#wanting to make a name for herself I guess?

[mrdarcysdadbod]

I picked up another one of those "Jane Austen heroine solves a murder" books but this one is about Emma which is maybe the most correct pick for Murder Solving Austen Heroine. Anyway here's my list in order of most to least likely to (try and) solve a murder:

Catherine Morland - not only did she try and solve a murder, she invented a murder just so she could solve it. Iconic. Catherine would leap at the chance to solve an ACTUAL murder that she knew for SURE happened. Whether she's successful depends entirely on how closely the crime followed the plot of the average Regency CSI episode. Either she gets it in one or makes ten wrong guesses in a row. RIP Cathy you would've been the true crime girlie of all time

Emma Woodhouse - she's the smartest prettiest nosiest bitch in Highbury she has appointed herself lead detective (Harriet is the junior detective taking notes and gasping at the correct times) and she Will get to the Bottom of This. Sets up a dramatic reveal to accuse completely the wrong person, but in a way that lets someone else (probably Knightley or Jane Fairfax) figure out who the actual murderer was.

Lizzie Bennet - depends on 1) who died and 2) where. If there's any possibility Lydia did it she does NOT want to know and will interfere with the investigation. If it doesn't affect her personally she wants to know what's going on but is minding her business about it. If it affects her personally she's actually probably the most effective crime solver of the lot presuming she and Darcy can work together (if they're at odds her beef obscures her intellect) (i have not read death comes to pemberly nobody bring it up thank u)

Marianne Dashwood - honestly more likely to be, like, a witness or somehow involved with the victim and get accused of a crime of passion. I think she could figure it out to clear her name but she has to work around Elinor being like LET THE POLICE DO THEIR JOBS.

Anne Elliot - witnessed the whole thing bc the killer didn't notice her in the room. Fortunately Wentworth is willing to listen to her and it gets solved quickly.

Fanny Price - witnessed the whole thing bc the killer didn't notice her but nobody listens to her except the killer who then kidnaps her to tie up loose ends. Edmund rescues her and when he's like "why would you come after Fanny" and the killer's like "well she saw the whole thing" they're all like "Fanny why wouldn't you say anything" and she just stares into the camera like. Ok.

Elinor Dashwood - not her circus NOT her monkey also she's impeding the investigation bc the victim was Willoughby and she helped Colonel Brandon hide the body.

[fic-girlie]

hello hello!! i have fell down a rabbit hole of your work and absolutely love all of it. i was wondering if you could write no/pre outbreak!joel x childhood best friend!reader? joel’s wife just left him and baby sarah a couple months prior and reader’s been stepping in to help. there’s been “more than friends” energy simmering between them their entire lives, but they’ve constantly pushed those feelings down out of fear of losing what they already have. it’s not until reader lets it slip that she has a date that joel finally says something.

For a long time

Pairing: dad!Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: You look after Sarah when Joel has work to do but when he gets home and you tell him you have a date he couldn't hold it in anymore and tells you the truth he's been keeping for years. Warnings: fluff, confessions, reader looking after Sarah

You know the layout of Joel Miller’s kitchen better than your own.

It’s muscle memory by now — where he keeps the coffee filters, which drawer has the baby spoons, how to pull that tricky fridge drawer with just the right amount of force so it doesn’t jam. You’re not even thinking as you move, swaying Sarah gently against your hip while you pour her cereal milk into a sippy cup, her damp curls tickling your arm. She hums softly, little fingers tangled in your shirt, and you press a kiss to her temple because you can’t help it.

She feels like yours. Not in the literal sense — you’d never take that from Joel — but in the way shared caretaking carves out quiet corners of your heart, places you didn’t even know existed until she was placed in your arms, barely six months old, her mama gone and her daddy held together with little more than duct tape and stubbornness.

Joel’s in the doorway, and you feel him before you see him.

That heavy kind of presence. The way your skin prickles in awareness. He’s been working late today, framing out some custom deck for a rich guy. You’d offered to look after Sarah always, so she wouldn’t be stuck in daycare alone ‘til late evening. You’d done it like always — gently, simply, without asking for anything in return. And he’d nodded like always too, voice quiet and full of something you try not to name.

You keep your eyes on the cup. “She already had dinner. Mashed carrots. It got a little dramatic.”

Joel chuckles, voice rough. “Lemme guess. Face full of it?”

“Hair, too. She’s cultivating a look.”

He steps closer, and now you can smell him — sweat and sawdust, the fading citrus of that shampoo he never replaces until you do it for him. He reaches out for Sarah, and she practically launches herself into his arms, legs kicking excitedly. It makes your stomach ache, how much she loves him. How good he is with her, even when he’s dead on his feet.

“She wore you out, huh?” he murmurs to her. Then, to you: “You sure you don’t mind? Comin’ over like this?”

You lift one shoulder. “Wouldn’t keep doing it if I did.”

He studies you. His gaze lingers longer than it should — not in that overt, hungry way, but in a quiet, full-bodied appreciation. A look that says he sees all the places you’ve been holding the seams of his life together and maybe doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

You’ve known Joel since you were kids. Since skinned knees and field day races, long Texas summers and midnight confessions whispered over walkie talkies between your windows. And all your life, there’s been this current between you — electric, restrained. You’ve both been too afraid to mess with the wiring.

But lately, it feels like something’s fraying.

You force a breath through your nose and lean back against the counter, bracing for the conversation you’ve been putting off all week. “Hey, um. I wanted to tell you — I’ve got a date on Saturday.”

His face doesn’t move. Not at first.

It’s like watching a stone skip — one ripple, then another, spreading out slow. His brows draw together just a little. Sarah babbles in his arms, tapping his cheek, but he doesn’t react.

“A date?” he says, quiet. Like the word doesn’t quite compute.

You nod. “A guy from the bookstore. He asked last week. I figured… why not?”

Joel shifts his weight, jaw working. “Didn’t know you were lookin’.”

“I wasn’t,” you admit, forcing a little laugh. “But maybe I should be. I mean, I’m twenty two. Not gettin’ any younger.”

He lets out a breath through his nose, too sharp to be casual. “And this guy — he knows you spend most your time here? Rockin’ my baby to sleep?”

Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “Joel.”

He sets Sarah down gently in her playpen, making sure she’s distracted by her favorite soft book before he straightens to his full height. He looks tired, yes — but also unsettled in a way you rarely see. Like you’ve knocked something loose just by saying it out loud.

“Just—” he starts, then stops. Scrubs a hand through his hair. “You didn’t think to tell me before?”

“I’m tellin’ you now,” you say, a little defensively. “Didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

He steps closer, and it shifts the air between you. You feel it immediately — the tight pull of proximity, the heat that’s always lived just under your skin when he’s near. “It is,” he says, voice low. “It is a big deal.”

Your chest tightens. “Why? Because you need me to watch Sarah?”

He flinches. “No. God, no. That’s not it.”

“Then what?” you ask, and now you sound winded. Too raw.

Joel looks at you for a long time. Not just at you — into you. And something finally gives. His voice is quieter when he speaks again, but no less steady.

“Because the thought of you with someone else — someone else gettin’ to have you, to hold your hand, make you laugh, wake up beside you — it makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Like someone’s sittin’ on my chest.”

The world stops.

Or maybe it just slows down enough for you to feel every individual heartbeat. Yours. His. The ones you’ve tried to ignore for years, pulsing just beneath the surface.

“You don’t get to say that, Joel,” you whisper. “Not after all this time. Not after every chance we had to admit it and didn’t.”

“I know,” he says. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just— I couldn’t.”

“Because of her?”

He shakes his head. “Because I was scared. You’re— you’ve always been the one thing I couldn’t risk losin’. Even before Sarah. Even before all this.”

You blink fast. Your throat feels too tight to speak.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says. “But I do know that if you go out with that guy, it’ll eat me alive.”

You swallow hard. “And what if I stay? What then, Joel?”

He takes another step. Now he’s close enough to touch, and for once — finally — he does. His hand brushes your hip, then settles there, warm and grounding.

“Then I tell you I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen,” he murmurs, “and I stopped pretendin’ a long time ago.”

You close your eyes, heart thundering, and lean into his touch.

It’s always been there — every lingering look, every night you stayed too long on the porch, every baby bottle passed between tired hands. All the things you never said because what you were was already so precious you couldn’t bear to risk it.

But now?

Now it feels like you’ve both stopped holding your breath.

[azzifudd10]

New Teammates, Old Baggage Chapter 8

The ride back to Azzi’s place was quiet.

Too quiet.

Jazlyn had fallen asleep in the backseat again, clinging to her sparkly unicorn blanket and clutching Azzi’s hand like it anchored her to earth. Paige drove with one hand on the wheel and the other clenched tight in her lap.

Azzi kept glancing at her.

She knew. She didn’t know what the message had said yet — but she knew the look on Paige’s face. It was the same one she’d had outside the hospital. The one that screamed don’t lose it now, not in front of her.

They pulled into Azzi’s driveway. Paige parked, but didn’t move to get out.

She just stared ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Azzi gently reached over and placed her hand over Paige’s. “Tell me.”

Paige let out a slow breath. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “It was him.”

Azzi froze. “Jaz’s father?”

Paige nodded once. “Blocked number. Just one text.”

She pulled out her phone and handed it to Azzi. “You’re playing house. But she’s still mine.”

Azzi read it twice. Then again. Her jaw tightened.

“I’m calling the cops.”

“No,” Paige said immediately. “Not yet.”

Azzi turned toward her. “Paige—”

“I need to think,” she cut in, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror where Jazlyn slept. “He’s watching us. He waited until we left your parents’ house. He wanted me to see it then. That’s a threat, not a message. And I won’t let him make me panic in front of her.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat. Then: “Okay. But we talk to someone. A lawyer. A detective. Something. You shouldn’t be carrying this alone.”

Paige’s eyes finally met hers.

“I’m not alone,” she said.

And Azzi didn’t say you’re right. She just squeezed her hand.

Once Jazlyn was tucked in bed, Paige sat curled on Azzi’s couch, a mug of tea cooling on the coffee table in front of her. She didn’t say much — just stared out the window while Azzi paced quietly behind her.

“Hey,” Azzi said after a while, her voice softer now. “Let me steal you away tomorrow.”

Paige looked up. “Steal me where?”

“Somewhere calm. Somewhere warm. Somewhere he doesn't exist.”

Paige let out a breath of something close to a laugh. “You’re injured. You can’t even put your shoes on without making a dramatic sound effect.”

“I’ve got slides. You’ve got hands. We’ll make it work.”

Paige cracked a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Exactly why you should say yes.”

The next day, Azzi insisted on handling everything — which mostly meant making Paige sit on the edge of the bed while she picked out an outfit for both of them with unnecessary levels of concentration.

“You’re stalling,” Paige teased.

“I’m setting a vibe.”

She eventually landed on high-waisted jeans and a soft white top for Paige, and an oversized jersey dress with compression shorts for herself. She even tied her hair up in a high puff and dabbed on a little perfume.

“You look like you don’t even have a concussion,” Paige said as they headed out the door.

“I like to keep people guessing.”

They ended up at a beachside café tucked between two cliffs — Azzi’s secret spot, where waves lapped close to the outdoor seating and the servers knew her by name.

The air smelled like salt and citrus.

They sat at a corner table with smoothies and waffles, sneakers kicked off, toes buried in warm sand.

It was quiet.

Calm.

Peaceful.

And for the first time in days, Paige’s shoulders weren’t tight. Her jaw wasn’t clenched.

Azzi watched her take a long sip of her smoothie. “See? Better than brooding in your kitchen.”

“You were the one brooding last night.”

“I was brooding with flair.”

Paige laughed then — a real, throat-deep sound that made Azzi’s heart flip.

“You know what this feels like?” Paige said after a while. “It feels like when I first met her. Jaz. When she was so tiny and loud and hers. And I used to watch her sleep and think, please let this be enough.”

Azzi turned toward her, eyes soft.

“Was it?”

Paige looked at her. Really looked. “It was. But this? You? Jazlyn laughing again, and making treasure boxes, and letting someone brush her hair without flinching? This is more.”

Azzi swallowed. “She’s got pieces of me now, too.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “That’s why I’m scared.”

Azzi didn’t reply with words.

She stood — slowly, still favoring her left side — and crossed to Paige’s side of the table.

Then she leaned down, curled her hand under Paige’s jaw, and kissed her.

Not rushed.

Not reckless.

Just… soft.

Warm.

Like summer and trust and stolen breath.

Paige leaned into it like a question being answered.

When they pulled apart, Azzi smiled. “You’re still scared?”

“Of everything but you.”

“Good,” Azzi said, kissing her again. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed until the sky turned gold.

Watched the sun stretch into the horizon, toes still tangled in sand, plates empty, hearts full.

As they were packing up to leave, Paige’s phone buzzed again.

She stiffened.

Azzi saw the shift in her posture instantly. “What is it?”

Paige stared down at the screen. One new photo.

No caption.

Just a blurry shot — taken from across the street.

Her and Jazlyn walking hand-in-hand that morning.

Same clothes.

Same moment.

Azzi stepped beside her and looked down.

Paige’s grip tightened. “He’s watching.”

Azzi didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to.

She just reached out, laced her fingers through Paige’s, and whispered, “Then we make the next move.”

The drive back from the beach was quieter than the one there — but not because anything was wrong.

It was the kind of quiet that wrapped around them like a warm blanket. Paige rested her head back against the passenger seat, one hand draped across Azzi’s lap, fingers brushing lightly over her thigh in idle strokes. Azzi drove with soft music humming through the speakers and her windows cracked just enough to let in the smell of ocean air.

Jazlyn was staying the night at Paige’s old teammate’s house — someone with a daughter the same age and a backyard trampoline. She’d gone without protest. Paige had almost cried at how easily she laughed when she waved goodbye.

The house was silent when they got back.

Azzi didn’t turn on the lights right away. She set her keys in the tray, kicked off her slides, and padded into the living room with a slow exhale. Paige followed behind her, dropping her purse on the arm of the couch.

Azzi sat first, then patted the cushion beside her.

Paige didn’t sit.

