuable stepping stones on that journey and I'm happy to look back and reflect! Thanks for requesting this update for analysis, and hope others can get something out of it too!

[cozzzynook]

Hiii cozzzyyyy

What do we think about Rodimus adopting a lil human in secret on the LL, but Drift discovers it and tells Ratchet? And all three o them just look blankly at the human (that doesn't understand what's going on ofc ofc)?

Thank uuu <3

Hi Bee,

Hear me out.

The human he brings aboard the lost light that doesn’t know whats going on is actually cyberronian and a baby.

The found them crying next to their offline creators and couldn’t just leave them there. He was going to tell police officials but when he picked the fresh bitty up and they stopped crying. Reaching out and gripping his chassis and digit whimpering for him, he just couldn’t bare to part with them.

Sooo he snuck them on board and let the ship take off.

Of course he told officials about the bitty’s creators and told Prowl in secret what he’d done and that he wasn’t giving the bitty up. Prowl can honestly say he’s never actually heard Rodimus sound threatening and he admired it before putting official documents in stating Rodimus was the sparklings caregiver now before sending them to him and hanging up.

Rodimus was entirely pleased with himself and more than happy to get started on bathing the dirty bitty that wasn’t old enough to have plating on their exposed protoform. He learned the bitty was a little mecha and so as he had them wrapped in a soft warmer against his chassis he had to figure out a name and get a bitty berth installed.

He wasn’t entirely out of his league here since he used to caretake for orphanages on Nyon. He knew what sparklings needed and their development. So he knew this was a fresh spark that wouldn’t be able to be away from him for a long time since the connection with his creators was severed so early in life.

Of course..in all his plannings he forgot to tell his crew and co captain…who just so happened to walk into his hab with Minimus and stare at the sparkling with open jaws and he immediately had to explain the situation.

“So you weren’t carrying this whole time and popped out a sparkling on a dangerous mission?”

“No I’m not an idiot!”

He looked extremely offended and felt it too which upset the sparkling almost pulling them from recharge if it weren’t for him calming them down.

“I got the paperwork and everything. I got attached…don’t look at me like that Mins! I’m not popping out a sparkling!”

The smug look on the mini turbo fox face plates and his co captains was pissing him off.

Just because he was a carrier mech did not mean he would go following his coding and pop out bitlets.

He was destined for greater things than being a broodmare! He said as much too.

“Rodimus its not meant like that. Carriers just-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he was genuinely upset but trying not to take it out on them since they didn’t do anything wrong. He was just sensitive about his coding and frame.

“I’d like some time off from being in public to get a better bond with them and get all the supplies I need. I’ll do all my paperwork here. I’ll keep my comm open as well.”

He ushered them out after letting Minimus hold his sparkling who began to fuss but didn’t cry.

“Lets get you some panel wraps and bottles annndd I’m gonna need to find you a crib…and a name.”

The bitty just kept sucking on their hand and he was off to find such things in the storage rooms while the dead shift was at its quietest time.

He managed to luck out on getting multiple blankets and an abundance of reusable panel wrappers. He’d brought those things back to his hab and set them on a gentle wash in his cleaning closet before heading back out to find a crib and clothes and some bottles.

He was yet again lucky in his search. Finding bottles, clothes and even a few pacifiers along with a stuffed fox that looked suspiciously like Minimus handy work made him smile. He’d have to thank his friend for leaving this here for him.

He was bummed he couldn’t find a crib but he had everything else he needed and he decided to enjoy the win. He’d gotten everything clean and settled when the bitty began to fuss and he knew immediately what time it was.

“I’m gonna fix a bottle. I know, I know. You’re hungry its okay,” he soothed to the upset sparkling.

He felt his chassis growing tight and he groaned looking down at the shifted plating to the still unfinished diluted energon meant for sparklings. He wasn’t about to make his sparkling wait an hour for fuel that wouldn’t be half as good as what his frame decided to make against his wishes.

So with a final groan and a hope for his luck to continue and his sparkling not getting attached to this form of feeding, he unclasped his chassis and let his breast mesh free. They were already filling with milk and he grimaced at how natural it all felt.

He didn’t like being a carrier but he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of feeding his sparkling.

With that line running through his mind, he held his sparkling up to his nozzle and allowed them to turn their helm crying until eventually they smelled him and the energon his frame was building before opening teary optics and latching on.

The first few suckles felt weird but eventually he felt the milk begin to release and his sparkling was greedily suckling blinking the tears from their optics.

Rodimus didn’t want to admit how close and connected he felt to the fresh bitty letting them drink from him.

He’d always had a problem with being a carrier and few mechs knew that he was and all that did knew by accident. It was something he liked pretending he wasn’t but that was extremely hard to do when a bitty was nursing from his mesh.

He sighed and looked to the bottles on the drying rack and figured he might as well try organizing his hab and bitty proofing it.

By the time he was done, the bitty was finished nursing and he was burping them. They’d fallen to recharge immediately and he smiled looking down at them. They were tiny, even for a new sparkling they were tiny. He was going to comm First aid to come to his hab in the morning so he could get them fully examined.

Carrier instincts would’ve alerted him if something was wrong with a sparkling even if they weren’t his own. But he wanted to be completely sure.

He laid the sparkling on his lap and began squeezing the rest of his milk into a bottle.

He’d have to find a crib and milk pump the next time he went to the storage rooms.

He stood and held the sparkling to his breast mesh that was still too tender to close his chassis over. He really hoped his bitty would take a bottle and not his nozzles and that his milk could be turned off when he called First aid.

He laid in his berth, nest fresh courtesy of Ratchet and Drift who were on took an extra, with a servo on the bitty thinking of possible names when he felt his optics almost slip closed until panic gripped him.

“Frag I didn’t tell them I adopted a bitty…”

Recharge was not exactly restful due to his nerves and waking a few hours later to the bitty whimpering wanting milk was something that stole his attention from Drift and Ratchets reactions.

He’d tried getting the bitty to take the sparkling fuel he’d put on earlier but the bitty hollered energon murder and he sighed lowering his helmet trying to suppress tears.

He’d lowered them to his nozzle and they immediately gripped on. He looked to the warm energon bottle and picked it up slipping it into the bitties mouth only for them to spit it out and spit up the milk.

It took over ten minutes to calm them down before deciding never to do that again and just accept he would have to feed from his nozzles.

The bitty gave a little glare at him with blue optics that looked so much like Drift and Ratchets when he did something to endanger himself he smiled a little making the bitty giggle.

It was spark warming and asserted that he made the right decision in keeping them.

“Your gonna be trouble aren’t ya lil mecha,” he cooed, cleaning himself and the bitty while allowing them to drink. He’d put the sparkling energon by the door and thought of how he was going to tell Drift and Ratchet.

He went through the motions of burping the bitty and soothing them to sleep before starting on paperwork. By the time he finished he leaned back in his chair and looked down at his breast mesh and the bitty sleeping on them.

He maneuvered the bitty and tried to put his breasts back into his chassis only to wince and hiss in pain.

‘That won’t work. Damnit. I’ll have to get a new chassis supporter.’

He looked down at the bitty and couldn’t find it in himself to blame them or really be upset. He was still pushing off the mental breakdown at succumbing to his carrier protocols. But looking down at the bitty he found it a tad easier.

Things didn’t feel so bad…until he heard the hab door open.

He stiffened in his seat and slowly turned his helm to see Drift and Ratchet staring at him and their hab.

He tried to smile but it came off wobbly and afraid and the sparkling made a whimpering noise that pulled his attention.

He shushed them gently with a small bounce and they nuzzled into him.

He looked back up to see the spot by the door empty with Drift and Ratchet right in front of Rodimus staring shocked at the fresh bitty in his arms recharging on swollen exposed breast mesh.

“Hehe. Surprise? Funny story here.”

“Roddy were you sparked and didn’t know it?! Did you emerge our sparkling on a mission?!”

Drift was seething with a myraid of emotions but not one was anger. He was thankfully whispering as he did so and was visibly checking him over before getting closer only to stop so Ratchet could begin scanning the sparkling and Rodimus.

“No I wasn’t sparked! And no I didn’t emerge a bitty! They don’t even look like us!”

He whispered venomously before pausing. They all stopped for a moment before Rodimus apologized.

“I’m not getting sparked. Ever,” he spoke, looking them in the optic before motioning for Ratchet to keep working.

The mech gave him a look he didn’t want to see so he turned his helm and let Ratchet work.

“The sparkling is fine,” he stood, looking at the fresh sparkling still sleeping on Rodimus who had an arm covering his nozzles.

He refused to move it because he didn’t want them seeing.

He knew they knew. They had since before they got together. He’d blown up almost saying some really nasty things when they revealed to him they knew by his scent, nest, clingy behavior he thought he shut down and the way he’d act around sparklings. Of course having this revealed made him all but destroy his carrying instincts and reject anything remotely like it.

It hurt. Physically and mentally to do so but he did it anyway and rejected any advice on not doing it. Of course he took it a step further and took preventative pills that kept him from going into heat and added an extra spark baffle. He really hated being a carrier and how it made him look to other mechs and femmes. He was not weak. He was not some birthing machine and he was not going to degrade himself by popping out sparklings and prove them all right. He was more than a carrier mech. He was a living being. He wouldn’t succumb to code.

Of course doing all this and having no heat put him in danger and made him sick but he truly would rather get sick than suffer another heat and possibly get sparked.

It took passing out after throwing up energon for his own medical right to be snatched away. He was taken off heat suppressants and his spark baffles were removed leaving him with just one.

He’d rode out his heat painfully by himself and left the medical center before they could try talking him into something he didn’t want. He ignored his teammates outside of battle planning for a long time. He ignored Ratchet and Drift, at the time Deadlock, for even longer since they just didn’t get it.

As much as he butted helms with Optimus the mech understood but still didn’t want him endangering his life. The only medic he really trusted was First Aid who admitted he didn’t understand but tried to give him the best option instead of getting snippy with him or pushing carrier scrap at him.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels Ratchet put a servo on his breast mesh and feel around it. He knows he isn’t being a perv but he still hates it. He’d never exposed his breast mesh to them before and hadn’t ever planned to.

“Well?”

He was getting more impatient and uncomfortable by the moment and Ratchet gave him a look that he returned with the beginnings of a snarl that he restrained.

“Milk won’t stop till the kid doesn’t need it anymore. You’ll need a new chassis plating. I’ll get to working on one-”

“I’ll have First aid make me one. Its fine. You both should rest. I’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

He was standing before either could get a word in. Was it fair? Not at all. But he really didn’t want this conversation nor the carrier slag they’d throw his way.

“Kid, get back here. This is a conversation we’re having now.”

He glared but didn’t go any further.

“I didn’t purposely attach the sparkling. It just..happened. I saw them crying near their creators when I went down to the lab. They were already gone and gray.”

“I wasn’t even thinking when I took them and decided to keep them. I’m sorry I didn’t ask first or tell you. You don’t have to care for them, I can do that on my own.”

He’d done it with sparklings at the centers and they’d recovered until they found a proper home during the war. So he knew he could.

“I’m not asking either of you to do anything and if they are a crying sparkling I’m going back to my hab.”

“Rodimus!”

Drift had yelled his name a little too loud to stop him from spiraling and putting distance between them. The mech was holding his arms on both sides and he wasn’t aware he’d been venting hard.

“Stop,” Drift vented hard, looking at him with his finials back and fangs poking out.

“You’re not going to your old hab. You’re staying here with us, where you belong,” Drift told him. “We’re not angry and we don’t blame you for getting attached. We just..”

“We’re surprised kid. Shocked really,” Ratchet came close and he felt crowded. The sparkling was picking up on his emotions and while that made him happy because it meant a bond was in place, he didn’t want them exposed to painful emotions or his cluster of feelings so he vented and bounced them. Keeping his gaze on the sparkling, trying not to notice how their gazes stuck to him and the longing in their optics, he started speaking again.

“I have the papers that say he’s mine already..Megs and Minimus know already because they came by unannounced.”

“Only yours?”

Ratchet was the one to ask and he felt bad that he didn’t think they’d want their names on the papers as well.

“I didn’t think you’d want your names on it. I didn’t think about anything other than your reactions honestly and I wasn’t fair in those thoughts either. I’m sorry.”

He owed it to them to at least get their frustrations out so he looked them in the optics expecting glares only to feel sadness and that was so much worst.

“Roddy…we aren’t..give us the papers.”

He went over to his desk and situated the sparkling while covering his nozzles and pulled the papers out handing them over.

They both signed it.

And he was both relieved and guilt ridden.

Both wanted a sparkling and were even partners with a mech who could carry by tank and yet…

“Why isn’t his name on here?”

“I couldn’t think of one…so I guess..as his sires, you can name him. If you want.”

They looked at him as if he’d revealed the secrets of Cybertron and he might as well have. Naming was a huge deal in their culture and for a carrier to completely allow the sires full handle of it meant a lot.

He looked down at the sparkling and stood beside them, “here, hold him.”

It was Ratchet who gently took the sparkling which made the bitty wake up looking confused. Their optics nor senses were actually developed but they could tell the difference between stranger, carrier and sire. They could smell that he was near but couldn’t feel him. And yet the sparkling didn’t cry which was a good sign. They did sneeze and Ratchet melted at the sight with Drift not far behind and he hadn’t even held the bitty yet.

It made Rodimus smile but the guilt ate away at him.

Truth be told, he really did want sparklings, but he hated the stereotypes, prejudice and weakness being a carrier brought on. He never wanted to be weak or seen as weak and he hated how he would be viewed if he were to get sparked. So he denied and rejected it and in the process, he denied himself and his partners something they all wanted. Its one of the reasons he wasn’t conjunxed with them while the two were. It was usually a guarantee a carrier would get sparked once they conjunxed. His fears greatly outweighed the speak of what if he still felt.

He was also certain they would one day tire of him and leave when they realized they could do better.

‘I sprung a bitty on them that isn’t even ours by emergence and they still want me,’ he let a few tears fall silently. ‘I’ve been unfair to them…’

He watched as Ratchet gave the bitty to Drift and how the mech melted completely with tears in his optics. Their bitty still didn’t cry which was also a very good sign he felt a connection to the two. He quietly bent down and grabbed a blanket to cover his exposed nozzles. He should let Ratchet make him a new chassis cover.

The feelings were overwhelming and he felt less of a warrior and solider and more the code he tried to reject for millions of years.

He..hated the vulnerability still and tried to quietly shift into the other room for a moment to gather himself but the two held him on both sides of his arms.

“What? Is he hungry?”

He didn’t want to make optic contact and tried to play off his sniffle until Ratchet pulled him in. He tried to move back but neither mechs allowed it.

“Kid..for once..don’t fight it..it doesn’t make you any less and it’s not a bad thing. Just for now..let it out..don’t reject it. Don’t reject us.”

The dam burst and he was sobbing with his intake covered by his servos to keep from being too loud. He kept his face plates hidden and felt Drift hug his back with their sparkling secure in his hold. Their arms tightened around him. He felt all the things he never allowed himself.

Safe. Vulnerable. Secure. Open. Tender. Exposed and held together as he mended himself whole with their comfort.

It felt as good as it hurt and by the end of his tears he felt raw and their nest had never felt so good to slip inside. He felt Drift and Ratchet pressed on both sides of him after giving him their sparkling when he whined for him.

Their sparkling nuzzled into him and made cooing noises, trying to fight their sleep but Drift wouldn’t let them. His humming was infectious and it was hard for him to stay awake but the plating that remained on his upper frame left him so uncomfortable. He knew what that meant but he wasn’t sure he could handle accepting it.

“It’s okay, Roddy,” Drift whispered in his audial, slowly taking the locks off his tank and back strut plating with Rstchets help. He felt pure relief at the metal being removed allowing his belly and wide hips room to breathe.

Accepting the sparkling as his own, his frame producing milk and allowing his emotions freedom in the presence of his partners triggered his body to go into a pseudo heat that was brought on from denying his code all these years.

“Let us take care of you,” Ratchet kissed along his neck cables, servos rubbing the chub along his belly, sending butterflies bursting within him at the love and comfort freely given.

Drift rubbed his palms along his hips and bit into his neck, hands making their way up to his sensitive breasts where he tensed and Ratchet cooed at him, reassuring him as he too cupped Rodimus breast. Both slipping the blanket free and wrapping the sparkling inside it.

The bitty inhaled the pheromones in the air and began to fall into recharge. What smelled of heat to adult mechs smelled of sleep pheromones to sparklings.

They placed the bitty on the edge of the nest yet still within close servo and optic contact.

Laid out bare for them to see, Rodimus tried to cover his nozzles but the two stopped him. Both Drift and Ratchet pressed a kiss to his nozzles before licking the dark milk duct and kissing the tender mesh again.

They enjoyed the way they bounced heavily and how his belly followed suit.

“You make an amazing person and carrier, sweet spark,” it was Ratchet who always spoke sweet words while taking them apart in berth. The medic popped his panels open and let his spike free, Drift followed pressing kisses to Rodimus’s belly, servo rubbing the chub as he worshipped it with kisses making Rodimus array snap open and lock.

Drift placed a kiss on his soaking valve before moving to let Ratchet do the same.

“You’ll look even more beautiful growing, swelling full with our sparkling. You already look so beautiful caring for our first one,” Drift soothed into his audial. They both were lining up to meet at the entrance of his valve, both their spike heads bobbing together before slowly slipping inside.

They all groaned together in unison until Drift and Ratchet nipped at his nozzles pulling them. Their servos resting interlocked over his belly as they rubbed the soft flesh stimulating his nerves. Bobbing their throats to a wave beat as they drank from him while fully sheathing their spikes deep inside him.

They left him a silent screaming, back arched mess that could do nothing more than cry and whisper his begging for their soft loving touches that left him exposed emotionally and a soaking, valve squelching mess that tried to cycle and lock down on their raw spikes that were struggling to keep from bursting inside him.

He felt their grip on his belly tighten and they rubbed his flesh as if he were already accepting their loads for a new spark when he felt their chassis open and his spark thrum to life.

Three different hues of blue made the dark room glow. Spike and valve bio lights pulsed and grew vibrant while Drift and Ratchet lifted themselves to hover and look down at Rodimus who looked up at them.

“We aren’t letting you go, Roddy. Not now, not if we never got to conjunx and spark you,” he leaned down, kissing the sobbing mech who gazed up at him before Ratchet leaned down capturing plump lips that quivered at his bite. “But now that we have, no more running and hiding from us. We love you Rodimus and we know you love us too.”

Rodimus sobbed even harder.

Feeling their sparks glow and leave their chambers to meet between them and merge making them all conjunx and completing the connection.

They overloaded together, squeezing each other, Rodimus’s valve clamping down on their spikes that buried within his soft tank lining spilling into him. Their sparks dancing getting lost in each other until none could be distinguished and they all held a large piece of each other once their sparks returned to them.

Rodimus was enternally grateful to have Drift and Ratchets servos in his belly as he felt the flesh stretch and grow heavy at all the transfluid that sloshed and flowed inside him. He felt his valve and cheeks grow hot all over again and he moaned, rocking into them.

“Please,” he cried, feeling them rub his distended belly full of transfluid, valve throbbing hot as his tank wanted more. “Please,” he begged again, seeing the two smirk.

“We’ll give you everything you want and need, sweet spark,” his medic promised.

“We just hope you don’t mind carrying two or three by the time we’re done with you.”

“Although, it’d be nice to see you so round and full of three while feeding our first,” Ratchet chuckled.

“Maybe we aim for three next time?” Drift kissed along Rodimus’s face, nuzzling into his olfactory sensor when the mech needed the reassurance and care.

“We can discuss that later. For now,” Ratchet pulled Rodimus close, washing his em field over the mech who needed their affection they were more than happy to give, “lets focus on mending him. He needs our love first, we can think on that later.”

With a nod from Drift and a quick check on their sleeping sparkling, they made love to their conjunx.

-

My mind…went elsewhere..anyway if anyone wants to tip me the link to my kofi is on my pinned post.

[stujet9rainshine-blog]

@hugsandchaos We're almost through the prompts!!

