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artvscvntymullet · 18 hours ago

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OVERVIEWS - WILLNE

content warnings : small arguments, small mentions of burnout and anxiety, first time, light mentions of drunkenness

word count : around 4500 words !

A/N : thanking the sun and the pinot grigio for this one, but this was also to counteract the sad will one i did earlier this week, and i loved the atv one - so i wanted to sort of remake that, but with a few different scenarios - hope you enjoy !!

masterlist here !!

THE FIRST DATE :

The evening began with a bit of hesitation, the quiet anticipation hanging between you and Will. You weren’t nervous - well, maybe just a little, but it was the kind of nervousness that felt exciting, promising. Will had chosen a bistro not too far from his place, one of those hidden gems where the lights are warm, the food is amazing, and the vibe is cosy but not too intimate. It felt like the perfect setting for a first date.

As you sat down at the small table, you both immediately fell into easy conversation. The usual first-date questions came up: favorite movies, childhood stories, what each of you thought of your respective jobs. But even in the midst of all that, the chemistry was undeniable; every laugh seemed to draw you closer, and Will’s eyes sparkled in the dim light, full of curiosity about you. You noticed that every time you spoke, he leaned in just a little closer, genuinely interested, hanging on to your every word.

As the night went on, the table between you two felt smaller, the words fewer. There was a quiet moment when you both just sat back in your chairs, the conversation ebbing and flowing naturally. Will, his usually confident persona slipping just a little, smiled shyly and said, “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”

You nodded, your heart fluttering. “Me too.”

Will seemed a little flustered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it’s a good start, hey? Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

You grinned, and your chest warmed as you answered, “Definitely.”

The walk back to your car felt like a moment suspended in time. With each step, you felt closer to him, the evening unfolding into something far more than you had imagined it would be.

YOUR FIRST TIME TOGETHER :

The first time you and Will shared a physical connection was gentle, slow, and carefully attuned to each other’s needs. You both wanted to take your time, neither rushing nor forcing anything. It was as if you were both discovering each other in the most intimate way possible, slowly peeling back layers of vulnerability and trust.

It began with an accidental brush of fingers as you both reached for the same book on the shelf. That small, innocent contact seemed to electrify the air between you. Will caught your gaze, his eyes flickering with something deeper than mere curiosity. You both stood there for a second, unsure whether the moment should pass or if something should happen. And then, without saying a word, Will took the first step and he leaned in kissing you passionately.

It was tender, not rushed. His lips were gentle, as though testing the waters, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart race, matching the rhythm of his touch. Will was careful, making sure you were comfortable, always checking in. His hands brushed over your shoulders, your sides, memorizing the feel of you.

He was tentative throughout, keeping eye contact as he kissed and left hickeys down your body, whispering affirmations and sweet nothings as you moaned his name, nails scratching his back. It was about connection, a melding of body and heart, not just about having sex - a moment of vulnerability and excitement between two people who were learning to trust each other in a whole new way.

When you both finally pulled away, breathless, Will smiled sheepishly. “You okay?” he whispered, standing to pour a bath for the two of you.

You nodded, your chest full of warmth. “More than okay.”

As you lay together afterward, Will wrapped his arm around your waist, your head laying on his bare chest, knees drawn in, and it felt like the start of something beautiful, something long-lasting.

MEETING THE PARENTS :

You’d heard so much about Will’s parents. He’d spoken about them in the most loving way possible, mentioning how they’d shaped his personality and given him the values that made him so genuine. But meeting them in person was a different experience entirely. Will had promised you that they were both lovely, and that promise was quickly proven right.

Will’s mum greeted you with open arms and a bright, welcoming smile as soon as you stepped through the door. “Oh, you must be the one Will’s been going on about!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. “I’ve heard so much about you! It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Her presence was calming, her voice light and full of love. You couldn’t help but smile at how similar she seemed to Will, in both appearance and mannerisms. She was quick to offer you a drink, making sure you were comfortable from the moment you entered.

Will’s dad, on the other hand, was more reserved at first. He watched you carefully from across the room, but the moment he spoke, you felt instantly at ease. “Will’s told us a lot about you,” he said, his voice steady and kind. “It’s good to finally meet the person he’s been so happy with.”

There was a subtle nod between them, a silent confirmation that this was important, that you mattered to their son. Will couldn’t stop smiling, the love he had for them so clear in his eyes. Dinner was a lively affair, full of stories, laughter, and Will’s usual cheeky comments. But beneath it all, there was a real sense of family, a feeling that, for the first time, you were beginning to understand just how much Will valued his roots.