She knelt — gently — in front of Azzi, reached up, and softly kissed the fading bruise along her cheekbone. Then her temple. Then her forehead.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered shut.

“You okay?” Paige asked.

Azzi nodded. “Now I am.”

Later that night, they sat on the floor of Azzi’s bedroom, backs against the bed, sharing a pint of rocky road between them. Azzi’s hand still trembled a little when she used the spoon, but Paige pretended not to notice. She just nudged her knee against hers every so often and let the silence stretch.

Azzi broke it eventually.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, stirring the ice cream.

“Dangerous.”

“Seriously,” Azzi chuckled. “I mean it.”

Paige gave her a small smile. “Okay. What about?”

Azzi set the spoon down, turned to face her fully. “You and Jazlyn. You're over here almost every night. You leave a toothbrush in the bathroom. She’s got toys in the living room and shoes by the door. Your name’s on the Wi-Fi. It’s already… yours.”

Paige blinked. “Azzi…”

“I’m not asking because I feel sorry for you. Or because I want to play house. I’m asking because I don’t sleep right unless I know you’re both safe. Because the quiet is different when you’re not here. It’s heavier. Lonely.”

Paige sat frozen, fingers curling around the hem of her sweatshirt.

“Move in,” Azzi said gently. “Both of you. Just… come home.”

The word home made Paige’s chest feel too tight.

She stared at her lap for a long time.

Then: “This is a lot.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not just a relationship. It’s a kid. It’s a life.”

“I know.”

“And there’s still danger. Still a man out there who thinks he has a claim.”

Azzi reached for her hand. “He doesn’t. Not anymore.”

Paige looked up, eyes glossy.

“You’re not scared of all this?” she asked.

Azzi smiled softly. “I’m terrified.”

Paige let out a shaky laugh.

“But I’m more scared of letting you go,” Azzi continued. “Or letting her go. That little girl has half my heart and all my snacks. She’s got nicknames for my brothers and calls my mom the grilled cheese queen. She builds pillow forts with me and tells me she’s not scared anymore — not when I’m close.”

Paige’s lips parted. “She told you that?”

Azzi nodded.

Paige’s throat worked, like she was trying to swallow something too big. “She calls you Zizi.”

Azzi grinned. “I know. And I’d fight an entire stadium of people for that nickname.”

Paige laughed again — breathy and teary-eyed all at once.

Azzi pulled something from her hoodie pocket.

A small, simple key.

“I made a copy last week,” she said, offering it with a shrug. “Just in case.”

Paige stared at it.

Then reached out, closed her fingers over Azzi’s, and whispered, “Okay.”

Azzi blinked. “Yeah?”

Paige nodded slowly. “We’ll move in. But only if you promise not to eat all the rocky road again.”

Azzi leaned forward and kissed her, smiling against her mouth. “Deal.”

Three days later, Paige opened the front door with that key for the first time — Jazlyn skipping past her with a stuffed unicorn in one arm and her backpack in the other.

“Zizi!” Jazlyn called into the hallway. “We’re hoooome!”

Azzi popped out of the kitchen, apron dusted with flour, hair in a pineapple puff. “I hope y’all like pancakes for dinner, because I forgot to grocery shop.”

“You had one job,” Paige teased.

“I had two — look hot and flip pancakes. Nailed both.”

Jazlyn squealed and wrapped her arms around Azzi’s legs. “Zizi pancakes are the best pancakes.”

“You hear that, chef of the year?” Paige said.

Azzi just beamed.

It felt like the beginning of something real. Messy and loud and full of unspoken fears. But also full of family.

That night, after Jazlyn had fallen asleep curled between them on the bed, Paige whispered, “You sure about this?”

Azzi turned, kissed her shoulder. “No.”

Then added: “But I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my life.”

Across town, in the dim glow of a motel room, a man stared at a photo of Paige, Azzi, and Jazlyn walking up the steps to Azzi’s house. He zoomed in on the little girl’s face. On the smile.

He crushed the phone in his hand.

And smiled back.

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Paige Bueckers Ch9

Part 1 ! Since it's split in two you guys are gonna get a cliffhanger. <3

I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

TW: internalized homophobia,explicit language. Smut. f!ngering, dom/sub (power play tones / dynamics) def at play, dom!paige, praise k!nk, some choking, consensually as always, religious trauma, f!ckboy paige.

NSFW: 18+, f/f all the other previous warnings apply etc.

Caitlin lay on her bed, one leg bent, phone resting on her stomach, heart working some uneven rhythm behind her ribs. Her ceiling still had the glow-in-the-dark stars from middle school. Her bulletin board was crammed with medals she didn’t remember earning. Everything around her looked like it belonged to someone else.

She stared up and waited. Paige picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” Paige said, voice low and rough with sleep.

“You falling' asleep?”

“Nah,” Paige said, lazy now. “Just lying here thinking about your legs.”

That made Caitlin snort, though it left a heat under her skin. “You’re disgusting.”

Caitlin didn’t respond. She just curled the phone a little closer to her cheek. “You know tomorrow’s Notre Dame.”

Paige hummed. “Packed?”

“Mostly. Mom keeps putting crosses in my suitcase.”

That earned a short laugh. “Jesus goes where you go.”

“Apparently.”

Caitlin dragged her palm across her stomach, fingertips grazing the hem of her shirt. The house was quiet. Her parents were asleep down the hall. Her brother was out. She could hear the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the way it always clicked before midnight.

“You excited?” Paige asked, quieter now.

“I guess.” Caitlin stared at the ceiling. “Everyone there already treats me like I’m committed. It’s weird.”

“But you’re not,” Paige said.

“No,” Caitlin answered. “Not yet.”

Silence stretched again. Not tense. Just full. Caitlin imagined walking snow-covered paths, her breath fogging in front of her. The gleam of stained glass at sundown. The way the team had looked at her like she already belonged to them. It should’ve felt like the finish line. It didn’t.

“What are they making you do?” Paige’s voice was gentler now.

“Couple meetings. Team dinner. Some seminar thing. Christian leadership for women in sport.”  Caitlin didn’t even try to hide the weight in her voice. Paige didn’t fill the silence. She waited.

Caitlin exhaled. “Say it.”

“I’m not,” Paige murmured. “You know what you feel.”

“Do I?”

“I think so.”

Caitlin closed her eyes. Her chest hurt in that slow, quiet way it sometimes did when she tried too hard to make herself fit. “I used to want this,” she said. “I used to think it meant something if a place like that wanted me.”

“I know,” Paige said softly. “I just… And I know what that place means to your mom. And what it might mean for you. I get why you’re going.”

“But?”

“I don’t think it’s where you’d play your best,” Paige said. “That’s all.”

The words hit soft, but they stayed. Caitlin felt them settle under her skin, quiet and sharp, like a bruise that would take its time surfacing. Paige went on, gentler now. “But I also know I can’t be the one who says that.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. She turned her head into the pillow. “Because you’re going to UConn.”

“Because I’m going to Uconn,” Paige parroted. No apology in it. Just a fact. The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick with history.

Caitlin’s voice came quiet. “You think I hate you for it?”

“I think,” Paige said after a long beat, “sometimes it hurts. That I’m going there. That you’re not.”

Caitlin’s chest rose and fell, sharp and uneven. She thought of every year she’d spent trying to catch Paige, chase her, beat her. Of waking up early to watch old UConn games on mute. Of every scout that used Paige as the measuring stick. Of every compliment she ever got that ended with not quite.

They had both been groomed for greatness. But only one of them got the crown.

Back then, Caitlin used to clip Paige’s name out of newspapers. She’d pin it to her bulletin board. Told herself it was fuel. That if she could beat her, she’d be undeniable.

She never beat her.

“You know I don’t hate you, P.” Caitlin said, but her voice cracked. “I just.” She paused, swallowing. “It’s hard, sometimes, watching you.”  She wasn’t crying, but her eyes stung.

“I used to dream of that gym,” she said. “Of Geno yelling at me. Of national titles and packed arenas and billboards. I wanted it all. The machine. The myth. I wanted to be the girl they built it around.”

Paige didn’t interrupt.

“And I never even got to fight for it,” Caitlin said, bitter around the edges now. “It was already gone. I was too loud. Too emotional. Too many crazy shots. I didn’t fit. I never fit it.”

Paige was quiet for a long time. Then, softly: “You scare people.”

Caitlin let out a breath, sharp and stunned. “What?”

“You’re not manageable,” Paige said. “You’re too good and you don’t care what they want. You make your own gravity.”

The words caught Caitlin off guard, she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a criticism, not exactly, but she continued anyway. “I don’t know what I want,” she said. “Not really. I just, I want something that’s mine. Not handed down. Not the next logical step. Just something I get to choose.” 

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to feel free.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Paige’s voice came back, rougher now. Like she’d been sitting with the weight of everything Caitlin had just said. “You’re going to visit Iowa right after?”

“Yeah,” Caitlin said. “Back-to-back. These are the last two.”

She didn’t say it, but Paige heard it. The final cut. The narrowing of a whole life into a binary: legacy or freedom.

Paige exhaled. “Okay,” she said. “Then hear me out.”

Caitlin blinked. “What?”

“I’ll drive down,” Paige said. “Book a room. Text you the exit number and the time. You don’t have to think. Just show up. I’ll handle everything.”

Paige’s voice wasn’t light anymore. It was low. Certain. The kind that didn’t ask.

“No one’ll see you,” Paige added. “No teammates. No family. No pressure. Just a bed. A locked door. And me. One day.”

Caitlin’s whole body felt hot under the covers. “That’s insane.”

“It’s not,” Paige said. “You’ve been performing for everyone else your whole life. One night off isn’t a crime.”

“You want me to lie to my parents?”

“No,” Paige said. “I want you to lie to everyone who thinks they own you.”

Caitlin closed her eyes. She imagined the room: dim, off the interstate, maybe a vending machine humming outside. Paige leaning against the doorframe in boxers and nothing else. 

“What would we even do?” Caitlin asked, her voice thinner than before. Half a dare.

“Oh, I have ideas,” Paige said, tone lighter, but not flippant. Then quieter, steadier: “But mostly? I’d let you breathe. Let you be whoever the hell you need to be. No mask. No hiding. Just you and me.”

Caitlin stilled. That one cut too close to flinch from. “I’m not trying to fuck with your future,” Paige added. “I just want one day, one night, before you pick it.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t indecision. It was heavy. It was Caitlin seeing it all: the path that had always been laid out, and the one cracking open now at her feet.

“You’d come all that way?”

“I’d drive through the night,” Paige said. Her voice dropped low, thick with something harder. “You tell me yes, and I’ll be waiting.”

Caitlin closed her eyes.

She didn’t think of campus tours or scholarship clauses or smiling for the coach’s wife.

She thought of Paige. Shirtless. Leaning against a chipped motel door frame. Smirking like a sin. Asking her to come inside. 

She thought of her own hands shaking as she turned the knob.

“Okay,” Caitlin said, voice thin and sure. “I’ll meet you.”

Paige exhaled. It sounded like relief. Like maybe she’d needed this too. “Pack light. I’ll see you soon.”

==

The car hummed steady beneath her, the highway stretching out in long gray ribbons as cornfields blurred past both windows. Caitlin had one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped tight around an iced coffee she didn’t really want. Her mouth tasted like nerves. Her chest felt too tight for her bra.

It was barely 9am and the sky already looked washed out, that flat Midwestern gray like the whole day was stuck in purgatory.

Her playlist had long since given up trying to match her mood. At some point she let the music fade and just drove in silence, watching the mile markers pass like they were ticking something down.

Her phone buzzed in the cupholder.

A beat later, the car’s Bluetooth chirped: “Message from Paige Bueckers: When they talk about sacrifice today, just picture me on my knees.”

Caitlin slammed the brake.

Not because of the message. 

Because a goose, huge, flapping, and casually suicidal, had just waddled into the road like it owned the highway.

She swerved. Coffee splashed out of the center console. Her phone skidded onto the passenger floor mat. Her heart launched into her throat.

The goose stared back at her through the windshield. Unbothered. Holy. Like God himself had sent it just to judge her.

Caitlin sat there, hands gripping the wheel, blood boiling with adrenaline and something filthier.

The car, ever helpful, continued: “I came with your name in my mouth last night.”

“Jesus Christ,” Caitlin hissed.

Her heart pounded. Her hands were sticky. Paige’s text still glowed on the screen, smug and sinful. Caitlin wiped her palm across her leggings and muttered, “I hate you,” even though she didn’t.

She didn’t hate her at all.

In fact, if she let herself think about it too long, she might’ve admitted she sort of, kind of, maybe, loved her. 

Not in a sweet way. Not in any way she could name out loud. It buzzed under her skin like static, sharp and impossible to sit still with. So instead, she gripped the wheel tighter and pretended she could outrun it.

Her mouth was dry. Her skin flushed under her jacket. Her stomach coiled with something reckless and hot.

She didn’t know what to do with it, so she tried not to feel anything at all.

And she still had two hours to pretend she could be holy.

==

By the time she pulled onto campus, her pulse had evened out, but the taste in her mouth hadn’t changed. Still coffee and want. Still Paige’s voice echoing through the car like some godless gospel.

She parked where she was told, smiled when she had to, and shook hands with someone who wore too much cologne and introduced himself as a “culture liaison.” She nodded through the welcome packet, the brochure, the box of merch wrapped in blue and gold tissue. Someone handed her a schedule for the day. Her name was printed at the top in block letters.

CAITLIN CLARK – OFFICIAL VISIT

It could’ve been a name tag on a casket.

She followed the handlers through snow-lined walkways, past looming stone buildings and the glint of that gold dome she used to dream about. Her breath curled white in the air. Her lungs felt too tight for anything but shallow pulls.

At one point, a girl from the team jogged up beside her and said, “So excited you’re here, we’ve heard everything,” and Caitlin had to pretend that didn’t make her skin itch.

The team dinner was uneventful. Polite. Sterile. Coaches leaned in close and asked about her shot mechanics. Alumni mentioned NIL with rehearsed smiles and hedge fund energy. A priest gave a blessing that made her throat tighten, even though she didn’t touch the food.