"Danny’s powers are affected by his emotions and tend to act up when he’s feeling intense emotions, not just negative ones, the most common way being his eyes lighting up. Every time Manny kisses Danny or just makes him feel flustered or a bunch of love in general — I probably could’ve worded that better but I don’t know how — his eyes start glowing green. Manny would definitely tease him a little about it."

Some more teenage mutual pining! Some good old fashioned fluffiness. Play fights, Sleep overs, make overs, and Mario Kart with a small side of VeggieBurger.

Don't ask. I have no idea either.

Danny wasn’t used to feeling really extreme positive emotions.

Negative ones? Oh, absolutely. He was very familiar with those, thank you very much.

But ever since Manny tumbled through the ghost portal on what should’ve been a normal Tuesday, Danny had been feeling a lot more of the other kind. The kind that made his chest feel weird and his face warm. The kind that sent a buzzing, almost electric energy through his core.

Even if his energy left Danny reeling half the time. Even if he was a complete gremlin.

Manny was wild and chaotic and so different from the people Danny was usually around. But somehow, that was… nice.

A breath of fresh air.

And okay, maybe Danny had grown a little fond of him. As a friend, of course. Just a friend.

Manny definitely didn’t make his heart skip or his face heat.

Absolutely not.

Why would anyone even think that?

But Danny did feel himself relax when Manny was around.

…Unless he got his hands on one of his mom’s ghost weapons. Then, suddenly, Danny was very stressed.

Always casual, always grinning, Manny would wave him off with, "Relax, Fantasma! My grandpapí lets me use his weapons all the time!"

"Based on what you’ve told me about your grandpapí, that doesn’t make me feel better!" Danny snorted, already plotting a way to liberate the Ghost Grabber from Manny’s possession.

Going intangible and slipping in front of him worked just fine.

"Hey!" Manny squawked, eyes going wide as the weapon vanished from his grip.

Danny smirked, twirling it in his hands. "Snooze you lose, mi amigo!" He made a show of tucking it away behind his back.

Manny narrowed his eyes and twirled on the spot, trying to snatch it back, but only ended up shoving Danny in the process.

Danny gasped dramatically. "Rude!"

Manny made another grab, but Danny was faster, shoving him back playfully and keeping the weapon out of reach.

Manny’s expression shifted instantly. "Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it?" His smirk was devastating as he strutted forward, closing the distance until they were chest to chest.

Danny’s breath caught.

The sudden closeness made his skin buzz—his core hummed in response, and every nerve where Manny was practically leaning into him went haywire.

He must’ve hesitated just a second too long, because Manny took advantage—grinning triumphantly as he swiped the Ghost Grabber back.

Danny just stood there, brain buffering.

Manny blinked, brow furrowing as he caught Danny’s expression. "You okay?" His tone softened. "Your eyes are glowing." Then, grinning a little more awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "Sorry. Didn’t mean to actually make you mad."

Danny blinked back at him. "Huh?"

He wasn’t mad.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in one of the metal panels in the lab. Lo and behold, his eyes were very much glowing green.

Oh.

He must be more worked up over the game than he thought.

"Oh, no big deal," Danny lied, forcing a casual shrug. "Just don’t want you to get hurt." He turned quickly, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. "Ready to head back upstairs?"

Manny eyed him for a moment, then nodded, putting the Ghost Grabber aside. "Lead the way, Fantasma."

Danny prayed Manny didn’t hear the way his breath shook as he climbed the stairs.

~

Sam’s mansion was the perfect place for a sleepover. Spacious, private, and with a bed big enough for all four of them to sprawl out comfortably. They had everything—snacks, video games, and absolutely no adult supervision.

Danny was trying to be normal. Casual. Totally fine despite the fact that Manny was here. In his pajamas. Being cute.

Danny was in denial mode. Hard.

And then Manny started unpacking his overnight bag.

Sam, ever observant, raised an eyebrow when she spotted a small makeup bag among his things. "You do makeup, Manny?" she asked, trying to sound casual but failing just slightly.

Manny grinned, eyes twinkling. "I’m flattered you think my eyes look this perfect naturally."

Danny short-circuited for a second.

Sam pounced. "Okay, this definitely means I get to do goth makeup on you," she declared, hopping off the bed and immediately pulling a large kit from her vanity.

Manny lit up with far too much enthusiasm. "Oh, hell yes. Can we do, like, the rocker emo goth look instead of the more traditional stuff?"

Sam tried not to look too smug but absolutely failed. "I think I can manage."

Danny blinked.

Since when did Manny know about different goth aesthetics?

Manny, meanwhile, started pulling out some of his own products. "Okay, here’s the stuff that’ll match my skin, because I am definitely not white."

All three of them laughed at that, and Danny forced himself to focus on setting up his Switch with Tucker, not on the fact that Manny was somehow more attractive while talking about foundation shades.

Danny and Tucker settled into a game while Manny and Sam gleefully did each other’s makeup, whispering and laughing like they were plotting something (which they probably were).

Then—

"We’re done!" Manny announced proudly.

Danny and Tucker looked up, and Danny froze.

Sam looked good—her usual makeup was already dark, but the tweaks Manny made softened it, giving her a different, almost softer edge.

Tucker grinned. "I like how Manny did your makeup, Sam. It’s different and cute!"

Sam flushed, twirling a strand of hair. "Thanks."

Manny pouted. "What about me?"

Danny, still processing, blinked. "Oh! Uh—" He coughed, trying to will away the warmth creeping up his face. "You look really good. Rocker’s a good look for you. You should send a picture to Frida."

Manny bounced, instantly grabbing his phone. "Oh, you’re right!" He snapped a quick selfie, fired off a message, then turned back with a grin. "Your turn!"

Danny’s entire soul left his body. "Uh? What?"

"Yeah!" Manny gestured wildly. "We all have to look goth and fabulous now."

Sam perked up. "Oh! I get to do yours, Tucker!"

Tucker sighed dramatically but was already sitting up. "You act like you’ve never done it before."

Sam beamed and immediately got to work.

Danny, meanwhile, was trying so hard to fight the big, pleading puppy eyes Manny was throwing at him.

He lost.

"Fine," Danny grumbled, sitting up as Manny cheered victoriously.

Danny closed his eyes as Manny started, relaxing as gentle fingers brushed against his skin, blending, smudging, fixing. The feeling was soothing in a way Danny didn’t expect.

It wasn’t fair.

Because now Danny was fully aware of Manny—his warmth, his touch, the way he hummed softly while working. And worse, he liked it.

Manny pulled back. "Done!"

Danny blinked open his eyes.

Manny froze.

Sam and Tucker both paused.

Danny frowned. "What?"

Manny’s expression shifted slightly, concern flickering behind his golden eyes. "Uh… you okay? Your eyes are glowing."

Danny blinked again. "Huh?"

Manny scratched the back of his neck, looking a little awkward. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, actually make you mad or something."

Danny tilted his head, confused. "I’m not mad."

But then he caught his reflection in the massive vanity mirror Sam had.

And yeah. His eyes were glowing.

Danny froze.

"Oh," he muttered. "I… huh. Must be more worked up than I thought."

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look.

"Are you sure they only glow when you’re mad?" Manny asked cautiously.

Danny shrugged. "I think so? But I’m decidedly not mad right now."

Sam squinted. "Weird."

Tucker hummed. "Suspicious."

Danny, desperately trying to ignore the way his heart was currently trying to punch through his ribcage, cleared his throat. "Anyway! What’s next? We watching a movie? Playing something? What’s the plan?"

Sam smirked. "Oh, we definitely have to play a game now."

Manny, fully back to being excited, perked up. "Ohhh, Mario Kart? Because I will destroy you all."

Danny sighed in relief, eager for any distraction from whatever just happened. "You wish, Rivera."

As they all settled in, Sam leaned closer to Tucker, muttering just loud enough for him to hear:

"Did you see how fast he started glowing?"

Tucker snickered. "Oh, yeah. He’s so screwed."

Danny had no idea what they were whispering about. But he was pretty sure he didn’t like it.

After a brutal Mario Kart session, Sam had whooped everyone’s asses in every single race.

Tucker and Danny weren’t even surprised—Sam was stupidly good at video games, and Manny, new to their usual gaming nights, took every loss deeply personally. He whined dramatically the entire way back to the bed, flopping onto it with a loud groan of defeat.

Danny, on the other hand, was already half asleep and barely made it onto Sam’s oversized bed before melting into the mattress.

Manny, of course, had to be extra about it, throwing himself onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. "I have been betrayed by my own reflexes."

Sam rolled her eyes but smirked, settling in next to Tucker, who immediately rested his head in her lap. She started playing with his hair, massaging his scalp like it was routine.

Danny, content and sleep-heavy, grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders with a pleased sigh.

Then Manny scooted closer.

Danny barely even registered it as Manny snuck under the blanket, pressing in against his side and resting his head on Danny’s shoulder.

Danny hummed in contentment.

Sam chuckled, eyes flickering over to him. "You’re glowing again, Danny."

Danny blinked at her sleepily. "’m not."

Manny leaned in, voice warm with amusement. "Yeah, you are."

There was a beat. Then, casually, he added, "But you’re also purring. Are you a broken cat?"

Danny, too tired to properly process that, scrunched his nose. "I’m not mad and purring at the same time—what?"

And then Manny gasped.

With a sudden burst of realization, he grabbed both sides of Danny’s face, smushing his cheeks slightly as he grinned. "You glow when you’re really happy!"

Danny froze. His brain buffered.

And then his face burned.

Sam, ever the agent of chaos, hummed thoughtfully. "Oh yeah, totally. It just got brighter."

Danny groaned, trying and failing to hide in the blanket.

Manny grinned even wider, practically vibrating. "Something you wanna tell me, Fantasma?"

Still sleepy and soft, Danny mumbled before he could think, "I… yeah, I’m happier when you’re around."

Manny squeaked.

Actually squeaked.

"Oh wow," he breathed, looking absolutely thrilled. "I’m going to make it my life’s goal to make you glow as much as possible!"

Danny groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I’m not going to survive that."

Manny just laughed and snuggled in closer, grinning to himself as Danny’s eyes continued to softly glow in the dim light of the room.

Sam and Tucker?

They just exchanged a very knowing look.

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 21

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

Summer in Chicago Freshman -> Sophomore Year, Part 2

~ the one in which they finally use the strap~

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

The next few days passed in a kind of summer-lit hush.

They didn’t talk about the grocery store. Or what happened after.

Not out loud. Not in any direct way.

But Kate reached for Caitlin’s hand a little more often in public after that — firm, confident, like she didn’t care who saw. And Caitlin let her. Sometimes she even squeezed back.

They slipped into a rhythm. A domestic, ridiculous, oddly graceful rhythm.

Coffee shops on weekday mornings, Caitlin curled up in the corner of some neighborhood spot with her journal open and her feet tucked under her. Kate would swing by on her lunch break when she could, just to sit across from her and steal her last sip of iced coffee.

Laundry days — Caitlin folding shirts with a chaotic method that made Kate itch, Kate organizing socks like it was a science. Their clothes mixed now, indistinguishable in the basket. They smelled like the same detergent. Like each other.

—------

The lake house belonged to Monika’s cousin. Or maybe her aunt. No one was entirely sure. What mattered was that it sat an hour and a half outside the city, tucked just off a private inlet on the Michigan side, with a rickety dock and two canoes and a back deck that faced the water like it was built for secrets.

The place was half-rustic, half-chaotic. Wood-paneled walls. A lofted second floor where you could hear every creak. One of those stone fireplaces no one knew how to use. The fridge was always too full — beer, cut-up watermelon, pasta salad in plastic tubs — and someone always forgot to pack ice. There was one bathroom. Maybe two. But somehow it worked.

They were going for the long weekend. July 3rd through the 6th. Gabby had started planning outfits like it was Coachella. McKenna swore she wasn’t sharing a room with anyone who talked in her sleep. Monika claimed the couch early and brought backup sunscreen like a mother hen.

Kate was the one who told Caitlin about it.

She did it while sitting on the windowsill in their apartment, one leg pulled up, hair still damp from the shower. Caitlin was halfway through a stack of towels, when Kate said, casually: “We’re going to Michigan next weekend.”

Caitlin blinked. “We?”

Kate shrugged. “The team. You. Me.”

Caitlin paused. “Like… everyone?”

Kate grinned. “Jada. Mon. Gabs. McKenna, Kylie, maybe Sydney. It’s tradition. Lake house, Fourth of July, too much food, someone gets sunburned. Gabby makes us play drinking games she cheats at. Jada brings a speaker that’s too loud. Last year, Monika jumped off the roof into the lake.”

Caitlin laughed, folding another towel. “Sounds illegal.”

“It is,” Kate said. “But fun.”

She hesitated, then glanced over. “You’re okay with it?”

Caitlin stopped mid-fold. “What do you mean?”

Kate shook her head, gentle. “With… us. There. Around them. It’s not like the city. Smaller space. Fewer exits. Less room to stay quiet about… this.”

She didn’t have to say it out loud. Caitlin felt the weight of it between them. The way her hand always lingered a second too long. The way they curled into each other at night, but still stepped apart when the world watched.

Caitlin put down the towel. Walked over. Let her hands slide into the loose fabric of Kate’s T-shirt where it pooled at her hips. "I don’t want to keep flipping the switch. Not around them.”

Kate breathed in like the floor might shift beneath her.

Caitlin leaned in closer. “I’m serious. I want to be us. For real. I want to kiss you when I feel like it. Hold your hand when I’m buzzed and in love. I want to be yours even if they're watching.”

A beat passed. Kate’s hands came up — slow, reverent — to cradle her waist. “That’s… that’s big, Caitlin.”

“I know,” she whispered. “It feels big. But it feels right too. I just can’t—” she broke off, flushed but sure. “I can’t keep my hands off you, Kate. Not in a bikini. Not in this heat. Not now. Not ever.”

“Jesus.” Kate laughed, breathless. “You sure?” she asked.

Caitlin stood, walked over. Rested her chin on Kate’s shoulder. “I’m sure, I love you.”

—-

They decided to tell the team before the trip.

Not because they owed anyone. Not because it needed a title. But because showing up hand-in-hand after a year of ducking questions and dodging glances felt… wrong. Like starting something true with a lie still sitting in the passenger seat.

The group FaceTime was chaotic from the jump. McKenna was propped on her bed, polishing off a can of Spindrift. Gabby had them on speaker while trying on three different tube tops in the background. Monika was walking in the city somewhere, her camera facing up at the trees. Jada joined late and promptly announced she would only be at the lake house if someone else packed sunscreen and nobody made her eat soggy pasta salad. Kylie was putting on lipstick to go out on the call.

Kate leaned into Caitlin’s side on the couch, brushing their knees. “You can say it, if you want.”

Caitlin looked down at her hands. “I know.”

Kate waited.

Gabby was still talking about lake floats when Caitlin finally cut in.

“Hey,” she said, too loud at first. Then again, quieter: “Hey.”

Everyone turned toward the screen. Or as close to it as FaceTime allowed.

“I just—before we’re all crammed into one house with too many chips and no working air conditioning,” she said, “I wanted to say something.”

McKenna smiled. Gabby paused mid-outfit change. Kylie leaned into frame. Jada blinked.

Caitlin took a breath. “Me and Kate… we’re together.”

Silence.

She bit her lip. “Like. For real. Girlfriend, girlfriends, together”

Gabby held up a sock like it was a mic. “Breaking news!”

McKenna cheered. “Finally!”

Jada tilted her head. “Wait — when did this start?”

“Uh…” Caitlin hesitated. “Depends who you ask.”

“Y’all had me out here thinking Caitlin just had separation anxiety after practice,” said Kylie, head back laughing.

Caitlin flushed. “I did.”

Monika smirked. “You also kissed her in the weight room.”

Gabby gasped. “Spill.”

Kate groaned.

“We just wanted to say it,” Caitlin went on, “before the lake. So it’s not a thing. I mean—it is a thing. But not like… a drama.”

McKenna raised her can of coke. “To lesbians without secrets.”

Sydney finally smiled. “I’m happy for you guys. Really.”

Gabby grinned. “You two better be disgustingly in love all weekend. I want to see beach PDA and matching towels.”

Monika snorted. “Gabby, let them breathe.”

After they hung up, she set the phone on the table and curled back into Kate’s side.

“You okay?” Kate asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah.” Caitlin nodded. “It’s just weird. Even when people know, saying it out loud still feels like… like walking out onto a stage.”

Kate kissed her temple. “You don’t have to perform for anyone.”

“I know.” Caitlin paused. “But I do want us to be seen.”

Kate smiled against her hair. “Trust.”

And this time, Caitlin believed it.

—--

They weren’t planning to go swimsuit shopping.

Caitlin had barely finished her smoothie when Gabby burst through the front door like a human hurricane, crop top askew and phone already blasting.

“You’re disgusting,” she said by way of greeting. “It’s noon.”

Kate, sprawled half-asleep on the couch in Caitlin’s shorts and her own tank top from two nights ago, blinked. “You invited yourself over?”

“And thank God I did.” Gabby dropped her bag on the counter and turned her phone around. “Target. Swimsuits. Now.”

Kate blinked from the couch, one sock on, hair in a sad excuse for a bun. “Why?”

“Because I realized I’m not okay with being seen in last year’s bikini like some kind of medieval peasant,” Gabby announced. “Also? We need matching energy. Top-tier thirst traps. I’m bringing the heat, and you’re not dragging us down.”

Kate groaned. “It’s a Friday afternoon... I had so much at work this week”

“No one’s there. Prime dressing room chaos window.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “You seriously need more swimsuits?”

Gabby pointed at them both. “You’re in love. You’re annoying. If I have to spend a full weekend with the two of you wrapped around each other on a dock like a couple of lake-dwelling sea otters, I’m at least gonna look hot.”

Christian squinted. “Why the dock?”

Gabby was already halfway to the door. “Let’s go.”

The Target swimwear section looked like it had survived a minor earthquake. Racks tipped at odd angles. Hangers askew. A sign overhead read FINAL SALE in letters that felt vaguely ominous.

Kate picked up a red bikini top with ties at the shoulders. Held it up in front of Caitlin. “This.”

Caitlin looked at it. Then at her. “This is not enough fabric.”

“You’ll make it look like art.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes and grabbed something black and sporty. “This is fine.”

Gabby yanked it from her hands. “This is what you wear to lifeguard your little cousin’s pool party. Try again.”

A few chaotic minutes later, Caitlin stood in the dressing room with a pile of options and no sense of what she’d agreed to.

She tried on the red one first.

String-tied. Triangle-cut. No business being in public.

When she stepped out, Kate dropped the tank top she was holding.

“Oh my god,” she said. Quiet. Honest. Wrecked.

Caitlin tugged the straps. “Too much?”

Kate’s eyes dragged over her like she was cataloguing every exposed inch.

“I’d marry you right now,” she said.

Gabby, sitting on a bench and flipping through a clearance rack catalog like it was a fashion magazine, didn’t look up. “Gross. Do it after the Fourth.”

Caitlin flushed, chose not to be aware of the parts of her body that felt awkward, deciding to keep her eyes locked in Kate's stare instead: “Okay, your turn.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Caitlin crossed her arms. “Unless you’re scared.”

That did it.

Kate vanished into a stall and emerged two minutes later in a black bikini so small it looked like it had been ordered from a website that didn’t offer returns.

Caitlin forgot how to breathe.

It wasn’t just that it fit her like a sin. It was the way she stood there, cocky and proud, all muscle and mischief and bare skin.

Gabby stood. “Okay, I’m leaving before you two spontaneously combust.”

She disappeared. Caitlin grabbed Kate by the wrist and yanked her back into the stall.

They didn’t buy anything.

But Kate left the store with a smug grin and Caitlin didn’t stop blushing until they hit the parking lot.

—

They ditched Gabby outside Target with a vague promise to “circle back,” which Gabby immediately clocked as a lie.

Kate didn’t ask where they were going. Just followed when Caitlin tugged her hand and said, “C’mon.”