The night wrapped up with Will’s mum handing you a small package. “Just a little something,” she said with a wink. Inside, there was a knitted scarf, soft and handmade. “For the colder months. Keep warm, love.”

You couldn’t help but feel touched. In that moment, surrounded by Will’s family, you felt like you were starting to build something of your own with them, a sense of belonging that was more than just a relationship—it was a family dynamic that was forming right in front of your eyes.

AND MEETING THE FRIENDS..:

The first time you met Will’s friends, it was like stepping into a whirlwind of personalities. Will had warned you that each one was a character in their own right, but nothing could have quite prepared you for the full experience.

George was exactly what you expected - an outgoing character. The kind who was always up for a pint and could make anyone laugh with a perfectly timed joke or a playful nudge. He had a loud laugh, one that could be heard from across the room, and wasn’t afraid to get everyone involved. You quickly realized he was the life of the party, the type of guy who would be at the centre of any group and keep the energy high. He was just constantly making fun of himself and anyone else who dared to get involved. It was infectious, and before you knew it, you were laughing along with him, enjoying the easy-going vibe he brought to the group.

Then there was Chris, who was more laid-back but no less passionate. His love for football was something that came up in nearly every conversation, and he always knew the latest gossip or rumours. His eyes lit up when he talked about favourite team, and even though you didn’t know much about the game, it was hard not to get caught up in his excitement. He was also super into promoting his YouTube channel, always talking about his latest videos and the tips and tricks he’d learned along the way. You could tell he was dedicated to his passions, and that energy was contagious, despite George taking the piss out of him from time to time.

Stephen, on the other hand, had a dry wit that made you laugh even when you weren’t sure if he was being serious. His stand-up comedy experience was evident in his quick comebacks, and you could see why Will loved him so much. It was almost like having a personal comedian in the group—his delivery was spot on, and his observational humour hit just the right notes. The more you got to know him, the more you realized he had this perfect mix of sarcasm and sincerity. And when he decided to tell a story, it was hard not to get sucked into his world.

Harry was the one who kept you on your toes. Social situations made him a bit awkward at first, but once he had a drink in his hand, his confidence seemed to spike. He had this sharp, deadpan humour that could cut through the room, and he wasn’t afraid to dish out a little banter, even if it was a bit on the mean side. But despite his occasional sharp edges, you could tell Harry was just a bit shy, using jokes an non-meant insults to shield himself. He had this charming gruffness about him, and once you saw past the surface, you realized that, like the others, he was just looking for connection.

All in all, it was a group of personalities that perfectly balanced each other out. And Will, right in the middle of it, couldn’t help but beam every time his friends made you laugh or feel at home.

AFTER A NIGHT OUT :

Will’s nights out with his friends were always chaotic, loud, and full of energy. But tonight was a little different. Maybe it was because you’d both had a little too much to drink, or maybe it was because you were both feeling the heady effects of the night, but the world outside the pub felt quieter.

Will, ever the gentleman kept his arm around you as the two of you made your way down the street, away from the pub’s noise. “You doing alright, sweetheart?” he asked, his words slightly slurred but his concern clear. You nodded, even though the ground felt a little unsteady beneath you.

“Yeah, just feeling the buzz,” you grinned, trying to stay balanced.

“I’m not letting you walk home like this,” Will chuckled, pulling you closer. “I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“You’d try,” you teased, laughing.

Will laughed too, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

As the two of you wandered down the quiet streets, you ended up sitting on a bench, leaning into each other as the buzz from the night finally wore off. The city was still alive around you, but here, in this little moment, everything felt still. Will was leaning back, his arm around you, his head resting against yours.

“No one else I’d want to be with right now,” he said softly, and you felt your heart swell. “You make everything better.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing patterns on his hand. “Same here.”

It was a moment that would become one of those small, treasured memories. Just you two, the quiet night, and the feeling of being completely in sync, despite the world around you.

GETTING JAMES' APPROVAL :

Getting James' seal of approval on your relationship was priority for Will, so introducing you to him was a must. James was loud, full of energy, and always had some hilarious story to tell. However, there was something deeper to him as well, a kind of quiet loyalty that Will clearly relied on.

You met James during one of Will’s video shoots, and you immediately noticed how comfortable the two of them were together. It was like watching a well-oiled machine—James knew exactly when to crack a joke, when to step in with a quick suggestion, and when to just sit back and let the shoot happen.