The seminar was held in a long wood-paneled room with a crucifix bolted above the projection screen. The lights dimmed. Girls filed in, maybe twenty of them, all wearing matching quarter-zips and clean ponytails. Caitlin sat near the back and folded her hands in her lap.

A woman with high cheekbones and the kind of presence that could part water stepped to the front of the room. She wore a tailored blazer and heels that didn’t make noise. When she spoke, her voice filled the space like scripture.

“Ladies,” she said. “We live in a world that constantly asks women to choose between power and purpose. Between athletic excellence and moral clarity. But as Christian leaders, we know the truth: strength and submission are not opposites. They are holy together.”

Caitlin blinked.

“Submission is not weakness,” the speaker went on. “It is a choice. A sacred one. To give of yourself. To serve something higher. That is what separates girls who play the game from women who lead it.”

Something behind Caitlin’s ribs twisted.

Across the room, girls nodded like they’d already rehearsed it. Like the right answer had been built into their bones. She sat perfectly still, back straight, jaw tight.

“I think of Esther,” the woman said, eyes glowing. “Who stepped forward not for glory, but because she was chosen. For such a time as this.”

Chosen. Called. Sacrificed.

Her palms itched. Her skin flushed hot and then cold. Her body wasn’t a temple, it was a pressure cooker. Every word layered atop the last until it didn’t feel like inspiration anymore, it felt like a collar. A corset. A cage she’d been fitted for before she could even say yes.

She reached for the pen in her folder just to have something to hold.

“And when people ask you how you lead,” the woman said, smiling now, “you can look them in the eye and say: I lead like Christ. I give everything. I hold nothing back.”

===

By the time the seminar ended, Caitlin felt like she’d been wrung out. Her back ached from sitting up so straight. Her chest felt too tight for how little she’d said. When the lights came up, she blinked hard and filed out with the rest of the group, gripping the branded folder like it might anchor her.

Outside, dusk had already settled. The air stung her lungs. Snow clung to the edges of the sidewalks like the cold had teeth.

She wasn’t sure who she was supposed to follow until a girl in a navy hoodie waved her over.

"Caitlin? I’m Mara. I’m your host. We’re heading to a thing off-campus. Low-key. You cool with that?"

Caitlin nodded. Her voice didn’t work right away.

"It’s not like… formal," Mara said as they walked. "Just some people, music, maybe a little beer. Everyone wants to meet you."

"Sure," Caitlin said. "Cool."

Mara was easy to talk to. She played the two, joked about team group chats, talked shit about the dining hall food. In the car, she put on an R&B playlist and handed Caitlin a can of sparkling water from a bag in the backseat. It was the first time all day Caitlin didn’t feel like she was being interviewed.

The party was in a beige house a few blocks off campus. Dim lighting, warm air, cheap candles half-melted on the mantle. A mix of players, students, and maybe a few grad assistants already milled around when they arrived. Someone handed Caitlin a Solo cup and asked for a selfie within the first five minutes.

She played along. Smiled. Sipped something vaguely fruity.

In the corner of the living room, a girl named Devon was debating game strategy with a guy in a Notre Dame jacket. Someone else, Kiki, danced barefoot on the rug with her eyes closed. It felt like any other team hang.

Caitlin relaxed half an inch. She could do this.

Later, she found herself in the kitchen with a group of girls from the team. Mara stood beside her, leaning against the fridge.

"You should’ve seen Coach when she heard you were coming," one of them said. "It was like God himself had answered her prayers."

Caitlin laughed, but it didn’t land. The girl went on, "She was like, ‘finally, a real leader who doesn’t just chase Instagram followers.’"

Mara elbowed her. "Shut up."

"What? I’m just saying. You know how it is now. Every recruit’s either a brand or gay. Sometimes both."

Caitlin froze. No one else did. The girl just took another sip of her drink and kept talking. Mara’s smile went tight, but she didn’t say anything.

"I mean, have you seen some of the shit girls post now? It’s like, congrats, you can score and scissor."

Caitlin’s stomach turned. The cup in her hand suddenly felt too heavy. Her breath came shorter. The kitchen was too warm, and every surface felt like it was pushing her out. A few girls laughed. Someone passed her a White Claw. The music shifted to early 2000s pop. People danced badly, half on purpose. 

Caitlin smiled. Just barely. The kind you could blink and miss. She took the White Claw, nodded like she was still listening, like her body hadn’t gone cold all at once.

She sipped. Didn’t taste it.

The conversation veered off, something about a team trip to Daytona, someone’s ex, some inside joke that made Mara snort. Caitlin nodded again, made a noise in her throat that could pass for a laugh. No one noticed the way she folded her arms. No one saw the heat creeping up her neck.

She stayed thirty more minutes. Enough to look normal. Enough to not make it a thing.

Then she told Mara she had a call to take and stepped out to the porch.

The cold hit her hard. Honest. She breathed it in like medicine. Like penance.

By the time she got back to the dorm, her bones ached with the kind of fatigue that wasn’t physical. The room was too quiet. Her head was too loud.

She rolled onto her side, pulled her phone from under the pillow, and typed: can’t wait to see you tomorrow

Her finger hovered. Then she added: don’t ask me about today. just want you. want out.

not gonna ask. just get here.

A pause. Then another.

bed’ll be ready. just want you to be safe.

She bit her lip. Let her fingers hover again, nervous now in a different way.

how do you want me?

The bubble appeared right away.

you’ll see. keep your hands to yourself until i say.

can you do that?

Her heart slammed.

yes. 

good girl. 

Caitlin locked her phone and held it to her chest.

She didn’t cry. But her eyes stung. Not from sadness. From relief. From want. From knowing, finally, there was one place she didn’t have to perform. Didn’t have to choose. 

Not between power and softness. Not between hunger and grace. Not between the version of herself her mother wanted, and the one she could barely name in the mirror.

With Paige, there was no act to keep up. No posture to hold. She didn’t have to prove she was good. She just had to listen.

Just arrive. Just obey. Just breathe.

==

Caitlin didn’t sleep much. Her body ran hot under the covers, every nerve buzzing with something that wasn’t dread for once. It wasn’t peace either, not quite. But it felt closer than she’d been in a long time.

By the time morning came, the sky was still low and gray, but her mind was clear. She showered. Dressed in layers. Tucked her hair into a loose braid. Packed like she was just heading to the next visit, which, technically, she was.

Mara was still asleep when Caitlin slipped out of the dorm. She left the key on the desk. Didn’t write a note.

In the parking lot, she took a breath, then called her mom.

“Hey, honey,” her mom answered, chipper. “Everything go okay last night?”

Caitlin nodded before realizing she was on the phone. “Yeah,” she said. “It was fine. Long day. Lots of talks.”

“You on the road already?”

“Not yet,” Caitlin said. She stared at the icy windshield, watching her breath fog the air. “A couple girls are sticking around an extra day to rest before the drive. They invited me to stay. I figured… it’d be nice. I’ll head to Iowa tomorrow.”

Her mom paused. “You’re sure it’s not too much of a detour?”

“It’s not,” Caitlin said. “It actually makes the drive easier.”

“Well,” her mom said. “Don’t let them rope you into any trouble. No parties. No boys.”

“No boys,” Caitlin repeated, voice steady.

“Well, okay,” her mom said slowly. “Text when you get to campus. And keep your phone on.”

“Will do.”

She hung up. Didn’t say goodbye.

In the car, she cranked the heat. Let it wash over her hands and face until she could feel them again. Her phone buzzed once in the cupholder, Paige.

The text preview glowed at her from the dash.

Room’s ready.

Caitlin smiled, just barely, and pulled onto the road.

==

Caitlin parked behind the motel and cut the engine. The lot was half-empty, it was only 11am, but the parking lot was washed in a low flicker from the floodlight overhead. A neon vacancy sign buzzed above the office, throwing red across the pavement. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked twice, then fell silent. A pickup idled in the corner like it had nowhere else to be.

She stayed in the car for a moment, hands still on the wheel, chest too tight to name. It wasn’t nerves. Not quite. It was sharper than that. Like her body knew exactly what was waiting behind that cracked door and couldn’t decide whether to run toward it or kneel for it.

The room number Paige had texted glowed faintly from the second floor. Caitlin grabbed her bag, stepped out onto salted pavement, and climbed the stairs one at a time. The door opened with a soft creak when she pushed it.

Warm light spilled out. One lamp glowed by the bed. Paige sat at the edge, sweatshirt half-off, legs parted slightly, bare foot tucked under one knee. She looked up when Caitlin entered but didn’t speak right away.

She didn’t have to.

Something in her face, open, unflinching, already reading Caitlin like a language she knew by heart, unraveled Caitlin’s spine.

She shut the door behind her. Locked it without thinking.

Paige stood, slow and easy. She wore a ribbed white tank and navy mesh shorts, her hair damp like she’d just gotten out of the shower and hadn’t decided what to do next. One sock was half-pulled off, like she’d forgotten it halfway through.

Caitlin didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. Her throat was tight in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. Paige crossed the room and cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing under her eyes like she already knew Caitlin had been holding too much.

“Hi,” Paige said, voice low. “You’re really here.”

Caitlin nodded. Her jaw worked. “Hi.”

The hug that followed wasn’t a tease or a lead-in. It was real. Full-bodied. Quiet. Caitlin folded into it like the only thing left in her was instinct. Her forehead pressed to Paige’s collarbone. Her arms looped tight around her waist. Paige pulled her close like she’d been waiting hours, not for the body, but for the person.

For Caitlin.

One hand settled behind her neck. The other slid up her spine, slow and firm. She didn’t pet. She didn’t soothe. She held her. Anchored her. Like she knew Caitlin needed a place to fall, and she was it.

Caitlin hadn’t realized how loud the world had been until Paige silenced it. She didn’t flinch from the closeness. Didn’t make herself smaller. She just breathed in the sharp, clean scent of Paige’s skin and let her grip tighten.

She wanted to stay like that. Buried in her chest.

“I missed you,” Caitlin whispered.

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “Me too.”

Neither of them said what that meant. They didn’t need to. The shape of it lived in their bodies already.

When Paige finally pulled back, she didn’t break the contact. Just enough space to look at her again. To scan her face like it was something she’d memorized and was checking for new damage.

“Did you eat today?” she asked softly.

Caitlin shrugged, a little guilty. “Not really.”

Paige didn’t scold. She just tucked the information away like she always did, like Caitlin’s well-being was her job, not her burden. She pressed her thumb once behind Caitlin’s ear, then kissed her forehead.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a question. And Caitlin didn’t need it to be.

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. Her legs moved before her brain caught up, like her body had already decided. The mattress dipped under her weight. She sat on the edge, knees close, hands folded, not fidgeting, just braced.

Paige took the water bottle from the nightstand and cracked the cap. The sound was quiet, but it split something open. She handed it over without speaking.

“Drink.”

Caitlin did. Two gulps, then a third. The cold settled in her chest. Sharp and grounding. Her breath evened a little.

Paige sat beside her, close but not touching. She leaned back on her palms, spine loose, posture open. Her bare foot brushed Caitlin’s ankle: gentle, casual, an I’m here.

Neither of them spoke. Paige didn’t fill the silence. She let it stretch. Let Caitlin sit inside it without pressure, like she trusted the quiet to do the work.

Finally, she asked, voice low and even, “Was it bad?”

Caitlin stared at the floor. Her toes curled against the edge of the rug. “Parts.”

Paige nodded. No surprise in her expression. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know.” Caitlin turned her head. “But I will.”

“Later,” Paige said. “Or not. Doesn’t change anything.”

The words landed soft. Not dismissive. Solid. Caitlin felt them settle in her chest like a weight being lifted. She took another sip, swallowed. “Thanks.”

Paige didn’t say you’re welcome. She just bumped her knee gently into Caitlin’s. A quiet tether.

They stayed like that until the water was gone and Caitlin’s shoulders had dropped two inches. Then Paige leaned in, kissed her temple, and stood.

When she looked down again, something in her had shifted. Her blue eyes were clearer. Her breath was slower. Her focus was sharp.

“Take off your coat.”

Caitlin moved instantly. Sleeves slipped down her arms. She folded the coat and passed it over. Paige hung it on the knob, simple, careful, like she was putting away something important.

Then she stepped back. Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

“Clothes now. Leave your bra on. Leave the underwear.” The command hit low. Not cruel. Not coaxing. Just exact. 

Caitlin moved in silence. Shirt. Jeans. Her socks came last, peeled off slowly, her fingers numb from the cold. When she straightened, she didn’t cross her arms or cover up. She stood tall. Still. Present.

There was no seduction in it. No act. Just Caitlin. Spine long. Chest open. Waiting for instructions.

Paige didn’t touch her. Not yet. She stood still, watching.

Her gaze wasn’t hungry. It was like she’d imagined Caitlin exactly like this. Quiet. Ready. Stripped of everything she didn’t need.

She stepped forward, dragged her knuckles along Caitlin’s ribs, slow and light. Skin flushed warm beneath the touch. “You look like you didn’t sleep,” Paige murmured.

“I didn’t,” Caitlin whispered.

Paige nodded once. “Means you’ll listen.”

But she didn’t move. Not yet. She watched Caitlin, watched the way her chest rose and fell, the way her knees stayed soft, not locked. Her body was still. Her eyes were open.

Paige’s voice shifted, careful now. “You want this right now, Cait?”

Caitlin blinked. Nodded.

But Paige didn’t accept just that.

“Because I do. I want you. But I know your head gets loud. So if you need quiet, I’m happy to give it. If you want to lie down and watch TV, I’ll find the channel. We don’t have to do anything. We can go shoot hoops. Or just lie here.”

Her arms stayed loose at her sides. She didn’t touch. “But if you want this, really want this, I need you to say it.”

Caitlin didn’t pause. “I want this,” she said, steady.

Paige let it sit. “Say it again.”

Caitlin’s voice came clearer, firmer. “I want you.”

Something clicked in Paige’s posture. Not softened… Locked in. She stepped forward. Her eyes burned steadily. Her tone didn’t shift.

“Get on the bed.”

Caitlin moved slowly, but not shy. She climbed onto the bed like before, knees sinking into the uneven mattress, hands pressing into the thin comforter. 

All fours. 