The train ride was quiet. Caitlin bounced her knee. Checked her phone. Checked it again. Kate watched her from the side, one brow raised, like she was trying to puzzle her out without spooking her.

“You rob a bank or something?” Kate asked eventually.

Caitlin blinked. “What?”

“You’re jumpy.”

“I am not.” Beat. “Okay, I am.”

Kate leaned in. “Why?”

Caitlin chewed her lip. “Because I want to do something, with you, today”

“Superstar.” Caitlin looked up. “Just say it.”

So she did.

“There’s a shop. Kind of sex-y. Queer-y. Chicago-y.”

Kate blinked. “Sex-y.”

“And cute!” Caitlin added. “I looked it up. It has a mission statement. And air conditioning.”

Kate smiled, slow and surprised. “You want to go?”

“I do,” Caitlin said, then muttered, “I think.”

Kate didn’t tease. Just took her hand and squeezed. “Then let’s go.”

The bell on the door gave a half-hearted jingle when they walked in.

It was smaller than Caitlin expected — warm lighting, soft rugs, bookshelves in one corner, and curated chaos in the rest. One wall glimmered with harnesses and silky rope in every color of the queer rainbow. Another was covered in a polite, backlit sign that read Toys for Two (or More).

Caitlin froze halfway through the doorway. Kate bumped into her from behind.

“Sorry,” Caitlin muttered. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Just… absorbing.”

“You look like you’ve seen God,” Kate whispered.

“I might,” Caitlin whispered back, reading from the package right in front of her, “Is God a ‘dual-motor rechargeable silicone vibe’?” 

Kate coughed a laugh.

They stepped deeper into the shop. Every corner revealed something new — glass dildos, strap-on starter kits, nipple clamps that looked like earrings, a rack of pun-laced enamel pins (Caitlin grabbed one that said Good Girl With Questions and tried not to combust).

They wandered through the shelves slowly. Caitlin didn’t touch anything for the first five minutes. Then she picked up a small red box and said, “What’s a bullet?”

Kate looked like she might combust.

“I mean, I know what it is,” Caitlin said quickly. “But why’s it waterproof?”

“Shower sex,” said the employee behind the counter helpfully, not looking up from their crossword.

“Oh,” Caitlin said. “Good to know.”

Kate leaned in. “You’re adorable.”

“You’re pink.”

Kate groaned.

“So,” Caitlin said under her breath. “Is this like a one-way aisle situation? Are we browsing clockwise? Is there a map?”

“No map,” Kate said. “But I respect your commitment to logistics.”

Caitlin wandered over to a wall of plugs. She squinted, and stopped in front of a pink box with cursive writing and a suspiciously cheerful diagram.

“Okay,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “This one has… a remote?”

Kate leaned over her shoulder, glanced at the packaging, and grinned. “Yup.”

Caitlin squinted. “Like… TV remote? Change-the-channel remote?”

Kate laughed. “I mean, the metaphor holds.”

Caitlin turned the box over. “You’ve used these?”

Kate scratched her neck, suddenly interested in a nearby bottle of lube. “Maybe.”

Caitlin whipped around. “Kate.”

Kate sighed, mock dramatic. “Once. At a dinner party.”

Caitlin’s jaw dropped. “A what?”

Kate shrugged, trying to look innocent. “It was a birthday. There was wine. I didn’t wear....”

“Oh my God,” Caitlin whispered, half-horrified, half-impressed.

Kate leaned closer, voice low in her ear. “You wanna try it?”

Caitlin made a strangled sound and turned beet red. “Not in public!”

“Yet,” Kate said, smirking.

Caitlin groaned and buried her face in a sequined blindfold. “I'll never survive this store.”

Kate kissed her cheek, soft and amused. “You’re doing amazing, baby.”

They kept going. Past paddles, past books, past a very shiny mirror positioned suspiciously low to the floor.

Caitlin pointed. “Okay but why is that there?”

“Some people,” Kate said carefully, “like to watch.”

Caitlin blinked. Then laughed. “God. We’re barely keeping up with the mirror in our bedroom.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes but squeezed Kate’s hand.

Caitlin steeled herself, took a breath, and turned the corner into the next aisle like it might bite her. Shelves stacked high. Lace and leather and silicone and… was that a literal whip?

She stopped short.

“Okay,” she said, not quite blinking. “Why is there a leash attached to this?”

Kate peeked over her shoulder. “That’s a collar.”

“I got that part.”

Kate tried to keep a straight face. “Some people like being walked.”

Caitlin blinked slowly. “Like… as a concept or like… leashed?”

Kate paused. “Yes.”

Caitlin picked up the box. Put it down immediately. “Okay. Okay. I support them. I’m just not there yet.”

Kate bit back a grin. “Not my thing either.”

They kept moving. Caitlin ran her fingers across a shelf of vibrators, like she was afraid they’d start vibrating on contact. Her hand landed on a pair of soft, leather cuffs — simple ones. Nothing flashy. Black with gold buckles, soft-lined on the inside.

Eventually, they made it to the strap-on wall.

There were so many.

Too many.

Rows and rows of silicone, leather, metal rings, packaging with names like Kingpin, Velvet Rider, Le Petit Mort. There was one shaped like a lightning bolt. Another had actual pearls along the shaft. A display lit from behind read STRAP ON CENTRAL in bold font that screamed we dare you.

“This is like Build-a-Bear for gay panic,” Caitlin whispered.

She stood in front of a shelf of soft-looking harnesses and sleek, colorful dildos in every size imaginable. There was one with glitter. One that glowed in the dark. One shaped like a tentacle.

Caitlin stopped cold. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m not ready.”

Kate, deadpan: “You were born ready.”

Caitlin turned to face her, eyes wide. “Kate. One of them has a suction cup. For vertical surfaces.”

Kate bit her lip. “That’s what you focused on?”

“There is a tentacle one!” Caitlin hissed, dragging her in front of the shelf. “This one looks like it came out of a science fiction movie.”

“It did,” Kate said. “It’s called Mutant Romance. I read the reviews.”

Caitlin turned beet red. “You read the reviews?!”

“I prepare.”

Kate didn’t hover. She stayed close, but let Caitlin take the lead — let her touch things, laugh too hard, say “nope!” with alarming speed to anything over seven inches. One box Caitlin picked up came with remote controls. She turned it around and whispered, “Why does it have an app?”

“For long distance,” Kate said.

Eventually, they landed on one Caitlin liked. Small. Curved. Dusky pink with a soft matte texture and just enough firmness to feel serious. She ran her fingers over the ridges like it might hum back. “This one feels like… not scary.”

Kate nodded. “That’s a good one. It’s flexible. Easy to angle. Nice shape.”

Caitlin was still staring at it. “How do you… I mean. Where does it…”

Kate took the box from her and turned it around. “There’s a slot in the harness. It slides in here.” She tapped a diagram. “Some are built-in, but this one pops out.”

Caitlin reached for a matching harness. Black with silver stitching. Sleek. Adjustable. “What about this?”

Kate’s voice dropped an octave. “That’s perfect.”

But Caitlin hesitated. Box in one hand. Strap in the other. Still quiet. Still chewing her cheek a little.

“You okay?” Kate asked.

“I just…” Caitlin glanced up. “Back when we first talked about this, you said it was about feeling full. Like being connected. Like—being inside someone could feel good for both of them.”

Kate nodded, a little slowly.

“So…” Caitlin turned. Walked over to the other side of the wall. Picked up a box labeled Dual Stimulation: Internal Wearer Vibe. The packaging was sleek. The toy inside curved upward in a way that made Caitlin blush just looking at it. “Would this… make you feel good?”

Kate blinked.

Caitlin held it tighter. “Because I want that. I want you to feel it when I’m inside you. I want you to—God, this sounds so crazy —feel me. Like all of me.”

Kate just stared at her for a beat too long. Then: “Clark.”

Caitlin looked up. “Too much?”

“No.” Kate stepped forward. Voice wrecked. “You’re just trying to kill me in public.”

Caitlin smiled. “You like it.”

“I love it.”

“Should we get it? Both?”

“Yes.”

Caitlin tucked it under her arm. “Anything else I should know?”

Kate gestured at the wall. “There are ones with bullet vibes for clit stimulation, if you want to give or receive more pressure. There’s lube for silicone, lube for water play, lube that heats—”

“—we’re not taking that to the lake house,” Caitlin interrupted.

And then Caitlin spotted the cuffs.

Not the scary kind. Not the cold metal kind. These were soft — deep blue, velvet-lined, with gold clips and adjustable straps. They were beautiful. Subtle. More accessory than punishment.

She picked them up. “What about these?”

Kate froze. “Do you want them?”

Caitlin still didn’t put them down. She looked up, suddenly serious. “Have you used these before?”

Kate nodded. “Yeah...”

Caitlin turned them over again. “Did you like it?”

Kate shrugged, honest now. “With the right person? Yeah. It can feel safe. Like… being held, without having to ask.”

Caitlin bit her lip. “And… being the one to hold?”

Kate’s eyes softened. “That part’s always easy with you.”

Caitlin’s ears burned. She glanced back down at the cuffs. “I think I'd want to try.”

Kate’s breath caught. Her voice dropped. “You’d let me?”

Caitlin nodded. “I’d let you.”

A beat. 

Kate took the cuffs from her gently, set them in the little black basket they’d been awkwardly carrying. “Then we will.”

They brought the basket to the counter.

The employee rang them up with zero judgment and one knowing smirk.

“First strap?” they asked.

Caitlin nodded.

“Cool,” they said. “Start with communication. End with cuddles. Lube liberally. And whatever you do—” they paused— “don’t lose the tiny allen wrench.”

Kate blinked. “The what?”

“Joking.”

Outside, the sun was starting to set. Caitlin held the bag like it was full of secrets. She was grinning. A little terrified. A lot of exhilaration.

Kate leaned in. “You did good, superstar.”

Caitlin took her hand. “Let’s go home,” she said. 

—------

The lake house looked like a postcard from another life.

Tucked at the end of a gravel road and surrounded by tall trees, it sat crooked and sprawling on the edge of Lake Michigan, all slanted porches and peeling white trim. The dock was real. The canoe was questionable. There was a tire swing hanging from a branch that probably couldn’t hold it. A faded “Welcome-ish” mat lay at the front door, half-covered in sand.

McKenna stood on the porch with her hands on her hips like she owned the place. “We’re gods now,” she declared. “Take your shoes off and lower your expectations.”

Gabby emerged from the car already in a mesh cover-up and sunglasses shaped like hearts. “First one in the lake doesn’t have to do shots.”

Kate grabbed the bags. Caitlin just stared — at the water, at the sun catching the roof, at Gabby already sprinting toward the dock like chaos personified.

She felt her stomach flutter. Not nerves. Not quite.

But close.

Kate came up beside her. Slid an arm around her waist. “Hey.”

Caitlin blinked. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

“I think so.” She leaned in, let her temple rest briefly against Kate’s. “It’s a lot.”

Kate nodded. “But it’s good.”

“It’s good,” Caitlin repeated. Then: “We’re really doing this.”

“We are.”

They hadn’t talked about how touching was okay. They didn’t need to. Caitlin reached for Kate’s hand anyway. Laced their fingers without looking. Let her thumb press into the back of Kate’s palm.

McKenna threw open the screen door. “Room assignments are Hunger Games-style. You want a bed, you better run.”

Laughter bubbled up around them as everyone moved inside. Caitlin felt the moment pulse under her ribs—this was her first time walking into a space like this as someone fully claimed. Not hidden. Not in the wings. Herself, and someone else's, too.

The first night moved fast.

The sun was still high, golden on the water. A few of them stripped down to swimsuits and jumped in right away—splashing, shrieking, daring each other to cannonball off the dock.

Caitlin stood at the edge for a moment, then peeled off her tank top. Her bikini was simple, black, and maybe a little smaller than she realized. She caught Kate looking and smirked.

"Eyes up here, Martin."

Kate didn’t look away. "No promises."

Caitlin laughed and dove in.

Hours passed like that. Lake water. Sunburn. Chips eaten straight from the bag. They piled wood for a bonfire and argued about marshmallow technique. Monika played bartender with a cooler full of hard seltzers and a questionable knowledge of mixology.

Pizza boxes appeared from somewhere. Someone put on music. Someone else found a Bluetooth speaker. Kylie, bless her soul, figured out how to connect it. Sydney started pouring cheap wine into red Solo cups like it was a competition.

They ended up out by the lake just before sunset — swimsuits on, sweatshirts half-zipped, feet bare. A speaker thumped somewhere behind them. The dock creaked. Fireflies blinked low near the grass.

Caitlin sat between Kate’s legs in an oversized hoodie that didn’t belong to her, damp hair curling at her temples, knees pulled to her chest.

It was Jada who started it. “Okay,” she said, pointing her stick at Caitlin and Kate. “So now that we’ve all collectively recovered from the trauma of being lied to for, like, an entire season—”

“Oh my God,” Caitlin groaned.

"You two," she said, waving her cup. 

Caitlin blinked. "Us?"

"Yeah. You and our fearless captain over here."

Kate made a noise of protest. Kylie snorted. "You're not slick."

"No," Gabby said, leaning forward, warm and grinning. "But you're cute. And I love it."

Caitlin flushed. "Thanks."

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so when did this start? Like start start.”

Kate glanced at Caitlin, then back. "Since Halloween. Kind of. It was always building."

Kate rubbed the back of her neck. “Um. October?”

Monika choked on her beer. “OCTOBER?”

Gabby threw her marshmallow dramatically into the fire. “That’s homophobic.”

Caitlin turned bright red. “We weren’t dating dating then.”

“You weren’t not dating,” McKenna said.

Monika raised a brow. "And the tunnel vision in practice makes so much more sense."

Kylie, who’d been quiet most of the evening, looked over with a small, teasing smile. “So all those times I asked if you two were a thing and you said what? no, that was…?”

“An emotional support delusion,” Gabby supplied. “For our benefit.”

Kate groaned. “We were figuring it out.”

“We didn’t want to ruin the team dynamic,” Caitlin added.

“You’re fine,” Jada said, cutting through the teasing. Her voice was calm, but firm. “We’re not mad. Okay, maybe we are,” she added, shooting them a look. “But like… not in a real way.”

“Exactly,” Monika said. “We love you guys. You were gonna tell us when you were ready. That’s how this works.”

Sydney wiggled her eyebrows. “Also, you make a stupidly hot couple, so.”

Caitlin blinked. “You—”

Gabby waved her hand. “Please. You think I didn’t notice the way you stared at her during film review? Or the fact that Kate was suddenly folding your warmups for you?”

“I just like neatness!” Kate protested.

“You like her,” McKenna said, throwing a piece of popcorn at her.

Kate caught it. Popped it in her mouth. “Yeah. I do.”

The teasing quieted then, just for a second. The fire crackled. The lake whispered behind them. Caitlin looked around — at her friends, her teammates, all of them glowing in the firelight, sun-drunk and laughing and still here.

“I was scared,” she said quietly.

Nobody interrupted her.

Caitlin looked down at her hands. “I didn’t want to be treated different. Or make things weird. Or have the world or my parents find out and make it a thing.”

“They still don’t know?” Jada asked.

Kate shook her head.

Sydney nodded, slowly. “That makes sense.”

“You don’t owe anyone your whole heart,” Monika said, voice soft now. “But I’m glad we get to see it.”

Gabby leaned her head on McKenna’s shoulder. “You’re adorable Caitlin. And I love it. But if you two start making out on the dock, I will spray you with lake water.”

Caitlin laughed, full and real.

Jada chimed in, voice softer. "We get it, you know. About not saying anything. Coach would've had a meltdown. But I just want to say—I'm happy for you. You look... really happy."

Caitlin looked up. The firelight flickered across Jada's face, her smile steady.

"I am," Caitlin said. Voice quiet. Honest. "I really am."

Kate kissed her hair. Nobody flinched.

Gabby raised her drink. "To soft gay shit and aggressive cannonballs."

They all toasted.

Caitlin exhaled. Her hand found Kate's over the blanket. Their fingers tangled.

No hiding. Not tonight.

—--------

The Fourth started slow — the kind of slow that comes after a night of half-drunk toasts and late dock confessions, when everyone wakes up sticky with lake sweat and sunscreen residue.

Sydney was the only one functioning before 9 a.m., doing sun salutations on the porch like she hadn’t split two bottles of wine with Monika the night before.

Gabby decided to wake everyone by blasting "Party in the USA" from a waterproof speaker she duct-taped to the cooler. Kylie retaliated by throwing an entire wet towel on her head. 

Kate stretched in the twin bed they’d claimed as theirs and reached for the empty space beside her. Warm. Abandoned. Traitor.

She stumbled into the kitchen still in her sports bra and sleep shorts and found Caitlin crouched on the counter, eating raspberries out of a tupperware with her fingers. Her hair was wild. Her face was glowing. She looked so stupidly alive Kate nearly forgot how to form words.

“You’re up,” Caitlin said, lips red.

“You left me,” Kate muttered, stepping between her knees like it was a gravitational law.

“I was hungry.” Caitlin popped another raspberry. “And Monika made eggs.”

“You two soundproof that room or just pray for deaf teammates?”

Caitlin, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, blinked. “What?”

Kate groaned and went over to give Caitlin a soft morning hug, kissing her shoulder, and running her hands down her arms softly. “Please. Stop talking.”

By ten, the whole house smelled like heat and bug spray. Music played from someone’s speaker — a Fourth of July playlist McKenna swore she didn’t make (she absolutely did). There were bowls of pretzels and a half-defrosted pie on the counter. Jada was in charge of grilling, which meant absolutely nothing would happen until after two.

Caitlin floated through it all like a girl who had nowhere to be and nothing to hide. She stood barefoot on the deck, wearing the red bikini top and cutoff shorts, eating a popsicle like she didn’t know what it was doing to Kate’s central nervous system. Kate wore her black bikini and a backwards Cubs hat. Her hair was messy and blonde and glowing in the sunlight.

Eventually, the whole group had migrated out to the water. Floaties bobbed in the shallows. McKenna organized an unhinged game of beer frisbee. Gabby wore a stars-and-stripes bikini she absolutely should not have been allowed to purchase. The lake shimmered under a too-blue sky.

Jada set up a net for volleyball. Sydney refused to play unless someone explained the rules, and McKenna threw water balloons at anyone who got too serious.

Kate leaned in the doorway, frozen.

Every time Caitlin bent to grab something from the cooler, Kate’s brain stalled. When she stretched her arms over her head, laughing with Kylie about who could do the most cannonballs, Kate had to walk away. Literally. She walked into the house to cool off. Twice.

Gabby elbowed her. “You’re staring like she invented gravity.”

Kate didn’t even blink. “She might have.”

“Get a grip,” Monika muttered, watching her return with another bag of ice.

“I’m trying,” Kate whispered. “It’s not working.”

Lunch was grilled hot dogs and chips straight from the bag. Gabby had brought a bottle of terrible ketchup shaped like a bald eagle. McKenna made everyone wear temporary tattoos. Caitlin ended up with a sparkler on her thigh and the word “FREEDOM” written in glitter across her shoulder blade.

“I hate this,” she said, biting into a chip.

Kate licked ketchup off her thumb. “You look incredible saying that.”

Caitlin flushed and shoved her gently with her knee. “Stop.”

“Make me.”

Gabby caught it and groaned. “Oh my God, not this again.”

“What?” Kate asked, grinning like a menace.

“The tension,” Gabby said. “It’s like watching a CW show on 2x speed. Are you gonna jump her or keep fake-flirting like we’re all blind?”

McKenna chimed in from the deck. “We should just install a warning bell. Like a horny weather alert.”

Kate leaned back, cool as ever. “I am not the problem here.”

Caitlin pointed at her with her lemonade. “Lies.”

Kylie laughed so hard she nearly snorted her drink.

It kept going in the pool.

The water was warm from the sun and full of foam noodles. Caitlin sat on the edge with her legs in the water, hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot.

Kate floated nearby, arms hooked over a raft, watching her.

“You’ve got a tan line,” Kate said, voice low.

Caitlin glanced down. “Where?”

Kate reached out, brushed a finger along her collarbone. “Right here.”

Caitlin didn’t move. Just met her eyes.

Kate’s hand stayed a little too long.

“You good?” Caitlin asked, voice soft now.

“I’m—yeah,” Kate said, suddenly breathless. “You’re just distracting.”

The joint came out late afternoon. Courtesy of Gabby, smuggled in a mint tin and lit with a tiki torch lighter.

It was Caitlin’s idea. Or rather, Caitlin saying, “I mean, I’ve never really done it,” and Gabby going “WHAT” loud enough to draw stares from a family homes docks over.

She looked at Kate.

Kate raised her eyebrows. Your call.

“Okay,” Gabby announced, already perched on a pool float like she was in a shampoo commercial. “Time to liberate your minds. Pass it left.”

Caitlin looked at it like it might bite her.

“You don’t have to,” Kate said quickly. “Seriously.”

Caitlin took the joint. Rolled it between her fingers. “No,” she said. “I want to.”

Kate watched her. Slow.

Caitlin took a hit. Coughed. Took another.

And then—

Then she laughed.

High, airy, full-body joy. Her whole face lit up. She leaned back against the deck railing, one leg draped over Kate’s thigh, hair falling in her face.

McKenna wheezed. Gabby clapped. “Welcome to the dark side.”

Fifteen minutes later, Caitlin was perched on a flamingo float, giggling uncontrollably, red plastic cup hanging from her fingers. Kate was in the water, arms propped on the float’s side with a cold beer in hand, watching her like a girl possessed. Her legs trailed in the water. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and soft. She reached for Kate’s hand without thinking — thumb brushing her wrist, lazy and warm and so, so hers, and gave her the quickest kiss.

“You good?” Kate asked.

Caitlin blinked slowly. “I just had a thought.”

Kate braced herself. “Yeah?”

“Grapes are basically nature’s candy. Like… fruit candy. But healthy.”

Kate wheezed. “Are you—are you having a revelation about grapes?”

Caitlin nodded solemnly. “And also about time.”

“You’re so high,” Kate said, grinning.

“I’m fine,” Caitlin said. “Totally fine. I just… can’t feel my feet.”

“You’re sitting.”

“Exactly.”

Gabby floated by and dropped a pair of cheap sunglasses on Caitlin’s head. “You’re a vibe, Clark.”

Caitlin beamed. “Thank you.”

Kate climbed up onto the dock, dripping wet, hair slicked back, and watched Caitlin spin a lazy circle on the float.

“She’s glowing,” Monika said, coming up beside her.

“She’s killing me,” Kate said.

And Caitlin, oblivious, toasted the sky with her cup and shouted: “I LOVE WOMEN.”

McKenna strolled by in a cowboy hat and board shorts. “We’re starting cornhole in twenty. No crybabies, no excuses, no mercy.”

“I’m gonna destroy you,” Caitlin said, swaying slightly but fiercely.

“You can’t even spell cornhole right now,” Kylie called.

“I can spell your mom,” Caitlin replied.

The entire porch groaned.

Kate couldn’t stop looking at her. Her skin was flushed from the sun, her mouth shiny from watermelon slices, her laugh bigger than it had ever been. There was nothing hidden. Nothing held back. She was barefoot and buoyant, her hand slipping into Kate’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

By early evening, the buzz was mellow.

Someone had started the grill. There was music playing low from someone’s speaker. Sydney was asleep in a hammock. Monika was painting tiny flags on people’s fingernails. Caitlin had melted into Kate’s lap, cheek on her thigh, giggling whenever her foot got tickled by grass.

“You’re handsy,” Kate said softly, brushing her fingers along Caitlin’s arm.

“I’m needy,” Caitlin replied. “It’s hot. You’re hot. I’m high. This is a problem.”

Kate kissed her forehead. “We should cool off.”

Caitlin tilted her head. “How?”

Kate nodded toward the side of the house. “Outdoor shower.”

Caitlin blinked. “That’s real?”

“Apparently. Monika’s dad installed it last summer.”

A long pause. Caitlin sat up, slow, deliberate. The flush in her cheeks deepened. Her eyes were wide, blown, still a little glazed.

“Five minutes,” she said. “Meet me there.”

Kate’s stomach dropped.

Caitlin stood, bare feet on the grass, hair wild, bikini riding low on her hips.

She didn’t look back.

Kate stood up so fast she knocked over her drink.

And the sun was still setting.

And the dock was still quiet.

And somewhere — just out of sight — the outdoor shower waited.

—

The shower stood behind the house, tucked near the edge of the trees — a crooked wooden stall with a slatted door and hooks for towels. Ivy crept up the side. The water knob looked like it might snap off with too much enthusiasm.

Caitlin was already there when Kate arrived.

She stood barefoot on the wooden platform, back turned, her red bikini bottom tugged just slightly higher than necessary, her top tied messily behind her neck. The sun filtered through the leaves, striping her bare skin in gold. Her hair was wet. Or maybe sweat-damp. Kate couldn’t tell. Her brain wasn’t working properly.

“Hey,” Caitlin said, without turning.

Kate’s voice caught. “Hi.”

“You took too long.”

Kate stepped inside. Let the door creak shut behind her. “You did that on purpose.”

Caitlin turned to face her. Smiled. A little crooked. A little dizzy.

“I’m high,” she said. “Which means I’m brave. Which means you’re in so much trouble.”

Kate’s pulse stuttered. “That right?”

Caitlin stepped forward, slow and sure, crowding her against the side of the stall. The water hadn’t been turned on yet. The heat between them was nothing but summer itself.

“I’ve been watching you watch me all day,” Caitlin murmured, fingers brushing up under the hem of Kate’s top. “You’re obsessed.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

Caitlin grinned. “And you like it.”

Kate surged forward — hand on her waist, mouth on her collarbone, teeth dragging along skin still warm from the sun. Caitlin gasped and arched into it, as her back hit the wood shower wall with a thud, breath knocked out of her from the kiss and the high and the sheer ridiculousness of how badly she wanted Kate.

“You’re mine,” Kate whispered against her skin. “You think I didn’t know what you were doing all day? The flirting? The fucking giggling?”

Caitlin’s breath hitched. “Maybe I wanted to be caught.”

Steam curled around them, thick and heady. Kate turned the knob and water ran hot down their spines. Her hands were already beneath Caitlin’s thighs, lifting, spreading, gripping like she’d die if she let go.

Kate growled — actually growled — and pressed their hips together. Caitlin moaned, short and sharp, biting her lip.

“You’re so hot when you’re wet,” Kate said, voice low, fingers pushing between the tiny piece of fabric that sat middle Caitlin’s thighs. “Which… you are. Apparently”

Caitlin tipped her head back against the wood, whimpering when Kate’s mouth found her throat and her fingers pushed into her wetness. Her fingers dug into Kate’s shoulders, dragging her closer, rocking her hips forward.

The world narrowed to steam and skin.

Water trickled down their shoulders, their stomachs, the backs of their knees. The stall filled with soft moans — the sound, the heat, the wet slap of skin to skin. Caitlin tugged Kate’s bikini top off and kissed down her neck, slow and hungry, and Kate returned the favor.

Their bare chests felt the remaining rays of sun on them. Kate pressed Caitlin against the wooden wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other slipping between their bodies.

“Tell me,” Kate rasped.

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered. “What?”

“What you want.”

And then, breath catching, body arching, Caitlin said — loud, unfiltered, full of pure chaos:

“I want you to fuck me so good I forget how to dribble.”

Kate froze.

Just for a beat.

She dropped her head into Caitlin’s shoulder, laughing and moaning all at once. “You are… deranged.”

Caitlin grinned, wild and proud. “Still hot though, right?”

Kate lifted her head, eyes dark. “So hot I’m about to lose my scholarship.”

“Then do it,” Caitlin whispered. “Make me forget everything but you.”

Kate did.

She backed Caitlin gently into the wall, water slicking down her back, her chest, her thighs. The wood was warm from the sun and the heat in Caitlin’s body made everything else irrelevant. She couldn’t tell if she was shaking from the weed, the want, or the way Kate was looking at her like she’d never wanted anything more.

“Okay,” Caitlin said, eyes wide, dazed. “Wait. No. Okay—yeah.”

Kate laughed under her breath. “You high?”

“I don’t know what gravity is anymore,” Caitlin whispered. “I think I’m levitating.”

Kate kissed her. Hard. Sure. Her hands slid under Caitlin’s ass, lifted her just slightly, enough for Caitlin to hook a leg around her hip and moan into her mouth.

The water streamed over them. Kate dropped lower — slow — until she was kneeling. Until Caitlin’s thigh was slung over her shoulder and Caitlin’s fingers were digging into the wood of the half-open window ledge.

"This okay, baby? Okay if I make you feel good?"

"More than okay Katie, yes, yes, please"

And when Kate’s mouth finally touched her, Caitlin almost screamed.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Oh my God, oh my GOD—”

Kate didn’t stop. Tongue slow and firm, fingers digging into the backs of Caitlin’s thighs like she could hold her together through sheer will alone.

Caitlin’s head thunked back against the wood.

She started giggling.

Kate looked up, blinking water from her lashes. “What.”

“I can’t feel my knees,” Caitlin said. “I think they left. I think they walked into the woods.”

Kate grinned, biting gently at the inside of her thigh. “Come back to me, Clark.”

“I’m trying,” Caitlin wheezed. “But your tongue is rewriting my brainstem.”

Kate groaned. “You have got to shut up.”

“Make me.”

Kate did.

She latched her tongue back on — harder this time — to Caitlin's clit. And Caitlin gasped so sharply she nearly choked. Her hand slammed against the wall. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Her body rolled forward on instinct, chasing Kate’s mouth like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.

Kate moaned against her, swiping her tongue back and fourth in circles around Caitlin's enraged clit, lightly circling her entrance with one finger. That moan — low, deep, hungry — undid something in Caitlin entirely.

“I’m gonna—oh, fuck—Kate, don’t stop, I’m—”

And then, breathless, stunned: “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna come and I think I forgot my own name—”

Kate laughed into her. “You’re such a disaster.”

“I’m a goddess,” Caitlin said, wild and glowing. “You’re the disaster.”

She came anyway, on a laugh and a gasp and a ragged, desperate sound that barely made it out of her throat. Her fingers tangled in Kate’s wet hair. Her whole body trembled.

Kate stayed with her. Licked her through it. Gentle now. Steady.

Caitlin slumped back, breathing like she’d just run suicides. Her hand fumbled down and pulled Kate up by the jaw.

Kate kissed again — deep and open and stupid with joy.

“You okay?” Kate asked, panting against her mouth.

Caitlin nodded, dazed. “I’ve never been better and also I think you taste like what I taste like."

Kate grinned. “I love you.”

Caitlin blinked at her, totally gone. “I’d commit crimes for your mouth.”

Kate wheezed.

And when they finally stumbled out — soaked, flushed, ruined, and still laughing — the group text was already blowing up:

GABBY: the shower isn’t soundproof just fyi

MONIKA: I’m charging you for emotional damages

KYLIE: Caitlin that was your outside voice babe 💀

JADA: lmaooo legends

MCKENNA: never have i EVER heard those kinds of noises before sunset

GABBY: my marshmallow burned off bc I heard the words “tongue is rewriting my brainstem”

Caitlin turned white. Then red.

“Oh my god,” she croaked.

Kate looked at the phone. Looked at her.

“Run?” she offered.

Caitlin nodded.

And they bolted — still barefoot, still soaked, still laughing like hell.

—--------

The bonfire was low and lazy by the time anyone remembered the game.

Jada brought it up first, sitting cross-legged on a lawn chair with a half-empty hard seltzer and a look of dangerous intent. “Alright,” she said. “We doing this or not?”

Gabby groaned. “Absolutely not. I know too much about all of you already.”

“That’s the point,” Monika said, dragging over a soggy beach towel and flopping down. “Come on. One round.”

Caitlin was curled up in Kate’s lap again, half-damp from the lake, sweatshirt tugged over her bikini top, hair still wet from the shower. She felt loose. Easy. The kind of full-body float that only came after good sex, too much sun, and no guilt.

“Never have I ever…” Jada paused, squinting into the dark like she was considering war crimes. “Gotten kicked out of a party for dancing on furniture.”

Gabby immediately took a sip. “That was one time.”

“Never have I ever,” Gabby said, leaning dramatically over the firepit, “hooked up in an outdoor shower and ruined a perfectly good lake house fantasy for the rest of us.”

Everyone groaned. Caitlin buried her face in Kate’s shoulder.

“I swear to God,” she mumbled. “If we make it through this weekend without being excommunicated from the team, it’ll be a miracle.”

“You brought this on yourselves,” Kylie said, sipping from her drink. “Loudly.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Kate said sweetly.

That earned a chorus of “oooohs” and a pretzel thrown at her head.

They kept playing.

Sydney admitted to stealing a stop sign in high school. Monika drank on “never have I ever hooked up with a teacher’s TA.” Caitlin and Kate lifted their cups on “made out with someone in a locker room,” and Jada very nearly fell over laughing.

The game dissolved eventually — as these things do — into dares, and dares into dares-on-dares. Someone had to eat a spoonful of mustard. Someone else had to recite their go-to hookup line using sock puppets. Gabby convinced three people to try a cartwheel in the sand, and Sydney dared everyone to get in the lake.

“Skinny dipping or bust,” she declared, already halfway to the water.

Kate leaned toward Sydney with a mock glare. “You’re really dying to see my girlfriend naked, huh?”

Sydney grinned, utterly unbothered. “I mean, if she insists on being hot…”

Caitlin turned bright red. “I hate all of you.”

“No you don’t,” Gabby called, already stripping off her shorts. “You love us. And you love a good dare.”

Kate bumped Caitlin’s hip gently. “We could just pretend to go in.”

Caitlin gave her a look. “And be mocked for the rest of our natural lives? No thanks.”

Someone handed them each a Solo cup. Caitlin sniffed it. “What is this?”

“Liquid courage,” Monika said. “Also tequila. Mostly tequila.”

Kate raised hers in a mock toast. “To peer pressure and poor decisions.”

They both drank.

Caitlin grimaced, coughed, then grinned. “Let’s go make one.”

Kate took her hand. “Skinny dipping?”

“Bust,” Caitlin confirmed, pulling off her sweatshirt.

“Live a little,” Monika shouted.

By the time they got down to the dock, it was mayhem. Sand everywhere. Gabby singing some unidentifiable pop song at full volume. Sydney trying to do a cannonball and losing her grip on her towel mid-air. Caitlin was doubled over laughing, one arm wrapped around her bare chest, the other holding Kate’s hand as they ran down the dock together.

The water was cold and perfect. They screamed as they hit it. They came up gasping, laughing, shouting nonsense into the night air.

Caitlin floated on her back. Kate swam slow circles around her. Somewhere behind them, Jada yelled something about water in her ears, and McKenna dared Gabby to do the worm on the dock.

It felt endless.

It felt like being twenty and stupid and glowing. No pressure. No coaches. Just them.

Kate made her way over the Caitlin in the water, held her, and kissed her deeply, eliciting a chorus of ooo's and inappropriate jokes from the peanut gallery.

Eventually, they all piled back onto the dock — half-wrapped in towels, half-dressed, wet hair clinging to foreheads and cheeks. The fireworks started then. First a low boom. Then another. Then the sky lit up with red and gold and electric blue.

Everyone turned to watch.

Caitlin sat beside Kate, their bare knees touching. Her heart beat slow and steady, stretched wide with everything she couldn’t say fast enough.

She glanced over. “Wanna kiss me now?”

Kate looked at her like it was the only thing she’d ever been waiting to do.

“Yeah,” she said. “I really do.”

So she did.

Caitlin tasted like lake water and beer and joy. The kiss was lazy, open-mouthed, fire-lit. Someone hooted behind them. Someone else groaned and fake gagged.

Caitlin didn’t care.

Kate leaned her forehead against hers. “Happy Fourth, superstar.”

Caitlin smiled. “Happy everything.”

And in that exact moment, she meant it.

—------

The first thing Caitlin did when they got home was throw all their laundry in one heap and fall asleep on top of it. Face down. Half in the closet.

Kate found her like that an hour later and just sighed. “You are a menace,” she murmured, crouching to untangle her girlfriend from a pair of socks and a damp Stars-and-Stripes bikini.

Caitlin didn’t even wake up.

That kind of set the tone for the rest of the week.

They were tired. Gloriously so. Sun-wrecked and waterlogged and still buzzing from how free it had felt. Caitlin barely touched her phone. Kate turned down two invites just to stay home and read on the couch with her legs draped over Caitlin’s lap. They watched stupid movies with the AC blasting and ate cereal for dinner. One night they slow-danced in the kitchen again, this time to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, and when McKenna walked in halfway through, she just saluted and walked right back out.

“You know,” Caitlin said one morning, sitting cross-legged on the counter while Kate made coffee, “I think I’m in my soft girl summer era.”

Kate blinked. “You literally threatened to kill me with a sparkler three nights ago.”

“Exactly,” Caitlin said. “Growth.”

—--------

Kate’s internship picked up speed — more hours, more paperwork, more nights where she came home with her hair tied back and her shoulders sore. Caitlin always met her at the door. Usually with takeout. Sometimes in nothing but Kate’s boxers.

Caitlin still ran every morning. She liked the lake path, the sound of her sneakers on the pavement, the way the city looked different when it was just waking up. Sometimes Kate joined her. Sometimes she just waited with two iced coffees and a clean towel and a look that said yes, I missed you, even though you were gone for 45 minutes.

They went to street fairs. Farmers markets. Cubs games where Caitlin insisted on trying every single concession food until she had to lie down in the grass outside the stadium. She tried hot yoga. Hated it. Got caught by a fan once in a Walgreens and nearly knocked over an entire stand of shampoo.

McKenna, for her part, had decided that their relationship was now her favorite show. She narrated it out loud while watching The Bachelorette on mute. “Oh, a forehead kiss,” she’d say when Caitlin leaned in. “That’s episode five material. Final four, for sure.”

—--------

They were at a friend-of-a-friend’s barbecue — one of those August summer Saturdays that smelled like sunscreen and burnt burgers, where the folding chairs sunk into patchy grass and the beer was always five degrees too warm. A Bluetooth speaker played 2010s throwbacks. Somebody was trying to light a citronella candle with a grill torch. It was chaos in denim shorts.

Caitlin hadn’t even wanted to go. But Kate had looked so smug with her backwards hat and bare legs that Caitlin had followed her out the door with no resistance and every intention of acting normal.

She lasted about fourty-five minutes.

Then she was in Kate’s lap.

Cross-legged. Smirking. Tipsy in that soft-edged way that made her feel brave. Her fingertips brushed up and down the inside of Kate’s thigh like she didn’t know what she was doing — like she hadn’t been imagining this for hours.

“You’re ridiculous,” Kate murmured into her temple.

“You’re hot,” Caitlin whispered back.

Kate didn’t answer right away. Just rested her hand on Caitlin’s bare knee, squeezing gently. Her palm was warm. Steady. Caitlin leaned in closer, teeth catching on the edge of Kate’s ear.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

Kate blinked. “Thinking about what?”

“You know what.” Caitlin’s hand slid a little higher, featherlight. “The thing.”

Kate stilled. “You mean—”

Caitlin nodded, lips just shy of touching her skin. “The strap.”

The word dropped like a match.

Kate didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The party blurred around them — someone yelling about a spilled drink, laughter from the porch, a dog barking at a Frisbee. None of it touched the air between them.

Caitlin, very calmly, popped a raspberry into her mouth. “I want to use it.”

Kate swallowed. “Tonight?”

“If you want to.”

Kate tilted her head. Looked at her. All flushed cheek and half-bitten lip, fingers splayed innocently on her thigh.

“You sure?”

Caitlin nodded again. “I don’t want to just be touched. I want to give you something. I want to—” She paused, nervous and certain all at once. “—feel you feel it too.”

Kate’s chest tightened. “Fuck, yes, absolutely”

Caitlin had just leaned in again — lips hovering at the edge of Kate’s jaw, eyes glittering with something equal parts bold and drunk on love — when Gabby snorted loud enough to turn a few heads.