Just how Paige liked it.

Paige didn’t follow right away. She just watched, eyes steady, unreadable, not roaming. Just making sure Caitlin was fully there. No splinter. No hesitation.

Then she stepped up onto the mattress and moved behind her. One knee, then the other, framing Caitlin from behind.

Without ceremony, she peeled her tank over her head and let it drop off the side of the bed. Her bare chest met Caitlin’s back a second later. Warm. Solid. Skin to skin. No space left between them.

Her breath hit Caitlin’s neck, and Caitlin froze in place, eyes shut. 

She could feel everything… 

Paige’s thighs bracketing hers, the press of her abs, the firm weight of her chest against her spine. Paige wrapped her arms around her ribcage. Not squeezing. Just there. Containing her.

The sound that left Caitlin’s throat wasn’t a word. Just a release.

Paige held her tighter. Not harder. Just closer.

“You okay?” she asked softly, mouth brushing just behind her ear.

“Green.” Caitlin whispered. “Yes, I want…” she exhaled. “I want whatever you want for me.”

Paige kissed her shoulder once, then sat back. Her hands moved with certainty, no hesitation, no heat wasted. “Lie down.”

Caitlin obeyed. Down to her elbows, then fully flat. Paige followed, one hand guiding her hips, the other sliding over her thigh to keep her grounded. 

“Arms up.” Her wrists met above the pillow like they belonged there.

“Look at me.” She did.

Paige didn’t blink. “You wanna be good?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t kiss her mouth. She kissed her jaw. Then just under it. Then lower, down her neck, over her collarbone, never touching skin Paige hadn’t told her to expose. Just lace. Just cotton.

Caitlin trembled, her spine arching slightly with every almost-touch. She didn’t reach. She didn’t move.

Paige crouched lower, one hand on Caitlin’s thigh, the other flat to her sternum, steady and firm. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said, voice even. “Not in your body. Not in your head. Not today.”

Paige’s mouth touched the skin just above her knee. Then midway up her thigh. Then higher. “Say something,” Paige murmured.

Caitlin’s voice was barely there. “What?”

“Anything. Wanna know where your mind’s at.”

Caitlin swallowed hard. “You’re all I think about. All the time. It’s fucked P. I’m so fucked.”

Paige’s mouth curved. Not into a smile, into precision. “Have you come since that voice memo ?”

Caitlin’s breath caught. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You haven’t told me I could.”

“Yeah,” Paige said. “That’s right.” She pressed Caitlin’s legs wider with both hands and looked slow, clinical, devastating. Caitlin gasped, hands tightening around the headboard, her whole body flushed hot, exposed.

“You always this wet when you lie to your mom?” Caitlin whimpered. 

Paige didn’t change her tone.  “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered. Her voice came out wrecked. “Because I was thinking about your mouth.”

“Where?”

Caitlin’s jaw clenched. Her hands gripped the headboard harder. “Everywhere.”

Paige exhaled through her nose, slow and dark. “That’s not the real reason.”

Then Caitlin broke. “Because you told me I couldn’t come until I saw you,” she whispered, each word pulled from somewhere deep. “And I listened. And now I can’t stop wanting it.”

“Better.”

Paige stood then. Silent. Composed. Walked to the corner of the room and crouched beside her duffel.

Caitlin watched her. Breath high, mouth open, thighs still spread where Paige had left them. She hadn’t moved. 

From inside, Paige pulled something black and curved. A rabbit vibrator. Sleek. Solid. Minimal. The second nub was angled like it was designed to ruin.

She turned and held it in her palm. Not teasing. Not showing off. Just letting Caitlin see what was coming.

“You ever used one?” Caitlin shook her head, eyes pinned to it, then flicking up to Paige.

Paige stepped forward. Her gaze didn’t soften. It sharpened. “You wanna let me, Cait?”

Caitlin nodded. 

Paige’s voice went cold. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” Caitlin whispered. “I want you to. Whatever you want Paige.”

Paige came closer. Close enough to feel the heat coming off her. Her tone dropped. “You wanna let me hold you open? Fill you up. Keep you right there, shaking and soaked and fucking ruined until I say?”

Caitlin whimpered, but Paige didn’t blink. “That's good with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Paige said. “Because I want to see what you look like when your whole body forgets how to lie.”

She crouched again. Set the toy on the bed beside Caitlin’s hip. Her other hand skimmed her side, then stopped just beneath her ribs, pressing steady, possessive.

“And you’re not gonna come, not until I believe you’re begging for it.” She climbed onto the bed again. She didn’t straddle. Didn’t press. Just knelt beside Caitlin’s waist and picked the toy up again.

“This goes inside you,” she said, voice a shade rougher now. “Not deep. Just enough to keep pressure where I want it.”

She brushed her thumb over the second nub. “This part stays on your clit. I control how it moves. How fast. How long.” A shiver ripped through Caitlin’s body, sharp and involuntary, like Paige had touched a nerve under her skin.

Paige noticed. Of course she did. She leaned closer. “You’re feeling that already?”

Caitlin nodded, breath shaking.

“Yeah,” Paige said, quieter now. “You’re not ready. That’s the fun part.”

She kept going. “I’ve used this a dozen times this month on myself. Maybe more. Sometimes slow. Sometimes brutal. Always with you in my head.” 

Her palm slid back to Caitlin’s thigh. “But you’re gonna take it better than I ever fucking could. You’re gonna earn it.”

The air in the room went thick. Caitlin’s whole chest felt like it was being compressed from the inside. Her arms were limp above her head. Her knees stayed wide, but she still felt like she was being peeled open from the inside out.

Paige hadn’t even touched her yet. Not really.

“Color.”

Caitlin swallowed. Her voice was wrecked. “Green.”

Paige’s face didn’t change much. But something in her eyes flared, dark, possessive. Like approval. Like hunger.

She clicked the toy on low. Let the sound fill the room. Then looked at her girl.

“Spread your legs.”

Caitlin’s thighs fell open. Her heels pushed into the bed for leverage. Cool air hit the wet cotton and something low in her hips clenched, instinctive and helpless.

Paige moved between her knees without a word. Her body was loose, unbothered. She looked like she had all the time in the world. Her chest was still bare, skin kissed pink across the collarbone, hair pulled into a low knot that was already coming loose. Her eyes didn’t scan. They locked.

Then it touched her.

No warning. No mercy. Just the soft hum of the rabbit pressed directly to the center of Caitlin’s cotton underwear.

The sound that tore out of Caitlin’s throat didn’t even feel like her. Her back arched. Her hips jolted. Her eyes went wide with shock. The contact was too much and not enough. Perfectly placed. Cruel by design.

Paige pressed her free hand flat to Caitlin’s stomach. “Breathe,” she said. “Let me in.”

The vibration wasn’t high but it drilled through the fabric like it belonged inside her. Caitlin’s thighs trembled. Her hands clenched above her head. Her head tipped back. Her mouth stayed open but nothing came out. 

Paige kept watching. Not just her face. But her body. The way the tremble started in her quads. The way her ribs pulled uneven. The way her hips lifted again and again like they could find the friction they wanted if they just behaved better.

She moved the toy higher, dragged it slowly along the soaked seam. The heat coming off her was obscene. Paige could feel it even through the cotton. She knew Caitlin was drenched. She knew she could get her so close, so fast.

Caitlin whimpered. It was small. Pitiful, really.

Paige clicked the toy up one notch.

Caitlin jolted. Her head rolled. Her chest heaved. Her thighs shook harder.

“Stay still,” Paige said. The words were soft but they didn’t move. “You can take it.”

Another moan. Short and broken.

Paige didn’t back off. She leaned closer. Her voice dropped. “You feelin’ that?” Caitlin nodded. Her breath was coming fast. Her whole body shook.

Paige wouldn’t accept the nod. “Say it. Loud.”

Caitlin swallowed hard. “I feel it. I feel everything.”

Paige lifted the toy. Just once. One second. Caitlin’s hips lifted like they could chase it.

Paige pushed her back down, teasing, relentlessly. 

Then it came back. Harder. Right where it belonged. Caitlin cried out. No attempt to hide it. No performance left.

Paige clicked the toy again. A little faster now.

“Lemme hear it,” she said, while Caitlin gasped. Her legs shook. Her mouth parted and stayed that way. Paige pressed her palm flat against her belly. “Easy. You’re not going anywhere.”

Her voice dropped again. Right into Caitlin’s ear as she nibbled on the tip of it, she whispered. “You're such a good girl.”

Caitlin moaned. It cracked in her throat. Her legs tried to close. Paige kissed her shoulder once. “Keep them open. You can take it. Can’t you?”

The cotton was soaked. The mattress underneath her was damp. Her breath came in shallow bursts. She was flushed everywhere. Her chest. Her stomach. Her thighs. She was wide open and burning and Paige hadn’t even taken the underwear off yet.

“Tell me what it feels like.”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin breathed. “Too much. So good. I can't think.”

“Mmm good, you’re not supposed to,” Paige said. Her voice dropped to a whisper against her neck. “You’re supposed to feel.”

“P,” Caitlin gasped. “I’m close.”

Paige didn’t didn’t speak right away. Just watched Caitlin writhe. 

Watched the way her body stuttered under the toy’s pulse. Watched how her hips kept chasing it, how her thighs twitched when she tried to be still, how her jaw had gone slack from trying to stay quiet.

Beautiful. Obliging. Desperate.

Caitlin gripped the pillow harder. Her arms ached from staying still, but she didn’t move. Not when the toy buzzed harder through the cotton, not when Paige’s free hand slid up her thigh. She felt stretched tight, like a wire strung from her throat to her stomach, one wrong touch and she’d snap.

It undid Paige.

She pressed the toy harder. Held it steady even when Caitlin whimpered, even when her legs tried to close. Watched her squirm, watched her tremble, watched her fall apart just from this. Paige felt something crawl up her spine, thick and hot, something sharp-edged and terrified and so full of love she couldn’t name it.

“You're close Caitlinnnn?” Paige asked, drawing the last half of her name out. Not sweet. Just knowing. Not cruel, but half laughing.

Caitlin nodded frantically. “Paige… Please. I’m, please - ” 

Paige didn’t respond. Not with words. She studied her like a problem she already knew how to solve. Caitlin’s body stuttered. Her hips lifted again. Her knuckles were white in the pillowcase.

Then the toy disappeared.

Paige took it away like it had never been there.

Caitlin’s whole body bucked.

“No,” she cried out. “Please. Please, I was right there.”

Paige caught her by the throat. Intentionally.

Not squeezing. Just enough to hold her.

“You don’t get to come until I say.”

Caitlin whimpered. Her eyes burned. Her body was shaking all over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Paige leaned down fast and kissed her. Open. Full. Messy. She caught the whimper on Caitlin’s tongue and swallowed it whole.

“Shh,” she murmured. “I know. I know, baby girl.” She kissed her again, slower this time. Her hands moved with purpose. Thighs. Hips. Stomach. Every inch she touched was claimed. Not coaxed. Taken.

She wanted more. Needed all of it. The softest parts. The sharpest. The pieces Caitlin kept hidden from the world. Paige knew where to find them all.

Paige stood. Took a single step back. Pulled her boxers down with that same clean precision she always carried. Nothing rushed. Nothing wasted. Then she climbed back onto the bed like she couldn’t breathe if she didn’t feel Caitlin under her again.

Her hands found the waistband of Caitlin’s underwear. “These. Off.”

Caitlin lifted her hips without hesitation.

Paige peeled the soaked lace down and off. Then unhooked her bra, kissing her shoulder while she did it. Not for heat. For contact. For proof. When the last piece fell, she tossed it aside and lowered herself down.

Full body. Full weight.

Skin to skin. Breasts against breasts. Hips flush. Thighs tangled. Paige slipped her arms under Caitlin’s back and held her like she was the only thing keeping them both on the bed.

She didn’t grind. She didn’t tease. She stayed. Her mouth found Caitlin’s chest. Then her ribs. Then the curve of her thigh. Her hands roamed freely, steady, present, wanting everything at once.

Not because she could.

But because Caitlin gave it all to her.

“I needed to feel you,” Paige said. “Needed you to feel me back.”

Caitlin gasped, helpless. Paige was solid on top of her. Her skin was on fire. “You like this?” Paige asked, voice rough against her cheek.

Caitlin nodded against her shoulder. “I do,” she breathed. “I do. Please don’t stop touching me. Please, P.”

Paige rocked her hips, slow and firm, dragging her cunt across Caitlin’s thigh. Once. Then again. Slower. Meaner. Their chests caught against each other, nipples brushing, friction sharp and unbearable.

They both shuddered.

“I need,” Caitlin started, words tripping over her tongue. “I need to come. Please…”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “I know, baby. You’re perfect for me. Let me make it worth it.”

Caitlin tilted her head back, exposed her neck. Gave everything. “Please fuck me, Paige.”

A groan tore from Paige’s throat. “Mmm, maybe…” she said. “You asked so fucking nicely.”

Then she touched her like she was never gonna stop teasing. Her palms dragged rough and reverent over Caitlin’s ribs, her waist, her hips. She cupped her tits, thumb brushing a nipple, then slid back down, slow and greedy.

Her thigh slid between Caitlin’s. She rocked once. 

Her thigh forced its way between Caitlin’s legs. Pressed up. Stayed there.

Caitlin moaned, loud and shameless. Her hips rolled without thinking, grinding down against Paige’s thigh, already slick and desperate.

“That’s it,” Paige breathed. “Fuck yourself on me. You’ll get it. You’ll fucking get it.”

Caitlin whimpered, fingers clawing Paige’s back.

“Shhh,” Paige said. “I’m gonna give you everything. Just trust me. Trust me, Cait.”

Her thigh stayed there, unyielding, perfect. The contact sent Caitlin spiraling again, almost enough. Almost.

Caitlin’s hands shook where they clung to Paige’s back. Her nails scraped skin. Her breath came fast. She was soaked and open and shaking again. But now she was quiet. Waiting. Trusting.

Paige kissed her hard. Her hand slipped down.

No hesitation.

She cupped Caitlin between the legs, her palm catching the full heat of her. The slick. The throb. She moaned into Caitlin’s mouth at the feel of it.