“Well,” she said, sipping from a Solo cup and watching the grill like it was a reality show. “Guess we’re not carpooling with McKenna.”

Kate followed her gaze.

McKenna was very visibly making out with a guy in a tank top by the charcoal pit, her hands in his hair and his very enthusiastic hands on her waist. The spatula dangled forgotten in his other hand. A hamburger was definitely burning.

“Oh my god,” Caitlin said, barely stifling a laugh. 

Gabby raised her cup. “Go. Be gay. I’ll call an Uber for her if she doesn’t end up married by midnight.”

Kate turned back to Caitlin — flushed, biting her lip, eyes full of mischief.

“Still sure?” she asked, soft and serious now, voice a thread.

“I’m ready,” Caitlin whispered, leaning in. “Take me home.”

Kate didn’t need to be told twice. She slid her hand into Caitlin’s. Stood up so fast their plastic chair wobbled. They muttered something about needing to beat traffic. Nobody believed them.

Caitlin kissed her in the driveway anyway. Quick and hot and dizzy.

Because it wasn’t a dare.

It was a promise.

—----

The apartment was quiet.

Streetlight spilled in through the windows, soft and gold, painting slow patterns across the floor. The city hummed outside — distant traffic, the low thump of a bassline from a passing car — but in here, it felt suspended. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Kate sat at the edge of the bed in nothing but a worn tank top and boxer briefs, hands resting lightly on her thighs. She looked calm. She wasn’t. Not even close. Caitlin could feel the tension in her shoulders from across the room. The way her jaw clicked when she swallowed. The way her eyes followed Caitlin like she might vanish.

Caitlin crossed the room slowly. Climbed into her lap. Quiet. Steady.

Kate’s hands found her hips like instinct. “We don’t have to—”

“I know,” Caitlin said, already whispering. “I know I don’t.”

Kate’s breath caught. “Then why now?”

Caitlin looked at her — really looked — eyes clear, mouth sure. “Because I want to. Because I’ve never wanted to experience anything the way I want this.”

Kate exhaled, long and shaky, and leaned their foreheads together. “You don’t owe me this,” she said softly. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know that too.” Caitlin brushed her thumb across Kate’s cheek. “But you’re safe. This is safe.”

Kate touched her cheek. “You sure?”

Caitlin nodded, but her voice came softer. “Let’s go slow.”

Kate smiled, wrecked already. “Nothing’s different, Cait. It’s just us.”

Caitlin kissed her — gentle, lingering. Her hands found Kate’s waist, slid under her shirt, thumb brushing the curve of her ribs.

“Still nervous?” Kate asked, breath hitching.

Caitlin kissed her again, deeper now. “No,” she whispered. “Just full.”

Kate blinked. “Full?”

“Of you. Of this.” Caitlin nudged her nose against Kate’s, messy and soft. “I want it all. Just slowly.”

Kate breathed in like she needed the air to survive. “Then kiss me again.”

So Caitlin did.

She kissed her mouth first. Then her jaw. Then down — across her throat, her collarbone, the top swell of her chest. Kate gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets.

Caitlin straddled Kate's hips, rocking gently, warm and steady. Her hands slid lower. She touched Kate like she was already inside her head — the places that made her sigh, the ones that made her shiver. When her hand slipped under Kate’s waistband, Kate almost sobbed.

“Okay?” Caitlin whispered.

Kate nodded, breathless. “Please, Cait.”

Caitlin didn’t rush. She wanted to savor every second of this — not just the touch, but the permission. The way Kate looked right now — flushed, mouth parted, gaze locked on her like she was the only thing left in the world that made sense.

She slid her hand deeper, slow and deliberate, until her fingers brushed wet heat and Kate exhaled like it hurt to hold in.

“Oh,” Caitlin whispered, wondering what was blooming behind her ribs. “You’re so —”

Kate caught her wrist gently. “Don’t say it like it’s a surprise.”

“I’m not surprised,” Caitlin said, voice low. “I’m obsessed.”

And she meant it. With the way Kate opened for her. With how it felt to be the one allowed to touch her like this. With the stunned, unraveling look in Kate’s eyes every time she moved her fingers just a little deeper.

Kate rocked into her hand, groaning. “Jesus, Clark.”

“You’re so—” Caitlin broke off, couldn’t find the word. Beautiful didn’t cut it. Neither did hot. What she meant was devastating. What she meant was holy. What she meant was mine.

Kate’s head fell back. Her hands gripped Caitlin’s hips hard now, anchoring herself. Caitlin kissed her throat, open-mouthed and wet, then bit just slightly beneath her jaw. Kate gasped. Her whole body bucked.

“Fuck, I can’t—” Kate breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Let me,” Caitlin murmured. Her fingers worked steady and slow, curling just the way Kate liked, and when Kate whimpered, she kissed her again — deep and unfiltered, like she could drink it from her lungs.

Kate kissed her deeply, then whispered against her lips, “Come here. Let me get you ready.”

Caitlin’s breath caught. Her body stilled beneath Kate’s weight, but she nodded — slow, sure. “Okay.”

They shifted together. Kate laid her back gently, hands guiding her hips down, knees falling open beneath them, taking off the last of Caitlin's clothes. She kissed her chest, her ribs, the inside of her thigh. Reverent. Almost shy.

“I’ve got you,” Kate murmured. “Just you and me, remember?”

Caitlin nodded again, and Kate reached for the lube, pulling her own shirt off to match Caitlin, naked, and bare in the bedroom. She warmed the lube between her fingers first. Made sure Caitlin saw it. Felt it. Then slid her hand, cupping and gathering heat between Caitlin’s legs, letting her knuckles rest outside her entrance. There was no rush, no pressure. Just warmth. Just presence.

Caitlin’s hips twitched.

Kate paused. “Tell me what feels good. I want to hear you.”

Caitlin’s voice was already thick, as Kate moved one finger accross her clit, and started two in a circle less than a centimeter inside of her, just holding, barely touching her walls. “That. Right there. Keep—yeah.”

Kate used her fingers gently at first. Small circles. Shallow strokes on her clit. She watched every flicker of Caitlin’s face — every breath that hitched, every blink that turned into a shudder. Her free hand smoothed over Caitlin’s thigh, grounding her, coaxing her.

“You’re already so soft for me,” Kate whispered. “So perfect.”

Caitlin gasped when Kate slid one finger in further. Then whimpered when she added the other — slow, patient, letting her adjust. Letting her open. Her own fingers clutched at the sheets.

Kate kissed her knee. “Okay?”

Caitlin’s breath shook. “Yeah. I just… didn’t know it could feel this careful.”

“It’s always going to be this careful,” Kate said.

Caitlin blinked, eyes glassy. “Even when it’s not slow?”

“Especially then,” Kate said, smiling. “Breathe, superstar. You’re doing so good.”

She stretched her a little more, fingers working deep and rhythmic, lube slick and warm between them. Caitlin was arching into her now. Moaning, panting, her thighs trembling with want.

“Kate—” she gasped. “I think I’m— ready”

Kate pulled back just enough. Pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. “Not yet,” she said gently. “I want to be able to feel all of you when it happens... Trust me, baby."

Caitlin whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, as Kate continued her motions, spreading Caitlin's dripping folds apart.

Caitlin lay back against the pillows, bare thighs still trembling, chest rising slow and wrecked. The sheets were bunched under her hips, still warm where Kate had just been touching her. Her skin buzzed — not with nerves now, but with heat, with openness, with the sense that something was happening she wouldn’t ever forget.

Across the room, Kate stood with her back half-turned, legs slightly apart, strapping the harness around her hips like she’d done it a hundred times. Her hands moved with ease, practiced and steady, tightening each buckle, adjusting the straps so they hugged her thighs. The black leather contrasted against the flush of her skin, the soft worn tank top clinging to her chest. The whole thing should have looked ridiculous.

It didn’t.

It looked like art.

Like power, contained. Like someone fully at home in herself. She wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t playing. She was calm. She was focused. She was radiant.

Caitlin couldn’t look away.

Kate glanced up, caught her staring, and smiled — small, crooked, full of something between mischief and reverence. “Still good?” she asked, voice low and careful.

Caitlin nodded — too fast, too eager — then whispered, “You look... so hot.”

Kate’s smile softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Caitlin breathed. “Like you were made for this. Like it’s yours.”

Kate stepped closer, the harness snug and ready, her eyes never leaving Caitlin’s face. She climbed back onto the bed, slow, like she didn’t want to startle her. Her hands braced on either side of Caitlin’s hips. The weight of her hovered but never pressed, waiting.

“I’m only yours if you want me,” Kate said, pushing their chests together, her lips close to Caitlin's mouth.

Caitlin reached up. Touched Kate’s cheek, then the buckle low on her stomach. Her fingers lingered there. “I do.”

And she meant it. Every inch of her did.

“You’re ready?”

Caitlin’s voice was wrecked. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Kate kissed her — not rushed, not desperate, but deep. Sure. One hand slid into Caitlin’s hair while the other steadied her weight, braced just beside her ribcage. The harness pressed against Caitlin’s stomach, firm and present, not yet moving — just there, just real.

Caitlin felt the stretch of her thighs, still loose from earlier, still aching with the memory of Kate’s fingers. Her body welcomed the weight above her, the heat, the shift in gravity. Her breath hitched when Kate kissed down her neck, then lower, leaving a line of warmth from her collarbone to the place just beneath her breast. She sighed, reached for Kate’s waist, her fingers curling at the edge of the harness.

Kate paused, resting her forehead against Caitlin’s sternum. “Tell me if anything feels too fast.”

Caitlin nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Kate looked up at her, eyes darker now, but so gentle Caitlin almost couldn’t bear it. “I love you,” she said — quiet, simple, beautiful.

And then she shifted back. Spread Caitlin’s thighs again with careful hands. Reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand.

Caitlin watched, her cheeks flushed, heart pounding in slow, hot waves. Kate slicked her fingers first. Then leaned in again. One kiss to her hip. One to her inner thigh.

“Still good?” Kate asked, voice softer than the sheets.

“Yes,” Caitlin breathed.

Kate touched her gently — slow fingers easing back inside, stretching her again, coaxing her open with such tenderness that Caitlin almost cried. It didn’t feel like before, not exactly. This was more — fuller, heavier, the promise of what was coming shimmering just beneath her skin.

Kate worked her open, murmuring into her neck, her cheek, her mouth: “You’re doing so good, Cait. So perfect. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

By the time she pulled her fingers free, Caitlin was panting, eyes half-lidded, hips rolling up without even thinking. She was open now. Ready.

Kate kissed her once more — hard and grounding — then pulled back just enough to line the harness up between her thighs. She didn’t push yet. Just pressed it there. Let Caitlin feel the shape of it. The heat of it. The reality.

Caitlin’s hands flew to her back. “Kate—”

“I’ve got you,” Kate said again. And this time, she meant all of it.

Kate rocked her hips just enough to make Caitlin feel it — the shape of the strap nudging between her thighs, slick and solid and slow. She didn’t push in. Not yet. Just let the pressure sit there. Heavy. Promising. Caitlin gasped, legs falling wider, hands dragging up Kate’s back like she needed something to hold on to.

Kate braced herself on her elbows, chest pressed just barely against Caitlin’s, the harness shifting between them as she adjusted her angle — slow, careful, steady. She kissed Caitlin’s cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. “Ready?”

Caitlin nodded. Then paused. “I want to. I just… I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.”

Kate nodded, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. “It might hurt a little,” she whispered. “At first. Just pressure. A stretch. Not like the movies. But I’ll go slow. I’ll stop if it’s too much. You set the pace. Always.”

Caitlin swallowed. “Okay.”

Kate reached down with one hand and guided the tip of the strap between them — slow, steady, sure. She didn’t look away from Caitlin’s face. Not for a second.

Caitlin gasped when it pressed against her, not even inside yet. Just there — real. Her breath caught, eyes wide, lips parted. Her fingers found Kate’s wrist and held on.

“You okay?” Kate asked, voice low and raw.

Caitlin nodded, barely. “It’s just—” Her throat worked. “It’s a lot.”

Kate didn’t move. Didn’t push. She leaned in and kissed Caitlin’s cheek, then her jaw, then the corner of her mouth. “We can stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Caitlin whispered. “I just… need a second to catch up to my body.”

Kate smiled — soft, crooked, deeply undone. “I’ve got you.”

A beat passed. Then Caitlin nodded again. Braver this time. “Okay.”

Kate shifted her hips and pressed forward — just a little — just enough to enter. Caitlin gasped, loud, sharp, and buried her face in Kate’s shoulder. Her whole body tensed beneath the weight, every muscle catching and holding.

“You’re okay,” Kate whispered, brushing her nose against Caitlin’s. “Breathe, baby.”

“I’m breathing,” Caitlin managed, breath shaky. “Barely.”

Caitlin breathed. One slow inhale. Then another. Her body was tense, but she didn’t pull away.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Kate asked.

A beat.

Then Caitlin nodded. “Yeah. Just—slow.”

Kate moved again, barely an inch, watching every twitch of Caitlin’s face, every shift of her breath. Her thighs trembled. Her mouth fell open, into a simultaneous gasp, moan, and scream. There was a moment — just one — where her body flinched against the stretch, her fingers clutching the sheets.

“Oh god—” she whispered, not in pleasure. Not yet.

Kate stopped immediately. “Cait?”

“I’m okay,” Caitlin breathed, voice shaky. “It’s just—tight. New.”

Kate stilled. One hand cradled Caitlin’s cheek. “Talk to me.”

Caitlin’s voice was thin. “It just… stings a little.”

“Okay. We can always stop, baby.”

“No, please no, Katie” Caitlin said quickly, gripping her tighter. “Don’t. Just stay there. Just—stay.”

Kate kissed her again, slower this time. “You’re doing perfect. We’re not rushing.”

They stayed like that — breathing together — Kate barely moving, Caitlin adjusting, letting her body learn. The pain dulled. Softened. The stretch began to feel different. Not easy. But not bad.

Kate waited — braced above her, arm trembling, not from the strain but from how badly she wanted this to be good. For Caitlin.

And then Caitlin’s hips shifted — a silent answer. Caitlin blinked up at her. “Okay,” she whispered. “You can move.”

Kate kissed her forehead. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Caitlin said, firmer now. “I want you.”

She kissed her again — slow and full, like she could press the words into her mouth — then shifted her hips and started to push in further. “Okay?” Kate asked.

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered. “Yeah. More.”

Kate pressed in again, a little deeper. Caitlin gasped. This time, it broke into something more: a moan, fragile and surprised. Her legs opened wider. Her breath changed. Not fear. Not pain anymore.

“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s… okay, that’s better.”

Kate smiled, nearly undone by how brave she looked. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered. “So are you.”

And the pain gave way to something else. Something slow and full and rising. Caitlin’s hands slid to Kate’s shoulders, pulling her closer, grounding herself in the weight of her, the steadiness, the care.

Just pressure. Stretch. Heat.

Kate kissed her forehead, murmured again, “Still okay?”

Caitlin nodded, flushed and wide-eyed. “Yeah. Yeah. I think I want more.”

So Kate moved — slow, shallow thrusts, barely more than a rock of her hips — and Caitlin gasped again, but this time the edge was different. Her mouth parted on a soft moan, her back arched.

“Oh my god,” she breathed.

Kate groaned, deep and shaky. “You feel so good. Cait… Jesus.”

Kate gave her more. In inches. In hushes. In reverent touches and whispered reminders that she could stop at any time. When she bottomed out, she stilled. Let Caitlin adjust. Let her thighs shake. Let the moment settle around them like dusk.

When she was finally fully seated inside her, Caitlin stilled — chest heaving, eyes fluttered shut. Her hands slid down Kate’s back like she was anchoring herself. Her mouth moved against Kate’s neck, breathy and full of something that sounded like thank you.

“I can feel you everywhere.”

Kate kissed her temple. “You’ve got me. All of me.”

"Can I fuck you, Caitlin?" Kate whispered.

"Yes, please Kate."

It was that simple.

Kate pulled out halfway. Pushed back in. Slow. Smooth.

Caitlin’s mouth fell open around a moan. “Holy shit.”

Kate rocked into her again, a little deeper this time, a little firmer — still slow, still gentle, but sure now. Steady.

Caitlin gasped and clung to her. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

Kate kept the rhythm slow. Just enough movement to stay connected, just enough stillness to let Caitlin feel every inch, every shift, every second. The harness pressed low against her hips, the base warm where their bodies met. Each motion made Caitlin gasp — not from pain anymore, but from the shock of sensation. The weight of it. The fullness.

Kate cupped her face as she moved. “Still good?” she whispered.

Caitlin nodded, eyes glazed. “So good,” she breathed. “You can...” She moaned into Kate's ear, "go faster."

Kate kissed her — soft, slow, anchoring. “You bet.”

Her hips rolled again, deeper and faster now. Caitlin moaned into her mouth. Her nails bit lightly into Kate’s back. She wasn’t pulling away. She was pulling closer.

Kate changed the angle just slightly, shifted her weight onto one elbow and let her other hand slip between them — fingers slick and sure, finding Caitlin’s clit with the kind of precision that only comes from listening. Caitlin arched.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “I—Kate—”

“Shh,” Kate whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Her thumb circled, slow and steady. Her hips kept moving. Caitlin started to fall apart. Not fast. Not all at once. But in stages. The kind of unraveling that comes when the body finally realizes it’s allowed to feel everything. When the mind stops flinching from what it wants.

Kate whispered to her the whole time — soft nothings, I love you’s, and you’re so beautiful’s.

“Kate—” she whimpered. “I think—God—don’t stop—”

"I know sweetheart," Kate whispered back into her mouth, continuing to press deep inside her, rocking up and down, hitting her g-spot, faster and deeper and all at once. She rubbed her clit lightly, so lightly, keeping Caitlin's focus on Kate deep inside her.

And Caitlin was collapsing; from the way it built and built inside her. From the stretch and the pressure and the rhythm and the love in Kate’s voice when she said her name like it was scripture.

Kate kissed her. “I’ve got you.” She stayed close, kept whispering, kept kissing her skin wherever she could reach. Every thrust was careful. Every movement soaked in trust.

And they kept moving — together. Body to body. Breath to breath. Not performing. Not pretending.

And when Caitlin came, it felt like the world cracked open beneath her. Her legs locked. Her arms wrapped tight around Kate’s back, almost hugging her, their bodies pressed completely together like there was no space between their hearts. She buried her face in her shoulder and sobbed her orgasm out against her skin — loud, not performative, just real.

Just full.

Kate held her through all of it — still inside, still steady, rocking her through the aftershocks with soft kisses and quieter words. “That’s it, baby,” she whispered. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Caitlin clung to her, heart pounding, breath catching. Slowing down.

“Did I…” she tried to ask, voice shaking. “Was I okay?”

Kate blinked, stunned. “You are everything.”

Caitlin breathed out — wrecked and whole and safe.

They stayed there like that. Still joined. Still close.

Kate finally pulled out — slow, careful, whispering thank you into her skin — Caitlin didn’t flinch. She just opened her arms and pulled her down.

“I love you,” Caitlin whispered.

“I know,” Kate murmured. “I felt it.”

And she had.

Every inch of her.

Every second of this.

Kate lay half-draped over Caitlin, their legs tangled in the sheets, the harness already unbuckled and tossed aside. Streetlight pooled in stripes across the bed, tracing Caitlin’s thigh, the slope of her shoulder, the edge of her jaw. Her skin still hummed. Her heart hadn’t quite settled back into its rhythm.

Kate shifted, slow and careful, and kissed the curve where Caitlin’s collarbone met her neck. “Still breathing?”

“Barely,” Caitlin murmured, voice hoarse. “I think I’m a puddle.”

Kate smiled into her skin. “A very sexy puddle.”

Caitlin laughed — breathless, quiet. “You’re ridiculous.”

They laid there for a moment, forehead to forehead, skin still sticky with sweat, their bodies still echoing with the rhythm of what had passed between them.

Kate reached for the water bottle on the nightstand and offered it to Caitlin first. “You have to go pee.”