Then she pushed two fingers all the way in.

Caitlin arched up. Her arms clung to Paige. Her breath fractured.

Paige curled. Slow. Deep. She fucked her with care, but with weight. Not punishing. Present. Like every inch she gave was meant to be felt.

Caitlin’s mouth dropped open but no sound came. Just broken gasps. Just silent gratitude.

Then Paige pulled her fingers free, wet and shining. She didn’t speak. Just lifted them to Caitlin’s lips and held them there.

“Open.” 

Caitlin obeyed instantly. No question. No thought. Her mouth parted like it had been waiting, like this was the only thing her body knew how to do when Paige touched her.

Paige’s voice dropped, smooth and lethal. “Eyes on me.”

Caitlin looked up. Straight through her. No fear. Just submission so pure it burned. Trust poured from her pupils. Hunger lit every line of her face.

Caitlin wrapped her lips around her fingers and sucked.

Not soft. Not tentative. Her tongue moved with purpose, dragging slowly from knuckle to tip, pulling the slick from Paige’s skin like she needed it inside her. She moaned, helpless, a sound buried in her throat but vibrating against Paige’s hand.

Paige inhaled like it hurt to hold still. Her thighs tensed. Her whole body pulled tight.

And still she watched. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just watched Caitlin take what she was given and make it sacred. Not for show. Not to please. But because she wanted it. Wanted Paige.

“Good fucking girl,” Paige said, rough now. She didn’t blink. Couldn’t. Her fingers stayed right there, letting Caitlin lick every trace of her own wreckage like it was worship. Her own body throbbed from the sight of it.

Caitlin looked up again, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Her mouth opened wider. Her breath came hot around Paige’s hand. The contact, the eye contact, the raw need, it lit Paige up from the inside out.

It made Caitlin’s pulse pound in her throat. She could feel it in her wrists, her core, everywhere Paige had touched. She was spiraling, not losing control, giving it away. Wanting to be undone by the only person who could put her back together.

She moaned again, a broken sound of agreement, of offering. Of belonging.

“I could keep you like this forever,” Paige said. “Wet. Obedient. Wrapped around whatever I give you.”

Caitlin whimpered around her fingers, hips twitching under Paige’s body. Her thighs spread wider without meaning to. It felt automatic. Like her body knew what Paige wanted before she did. And she wanted to give it. All of it.

Paige didn’t move her hand. Just watched. Just let it burn.

“You want to come so bad it hurts,” she said. “I can feel it, baby. I can taste it on your mouth.”

Caitlin nodded again, desperate now. Her hips bucked once, hunting for friction. Her eyes glistened. The ache was unbearable. But so good. So sharp. Like craving something forbidden. Like teetering on the edge of permission and ruin.

Paige slid her fingers free with a wet drag. She leaned in and shoved them back inside Caitlin’s soaked pussy.

“You wanna be fucked that bad?” Paige murmured, voice low and filthy. “Dripping all over my hand, fucking begging for it.”

“Yes,” Caitlin gasped. “Please. I need it so fucking bad.”

Paige kissed her, open-mouthed and hungry. Then pulled out again, fingers dragging up her cheek, her throat, her parted lips.

“Open wider,” she said.

Caitlin did. Instantly. Eyes wide. Jaw slack. Her mouth stretched open like it belonged to Paige. Like her whole body did.

Her jaw ached, but she didn’t care. She needed to be praised. Needed Paige’s voice, Paige’s fingers, Paige’s control.

Paige slid her fingers back into her mouth, slow at first. Then deeper. Past her tongue. Down her throat. Until her knuckles pressed against Caitlin’s lips.

Caitlin sucked around them hard, tongue stroking, breath shaking. Her thighs trembled. Her pussy clenched empty.

Then Paige pushed deeper.

Caitlin gagged.

“Fuck,” Paige muttered. “Look at you. Mouth full of your own slick. Eyes soaked. Pussy twitching like it’s starving.”

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t careless. It was intentional. Paige’s other hand came up, gripped her jaw. Not to hurt. To hold. To test her.

Paige rocked her fingers once, shallow but forceful, still buried in her mouth. “That’s it,” she said. “Take it. Take all of it. Fucked out and drooling just from my hand.”

Caitlin’s eyes watered. 

Then choked again. Her chest fluttered. She could feel herself slipping from want into too much. Her brain caught up. Her body stalled.

Her hands scrambled, one lifting blindly toward Paige’s wrist.

Paige pulled back instantly.

Caitlin gasped, chest heaving, spit slicking her chin. “Yellow,” she whispered. Voice frayed. “Just… need a sec. I’m sorry.”

Paige didn’t blink. Didn’t even flinch. “Don’t ever apologize to me for that.”

She kissed her forehead. Then her mouth. Slower this time. Grounded. Gentle.

“You’re perfect,” Paige said, voice steady like steel. “You gave me everything. And you told me when to stop. That’s what good girls do.”

Caitlin nodded quickly, chest hitching. Tears mixed with sweat, salt on her lips. Her jaw throbbed, her throat burned, but that wasn’t the ache that mattered. The one that pulsed between her legs, that stayed sharp. Heavy. Deep. She needed it still. Needed to show Paige she could go further. Needed to give herself back.

Her voice broke like a vow. “I want to keep going.”

Then Paige smiled. Not sweet. Not soft. Something closer to awe.

Her eyes darkened. Her breath caught. Her whole body went still. Like Caitlin had just handed her the whole fucking world.

“Good girl,” she said, low and rough and reverent. “Open again then.”

Her lips parted, cheeks still damp, lashes still wet. Paige watched her, took in the flushed chest, the trembling thighs, the mouth ready to be filled again, even after it broke her.

This time, Paige didn’t ease her fingers in.

She shoved them.

Not reckless. Just fast and deep. All the way in. Right back to the place that made Caitlin gag.

Caitlin took it.

Everything in her tensed. But she held. She let it happen. Wanted it to happen. 

Her throat fluttered. Her moan caught halfway up. She didn’t flinch. She held Paige’s eyes, desperate to behave. Her jaw slackened, her lips glossy and stretched around the knuckle.

Paige’s voice dropped to something dark. Something mean.

“Look at you.”

Caitlin whimpered. Couldn’t speak.

“Eyes watering. Legs shaking. Spit all over your mouth.”

She leaned in, still fucking Caitlin’s throat slow, shallow now, just enough to make her feel it. “You want me to fuck the mess right out of you, don’t you?”

Caitlin moaned around her fingers. It hurt a little. But it felt real, like letting Paige have her. All of her.

“Use you until you can’t think. Can’t speak. Just that wet little pussy begging through your eyes.”

Caitlin’s throat flexed. She drooled on Paige’s hand.

And still, she didn’t break eye contact. She wanted Paige to see her like this. Ruined. Obedient. Wanting.

Paige could’ve come from that alone.

She pulled her fingers out, finally. Wet with spit and slick, shining between them.

“You like this?” Paige’s voice dropped to something dangerous. “You like tasting yourself off my hand?” Caitlin moaned out a yes while Paige’s free hand slipped under Caitlin’s jaw, holding it in place.

Caitlin whimpered, desperate again. Her thighs rubbed together, slick and tense. She felt raw. Exposed. Grateful. Every nerve ending straining toward Paige’s voice.

“My perfect girl.” She kissed her neck. Then her collarbone. Then lower, down the center of her chest. “You ready to let go now?”

Caitlin breathed heavy now. “I’m yours. Please. I want to come for you.”

Paige moved down her body. No show. No build-up. Just devotion. She pressed a kiss above Caitlin’s belly button. Then another just beneath. Her hands slid gently beneath Caitlin’s knees, lifting them apart like they were made to open for her.

She settled between them, full presence, face close, hands spread wide across Caitlin’s hips.

“Breathe, baby,” Paige said, soft now. “Let me take care of you.”

And then she lowered her mouth.

She didn’t tease. Didn’t flick or play. She licked one long, sure line through Caitlin’s folds, tasting her. Then she did it again, then again, until Caitlin was shaking.

It was almost too much too fast. And somehow not fast enough. Her body jolted with each stroke, like Paige was rewriting her from the inside out.

Paige moaned into her. Pressed her mouth in fully, her nose tucked, her tongue slow and deliberate. She wasn’t chasing a reaction. She was offering one.

“You’re so fucking sweet.” she murmured against her. “You know what you taste like now huh? So you know why I’m addicted to this sweet cunt?” 

Caitlin arched. Her hands flew to Paige’s hair, not pulling, just holding. She needed to anchor herself to something. Anything. The pressure was unbearable, exquisite, everywhere at once.

Her breath turned ragged, her thighs tightening around Paige’s shoulders. “Don’t stop,” Caitlin gasped. “Please, please don’t stop.”

Paige didn’t. She kept her mouth locked to Caitlin’s pussy. She licked and sucked and groaned like she needed this too, like she didn’t care if it broke her.

Caitlin was shaking. Her heels pressed into the bed, hips rising again and again. She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t slow it down. The pressure was back, hot, thick, blinding. Her whole body curled toward it. 

It built in her spine, her chest, behind her eyes. Like being filled with light that burned.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “P… Paige, I can’t.”

Paige pulled back, just enough to speak. Her mouth was wet. Her voice came low.

“Close?”

Caitlin nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, I need to, I…”

“Hold it, baby girl. You hold it for me.”

Caitlin cried out. Her hands clawed the sheets. Her thighs twitched, desperate, trying to obey. She wanted to be good. She had to be good.

“I didn’t say you could come.”

Paige pulled back, mouth wet, jaw tight. She sat up on her knees between Caitlin’s trembling thighs, chest heaving. For a beat she didn’t move, just watched. The flushed skin. The slick between her legs. The twitch of Caitlin’s hips still chasing friction like her body didn’t know how to stop.

Caitlin blinked up at her, wrecked. Her whole body burned. Her throat felt tight. Her cunt throbbed with every heartbeat. And still, she didn’t cry out. She waited. Shaking. Silent. Ready.

Then Paige reached for the edge of the bed. Found the vibrator exactly where she left it. She turned it on. The sound alone made Caitlin moan, breath shattering.

Paige didn’t speak. Didn’t warn. She shifted low again, one hand slipping beneath Caitlin’s thigh to hold her open, the other guiding the toy down like it belonged there.

Then she pressed it straight to her clit. Hard. Direct. No mercy.

Caitlin screamed.

Her back snapped off the mattress, thighs shaking violently. The vibration hit her like electricity. Every nerve split open. Her body jerked without rhythm, hands clawing the sheets.

Paige pushed her fingers back in.

Deep. Unforgiving. Her palm sealed tight to Caitlin’s heat as her fingers curled up, slow but brutal. She fucked her through the chaos, and the toy never moved, still pulsing full strength against her clit.

Caitlin sobbed out a noise. Her arms flailed. Her thighs trembled.

“Paige, I can’t - I can’t - ” Caitlin moaned like it physically hurt to hold back.

“You want to come that bad?” Paige asked. Her voice didn’t rise. It cut. “You think you earned it?”

Caitlin nodded frantically, but Paige didn’t budge. “Say it.”

Caitlin’s eyes flew open, face contorted with need. Her lips moved before her voice could catch up. “Please,” she gasped. “Please let me come, I swear, I'll do anything, I need it, I need you…”

She choked on the last word, head thrashing. Then, barely a whisper, but everything.

“Please let me come, pretty girl.”

Everything in her snapped taut. The name hit like a hand to the chest, intimate, piercing.

Her eyes widened, breath caught. Then she surged forward, kissed Caitlin’s mouth. Deep. Consuming. Like she couldn’t bear the space between them.

Her fingers never stopped. They kept pressing inside her, slow and perfect, while the toy pulsed against Caitlin’s clit, merciless and exact.

“Look at me.”

Caitlin did. Eyes glassy. Mouth open. Chest heaving like she couldn’t keep oxygen in her lungs.

Paige kissed her once more. Soft. Sharp. Final.

“You can come now.” she whispered.

And Caitlin came undone.

Her body exploded around Paige’s hand, spine arched off the bed. Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream. Her fingers clawed Paige’s arms, nails biting in. Her legs locked around her waist like she couldn’t bear the distance. She came hard. Shaking. Crying. Gasping.

The toy pressed harder. Paige didn’t let go. Didn’t back off. Held her through it while Caitlin thrashed beneath her.

Another wave hit.

Caitlin sobbed, breath breaking apart. Her whole body stuttered with aftershocks, hips jolting with every pulse of the vibrator still tight to her clit.

Only when she whimpered, broken and overfull, did Paige finally click it off. Her fingers slipped out slowly. Gentle. Careful now.

Caitlin collapsed back into the mattress.

Paige kissed her temple. Her shoulder. Her mouth.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “You’re safe. You’re mine. You did so fucking good.”

“Yours.” Caitlin’s breath came in stutters. Her body twitched with aftershocks she couldn’t control. Her hands stayed curled in Paige’s arms, too weak to hold on but too lost to let go.

Paige moved slowly now. She tossed the toy to the side and slid her hands beneath Caitlin’s back, pulling her up and into her chest like she weighed nothing. Like holding her was instinct.

Their bodies pressed together. Skin to skin. Slick and flushed and warm.

Paige kissed her hair. Her cheek. Her jaw. She didn’t rush. Just touched. Just stayed. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”

Caitlin whimpered softly into her shoulder. Still breathless. 

“Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Paige said again, quieter now. She cradled Caitlin’s head. Ran a hand down her spine. “Took everything. Gave me everything.” Caitlin didn’t speak. Her face pressed close to Paige’s neck. Her nose tucked under her jaw. Just breathing. Just being.

Paige didn’t ask for anything more. She wrapped her arms tight around Caitlin’s waist and rocked them slowly. Back and forth. No rhythm. No goal. Just motion. Just safety.

“You’re safe with me,” she whispered into her hair. “Always. You hear me?”

Caitlin nodded, small and slow. “I’m right here,” Paige murmured. “Not going anywhere.”

Then she kissed her forehead. Her eyelids. The tip of her nose. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Paige said. 

Caitlin blinked, slowly. Her limbs were heavy, but the haze had lifted. She could feel her heartbeat start to slow. Could feel Paige’s arms around her, steady and real.