Caitlin took a sip and groaned. “I can just now feel my legs again. Not sure I want to.”

Caitlin giggled — flushed and shy and still slightly high from the intensity. “We were kind of amazing.”

Kate leaned in, kissed her cheek. “You were kind of a goddess.”

Caitlin hummed. “Well. Once I got past the part where my body was like hey, what the hell is this, yeah.”

Kate sobered. “Did it hurt too much? I should’ve gone slower.”

“No.” Caitlin squeezed her hand again. “It was good. I wanted it. I want you. And I’ll want you again…” Her voice dropped, eyes soft. “Thanks for stopping when I needed to breathe. For waiting. For holding me.”

Kate kissed her hand. “You don’t ever have to be strong for me here.”

“I know,” Caitlin whispered. “But sometimes I still try.”

Kate pulled her in tighter, wrapped her in both arms. “You’re still you, even when you fall apart.”

Caitlin buried her face in Kate’s shoulder. “You’ll stay?”

Kate nodded into her hair. “Always.”

They fell asleep like that — tangled and tender, skin to skin, held in the quiet promise of what they’d just built.

—--

The city softened as August dimmed.

Humidity still clung to everything—skin, sidewalk, the backs of knees—but the light had changed. Fewer cicadas. Less screaming from the bar across the street. Even the breeze, when it came, felt like a warning instead of a gift. September was creeping in.

They had one week left.

Caitlin stared at the mess on the floor: one duffel half-zipped, a pile of damp swimsuits, a phone charger tangled around a sports bra. She sat cross-legged in the doorway, a spoon in one hand and an open pint of strawberry ice cream in the other, trying to ignore the silence stretching between them.

Kate leaned against the counter, eyes flicking between Caitlin and the suitcase. "You gonna pack, or just eat your feelings?"

"Both," Caitlin said, and shoveled another spoonful into her mouth.

Kate smirked but didn’t move. Her arms were crossed over her chest, tank top loose, eyes too careful. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to start.

Caitlin scooped one last bite and set the pint down. "I don’t want to go back."

"I know."

"It was good here. Like, really good."

"Yeah." Kate’s voice was low. Steady. The way it got when she was holding herself in check.

Caitlin stood, wiping her hands on her shorts. She crossed the room and stopped just in front of her. "I’m scared it won’t feel the same. Once we’re back."

Kate didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached up and ran her fingers lightly down Caitlin’s arm, stopping just below the elbow. "It won’t."

Caitlin flinched.

"But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Just... different."

"I don’t like different."

"You liked this summer. That was different, too."

Caitlin opened her mouth, then closed it again. She nodded slowly. Kate pulled her closer.

"Whatever it is," she said, mouth brushing Caitlin’s hair, "we’ll find our way through it. You and me."

Caitlin buried her face in Kate’s shoulder. She smelled like sunscreen and coffee. Familiar and real.

"You and me," Caitlin echoed, not quite steady.

Outside, a car honked. Someone shouted. A dog barked at nothing. The city was still theirs for a few more days.

And then—back to Iowa. Back to film study. Back to locker rooms and hidden glances and everything they couldn’t say out loud.

But this time, they had a summer’s worth of proof. A whole season of mornings and nights, of inside jokes and shared silence. A record of who they were when no one else was looking.

Caitlin stepped back and gave a wobbly smile. "Help me pack?"

Kate grabbed the duffel and nudged her with her hip. "Ok, but I’m keeping all your hoodies, Clark."

“They’re yours, Martin. Everything that’s mine, is yours.” 

They started folding the summer away. Piece by piece. Together.

#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

[aluhnim]

Hello!! When you start a comic, how do you go about deciding your panelling layouts?? If this is too big of an ask for covid brain, how about your favorite song of the moment / a song that really inspires you?? I hope you feel better soon!

I was searching around for an old write up I did for some Original Character Tournament folks who were interested in my thoughts on panels and layouts. To try and answer your question, I go off of vibe now that I’ve made a LOT of comics. However, as much as it doesn’t seem like it at times, I do typically stay as “conventional” as possible to make sure my readers are still following the plot. I make a lot of adjustments along the way. Smarter layouts allow me to draw less, and drawing less is better for me in the long run! It’ll allow me to put more time in other places of the comic.

Anyway, here’s my write up back in the day that’ll hopefully answer some comic drafting questions!

More conventional paneling is a necessary stepping stone because you know your reader won’t get lost and the structure will have you more focused on flow and pacing. It seems remarkably easy to do comics with more “static” or traditional panel layouts but they work for a reason. There’s no real need to break out of something that works, unless you want to! Breaking out of the structure can really add some OOMPH to your important pages.

Some tips, note that these have been my preferences and some definitions don’t quite match their descriptors.

Bleed

I consider open panels or panels that stretch out beyond the edge of the page to be considered bleeds. They’re simple ways to make you feel like your not just sticking within your margins and making your page feel less static without much extra effort. Manga does this quite often, and Western American comics, especially during action packed moments or large splashes.

Some examples of things bleeds can do:

- They can also be used as transitions between pages (first panel bleeding in, last panel bleeding out).

- They can be used to interrupt or add a beat to a moment. Although the example below is mostly bleeds, you can see the one full panel at the bottom stands out because it’s not like the others. A subtle beat.

- They can also just be used to extend a panel to make it bigger. That seems obvious, but larger panels do make people spend a bit more time on them, regardless if there is text or not. Though, “more time” means probably several milliseconds or even a few seconds more than usual.

- Collaging with a bleed is a really great way to think beyond panels and open the space. You will be spending more time thinking of how much you can cram in along with the flow of how your text is going to lead through a series of images.

- Removing panel borders can really open a space and allow for more room without having to go above and beyond the ideas of comics and panels. (sorry, gale galligan is just good)

Gutters

The space between panels is almost just as important as the panel itself. That’s where readers and inferring actions and time. You can only control so much of what the reader is doing between their eye shifting between panels, which is why composition within panels and clarity are so important.

Gutters can also be played with! A simple example is changing your gutters from white to all black. It can be a subtle shift in time, a transition to a new space.

Even the amount of space between panels leaves an idea of time! I think webtoons/manhwa really work well with the gutter space, leaving you to physically scroll and feel the effects of time passing with the amount of empty space you encounter.

It’s important to understand that the gutter has a lot more to do with reader imagination, and your goal is to have them understand that the next panel is somehow plausible.

THIS SCENE EMFIELDS DID IS VERY FUCKING GOOD. TIME, SPACE, GO OOOOOOFFFF KING

Panels themselves can be a part story!

This one is a difficult thing to write for, since I feel like there isn’t many examples out there. There are very structural examples of panels out there, like Watchman. While the 9 panel grid was intentional, it also was likely the only way to deal with Alan Moore’s script effectively without missing details. The panels themselves don’t ENHANCE the story, but a means to an end.

But it’s also an incredibly good example of how conventional comics paneling can still be effective, especially when you start breaking that mold just a little bit.

But then you have comics like M. Dean’s “Baby fat”. Where the comic paneling itself never strays from its original structure, but is indicative of the story itself, representing tiles, mirrors, patterns.

Or Robert Hunter’s “The New Ghost” which he uses circular motifs and has circular panels representing the telescopes sight line.

Predicting Reader Navigation

These are my rules of thumb when doing general sight reading panel by panel.

1. Text is what people gravitate to first. It’s the context needed to approach the next panel.

2. Faces are next, this provides context to what the subject is feeling.

3. Familiar people/animals/objects and SFX.

4. Everything else!

This is an example of sight reading notes I gave to my friend Holocene when we were collaborating.

[mahou-shoujo-dandelion]

Another thread from Mei Amaki, translator of MGD

"Magical Girl Dandelion ch.10 is tomorrow! Which means it's time to talk about the translation again to celebrate the imminent update...!!

Key:

TL = translation/translate

LIT = literal translation

/ = new speech bubble)

This isn't groundbreaking, but ちゃんと, the word for "properly" in JP can be really hard to TL naturally in EN. The LIT here would be "I want to talk to you properly." One way I often handle this word is by using "properly" as emphasis. Hence "talk to you--REALLY talk to you."

LIT: "You look like a zombie" / "A zombie?!" Sometimes, it's better to not have a character parrot back a line like this in the TL. Not only can it be a little bit stiff in EN, but in this case where the bubble is small, the poor letterer would have to cram it in.....

Thankfully, an "um?!" expresses Tanpopo's shock succinctly while doing away with any repetitiveness. A note that JP loves to repeat words like this, and it sounds great in JP, but EN has a much lower tolerance for repetition--another "failing" of the language, I suppose.😅

LIT: "It can't be helped." Again, thinking about the context. What cannot be helped? The fact that Tanpopo is too tired to fight and so Shade knows he needs to help her a little. Why is she too tired to fight? Because she's fighting for her life in an almost unwinnable situation.

Based on that, I thought the shortened version of the phrase "desperate times call for desperate measures" would be nice. I thought shortening it would better communicate Shade's usual irreverence, but also, this shortened phrase letters prettier xP.

More on Alice's voice. In the flashback, he just sounds like a normal boy. He's not yet stepped into his "Alice" persona here! (Another TL technique--not always translating names. Because JP has a higher tolerance for repetition, names get repeated more often too.

The LIT would be: "Dad! Mom! Thank goodness!" But since Alice says their names on the next page, I thought 3 times in a row was a bit too many for EN. So, we think about what is actually happening in the scene, and for me, that was the fact that he "thinks" he isn't lost anymore.

Alice starts talking all British here! It's reflected in the JP too, since we go from casual, childish words to formal JP. However, from the moment the flashback starts, any internal narration of his I wrote "straight." The farce is exposed--March Hare was never sentient.

So it made sense to me to not write Alice British anymore from the point that all was revealed. Even after we exit the flashback, he retains the "straight" character voice. This is something that's more in the EN TL than in the JP, by the way.

Since, again, JP cannot write a British accent, it's up to me as the translator to decide how long to use it. It made sense to use it before we got to Alice's backstory, before all is revealed and we see him for who he is--a trapped, lonely, vulnerable boy.

From this point, he feels closer to his "non-fiend/true" self, so I opted to strip away the accent here to mirror this shift in the storytelling.

I think this panel is my favorite TL of Dandelion so far. It's not because it's a creative solution, because it's not. I think the scene just impacted me on an emotional level. As a translator, I love to read, and I love to experience my emotions as I read and translate things.

This panel is basically Tanpopo's raison d'être as a magical girl--why she fights! I am sure it will set the ground work for future chapters. Not to mention Mizuho-sensei's beautiful expression work. The look on Tanpopo's face even now makes me want to cry with her.

I think it's just my favorite translation because translating it was so fun--even if I did nothing smart and just spoke the words that were already on the page--perfect as they were. That's another thing--I personally don't think every translation needs to be a super-smart solution. Sometimes the JP translates directly into TL perfectly. And it's in those times that I won't try to "breakdance," because there is no need. So yeah! That's it! I may be the translator, but I'm not any less of fellow reader than any other MGD fan!! I don't get told how the story will go, so I don't have more knowledge than the readers do, either! So, like all of you, I can't wait to see where things go! MGD is shaping up to be a wonderful story, and with Mizuho-sensei's confident, jaw-dropping art, it's eye candy all the way down".

[masterqwertster]

hi hello!! i am Always returning to your fics because they’re so well-written and there is so so much heart and thought behind each one- i especially adore your ashton fics, and your drabble about them carrying milo home really warmed my heart. i’ve seen many a-fic of milo looking after or worrying after ashton, but so rarely the inverse!! if it ain’t too redundant or too much trouble, do you have any more thoughts or maybe even drabbles about those two, and the ways in which ashton (maybe begrudgingly or fearfully or suspiciously) returns care to milo?

Awww, thanks for the compliments! Okay, a little Ashton taking care of Milo.

They wake to a pebble thrown by Anni.

Which, rude.

But fair.

If Ashton wakes thrashing, it's with enough force to leave a nasty bruise, maybe break the bones of normal flesh and blood people.

"Get the fuck up. Milo fucking needs you. Now," she demands once Ashton has shown signs of waking.

Usually, Anni plays the ice cold bitch like there's nothing else she could be, but right now, Ashton can hear the faintest tremor of fear and concern in her voice. It gets them moving faster than they'd normally bother with upon first waking up.

Anni leads Ashton down to the workshop, where Milo is shoulder deep in some sort of mechanical contraption, quick, shallow pants escaping them as sweat drips down their face and pain pinches their brow.

"What the fuck?" is all Ashton can think to ask.

"Hey, buddy," Milo says, strained. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm in a bit of a literal pinch here and Anni wasn't strong enough."

It's then that Ashton notices the blood seeping up Milo's sleeve, not quite hidden in the shadows of where their arm enters the machine.

Curses spill from Ashton's lips as he stomps closer, crouching down to get a look at the damage.

"What the fuck?" he asks again. There's a metal plate back in those metal guts that's trying to sever Milo's forearm.

"Just fiddling with some of the internal gear work. Guess some shit wasn't as secured out of the way as I thought. Pretty sure it's touching bone in there," Milo explains through grit teeth.

"They had me try to pry it open," Anni says, stepping up to better angle a lantern to light the machinery trying to chew through Milo's arm. "But I kind of made it worse by knocking some other shit out of the way."

Ashton considers Anni's slender arms, the musician's precision of her hands. Compares them to his own arms, corded with muscle (though not as much as before the Fall some months ago), the unpredictable tremor that wracks his (thieving) hands.

"And you really fucking think I can do it?" they say, holding a shaking hand up for the other two to see.

"As long as you don't push this shit into severing their arm, I've got the healing to at least start fixing them up," Anni refutes. "We all know you're the strongest here."

"Please," Milo begs.

Ashton closes their eyes and sighs. "Yeah. Okay. Fuck it. Sorry in advance if this goes fucking wrong. For your arm. Fuck this stupid thing."

That earns them an amused huff from Milo.

A moment's assessment reveals that it's unlikely that Ashton is going to get both arms in there around Milo. The opening just isn't big enough for that, though he suspects Anni might have squeezed both of her arms in there. It's also going to be difficult as fuck to see what he's doing down there, and Ashton's sense of touch is a little fucked compared to most normal people's.

Fucking shit.

He's still got to try.

They carefully shift around so Ashton can plunge his right arm, which trembles less than his fucked up left arm, into the machine. He traces his way slowly down Milo's pinned arm, pushing back anything that'll move. Even if that means it's now trying to break his stone skin. It's better than letting it bite into Milo's soft flesh.

And yeah, the metal panel has got to be hitting Milo's bones, because there just isn't a lot of room to slide his fingers in for a grip on the fucking shit. But Ashton manages it. Maybe drawing a bit of blood himself on it's sharp edge.

"Okay. I think I've got it. Tell me when you're ready," Ashton says, placing a hand on Milo's free shoulder to pull when he thinks they're free.

Anni grabs Milo's bicep, also ready to pull. "Ready."

Milo takes in a shaky breath (most of them is shaking. Probably from blood loss and/or shock). "...Go for it."

Teeth grit, Ashton flexes, pushing up and causing uncooperative metal to screech.

"Aaahhh!" Milo breathes the pain out as the cutting vice loosens on their arm.

"Come on, come on," Anni chants, hands tensing.

It's slow, but they're getting there. Prying it open bit by bit. And in the back of their head is that desire to Rage. To be stronger and just fucking rip this fucking machine apart, get Milo free.

But it's too fucking risky anymore. That weird fucking magic that Ashton has now, that spins up with each battle rage, that they can't control, could turn out gravity. And the last thing they need is more force dragging this stupid fucking metal plate through Milo's arm.

So slow and steady it has to fucking be.

"G'me out!" Milo shouts.

Ashton and Anni yank–

They hit the floor, Milo's forearm a bloody mess.

Ashton pulls their own arm out of the machine, letting the plate fall with a demonstrative shunk, as Anni starts chanting spells instead, hands splayed and glowing over Milo's half-severed arm. Tears stream down from beneath Milo's glasses as they whimper through the pain.

By the time Anni's magic runs dry, a deep gash to the bone has been reduced to a thin, red scar surrounded by drying blood.

"Let's never fucking do that again," Ashton says into the silence.

The laugh Milo lets out is a little hysterical. "Yeah. You got it, bud. And thanks, Anni. Would have been a lot worse off without you."

"Fucking, whatever. Like the dumb rock said, don't do it again," Anni huffs, turning away to leave. "I've gotta go scrub my fucking hands. You made a fucking mess."

Milo was really fucking lucky, Ashton can't help but think. They could have ended up crippled from this shit. If no one had been home. If Ashton also wasn't strong enough. If Anni couldn't heal. That last one eats at him with burning jealousy. If she'd lived here back then, maybe–

"Come on, let's get some food in you. Blood loss is a real bitch," Ashton says, hauling Milo to their feet with ease.

"Okay. I feel woozy."

"I'll fucking bet."

Best to be glad their friend landlord is fine. Gods know where they'd live without Milo putting up with them.

[house-of-kolchek]

Dress (Part Two)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

OK I KNOW ITS BEEN A HOT MINUTE SINCE PART ONE BUT I LITERALLY REWROTE THIS THREE TIMES I APOLOGIZE

Also I love you all.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part One (18+)

Ok this is slightly (significantly) more drama than I was initially planning so. Enjoy my tears.

You didn’t get your dress dry cleaned. 

In fact, for a long time it remained in that pile, pooling at the foot of your bed. You were too afraid to call at first, your stomach churning with guilt, rejection and most of all, shame. And finally, two weeks later when you did try to call, the phone didn’t make it three rings before it was sent to voicemail.

So, with growing resentment in your eyes, you turned your phone off completely.

But still, as you stopped seeing him at work, that nagging itch in the back of your mind convinced you to ask around - even begging Hunnigan to assure you that yes, he was still alive in the least.

With that knowledge, you resigned to staring at the dress on your floor. The rumples in your sheets from your unmade bed - having not properly made it since that night. You felt like you were going crazy, biting at your nails and asking question after question to yourself in the silence.

Was he more drunk than you thought?

Did he think it was something else?

Did he regret it - did you ruin something over a one night stand?

The six week mark came and went. You’d finally picked up your dress a week prior, dumping it into a bag for donation, or just garbage, you weren’t quite sure. At this point, that stain was probably cemented into the fabric. You’d gone through a deep cleanse of your room, your apartment, anything to push away the plaguing memories of that night. If Leon wasn’t going to get back in contact with you, you would just have to move on.

Which was, of course, easier said than done. 

“Raven two- are you still with me?” The voice in your ear snapped. You cursed, glancing back at the smooth wall in front of you. The questions in your head were starting to follow you everywhere - even into work. You couldn’t help but wonder if you should have been working in the state you were in, but who would accept “My best friend and I slept together and then he disappeared” as an even remotely valid excuse?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for intel,” you muttered into the piece, picking at your nails, and the bits of dirt catching underneath them. The hallway behind you was long, leading to a sealed door. “There’s a door here that’s locked with a biometric scanner. The name matches our guy though.” You continued to study the panel, lightly running your fingers along the seams until - bingo.

With the edge of your knife, you pried against the gap in the panel, until the screen flew off, falling to the floor with a crack. Within a second, the lights had dimmed, a faint echo of an alarm bleating across invisible speakers. You cursed under your breath, taking a moment to analyze the collection of wires and motherboard looking things beneath the panel. 

What the fuck did any of them even mean.

“Fuck it.” You grabbed a handful of wires, and in a final hail mary moment, yanked them all from the panel. The alarm grew to a shriek, though you caught sight of the door shifting, just enough to indicate that the lock had faltered. Honestly, you had no idea how that even worked. 

“What the hell is going on in there?” your earpiece rang again. Your operative sounded less than thrilled.

“Well, let’s just say the security in this place is weird,” you huffed, reaching to pry the door open enough to slide into the office. “I made it into Brown’s office though.”

“Good,” she sighed. “From what I can tell they’ve dispatched a team towards the office. You’ve likely got two minutes before you need to be out of there, so get the notes and go.”

You nodded to the empty room, your brows furrowing as the lights within the office continued to flash. A computer was still on, the login information filled in.