“I gotta pee,” she mumbled, voice scratchy.

Paige laughed under her breath. Kissed the top of her head again. “Go, baby. I’ll be right here.”

Caitlin peeled herself away, legs wobbly but determined. She padded to the bathroom on unsteady feet, glancing over her shoulder once to catch Paige watching her go. Her expression was unreadable. Half-smile. All reverence.

When Caitlin came back, she looked lighter. Still pink across the chest, hair a mess, cheeks flushed. But her eyes were clear again.

She climbed into bed without hesitation and crawled right into Paige’s lap.

“That was insane,” she said. Her voice still rasped. “Like… I think I believe in God again.”

Paige laughed, low and rough. “Yeah?”

“Or I passed out. Could’ve been either.”

Paige kissed her forehead. “More likely the second one.”

Caitlin snorted, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh, my thighs still don’t work.”

Paige kissed her again anyway, cheek, jaw, shoulder, then rolled onto her back, tugging Caitlin with her. They lay tangled like that for a while. Caitlin’s head tucked under Paige’s chin. Paige’s fingers tracing lazy lines down her spine. 

Eventually, Paige reached over and grabbed the remote.

“What are you doing?” Caitlin asked, voice already heavier with contentment.

“Putting something on.”

Caitlin blinked up at her. “You’re the only person I know who would use basketball as a come-down.”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever needed to come down from,” Paige said, deadpan. She clicked the game on. Soft crowd noise filled the room.

Caitlin watched the screen for a minute. NBA. Kings versus the Knicks. She recognized the players. She let it run in the background. Paige’s arm rested around her shoulders. Her body felt heavy in the best way, used, safe, warm.

She exhaled slowly. Then said, “This was the week I was supposed to figure everything out, you know?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just rubbed circles into Caitlin’s biceps. “About Iowa. About Notre Dame. About who I’m supposed to be. What kind of life I’m supposed to pick.”

Paige’s voice was soft when it came. “You don’t have to have an answer yet.”

“I know.” Caitlin stared at the screen, unfocused. “But I think I’m getting closer.”

Paige turned toward her a little more. Tucked a piece of hair behind Caitlin’s ear. “What are you thinking?”

“That maybe I don’t want to disappear into the version everyone expects.”

Paige didn’t flinch. “Good.”

Caitlin nodded slowly. “And maybe…I want to stay in a world where I get to feel like this.”

Paige pulled her closer. “You should stay.”

The game played on. The light shifted. Caitlin let herself sink into the weight of the moment, messy, unfigured, hers.

Eventually, Paige broke the quiet.

“You still okay?” Her voice was low, like she didn’t want to startle the moment.

Caitlin nodded, nestled against her. “Yeah. You?”

Paige paused. Her hand was still moving, gentle against Caitlin’s shoulder. “Just thinking about earlier,” she said. “When you called yellow.”

Caitlin tensed for half a second. Paige noticed, and her hand stilled.

“I just want you to know,” she said, carefully, “that was the best thing you could’ve done. And I’m proud of you.”

Caitlin blinked. “For saying it?”

“For knowing you could,” Paige said. “For trusting me to stop.” She looked up at the ceiling. “That matters more than anything else.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. She reached for Paige’s hand beneath the covers. “I do trust you,” she said softly.

Paige held on. “Good. Because I’m still figuring out how to hold this, all of this, the right way.”

Caitlin didn’t answer with words. Just leaned in, forehead to jaw.

Paige held onto her, silent for a long beat. Then she sighed. “Sometimes I worry I take too much.”

Caitlin shifted in her arms. “What do you mean?”

“I get in my head after,” Paige said. “When I’m like that. In it. With you. I want so much. And I - I know I can be intense.”

Caitlin pulled back just enough to look at her. “Do you think I don’t want that too?”

“I think it scares me how much you let me have,” Paige said. Her voice stayed quiet. Honest. “And how much I need it.”

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Just searched her face. “Can I ask you something?” Paige nodded.

“That part…” Caitlin hesitated, not shy, just thoughtful. “The choking. The fingers. Is it a kink for you, or... is it about power?”

Paige looked down. Her jaw twitched once, like she wanted to brush it off, make a joke, keep control. But she didn’t. She stayed quiet. Stayed still. Then said, softly, “Both.”

“It’s a kink, yeah. But not because I want to take something from you. You know I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right?”

“I know.” Caitlin affirmed, but didn’t rush to fill the space.

“It’s… I don’t know.” Her fingers fidgeted where they rested on the blanket, tracing lines. “It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I know what I’m doing. Like I can give someone exactly what they need and not fuck it up.”

Caitlin leaned in, just slightly. Her eyes didn’t soften. They sharpened. “What do you mean, not fuck it up?”

Paige gave a small laugh. It wasn’t funny. “I’ve always been good at reading people. At taking control. On the court, in bed. That’s where I’m safe. Where no one asks me to explain anything. They just… let me handle it.”

She paused. Swallowed. “So when someone gives me that? Their body, their trust? I pour everything into it. I want to hold it right. I want them to feel something no one else ever made them feel. I want them to remember it. Because if they remember it… maybe they’ll stay.”

Caitlin’s stomach twisted. Not with fear. With clarity. “You think people only stay if you give them that?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She reached out instead, ran her fingers down Caitlin’s wrist, slow. Careful. “I think if I stop performing, they leave.”

Caitlin stared at her. “What if I’m not going anywhere?”

Paige looked up, fast. Her face flashed something raw. “I’m serious,” Caitlin said. “You don’t have to give me perfect. You don’t have to give me control. I want the rest too.”

Paige blinked. Her throat worked. Her voice dropped, rough. “What if the rest of me isn’t that easy to hold?”

Caitlin touched her face, thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Then let me try.”

A beat of silence stretched. Paige closed her eyes. Then leaned forward, forehead to Caitlin’s, breath shared.

“You scare the shit out of me,” she said.

Caitlin smiled, tiny and real. “Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Paige laughed under her breath, then kissed her once. Slow. Gentle. Honest.

And for the first time all day, she didn’t lead. She just held on.

The room had gone quiet, save for the hum of the heater and the faint buzz of a flickering bulb outside. Daylight bled through the cheap motel curtains, too bright for morning.

Caitlin turned her head and squinted at the bedside clock.

2:07 p.m.

“Holy shit,” she muttered.

Paige stirred beside her. “What?”

“We’ve been fucking for three hours.”

Paige grinned, eyes still closed. “You’re welcome.”

“No wonder I can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s just pride leaving the body.”

Caitlin laughed once, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh. My whole system’s in trauma recovery.”

“We should eat something.”

Caitlin groaned. “No we shouldn’t.”

“Yes we should,” Paige said. “You almost passed out earlier. I basically owe you fuel.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Caitlin peeked out from under the blanket. Her cheek was flushed, eyes heavy-lidded. “What are we even eating?”

“There’s a pizza place across the street,” Paige said, already grabbing her phone. “Didn’t look cursed.”

“I’m not really…”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Caitlin blinked. Paige’s voice wasn’t sharp, just calm. Measured. “I’m not mad,” Paige added, softer now. “But I need you to eat. A slice. Half a slice. Something.”

Caitlin looked away, the sheets rustling slightly with her breath. “I know it’s hard,” Paige said. “You don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

“Sometimes it feels easier to skip it,” Caitlin admitted, voice low. “Especially when I’m this wrung out.”

“Which is why I’m ordering the food,” Paige said, already tapping her screen. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lie there and let me spoil you like a brat.”

Caitlin laughed, faint but real. “That’s the dream, huh?”

“Yup… My dream,” Paige said. “You, in my lap, taking bites like a pampered little princess.”

Caitlin laughed, and a few minutes later, Paige pulled on a hoodie and disappeared out the door, leaving Caitlin curled in the bed, hair wild and skin warm, her heart still too full to name.

When Paige came back, arms full, the room smelled like garlic and salt. She opened the box on the bed with a dramatic flourish.

“What?” Paige said.

“I didn’t think I was hungry until right now.”

“Good girl.” She handed Caitlin a slice on a napkin. Caitlin took it with both hands like it might vanish. She looked up at Paige, then took a bite.

Her shoulders dropped. “Good?” Paige asked.

Caitlin nodded. “Yeah. Really good.”

They ate cross-legged, silent for a stretch. Paige reached over, wiped a dot of sauce from Caitlin’s lip with her thumb.

“I like feeding you,” she said.

Caitlin blushed, cheeks already pink from heat and sugar crash. “I’m aware.”

“Not just because it’s hot.”

They finished the slice together, Paige sneaking the crust from Caitlin’s hand like she was entitled to it.

After, Caitlin crawled toward the pillows and tugged Paige down beside her. Paige followed, limbs loose and full of warmth. They lay tangled in silence for a while, bodies aligned, breaths synced.

Eventually, Paige draped her arm over Caitlin’s waist and whispered, “You still good?”

“Mhm.”

“Wanna nap with me?”

“Only if you promise not to seduce me mid-REM cycle.”

“No promises.”

Caitlin smiled. “Okay,” she crashed out in Paige’s shoulder, safe and simple.

===

Caitlin woke to the sound of Paige breathing.

Not snoring. Not talking. Just steady breath, warm against the back of her neck. The sheets were twisted around her ankles, and the room smelled faintly of pizza grease, old motel soap, and skin. Her legs still ached, but it was a distant soreness now, more hum than burn.

She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light.

The clock said 4:41 p.m.

Outside the curtains, a neon vacancy sign buzzed lazily against the sky, pale now with late afternoon. The radiator clanked. Somewhere, a faucet dripped. There was a brown stain on the ceiling shaped like Michigan.

What a dump.

What a fucking perfect dump.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Paige shifted behind her, arm pulling tighter around her middle. Caitlin breathed in. Let it out. Stayed still.

There was something surreal about it. Like a whole day had passed inside a snow globe that didn’t know the rest of the world was still spinning. No phone calls. No cameras. No expectations. Just this broken little motel room and a girl who somehow saw straight through her and didn’t flinch.

She turned slowly, careful not to jostle Paige too much. “Are you awake?” she whispered.

Paige didn’t open her eyes. “Barely.”

Caitlin smiled, brushing a stray hair off her forehead. “I was just thinking how gross this place is.”

“Offended.”

“Not in a bad way. Just…” She glanced around. “We’re literally in a single-bed motel room next to a gas station with a flickering sign and what I’m pretty sure is a murder stain on the ceiling.”

“Murder stain’s in the shape of Michigan. So technically it’s a map.”

Caitlin snorted. “Right. Very educational.”

“But you like it,” Paige said. Not a question.

Caitlin nodded. “I do. I really do.” She paused. “It’s the first time in weeks I’ve felt like I could just… be.”

Paige opened her eyes at that. “Yeah?”

Her voice dropped. “No pretending. No performing. No trying to make everyone else comfortable.”

Paige brushed her thumb along Caitlin’s side. “I like you like this.”

After a beat, Caitlin spoke. “Can I ask you something?”

Paige nodded, sleepy but present. “When’s the last time you had a day like this?”

Paige blinked slowly. “What kind of day?”

“No schedule. No noise. Just… this.”

Paige let the question sit for a moment. Then she exhaled. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe never.”

They lay there a while longer. The pizza box sat open on the nightstand, the air still warm with garlic and salt. Caitlin’s cheek rested on Paige’s chest, the slow rise and fall of it keeping time.

After a while, Paige said, “We should go outside.” Caitlin made a sound that could’ve meant no or never or please don’t make me move. “I’m serious.” Paige stretched under her. “You’ll feel better.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“There’s a park two blocks down. I saw it on the way in.” Paige sat up, peeling the blanket back. “Come on. We’ll run until we can’t think.”

Caitlin blinked up at her. “You mean like an actual run? With effort?”

“You’ll survive.”

She groaned, but she was already reaching for her sports bra. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Paige grinned. “No. I’m lucky you’re obsessed with me.”

They got dressed in a quiet tangle. Caitlin found her leggings from where she’d kicked them earlier. Paige tugged on a clean tank and twisted her curls into a low bun. Outside, the afternoon had turned cold and crisp, the sky streaked with winter blue. They stepped out together, hoodies on, sneakers hitting pavement in sync.

They didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. Just ran side by side, shoulders brushing sometimes, breath rising in clouds. Caitlin found a rhythm. Paige didn’t push her. She just stayed close.

Around the second loop, Paige grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle mid-stride. Caitlin nearly fell over laughing.

“You’re the worst,” she wheezed.

“I’m the best.”

“You’re both.”

They jogged the rest of the way back, flushed and laughing.

===

When they got back, the room had softened. Late sun warmed the motel sheets. Paige lay on her back, one arm tucked behind her head. Caitlin curled beside her, face resting just beneath her ribs, fingers drawing invisible shapes along her hip bone.

Paige’s hand moved through Caitlin’s hair slowly and quietly.

“You always take care of me,” Caitlin said. Paige made a sound that wasn’t quite a reply.

“I mean it,” Caitlin added. “The way you touch me. The way you talk to me. You make me feel like I belong to myself again.”

“That’s why I keep thinking about it,” Caitlin murmured. “How you never let me touch you. Not like that.”

Silence fell. Not cold. Not distant. Careful. Paige’s hand slowed.

Caitlin shifted, just a little. “It’s not a complaint. No pressure. I just… I want to give something back. Not to flip it. Not to take control. I want to learn how to hold you the way you hold me.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her hand stilled entirely now, resting in Caitlin’s hair like it was anchoring them both.

“I want to make you feel good,” Caitlin said. “But more than that… I want you to trust me with that part of you. The part that receives.”

Paige’s breath caught. Then released slow. “It’s not about the sex,” she said finally. “Not for me. Not when it’s like that.”

Caitlin stayed quiet.

“It’s about what happens when I let someone in. Past the control. Past the performance. That part of me that just takes…” Her voice thinned. “I don’t show that to anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because once you’re seen like that,” Paige said, staring at the ceiling, “you can’t hide anymore. And I don’t know what I’d be if I didn’t have something left to hide.”

Caitlin leaned up, just enough to meet her eyes. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I know,” Paige said. “That’s what makes it so fucking scary.”