How convenient.

You raced over to the computer, snatching a random flash drive from the desk. Clicking the login button, you watched the foreboding circle on the screen as the information loaded, your heart soaring as the desktop flashed into view. Wasting no time, you hit the files tab, plugging in the USB and copying anything, everything that you saw. You filtered through the email tab, copying the most recent files onto the drive as well. 

And then, a chorus of voices caught your attention. 

As the drive process edged towards completion, you searched through the room again, your attention catching on a door on the opposite wall. Praying that it wasn’t a closet, you ejected the drive, your arms flailing to grab at a pile of file folders, each labelled with three lettered initials. Hopefully they were important; you didn’t have the time to care. 

In a haste, you wrenched the door open, and-

“Fuck me.”

It was a closet.

“Harper,” you hissed into your piece, pushing forward between the hanging jackets and a mop handle. “I’m a little stuck in place right now, and I would really appreciate any backup.”

“Where are you?”

“In a broom closet. In Brown’s office.”

You heard a frustrated curse. A chorus of frantic typing on a keyboard before Harper’s voice was back in your ear.

“Okay, hang tight. Kennedy’s on his way.”

Wait.

“Fucking hell,” you cursed, wondering why the world had decided to curse you further in this clusterfuck of a mission. “How far out?”

“Five minutes. He was already on his way to the building.”

???????

You let out a whispered acknowledgment, falling silent as the first voice burst through the room. And then another, and another, until you were counting five low voices, assigning each other different areas to scout.

There was no way you could hide in here. Your free hand fell to the knife at your waist, shifting to the holstered gun along your thigh, and then back to the knife. It was safer. 

Better for close combat.

As Harper’s voice echoed “three minutes” into your ear, you heard a shuffle of footsteps halt directly in front of you. You held your breath, unsheathing your knife and loosening your knees into a short crouch.

The door flew open, and you lunged.

The first man let out a shout as you barrelled straight through him, sending him stumbling back off his feet. The four others - plus another surprise attendee - all whirled around to face you, their guns drawn. In a second, you ducked to the side, shuffling yourself behind the computer desk. You gave up on the file folders with a curse, throwing them over the desk towards your attackers.

In the distraction, you unholstered your gun, switching your knife to the other hand and crossing them together. Ducking your head over, you took a shot, hearing a pained cry. You shot again, creeping closer to the side of the desk. If you could sneak your way around and out the door, you could-

“He’s there.”

Another round of gunshots, ringing with that familiar weight, cut through the room. It felt quicker than three minutes, and you couldn’t help but peek your head over the desk.

Leon’s expression was stoic, his brows drawn into a line as he let loose another spray of gunfire. Two men fell to the ground, clutching at their legs. You took the opportunity to shoot out from your position, circling around towards the door. You took a few shots of your own, downing another two attackers as Leon’s arm reached out to force you behind him. 

You didn’t waste any time, grabbing his wrist and running from the room.

“Are you okay?” He huffed from beside you, having just barely caught up to your pace. You nodded, not trusting the words in your throat. His hair had gotten longer in the weeks, and there was a new hollowness just below his cheekbones. The sight of him sent a pang of emotion through you, and you chose to ignore it, keeping your expression blank as you raced towards the lab entrance.

Leon called your name as you escaped the building - surprisingly easily as no other security detail came after you. Your back flared, but your feet ignored the will of your mind, turning you to face the agent. With his long hair, wearing that familiar leather jacket and a pair of knitted brows. The sight of him, after those weeks of radio silence, of forcing you to question yourself over, and over again.

You weren’t relieved to see him. There was no spark of joy, no twinge of grief in your heart. You were angry.

“What the fuck do you want, Leon?”

He recoiled at the venom in your voice, his lips tightening further into a frown. You wanted to feel bad, to apologize and reach out for his hand, as you’d done in every argument before. But you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

Leon cleared his throat.

“You’re bleeding,” was the only thing he said, directing his gaze to your side. You glanced down, taking in the dark, damp spot against the navy fabric of your shirt. The pain in your side didn’t even flare up until you pressed a hand to the wound, a sharp breath hissing between your teeth. Leon stumbled forward a step, his arm stretching out, until you caught his gaze, and he faltered.

It was quiet for a moment, the dull throb in your side beginning to grow in intensity. Leon’s gaze fell to the side, his teeth catching his bottom lip. If you had to hazard a guess, he looked angry, but you couldn’t tell why. 

“Just get me out of here,” you breathed, after another moment of silence between you two.

—

You didn’t let Leon come with you into the infirmary, much to his vocal protest. You received a visit from Ingrid, her expression remaining mostly concerned, though her lips held a tight line, and some prodding got her to admit that the agent had mercilessly been pestering her regarding your wellbeing. 

Why now?

You remained steadfast, refusing to confront him and allow yourself to fall back into whatever spell had prompted this whole disaster in the first place. You wallowed, you caught yourself staring at his contact in your phone. You listened to the low, muffled timbre of his voice outside your room and fought the urge to call him in, face the time, the distance that’d been placed between you two. You forced a wall up, defensive and as strong as you could muster.

You kept that wall up for five days. And then Ingrid decided she’d had enough.

You were leaning against the bed, packing up your few personal items to take home when the door opened, signaling Ingrid’s arrival.

“Hey - do you think we could stop at a drive thru on the way? I swear to god I need an actual meal-”

You shut right up as Leon Kennedy stumbled into your room, looking like a feral cat as he shrugged Ingrid’s hands off his shoulders. Her gaze found yours, unrelenting as she gestured between the two of you.

“Change of plans. Leon’s driving you home. Figure out whatever the fuck is going on between you two or I swear to god I am leaving you to die on your next missions,” she hissed, slamming the door shut without another word.

You all but shriveled into ash, your throat tightening as the man that had plagued your mind for the past two months scowled at the wall. He rolled his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze slowly, sloooooowly found yours.

“What have you been doing here, Leon?” you finally sighed.

“You need to be more careful.”

You huffed. “Noted. As if you have any right to tell me that. I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?” 

“If I hadn't shown up, who knows what could have happened.”

“Leon-”

“You know, you’d most likely be dead!” His voice grew in pitch, his gaze growing harder as he took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Leon-”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that reckless,” he hissed. 

“Well, what the hell do you think caused that?” you shouted. Leon’s mouth finally snapped shut. His jaw clenched, his gaze falling away from yours.

“You can’t just disappear for six weeks and-” you cut off with a hissed curse, reaching for the sudden flare of pain in your side. Leon’s arm shot out, and against your better judgement, you stepped away from it, holding a hand out to stop him. You watched him wince.

“You can’t just do that to me and pretend everything’s fine, Leon,” you finished. He looked hurt, his hand coming up to cover his face under the facade of brushing a stray hair away from his eyes. And the silence between you grew for a long moment.

“I know,” he finally breathed, his voice clipping at the end of its sentence. When you spared him a glance, you noticed the tightness of his fists, his nails digging hard into his palm as his gaze remained unfocused against the floor. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, forcing the words out from your lips.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, and his gaze snapped back to yours in a moment. Before he could get a word out, you were talking again. “Did I take advantage of you? Because I swear, I thought you were fully coherent. Hell, I’ve seen you in a much worse state without any problems, but maybe I read into something and I forced your hand and-”

Leon’s hands found your shoulders, and you physically jerked out of your thoughts. You watched his face twist into something that looked like pain as his hands flew off of you with a muttered apology. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear,” he muttered. “I did everything wrong. I just…”

You waited. And he took a breath.

“Let’s get you home.”

You let his words balance on your tongue, your gaze slipping away from him. Your brain felt like mush, both relieved and disappointed. Overall, entirely unsure of what to think. So, with a silent nod, you let him slip your bag over his shoulder, his hand hovering over your shoulder as he led you out of the infirmary and to his car.

God, you’d missed his car.

The door shut behind you, and you immediately noticed your chapstick, still settled in the second cupholder between the seats. His bags were still strewn across the backseat, along with one of your old hoodies, the only neatly folded item on the seat. Leon flicked on the radio as he drove home, keeping the volume low enough that it almost blended with the noise of the car along the road.

You recognized the song, something you used to sing to your curtains at night. Something about a fancy dress, bought for a single person.

You reached across the dashboard to switch the radio station.

Throughout the drive, you made too much effort to sneak some glances at him. He looked tense, his grip on the wheel almost as tight as his jaw. He had that familiar knot in his brows that told you of the racing thoughts in his own head. And every once in a while, you’d catch him as he snapped his attention back to the road.

By the time you arrived at your home, you’d actually tired yourself out trying to analyze his thoughts. 

Leon parked the car, glancing towards your front door. Though it wasn’t dark, the moment felt familiar. The awkward silence, the silence that thickened the air. So, before it could get too reminiscent, you practically threw yourself out the car door. 

Leon was on his feet as you shut the door, looking over the roof of the car to meet your gaze. He’d already reached to grab your bag, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Can I help you bring this in?”

You fucking hated this distance between the two of you.

“Do you want to come in?”

Leon barely hesitated - only enough for his shoulders to relax - before he nodded, circling around the car to follow you into your home.

You shut the door, directing Leon to just drop your bag by the pile of stuff in the hall, before you trudged over to the couch, falling into the comfort of the cushions. He sat next to you, much closer than you would have expected. You spent a long moment staring into space, mustering up the words you needed to say before finally letting out a heavy sigh.

“Why did you disappear for two months? And then why did you show up? Why did I have to listen to you outside of my hospital room? Why did you leave in the first place?” 

As you asked them, your questions didn’t seem to stop, and Leon seemed to pick up on the increasing urgency in your voice as he caught your hand, rubbing a circle along your knuckles because he knew it would calm you down. You wanted to pull away from it, to keep that fiery wind in your sails before your resolve completely crumbled. Yet as you started to pull away, his grip tightened on your hand, a sharp breath sounding from his lips. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his own nose scrunching as he thought. “I thought I ruined something, that maybe I took advantage of you and ruined things.”

“So why not just talk about it?” you pressed. “I mean, we’ve seen each other through much worse.”

Leon was quiet. (I’m about to hit you with the cheesiest fucking line known to man)

“I mean, what could be worse than fucking that up and losing you?”

There was a strong wave of pure feeling that crashed through your chest. Something that felt like grief, like adoration. It felt like pain and bliss all tied up together in a bow. It was like you were teetering at the edge of a cliff and something in his words had just anchored at you. But at the same time, it felt like you were watching each other crumble apart next to each other. 

Without any warning, you burst into tears. 

Leon’s breath caught in his throat as you flew into him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and pulling him as close as possible. He was trembling, his own arms wrapping around your waist, as he buried his nose into your shoulder.

It was rare to see this kind of emotion from him. His voice was trembling, and his grip on your waist was tight enough that you wondered if he was scared to let go. Those walls you’d watched him carefully craft over the years crumbled right in front of you, and your heart couldn’t help but swell at the outpouring of those emotions he’d locked up for so long.

“Can you forgive me for running away?” he asked. Pleaded, really. His eyes grew wider in your silence. A part of you wanted to wash away the past weeks, draw him right back into your arms without another battle. The smaller, more bitter part of you wanted to keep arguing, to show him just how much he’d hurt you. 

But this was Leon. He was your closest friend…. And he was looking at you without any defense in his gaze. He held only sincerity, if not a little bit of fear as he waited. You’d been more honest with him than anyone else, and in a moment you simply knew with utmost confidence he would offer you the same. So you asked.

“What did that night mean to you?” you asked, fighting against the tightness in your chest for volume. As you pulled away to face him head on, his gaze softened. His lips twitching in the first smile you’d seen in months.

“You said you bought that dress for me,” he started, his gaze unwavering. “And I swear I saw heaven. I meant every word I said. And I want you. I want to be with you.”

The words were simple, but they made your heart soar. 

“You’re my person,” you muttered. “Always.”

And Leon let out a huge breath, his eyes falling shut and his shoulders sagging before he surged upwards to kiss you.

When he kissed you, it felt like he craved you, like he couldn’t live without the feeling of your lips against his. He held you tight, his fingers digging softly into your back. You let your own hands curl into his shirt, your lips parting just enough for his tongue to prod against the seam.

Leon broke away from you for barely a second before he kissed you again, soft and so tender that you felt like glass about to shatter. Your thumb brushed against his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tickle of his hair, simply reassuring yourself that he was actually there in front of you.

He pulled you close, closer than you could even have thought possible, his hands curling into your shirt. When he finally pulled away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone, his breath shook. Your shirt grew damp, and your arms tightened around him.

“Y’know how much I missed you, you fucking dumbass?” you sighed, and Leon let out a weak chuckle. He lifted his head slowly, his nose barely brushing against your jaw as you found those ever familiar baby blues of his.

“I think I have some idea,” he whispered with a short grin.

And you kissed him again.

TAGGING:

@chaosandbubbles @obsessedwithtoomanythings @navstuffs

[pencilofawesomeness]

Guys I'm having such a bizarre moment. I didn't expect to win like this, or to have my personal headcanons be confirmed so directly, but I also feel simultaneously robbed because Akutami is reaching into my head /jk

We received so little about Sukuna, but those brief brief brieeef moments of existentialism really caught me and I've thought about him for so long because of it. He was a fantastically terrifying villain, but there was always that dissonance there, between some of his words and actions, that portrayed that aimless longing and hurt and what that meant as a characterization point, and I'm honestly so hyped we turn around and get this in 271:

(scanlation for this panel because I think it gets the sentiment across better)

Followed by

I'm—

Y'all I started my draft for my Sukuna Reincarnation AU months ago and I never expected canon to validate me. They leave it easier and more open-ended, of course, but I'm coming on the record to say I wasn't crazy for my stretch of a character exploration and also I called it.

I won't go into the specifics of my "study Sukuna like a cockroach" notes now I just wanted to come grab the mic and announce that I beat Akutami to it >:D /lh

I'm being a good noodle and not stretching myself thin by starting a new multichap now, but I've had With the Storm in the works since January, and in light of the end of JJK and this lovely little tidbit, I'm tossing a sneak-peak from Chapter 7 because why not:

But maybe it could be. Maybe, just maybe, Uraume could accept this proffered hand and continue to hope.

---

Yet… things were different now. Things changed. Uraume changed, Sukuna changed, and even though they were still themselves, there was a myriad of shifts that piled on their shoulders until something gave way. Maybe a subconscious part of Uraume had braced for that to be a crash, but instead, Sukuna had been nothing but accepting and open. It only made them more nervous about losing him, just as they feared losing Pops. Uraume was not used to wanting, or hoping, but there was a powerful need in their chest that childishly demanded that they should get to keep both their kinder father and this happier Sukuna close, even if that may not be possible.

They nodded, not trusting their words at the moment, and Sukuna relaxed slightly.

“Good. Though that reminds me… You never really answered my first question. What do you want to do? With this life, I mean.”

There was that want again. Uraume felt the pull at their lungs until it was unbearable. They knew what he was asking; the question didn’t hinge on his involvement anymore, just them. Sukuna said he wanted to live peacefully, so what, then, was Uraume’s answer?

As much as they felt like a coward saying this, maybe that was okay. Sukuna felt the same way, after all. “I like this life too…” Uraume answered, and it was very different saying those words aloud. “Pops isn’t a shaman at all, and he’s good company and a good father. If I wasn’t able to find you, or you were not of this world, then… I would stay as his family.”

“That’s good,” Sukuna agreed, lifting yet another anxious weight from their chest. “I get that. Nobody else in my family are shamans either—at least, not really—and they’re all good people. It’s a good life, and even though I would have never expected it… I don’t want to lose it.”

It was amazing how similar they were, then and now. Uraume…really shouldn’t have worried about a lack of understanding. Sukuna didn’t have to say it, but it was clear that their thoughts had wandered down a similar road yet again. Their families, full of normal people living normal lives, were an unexpected treasure; to willingly become a monster, to become a scourge upon the world for whatever reason, would forfeit that. More than that, having people to care about made the desire to spread destruction lessen, rather significantly. Maybe that hurt and rage and bitterness was still there, in between their ribs, but in the ones that were dead and buried—a part of them, but also not quite there anymore, like when a scar ceases to constantly itch and ache and becomes only a mark on functioning skin.

They didn’t have to be monsters anymore. There were calmer, kinder things available to want—available to receive, even.

“This is so weird,” Uraume blurted, staring at their small hands and thinking of the strange miracle their lives turned into.

Sukuna barked a quick laugh before it was muffled into something like a snicker. “I know, right?” He leaned back in a stretch, his face catching the sun and lighting him in something that wasn’t a fire, but equally bright. “It’s not bad though.”

It was weird, to be a child, to be without some far-off goal, to be loved and happy, in the sense that it was absurd and foreign and absolutely unexpected. It was a breath of fresh air after years and years of having frozen lungs. Weird, surprising, but unmistakably good after so long of believing that no such term, deceptively simple, could have ever been applicable.

“Not bad at all,” Uraume agreed, a bright and blooming thing in their chest as their life began to slot into a new place. Still open-ended and perhaps a little terrifying for it, but Pops accepted them, and Sukuna accepted them, so maybe they could truly accept themself now, and whatever that will look like.

[kelseyreads22]

First Kisses

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Summary: Sebastian and Colette, finally, share their first kiss under the mistletoe but it quickly turns into first kissES. Two teenagers shamelessly in love with one another ❤️

This is a chapter from my fanfic “The Light to Your Shadows” (on Wattpad and A03!) featuring my MC Colette Labelle. Slight spoilers for the story but overall this is just a shameless makeout scene and first kisses. If you enjoy this, be sure to check out my full fan fiction here:

*18+*

💋 enjoy xx

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Colette took a deep breath as she stepped into the guest room, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the large window, casting gentle shadows across the floor. The room was cozy, its dark wood paneling and thick rug giving it a warm, comforting atmosphere, even on this cold winter night. She closed the door quietly behind her, slipping off her shoes and walking toward the bed.

She set her suitcase down on the floor, opening it carefully. The familiar scent of lavender from the house lingered in the air as she pulled out her pajamas—soft, dark blue flannel with small white stars—and folded them neatly on the bed. It was always the little things that made her feel settled. The soft fabrics against her skin, the quiet hum of the house around her, the comfort of having a place to herself.

She worked quickly, pulling out the rest of her clothes and hanging them in the small closet, organizing everything meticulously. It was a way of grounding herself, of reminding herself that she was safe here, even with the underlying tension from dinner. Solomon's harsh words still stung, but she'd pushed them aside for the moment. This was supposed to be a peaceful holiday, and she wasn't going to let one person ruin it.

Once everything was unpacked, Colette sighed in contentment, smoothing the covers on the bed. She took a moment to stretch, feeling the tension of the day begin to release from her shoulders. Her body ached from the long journey, but there was something calming about the quiet of the house, the stillness that surrounded her. She slipped into her pajamas, the soft fabric of the shirt and pants immediately comforting against her skin.

As she adjusted the pillows on the bed, she paused for a moment, staring at the faint reflection of the snowy grounds outside the window. The landscape looked serene, untouched by the day's chaos, as if the world outside was frozen in time.

With a soft yawn, Colette turned back to the bed, crawling under the covers and adjusting herself to get comfortable. The warmth of the blanket immediately enveloped her, but the lingering restlessness in her mind kept her from falling asleep just yet.

Just as she was finally starting to let herself drift to sleep, a sudden sound jolted her awake. The door to her room creaked open—just slightly at first.

Colette's eyes snapped open, her heart racing for a moment. What was that?

She sat up in bed, staring at the door, which slowly began to swing open wider on its own. The soft creak echoed in the quiet room, making the hairs on her neck stand on end. The door opened completely, and then, with a soft click, it closed itself again.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. It didn't make sense, but she didn't get up to investigate. She was too tired.

But then, the door clicked again—this time, locking. Colette's breath caught in her throat, her gaze darting toward the door.

Suddenly, she heard the faintest shuffle—like someone moving across the floor, but there was no one to be seen. Her heart raced.

"Sebastian?" she called softly, her voice tentative as she squinted into the dimness of the room.