They looked at each other for a long time.

Then Paige said it. “I’d have to be in control the whole time.” The words landed heavy. 

Caitlin didn’t blink. “Okay.”

“You wait for my permission. You don’t move, you don’t touch, until I tell you to.”

“I’ll wait.”

“And if I say stop…”

“I’d stop,” Caitlin said. “Before you even have to finish the word.”

Paige searched her face. Something cracked, slow and careful, behind her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can give you everything,” she whispered. “But I want to give you something. I want you to learn me.”

Caitlin reached up, brushed her thumb just under Paige’s jaw. “Then teach me. However you need to. I’ll follow every word.”

Paige let out a slow breath and closed her eyes, like she was about to step off something high. “Okay, then let’s go slow,” she said. “I’ll show you how I want it.”

===

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Just got back from reading the Companion script! Such a fun read, I love the way Drew Hancock writes.

Here are some fun differences/details I noticed in the script:

•Iris and Josh’s meet cute involves a coffee bean dispenser instead of the oranges. Iris uses the dispenser but can’t get it to shut off, it keeps spilling coffee beans everywhere. Josh comes up and tries to mansplain it and help her but he ends up breaking off the knob to turn it off. They end up falling to the floor together and cheesily looking into each other’s eyes while coffee beans are falling everywhere. And we get flashes of a cliche romance between them (script describes walks on the beach, dancing on the rooftop, making love under satin white sheets).

•At the end of the grocery store meet cute scene, Iris’s line “The first was the day I met Josh. And the second…the day I killed him” is notably different in the script. It’s “The day he killed me” instead. Interesting! I guess they originally weren’t planning on spoiling Josh’s death at the beginning. And Josh did technically “kill” Iris when he made her shoot herself, so I’m guessing that’s what the line is referring to. I’m glad they changed it in the final product though, it’s pretty obvious Josh is not going to make it out of this movie alive and I like the clever nod to that at the beginning.

•Sergey’s house is described as “Frank Lloyd Wright on coke” which, as someone who lives close to one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s absolutely insane houses, I thought was funny.

•They all smoke a lot of weed.

•Josh and Iris are a lot more horny in the script. During the dancing scene Iris straight up starts groping him and grinding on him and their “eyes are filled with lust.” And in the scene right afterwards they are described as “fucking like rabbits” across “the entire room” including the bureau, the floor, and the walls. They also “break a lamp or two.” I’m actually glad this was changed, I think it makes more sense for the characters and for the movie’s themes for Iris and Josh’s sex life to be lacking this kind of passion. It’s more transactional and lackluster in the final product, he’s using her. Also nothing beats the shock and trauma of cutting straight to Josh’s orgasm face.

•In the scene where Empathix first brings Iris to Josh’s apartment to set her up, Josh says that his ex-girlfriend was named Iris, and he named his companion bot after her. Which is all kinds of fucked up and just goes to show how insecure Josh is.

•Josh is somehow even more of an asshole in the script. When he reveals to Iris that she’s a robot, he says that he bought her “used” and expresses jealousy and disgust at the thought of the “things [she’s] done with other men.”

•While Josh and Kat are walking through the woods looking for Iris, Kat asks Josh if Companions are unable to fake orgasms because they can’t lie. Josh basically confirms that and looks silent and sheepish. Kat can see what’s going on and makes fun of him for never being able to make his robot girlfriend come. RIP Kat you are missed.

•Patrick is kind of the one to accidentally kill Eli. Patrick and Iris and wrestling with the gun and it goes off, shooting Eli, who was standing off to the side. So sad. Patrick tries to kill Iris in revenge but he can’t because of his programming preventing him from causing harm.

•There’s a Patrick and Eli sex scene where Eli accidentally says “I can’t believe I’m fucking a robot” or something like that and that’s how Patrick found out he’s a robot.

•When Josh establishes a love link with Patrick, they have the same meet cute in the grocery store as Iris and Josh. And there are also flashes of “walking on the beach, dancing on rooftops, making love under satin white sheets” with Josh and Patrick, which I think would have been funny.

•At the end of the movie, after Iris kills Josh, Teddy the Empathix guy sticks around and asks her if she wants to sever her love link with Josh. She says no because she wants to remember what being in love felt like. Ouch.

•Before she leaves the house with the money, Iris goes to put on her own clothes, but realizes they are “feminine, flowery, dainty” clothes that Josh picked out for her. Instead, she goes for Kat’s clothes (a leather jacket, jeans, vintage tee, sunglasses) which are much more “her style.” I love this.

[laughter-loving-thalia]

Caprise Sencen, anyone?

The thought that Caprise and Cassius could be siblings has been microwaving in my brain for quite some time. I don't even think it sounds crazy at all? But lemme justify it anyway:

Cassius and Caprise. Yes, that's the first evidence that came to my mind and kind of what kickstarted the whole thing. Both of their names start with "Ca" and there seems to be a trend where Shannon will make siblings have similar names so we know they're siblings... I guess? Most infamous example are the Diznee kids, but it doesn't stop at that. Edaline and Juline, Dai and Hai (Tam and Linh's middle names), Avery and Amberly (Fitz and Biana's middle names), Kalea and Kelia (Juline and Edaline's middle names), and perhaps other siblings I've forgotten about. Now, if it stopped at that, then we wouldn't call it a theory, because then what’s stopping Cadence and Sir Caton to be related? Nothing, I guess, but my point is: I have more evidence. Hear me out.

I've seen many people entertain the thought that Marella and Keefe are siblings because they look extremely similar (icy blue eyes, blonde hair, and that's it because Shannon refuses to describe characters more than eye + hair combo). To me, Keefe and Marella being siblings is completely impossible... but, that they are related? No, that doesn't seem so hard to believe (especially since Keefe is somehow the only boy that Marella has not been described as being attracted to... has anyone noticed? Like, she finds Fitz and Tam and Dex attractive, but not Keefe, a.k.a THE guy that Shannon would want to describe as "desirable" to the audience?) It's very plausible that Marella and Keefe look like each other because they are cousins. Keefe is said to look uncannily alike his father (to an unpleasant degree), and we can only assume Marella look like her mother (although I have no proof to support or dispute that, since we don't meet either of her parents).

Marella had high hopes to be an Empath (despite claiming in first book that she would be a Guster. I suspect Shannon didn't fully flesh out Marella's character backstory then). This can neatly be explained by the fact that she is partly Sencen - with two of the most powerful Empaths in the Lost Cities (and we can only assume Cassius' parents, at least one of them, was an Empath too). Maybe Caprise herself is an Empath, which would turn her TBI and mood lability into a new spiral of irony... and the sheer tragedy of being linked to a powerful family of Empaths, yet all are so self-centered that they refuse to help their own family? Cassius, as a 97% confirmed narcissist, would be the kind of brother to cut ties with his sister the moment she appears to be a vulnerability that his twisted delusional mind thinks people could exploit. Maybe he buries her memory even deeper than Gisela and Keefe in his mind. Maybe he gaslighted himself into thinking they aren't related, which is why we never hear of the Redek from the mouth of Cassius.

Other neat things:

Marella and Keefe always felt like mirrors to each other? Messy hairstyles, hiding family trauma behind smirks and gossip, loving to torment Sophie and people about crushes.

Marella, just like Keefe and Cassius, is extremely privy and has very limited respect for boundaries. Caprise seems to have followed this pattern before her TBI (maybe her tendency to get her nose into other people's business is what prompted the Neverseen to take action with her). It's a Sencen thing, after all!

Both Candleshade and Fluttermont have vertiginous heights for absolutely no reason. Sencen preference?

Want to re-emphasise this: Keefe is the only boy in the group that Marella has never flirted with (with Wylie, for obvi reasons + Wylinh icky foreshadowing I'd rather didn't exist). Yes, they seem to hit it off pretty well, but I would put it rather in the "we are so similar omg bestiiiiee" than Marella being attracted to Keefe.

Marella and Keefe have similar name meanings. Both Keefe and Marella (depending on source) mean "beloved".

Gisela is connected to Cyrah. Caprise is also connected to Cyrah, and her "accident" is likely caused by her knowing too much. She probably saw Gisela, her (if theory is correct) sister-in-law, in a compromising situation. At that point in time, it was crucial that Cassius was unsuspecting of Gisela's plan. Caprise would have naturally turned to her brother to tell him about the shenanigans she's caught his wife in... and, maybe at the time, Cassius would have been able to believe her? (unlikely tbh, Gisela's manipulation and Cassius' vulnerability as a 97% confirmed narcissist would make the delusion very, very hard to break).

It wouldn't be the first time Shannon pulls the "secretely cousins all along!" card on us. Except this time it would actually feel plausible and plot-relevant.

[molliedolliee]

Silent Salt and White Lily cookie prediction

Silent Salt will NOT be a romantic or an obsessive character, in my opinion. If you simply look at his name and his character design, it would be odd for his story to go in that direction at all. I would expect him to be a very quiet character (obviously, lol) who might only have a few lines for White Lily cookie alone. He probably will not talk to her at first though, if she tries to get him to. He’s most likely the type to only speak in the moment of heat, for example, during a battle where him or his opponent is about to die. I think that the story will speak for itself a lot in their episode, due to them both being introverted characters, likely to say more through their own actions or personal interactions with the other characters/environment. If they have a lot of contact and dialogue with each other, I’d be surprised. 

I think they will have the most parallels and the most in common between all of the ancients and beasts. Their arcs will also have a lot of similarities in comparison to each other. I can see the possibility for themes of guilt and DEFINITELY existential dread or severe identity crises. The topic of life and death will be prevalent, since that has been a reoccurring concept in White Lily’s cookie (the creation of cookie kind, the witches eating them- killing them, her rebirth as dark entrance cookie when she “died”). If you look at Silent Salt’s design, he is carrying a single sword, likely with the intent to execute using it. I imagine he is a very devoted character (soldier imagery) and will hold strong beliefs/ideals, just like White Lily cookie does. Solidarity: unity or agreement of feeling or action. That is what he resembled in the past. There’s a large possibility he also wanted to help cookiekind, and bring them together, to foster community through his own actions. This is akin to White Lily’s studies and her taking the responsibility of discovering the truth of cookie’s creation, to build the perfect cookie, to assist in the building of a better society. Only it went horribly wrong. Silent Salt will likely have a very similar arc, with the same hopes and dreams at the start, to everything taking a turn for the worst, and then becoming a symbol of silence - the absence of hope and fostering community. Once again, this is perfectly paralleled with White Lily’s transformation into Dark Enchantress cookie, a symbol of mass destruction with the absence of hope- in favor of the truth, no matter how cruel. 

I can’t really predict their interactions with one another, but if I had to guess, Silent Salt will be very difficult to reach, and even harder to communicate with. Dramatic moments will happen, and lots of support may be required on White Lily’s end, since she has cut ties with Pure Vanilla and will most likely be separated from all of the other ancients. She also, of course, feels a lot of responsibility, and thinks handling situations independently is something she must do to make up for her crimes. It’s in her own nature to keep to herself, too. There will be powerful solo moments for her as a result. 

Her transformation into her awakened form will be a very significant one, as it is her ascending into someone better, instead of descending into someone worse (Dark Enchantress). I really hope we get another beautiful costume for her lol

As for what comes of Silent Salt, I feel like he will be very physically impaired by the end. His identity will likely be exposed, and his guilt on display for everyone else to see. Redemption probably isn’t something that’s impossible for his character. But, it’s arguable too that any of the beasts could redeem themselves if they really desired to. I mention redemption for him specifically though, because I have a very strong feeling his arc will have a lot to do with his identity, much like White Lily cookie. She feels strong bouts of guilt- and I could consider him also experiencing guilt as a possibility to mirror their characters. Anyways, I say physically impaired because his current design looks like one of great strength and resilience. Behind the armor, he might be much more vulnerable/weak, especially in comparison to White Lily’s power. That’s not to undermine his abilities or say he won’t be dangerous- it’s likely that White Lily will also end up being severely injured in one of their interactions. Whatever violence occurs won’t be emotional, though- like with Burning Spice (excitement/joy), Shadow Milk (pleasure, fun), Mystic Flour (to make Dark Cacao devoid of his values and become apathetic- a lack of emotion), or Eternal Sugar (to keep her second half for herself, out of “love”). Silent Salt’s violence will feel dutiful and emotionless, making him more fearsome than the other beasts. Many things White Lily does is also impersonal- her accidentally shutting others out, a result of her isolative dedication to her studies, for example. I can’t see White Lily and Silent Salt yelling at one another, or having any strong releases of emotion, at least not in front of others. 

However, the beasts and ancients also have lot in contrast with each other. If Silent Salt isn’t a guilty (in private) character, then I’d assume he’ll be a character with a complete absence of guilt, which will make for lots of scary interactions between him and White Lily. He may question her guilt, make her wonder if her guilt is actually wrong- and make her consider the possibility that Dark Enchantress cookie’s actions were justified, according to his worldview. Like Pure Vanilla’s temporary transformation into the Truthless Recluse, she might turn into some semi-evil form of herself due to the return of doubt and despair. That would surprise me, though, as she already underwent a major physical change (her transformation into Dark Enchantress). Even if that doesn’t occur, his lack of a guilty conscience will likely have a negative influence on White Lily. I don’t imagine he’d play any mind games, he’ll probably take a hands-on approach to fighting, much like Burning Spice (less reveling in the battle itself though, of course). 

I look forward to the direction they take with their dynamic! With what we currently have seen regarding White Lily’s character, I think they’ll have a very interesting relationship. 

[0ccuria]

been on this for too long, think I've finally managed to be happy with the result. Wanted her name to be a bit more natural than what it was, cause it just wasn't doin it for me before. This one does! Her facial cyberware may change in a future replay, but imma keep this current one for now.

The idea is a kind of magazine spread, I guess lol. Also yeah we're doing a pinch of OC + Canon NPC background here!!

Image text down below:

VIKARYA "V" STARKOVA

Affiliations

Coronado Cougars

Personal Data

DOB: 08/08/2045

Age: 31

Birthplace: Vista Del Rey, Heywood, Night City, NC

Weight: 147 lbs / 66 kg

Height: 5’6” ft / 167 cm

Sex: a.f.a.b.