The air around her seemed to shift, and then, from the corner of the room, came the soft, familiar sound of Sebastian's voice. "Hey, don't be scared." His voice was quiet, reassuring, but still full of mischief. "It's just me."

She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, glancing around but still seeing no one. The hairs on her arms were raised. It was as though he was right beside her, yet completely out of sight.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, but still no figure appeared. Then, with a soft shimmer, Sebastian's form started to materialize in front of her, the Disillusionment Charm slowly fading away. He gave her a sly smile as he fully revealed himself.

"Didn't want to wake anyone," he said, looking pleased with himself. "Thought I'd surprise you."

Colette's confusion melted into a mix of amusement and mild annoyance. "You could've just knocked like a normal person, Sebastian."

He shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Where's the fun in that?"

Colette shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips despite herself. "What are you up to now?"

Sebastian stepped forward and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "I've missed you. I thought we could make this a special night." His voice softened, his eyes sincere. "Come with me."

She blinked, still trying to make sense of what was happening. "Sebastian, I'm in my pajamas. It's late—"

He took a step toward the window, glancing back over his shoulder with a teasing smile. "You're just going to have to trust me." With a soft, coaxing tone, he added, "Come outside with me. I promise it'll be worth it."

She hesitated, glancing between him and the window. "Outside? In my pajamas?"

He only nodded, his smile widening. "You won't regret it."

Despite the surreal nature of the situation, Colette found herself standing and walking toward the window. Her curiosity—along with that familiar pull to be near him—won out.

Colette stepped out onto the roof, her eyes widening in surprise as the cool night air surrounded her. The blanket was spread out on the roof with cushions scattered here and there, creating a cozy little nest in the middle of the darkness. A small lantern sat off to one side, casting a soft, flickering glow across the space, and for a moment, everything felt surreal. She could hardly believe Sebastian had planned this.

She turned to him, still in disbelief. "Sebastian, what is all this?"

He was standing a few paces away, watching her with a soft smile on his lips. His eyes were warm, sincere. "I thought it'd be nice for us to get away from everything for a bit. Just the two of us," he said, his voice low, almost intimate.

Colette glanced around at the quiet, peaceful scene. The stars twinkled overhead, and everything seemed so still, so serene. She could almost forget they were on the roof of a house, far away from the bustle of the holiday inside.

Sebastian took a step forward and patted the blanket beside him. "Come sit with me."

She didn't hesitate, feeling the cool night breeze against her skin, and then she joined him, sitting down on the blanket. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she tucked her knees up to her chest to stay warm. She took a deep breath, letting the night air fill her lungs, and looked up at the stars above them. The sky was clearer than she'd seen it in ages.

"This is... really nice," Colette said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't deny it—the peacefulness of the moment was making her feel more at ease than she'd been all day.

Sebastian settled beside her, laying down on the blanket and stretching out, his arms behind his head. "I'm glad you like it." He turned to face her, his eyes glinting with a spark of something she couldn't quite place. "Look at the stars," he murmured, nodding upward. "You can see everything up here."

She followed his gaze, her eyes lifting to the sky. The constellations seemed closer, more alive in the quiet of the night. She couldn't help but smile, the wonder of it all settling over her. "It's beautiful."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling gently through the trees, and the soft glow of the lantern flickered beside them. Colette let herself relax, feeling the tension she didn't even know she'd been holding in her body start to ease away.

Sebastian let out a small, contented sigh beside her. "I wanted to show you this. I've always thought there's something magical about the stars. When things get crazy, they're always there—steady, constant." His voice was so calm, so thoughtful, that Colette found herself drawn in, even more than before. "And, you know, they're kind of like us, in a way."

She turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Like us? How?"

"Always there, even when you can't see them," he said, his tone teasing but with an underlying softness. He glanced at her then, a little mischievous glint in his eyes. "You might not notice it at first, but I'm here."

Colette blinked, not fully understanding. "Sebastian—"

Before she could respond, he sat up slightly, motioning for her to do the same. "Lay down," he urged softly. "You can see them better that way."

She followed his lead, stretching out next to him. They lay side by side, a comfortable silence falling between them as they both gazed up at the stars.

Colette didn't notice the mistletoe hanging just above them, gently swaying in the breeze, as they lay there, caught up in the quiet moment. The night felt different—calmer, even magical—and she found herself feeling something that was more than just the cool air or the stars. She could feel his presence beside her, the way he had made everything feel like it was meant to be.

For a long time, they simply laid there, letting the night surround them. There was no need for words, just the shared silence, and something unspoken that lingered in the air.

Sebastian eventually turned his head to look at her, his gaze softer now, more vulnerable. "I've missed this," he whispered. "Being close to you."

Colette turned her head toward him, and for the first time, she saw how serious he was. His usual cocky grin had softened, and his eyes were filled with something else—something deeper. It made her heart race, a small flutter in her chest she couldn't ignore.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words escaped her. Instead, she simply nodded, her heart caught in a whirlwind she hadn't expected.

Sebastian's lips curved into a faint smile, as though he could sense the way her emotions were spiraling. The tension between them was palpable, a charged energy that seemed to grow with each passing second. His hand inched closer to hers on the blanket, his fingers brushing against hers, featherlight.

The smallest touch sent a jolt through her, and she swallowed hard, hoping he didn't notice. Of course, he did. He always noticed everything about her.

"I wanted this to be perfect," Sebastian said softly, his voice low and intimate. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along the back of her hand. "I've been thinking about it for a while now."

Colette felt her breath hitch. "Thinking about what?" she asked, though deep down, she knew the answer.

His gaze didn't leave hers, and he shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow. The distance between them was practically nonexistent now, his face just inches from hers. "About how much I've wanted to do this." He smirked, though it lacked his usual teasing edge. "You're all I think about, Colette."

Her heart raced at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She didn't know how to respond, her mind too caught up in the way he was looking at her, like she was the only person in the world.

Sebastian seemed to sense her hesitation, and his free hand moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so gentle, so intimate, that she couldn't help but close her eyes for a moment, savoring it.

"I thought about every detail," he murmured, his thumb brushing along her cheek. "The stars, the lantern, the blanket. I wanted this to feel special for you."

"You didn't have to go to so much trouble," Colette whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yes, I did," he countered, his tone firm but still soft. "You deserve special. You deserve everything."

Her cheeks flushed at his words, the sincerity in his voice leaving her breathless. She looked up at him, her lips parting to say something, but no sound came out.

Sebastian smiled again, his thumb still tracing her cheek. "I've never felt like this before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You make me... different. Better."

Colette's chest tightened, her emotions swirling uncontrollably. She had waited so long for a moment like this, but now that it was here, she felt completely unprepared.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. "You know, I didn't just bring you up here to look at the stars."

She raised an eyebrow, her heart pounding in her chest. "Oh?"

He glanced up briefly, and she followed his gaze. That's when she saw it—the mistletoe hanging just above them, swaying gently in the breeze.

Her breath caught, and her eyes darted back to his, wide with realization. "Sebastian..."

He grinned, that familiar cocky spark returning to his eyes, though it was softer now, tinged with vulnerability. "Don't look at me like that. It's tradition, isn't it?"

Colette's lips quirked into a small smile despite herself. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Guilty," he admitted, his voice warm and teasing. "But can you blame me?"

Before she could respond, his hand moved to her waist, his touch firm but careful, grounding her in the moment. He leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against hers.

Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to close the distance between them, to finally bridge the gap they'd been dancing around for so long.

Sebastian seemed to take her silence as permission, his lips curving into a soft smile before he leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

When his lips finally met hers, it was like the world stopped. The kiss was slow, tender, and utterly consuming, a perfect mix of passion and restraint. His hand moved to cup her cheek, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he felt into it.

Colette's hands moved instinctively, one tangling in his hair while the other clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body, the softness of his lips—it was overwhelming in the best way possible.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads still pressed together. Sebastian's eyes were darker now, filled with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite place.

"That," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "was worth the wait."

Colette let out a soft laugh, her cheeks flushed. "Can we do that again?"

"I planned on it," he teased, his grin widening.

Colette's cheeks burned as Sebastian's words lingered in the air, weaving themselves into her thoughts. The weight of his gaze didn't waver, drawing her closer, as if the entire universe had conspired to trap them in this moment.

She didn't have time to think long before he leaned in again.

The kiss had started slow—gentle, even—but as his lips moved against hers, there was no mistaking the intensity simmering beneath the surface. His hand, warm and steady, slid from her cheek to the curve of her neck, his thumb brushing softly along her jawline. Each caress left her trembling, her breaths shallow as she tried to process the unfamiliar sensations coursing through her.

She was acutely aware of everything. The cool night air brushing her skin, the faint scent of pine from the forest below, the rough texture of the blanket beneath them. And then there was Sebastian—utterly consuming, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way.

His lips parted slightly, and she instinctively mirrored the movement, her heart skipping a beat as the kiss deepened. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced—raw and electrifying, yet somehow gentle, like he was holding back, careful not to overwhelm her.

But she was already overwhelmed.

Her hands trembled as they moved, unsure, to rest against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips grounded her, but it also made her acutely aware of just how close they were. She felt the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin, and it sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

Sebastian pulled back just enough to study her face, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that made her pulse race. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Colette nodded, though she couldn't seem to find her voice. Her lips tingled from his kiss, and her cheeks flushed under his penetrating gaze. "I... yes," she managed to whisper, though her voice cracked slightly.

He smiled, his thumb brushing along her lower lip. "Good."

The single word sent a shiver down her spine, and before she could overthink it, he leaned in again. This time, there was no hesitation.

The kiss was hungrier now, a tangle of lips and breath and raw, unspoken desire. Sebastian's hand slid from her neck to her waist, pulling her closer as though the small distance between them was unbearable. His touch was firm but never demanding, his fingers splaying against the curve of her hip in a way that made her skin tingle even through the fabric of her sweater.

Colette felt like she was unraveling under his touch, her inexperience painfully obvious as she tried to keep up with the rhythm he set. But if Sebastian noticed, he didn't show it. Instead, he seemed intent on guiding her, his movements unhurried, deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to teach her.

Her hands moved on their own, sliding upward to his shoulders before tentatively wrapping around his neck. The action pulled them even closer, and she let out a soft gasp as his chest pressed against hers, the heat of his body seeping into her own.

Sebastian pulled back just enough to trail kisses along her jaw, his lips soft and warm against her skin. "You're incredible," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"

Colette's breath hitched, her fingers tightening in his hair as she tilted her head instinctively to give him better access. The sensation of his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck was almost too much, her nerves alight with every gentle scrape of his teeth or soft press of his mouth.

"I..." she began, her voice shaky, but she couldn't form a coherent thought. All she could focus on was the way Sebastian's hands seemed to map out every curve of her body, his touch firm but never overstepping.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, his lips brushing against her collarbone. "If it's too much, just say the word."

But she didn't want him to stop. She couldn't imagine wanting anything else in that moment.

Instead of answering, she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him back up to capture his lips again. Her boldness surprised her, but the low groan that rumbled in Sebastian's throat sent a thrill through her that outweighed any embarrassment.

His hand slid beneath the hem of her pajama top, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of her lower back. The touch was searing, sending a jolt through her that made her gasp into his mouth.

Sebastian pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he struggled to catch his breath. "Sorry," he murmured, though the smirk tugging at his lips suggested he wasn't entirely repentant. "I'm getting carried away."

Colette shook her head, her own breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Don't apologize," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes searched hers, dark and intense, as though he was trying to gauge just how far she was willing to go. "You sure?"

She nodded, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I trust you."

The simple statement seemed to undo him. His lips crashed against hers once more, and this time there was no mistaking the urgency in his movements. He shifted, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her onto his lap, the new position leaving her completely surrounded by him.

Colette's heart raced as his hands roamed her back, his touch exploring but never pushing. Her own hands moved tentatively, trailing along the broad expanse of his shoulders and down the length of his arms, marveling at the strength she felt there.

The intensity between them built with each passing second, the world around them fading away until there was nothing but the heat of his body and the electric connection that seemed to pulse between them.

For Colette, it was a revelation. She had never been this close to anyone before, never allowed herself to be this vulnerable. But with Sebastian, it didn't feel scary. It felt right.

Sebastian's lips moved against hers with a slow, deliberate intensity, his hands steady as they rested at her waist. The cold night air nipped at Colette's skin, but she hardly noticed it. Her entire focus was on him—on the way he kissed her like he had been waiting forever, on the way his touch seemed to ignite something deep inside her that she didn't know existed.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders for balance as her knees pressed into the rough blanket beneath them. Every brush of his lips against hers sent a shiver through her, and she wondered how something could feel so new and so right at the same time.

Sebastian pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead pressing against hers. His breaths were warm and uneven, mingling with hers in the cool air. "You're so perfect, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Colette felt her cheeks flush, but she didn't look away. Instead, she let out a shaky laugh, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. "You're not so bad yourself."

His lips curved into a crooked smile, and he leaned in again, capturing her mouth with his in a kiss that was deeper, more insistent. The world around them faded away—the chill of the night, the quiet rustle of the trees—none of it mattered.

Colette's hands slid up to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tried to pull him closer. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it, but if he did, he didn't seem to mind.

Sebastian shifted slightly, his arm wrapping more securely around her waist as he leaned back on one elbow, pulling her down with him. The new angle made her gasp softly against his lips, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't.

The kiss grew more heated, the tension between them building with each passing second. Colette had never felt anything like this before—this overwhelming mix of emotions and sensations. It was intoxicating, and she didn't want it to stop.

But then, somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered where they were. The roof, exposed to the night and the possibility of being caught.

"We should..." she started, her voice breathless as she pulled back slightly. "We should go inside."

Sebastian blinked, his dark eyes glazed with the same intensity she felt. He glanced around, seeming to remember their precarious position, and let out a soft chuckle. "Good idea."

He helped her to her feet, his hands steadying her as she wobbled slightly. They exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them, before he moved to the window they had climbed through earlier.

Sebastian slipped through first, his movements practiced and confident. He turned back to help her, his hands firm and sure as he guided her back inside. Colette's heart raced as she stepped into the quiet room, the stillness amplifying the soft creak of the floorboards beneath her feet.

Her gaze darted to the door, her nerves prickling as she imagined someone walking in. But Sebastian's hand slipped into hers, grounding her. "Relax," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's just us."

She nodded, letting him lead her toward the bed. The covers were still rumpled from when she had left earlier, and the sight made her cheeks flush.

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her down beside him. "Come here," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

Colette hesitated for only a moment before leaning into him, her legs folding beneath her as she pressed against his side. His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer until their faces were just inches apart again.

Their lips met in another kiss, this one slower but no less intense. Colette felt herself sinking into him, her body molding to his as his hand moved to rest on her lower back. His fingers traced lazy, featherlight patterns there, sending shivers up her spine.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that—kissing, exploring, letting the quiet hum of the house surround them. Sebastian's touch was firm but careful, his movements measured as if he wanted to savor every moment.

Colette's hands moved tentatively, sliding up his chest to rest against his shoulders. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breaths beneath her palms, the warmth of his body seeping into hers.

"Colette," he murmured against her lips, his voice barely more than a breath.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there made her stomach flip, and she couldn't help the small, nervous smile that tugged at her lips. "What?"

"You're going to ruin me," he said, his tone laced with both amusement and sincerity.

She laughed softly, her fingers brushing the back of his neck. "I think you're being a little dramatic."

"Maybe," he admitted, his lips quirking into a small grin. "But I mean it."

Before she could respond, he kissed her again, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. The angle shifted, and Colette found herself leaning back against the bed, her heart pounding as Sebastian followed her down.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand resting at her waist as he kissed her slowly, deeply. Colette's hands moved instinctively, one tangling in his hair while the other clutched at the fabric of his shirt. The closeness, the heat, the way his lips moved against hers—it was all so overwhelming, yet she couldn't get enough.

They broke apart only briefly to catch their breath, their foreheads resting together as they shared a quiet moment.

Sebastian's lips claimed hers just a moment later, the quiet hush of the room only amplifying the heat between them. Colette barely had time to catch her breath as he pressed her gently back against the bed, his hands bracketing her waist.

The weight of his body hovered just over hers, his kisses growing more insistent, more consuming. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could anchor herself against the storm of emotions crashing through her.

She felt the press of him—warm, solid, and all-encompassing—as he settled between her legs, his hands firm on her hips. His weight pinned her to the mattress, but instead of feeling trapped, she felt electrified.

Their lips barely parted as he adjusted himself, his movements bold and deliberate. The moment his hips pressed against hers, Colette let out a soft, startled gasp, the friction sending a jolt through her she hadn't expected.

Sebastian stilled for only a heartbeat before he rolled his hips again, testing the waters. The pressure and heat of him against her was overwhelming, but it was a good kind of overwhelming. A delicious kind that left her breathless and aching for more.

Her hands gripped his shoulders as she arched into him instinctively, her body reacting on its own. The pajama fabric between them dulled the sensation but not enough to keep her from feeling every deliberate movement he made.

"Sebastian," she whispered, her voice barely audible as her heart pounded in her chest.

He didn't stop. Instead, he dipped his head, his lips trailing down her neck in a slow, heated path. The rasp of his breath against her skin made her shiver, and she tilted her head to give him better access.

"You don't know how long I've wanted this," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and rough.

Colette's breath hitched at his words, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I think I do," she admitted, her cheeks burning as the tension between them continued to build.

Sebastian let out a soft, breathy laugh against her neck before his lips found hers again, stealing the rest of her words. He kissed her deeply, his tongue brushing against hers in a way that made her toes curl.

And then his hips moved again, a slow, deliberate roll that left no room for misinterpretation. Colette's breath caught as she felt him through the thin layers of their clothes, her body arching into his in response.

Every nerve in her body felt alive, her senses overwhelmed by the heat of him, the weight of him, the sheer intensity of his presence. She had never felt anything like this before, but she didn't want it to stop.

Sebastian's hands slid up her sides, his touch firm but careful as he explored the curve of her waist. His fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing against the bare skin of her stomach. The touch was fleeting, almost teasing, but it sent a shiver through her that made her gasp into his mouth.

Encouraged by her reaction, he pressed closer, his lips trailing back down to her neck as his hands continued to explore. Colette's fingers slid from his shoulders to his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if it could ground her.

Her legs shifted beneath him, the movement bringing them even closer. The press of his hips against hers was undeniable now, the friction sending waves of heat through her that she couldn't ignore.

Sebastian groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, as he dipped his head to her shoulder. "You're driving me crazy," he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin.

Colette let out a shaky laugh, her fingers tangling in his hair. "You're one to talk," she whispered, her voice breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn't quite name. "I don't think I can stop," he admitted, his voice raw.

She didn't want him to stop. Her body felt like it was on fire, every touch, every kiss pushing her closer to a precipice she didn't fully understand but desperately wanted to explore.

Sebastian seemed to sense her unspoken permission because his lips crashed against hers again, more urgent this time. His hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly as he rolled his own against her, the rhythm deliberate and consuming.

Colette's breath hitched, her back arching off the mattress as her body pressed into his. The sensation was overwhelming, her mind spinning as she gave herself over to the moment completely.

His lips left hers to trail kisses down her neck, his hands tightening on her hips as he moved against her. The tension between them was palpable, a heady mix of desire and restraint that left her breathless.

"Sebastian," she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers gripped his shirt.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm and ragged as he continued to move against her. His hands slid back up to her waist, his touch steady and grounding even as everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control.

Colette felt her heart racing, her body reacting in ways she didn't fully understand but couldn't bring herself to question. All she knew was that she trusted him, that she wanted this—wanted him.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, tangled together in a haze of heat and longing. The rest of the world faded into nothingness, leaving only the quiet hum of the room and the soft sound of their breathing.

When Sebastian finally pulled back, his lips swollen and his cheeks flushed, his eyes met hers with an intensity that left her breathless. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Everything he felt, everything he wanted, was written all over his face.

Colette smiled softly, her fingers brushing along his jaw. "You're insatiable," she murmured, her voice teasing despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

"And you love me," he replied, his grin crooked but genuine.

She didn't deny it.