Pronouns: she/her/they

Sexuality: pansexual

Cyberware

Operating system: militech “apogee” sandevistan

Optics: kiroshi “the oracle” optics

Arms: electrified gorilla arms

Legs: lynx paws

Skeleton: kinetic frame

Nervous system: atomic sensors

Interaugmentary system: subdermal armor

About: Cat's Outta The Bag

Watch out for this feisty feline, ‘cause you’ll catch a case of cat-scratch fever if you’re on the wrong side of her claws. Although her professional career was short lived, she made a lasting impression within the boxing circuits of Santo Domingo. Having briefly trained under the famed Viktor Vector of the Night City Devils before becoming the Lethal Lynx of the Coronado Cougars, V earned herself an easy champion title at just 17 with numerous wins following thereafter. Quick and precise with wallops that would shame a mantis shrimp, “lethal” was more than appropriate to name her.

Known for her spicy and impatient attitude, she’s also racked up quite the record with the NCPD alongside her boxing wins (but honestly, who hasn’t?). Most notably at 22, V incited a small riot against Maelstrom gangoons at a Watson dive bar that resulted in multiple deaths and 6 months in the slammer – which only managed to raise the temp of her internal scoville scale even more. Either seen as a blessing or a curse, it was the turning point that molded her into what she is today, ‘cause while waiting out her sentence, she met the notorious Mother Maw, the alpha of the Cougars – but that’s a story that deserves its own spread.

Now focusing her efforts on merc gigs, you can feel at ease knowing you’ve hired one of the slickest pair of paws eddies can buy you. Got hazed by a choom? She’ll rough ‘em up for you and get your lunch money back. Need a pair of ears to listen in on shady business deals? The plink of a pin drop won’t get past her. Whatever you need, you’ll be guaranteed satisfactory results.

When off the clock, she keeps her physical skills sharp in amateur boxing rings, as well as her verbal candor arguing with cheating gonkbrains in online video games. If you happen to enjoy home-cooked meals (who doesn’t?), you may also find that V can whip up a mean rack of scop-ribs and all its fixin’s. With an insatiable appetite such as hers, she’ll make enough to have thirds – so you better arrive starving if invited to one of her cookouts.

[1nternet-moth]

The Flirt for a Co-worker

Chapter 2 SFW

Word Count: 4157

“I can help you with that.” Sevika leaned in close. You tried to push her away again. “Sevika! Back up.” She snapped out of whatever trans she seemed to be in. “Can I stay the night?” She finally let you free.

“Do whatever you want, just leave me alone.”

“Where am I gonna sleep?”

“The couch, where else?” You laughed at the thought of Sevika trying to sneak her way into your bed. “I’ll get you a blanket, I guess.” She gets in your way, blocking you from going to your bedroom. “Wouldn't it be easier for me to sleep with you? Instead of getting out an extra blanket and pillow, we could just share.”

”I’m not sharing a bed with you, couch, or get out.”

”So mean, let’s play a quick game of speed.”

”I’m going to sleep.”

”Let’s play speed, princess.” She blocks your way again. She grabs your hand, not rough but firm, and leads you back to the dining table. “I’m not playing speed, why would I play speed with you?” You asked as you sat down with a sigh. “Because if you lose, we have to share your bed,” Sevika smirked as she sat in the chair across from you. “You are sleeping on the couch.” You said firmly. “I’ll make it fair for you, princess. Best out of three rounds?” Sevika started to shuffle the cards. 

“You know how to play, right?” 

“Yea, be the first to get rid of my cards, only one up or one down cards on the middle cards, only five cards in my hand at once.”

Sevika nodded at your understanding and dealt out five cards on the left side and right, placed two separate cards in the middle of the two small piles, then dealt out the deck evenly, gave you your deck, and let you pick up your five cards to have in your hand. You have a 5, 7, 9, Ace, and Queen in your hand. When you both flipped over the middle cards, they revealed to be a 4 and an 8. You quickly placed your 5 over the 4 and 7 over the 8 before Sevika had the chance to place anything down. This round went quickly as you were fast on your feet, faster than Sevika, and won the round. “You're fast on your feet,” Sevika commented, a little shocked that you won, but she knew she wasn’t gonna let you win the next two rounds. “That name of the game is speed, you have to be fast to win.” You picked up the cards and shuffled them this time, and dealt the same layout from before. Your first five cards were Ace, King, Joker, 3, and 9. They weren’t bad cards; Jokers are freeplay cards, but besides that, none of your cards were really close. The next round went quickly, with you losing both of them. You hoped Sevika would change her prize, but surprise, surprise, she didn’t. 

“Looks like I win, princess.”

“Yea….. What’s your prize?”

“I already told you we share your bed.”

“I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“Come on, princess. I don’t bite.”

Sevika could practically see you coming up with a plan to get away, so she scooped you up off your feet, tossed you over her shoulder, and carried you to your room.

“Hey!” You hit her back and kicked your feet trying to get free. “Come on, princess, I already told you I don’t bite, so why fight?”

She placed you on the bed carefully, but didn’t make any room for you to run free. She slowly crawled over you, her big frame blocking your view of the ceiling. You gave up fighting at this point; you knew better. “I told you I don’t bite, princess.” She lowered herself, nipping at your ear. “Unless you ask nicely.” She pressed featherlight kisses all over your face, stopping by your soft, plump lips. You wanted to kiss her, but you weren’t gonna give in unless she asked; you were gonna make her say it. Sevika caught on quickly. Already preparing to flip the tables on you.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What if I say no?”

“Guess you’ll just stay wanting and guessing, but you don’t want that now, love.”

As much as you wanted her to ask for permission, the more you wanted her to beg instead. You looked at her with desire, almost burning both of you alive, just almost.

“You have to say it, doll.”

A moment of heaved breathing and the exchange of knowing looks passed. Her breath tickled your neck, while her lips and nose barely touched you. She inhaled your floral scent deeply, like it would disappear; she was teasing you, tempting you.

“Kiss me, Vika.”

2025 © 1nternet.moth | all rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

Writes note: Yes, yes, another cliff hanger.

Feel free to check out the other chapters!

Chapter 1

[cheri-cheri]

hey i love the translations you do! i’ve been reading through a lot of the caleb content because i want to understand his character a bit more, particularly the “once a brother, now a lover thing”.

i am genuinely just curious about the trope and how it canonically functions with him and mc’s relationship.

i am particularly curious about endless summer, bc i got the feeling i wasn’t understanding it completely.

do u have a translated analysis of that card already or do u plan on doing it sometime?

thanks! i’m new to using tumblr so sorry if i did this wrong lol.

( ´ ꒳ ` )/ Welcome to Tumblr and thank you for reading my little translations! ♡

In Endless Summer, I didn't notice major issues with the translation aside from the censorship of "哥哥" (ge ge) moments in the childhood flashbacks, so I'm guessing you might have felt confused as to why there was so much hesitation and tension between Caleb and MC.

To understand this, we need to first step back to Chapter 2-9 of the Main Story (Captive Bird), which is one of the last few interactions they shared before meeting again in Endless Summer.

In the CN version of the game, MC occasionally refers to Caleb as "哥哥" (ge ge). While "哥哥" translates directly to "older brother", it does not always refer to a blood brother. It's the equivalent of how the Korean term "oppa" can be used to address a blood brother or simply an older male. In the EN version, all references to "哥哥" have been replaced by Caleb's name or "childhood friend".

Unfortunately, this resulted in a massacre of extremely important lines in Chapter 2-9 of the Main Story (Captive Bird):

Example 1:

[EN Version]

Caleb: If I had that kind of bell right now... I should make you wear it, right? MC: [sarcastically] Okay, fine. I guess I'll let you do what you want. Caleb: Is there anything I can do?

[CN Version]

Caleb: Tell me. That kind of bell... I should fasten one on you too, shouldn't I? MC: [sarcastically] Go ahead. Since you're my big brother, you can do whatever you want. Caleb: As your "big brother", what could I possibly do to you?

The deliberate use of parentheses is an early hint towards Caleb's subtle distaste towards his current role in MC's life, which becomes more apparent a few moments later.

Example 2:

[EN Version]

MC: Caleb... you can't just... You're very important to me. And no one could ever replace you... Caleb: Really? MC, I've always held myself back and endured. Day, after day, after day. It was suffocating. But now, I'm tired of playing these games.

[CN Version]

MC: Caleb... you shouldn't be like this. You're my big brother and an important family member... Caleb: Big brother? MC, your biggest mistake was thinking that I'd always be willing to play the role of your big brother. I've been sick of playing house for a very long time.

Caleb's line in CN is meant to be a momentous and shocking reveal that Caleb had long since outgrown the idea of being MC's "big brother" and how his protectiveness over her stems from a place outside of the mere familial responsibility of being ex-adopted siblings. After this interaction, there is a clear awkwardness in the air between them which is left unresolved.

With this background in mind, we can now move to Endless Summer, which is the first time MC and Caleb interact in person after their tense farewell in Chapter 2-10 of the Main Story.

In Endless Summer, we catch glimpses of MC's strong feelings for Caleb. While she has not realised that her feelings are romantic at this point, she is clearly affected by how they parted ways in Skyhaven and finds herself thinking about him and recalling fond childhood memories. She feels drawn to him despite everything that happened in Skyhaven and is willing to spend the night sleeping on the hard floor if it means that she can prolong her time with him.

On the other hand, Caleb is painfully aware of his romantic feelings for MC but is uncertain about where he stands in her life. At this point, he doesn't really know how he should act around MC and is genuinely shocked when she insists on spending more time with him.

We can see him visibly struggle between his desire to keep her close and his belief that he might not have a right to do so if he is no longer "her reliable and protective "big brother". These clashing desires, peppered with MC's nebulous feelings, result in a push-pull dynamic with lots of hesitation and tension.

Fortunately, the tension doesn't last long and they warm up to each other fairly quickly in subsequent Memories :'D

I hope this explanation helps you understand Endless Summer and Caleb a little better!

[badassxbirdy]

She knows that it’s trying to get under her skin, and yet Tyler still bristles when it lumps her in with people like that. With hunters like that. The ones who slaughter. With such a different definition of what is and is not a person.

“I don’t—” She just manages to stop herself, unwilling to risk Lance hearing what she wants to say. That’s all it takes. Just the thought of him hearing, the thought of Lance knowing, and all of a sudden her rage-filled and eager acceptance of it calling her a beast fizzles away into awkward uncertainty. She takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and forces those tightly balled fists to relax, telling herself yet again that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what it says, it’s wrong. It’s fucking wrong about her.

She scoffs, faking indifference to its words, until it says something that leaves her staring in utter bemusement. “You… you want to suffer? Seriously?” There’s a long moment of silence, before she suddenly she barks out a short laugh so loud that she startles herself with it. The thing is unhinged, obviously, but that excitement from it is a type of nuts she somehow hadn’t been anticipating. It has to be fucking with her. It has to be, right? “Know what my papa would’ve called you? A windbag. But I guess I can’t expect an idiot god to understand this shit.”

She wants to just keep laughing at it, to dismiss it all with a chuckle, but as it goes on, there’s a growing feeling of unease that Tyler doubts she’ll be able to shake any time soon.

“That name starts to make more and more sense every time you talk.” It’s said with a roll of her eyes, a poor cover for just how uncomfortable a point it has made, and how unsettled she is with the conflicting impulses that bubble up in her the moment it makes her angry. There really is something about those rotten ones. How many times has she taken satisfaction in that moment when they lost? Or more specifically, in the moment they realised. That moment when they realised it was their turn to be scared. All the ones who underestimated her, who thought they were so strong, so powerful… until this stubborn little thing came along. Looking so normal. Appearing so innocent. Just some girl. Surely not capable of…

Even now, there’s that little voice inside her that practically purrs at the thought of just how good those moments feel, at how good it would feel to hurt this thing the way she hurt them.

But it isn’t like that. Not the same. It’s not the same. Not when it’s the bad guys. Not when they’re using their power to hurt people. She has no reason to feel guilty when it’s them.

…But if it’s all so different, then why is her stomach churning?

"People" it laughs. Despite the twitching and stirring, despite the body's turmoil. Won't stop glaring at her with a mixture of joy and hatred. "'They're not people.' That's how they always justify their actions, don't they. Just to make themselves feel better about their slaughter" The grin turns sadistic now, the hatred momentarily forgotten. "Does it make you feel better, I wonder. Telling yourself that they. Weren't. People."

It grins and chuckles and relishes and it's noticeable at last. That it's actively suppressing its host's return for just a little while longer. Just so it can keep this going.

"Oh. I'm looking forward to it. Suffering. I don't know if I even can suffer. I want to" it says, earnestly. Sounding and looking almost...excited by the prospect of it. Until it turns sinister again. Deeper. Like a black maw opening wide.

"There's just something about it, isn't there" it muses, something else simmering beneath the voice. "Not going for the good and pure ones that break so easy. But for the ones who are almost impossible to break. The ones who are rotten in the most delicious ways. And the ones who think they have power."

It grins yet again, but this time, there is no more joy. No more amusement.

"Until they don't. They never did. And they never will. I really is....satisfying. Yes. That's the one thing we both get, don't we."

[yell0wsalt]

It’s a common idea in the world of Avatar that people of status and wealth Avatar will have a last name:

The Beifongs, Satos, and even Varrick, too

But then there’s Zhu Li Moon

With a last name serving as assistant to Varrick, I can’t help but wonder:

What’s her back story? If following the trend of people of wealth having last names, then why would she work for Varrick in the capacity she does? What kind of path did she want to make for herself and what would she have to gain as Varrick’s assistant of all people?

[cicada-candy]

I get the sense that Nina is gonna haunt the next season.

[maddieandangel]

Had a weird Hollow Knight-related dream a couple days ago, so I decided to draw a major scene I remembered from it dgsgshf

More context will be in the tags, for those interested!

[immortalsins]

the end of exams has been the biggest goal for me to get to for a couple of months but now it's here i'm realising everything is still awful even if i don't have to study for hours on end

[newtness532]

i think you need to ask how much of a story can you change before it stops being the same story