“Alright, alright, so we’ve got the lighting just right, but how do we make this even better?” James joked, looking at Will with a smirk. “Maybe throw in a random dance break, yeah?”

Will rolled his eyes but grinned, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous. But you’re not wrong. Let’s make it fun.”

As the shoot went on, you could see how much Will valued James’ input, how he trusted him completely. When the cameras were off, James was easy going, with a sarcastic edge. But when it was time to get down to business, he was all focus. You could tell they had a history, a bond that was unspoken but so clearly present.

“So, this is the infamous James, huh?” you teased, as you made your way to the craft table after the shoot.

James gave you a cheeky smile, raising an eyebrow. “Infamous? I’m just here to make sure Will doesn’t take himself too seriously.”

You laughed, instantly feeling at ease. “I think that’s a full-time job,” you replied, earning a playful shove from Will.

MOVING IN :

Moving in together felt like the most natural next step. The whole process was a whirlwind, filled with boxes, late-night packing sessions, and the occasional bicker about who forgot to bring the extra set of keys. But despite all the little stresses, you both found ways to make it fun.

Will insisted on assembling all the furniture himself, but there was no hiding his frustration when he couldn’t figure out how to put the coffee table together. “This is a two-man job,” he muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But for some reason, I’m doing it alone.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, kneeling beside him with the instructions in hand. “Let me help, Will.”

“I don’t need help!” he insisted, only for the coffee table leg to fall off. “Okay, fine. Maybe I need a bit of help.”

Eventually, the place started to feel like home. The walls, once bare, were filled with photos of your favourite memories, little knick-knacks you both had picked out, and cosy touches that made it feel like you were building something together. The small, silly moments, like waking up to find Will still asleep with his hand dangling off the edge of the bed, became the moments that would stick with you forever.

A SPONTANEOUS MOMENT:

Getting a dog was a decision that came on a lazy Sunday morning, while you and Will were sitting on the couch, scrolling through photos of puppies. It started as a joke: “What if we got a dog?” Will asked, laughing. But that question quickly spiralled into a serious conversation about responsibility, timing, and what kind of dog would fit into your lives.

You both decided on adopting from the shelter. Will was the one to find her - a small, scruffy pup with big brown eyes and a coat that could use a little TLC. From the moment Will laid eyes on her, he was hooked. “She’s perfect,” he said, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, and you couldn’t help but agree.

When you brought her home, the chaos began. She ran around the apartment, wagging her tail, excited by her new surroundings. You and Will spent hours playing with her, trying to train her, and of course, bonding over the joy that a puppy brought into your lives.

“You think we’re ready for kids now?” Will asked one evening as you both sat on the floor, the dog curled up in your lap.

You chuckled, rubbing the pup’s belly. “Well, we’ve got some practice.”

Will grinned, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead. “It’s a good start.”

ANNIVERSARIES:

Each anniversary with Will was unique, a celebration of the time you’d spent together and a quiet acknowledgment of the memories you had created. The first one was simple - a quiet dinner at home, just the two of you. Will surprised you with your favourite- lasagne and garlic bread, homemade, and despite the occasional burnt piece, it was perfect.

The second anniversary was a surprise weekend getaway to a small coastal town. Will had packed the car with snacks, a couple of blankets, and a few too mant bottles of wine, and the two of you spent the weekend exploring the beach, sharing lazy afternoons in front of the fire, and watching sunsets that painted the sky in shades of pink and orange. Every moment felt magical, even if it was just sitting quietly together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

As the years went by, anniversaries became an opportunity to reflect on how far you’d come and to remind each other of why you chose each other, year after year. No matter what life threw at you, those quiet moments were the ones that stood out; the ones where Will’s hand was in yours, and it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

PROBLEMS WE FACE:

Every relationship has its bumps in the road, and you and Will were no exception. It wasn’t anything major, but the argument still left a mark. It started over something small - leaving dishes in the sink, a bit of miscommunication about weekend plans, maybe both of you being a little too tired and stressed. It was the kind of thing that snowballed until it was bigger than either of you had intended.

You had been standing in the kitchen, frustration bubbling under your skin. Will stood opposite you, arms crossed, brow furrowed in that way he always did when he was upset. His usual easy-going demeanour was gone, replaced by a sharp edge you didn’t see often.

“It's not just about the dishes, is it?” you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of irritation and hurt. “You’ve been distant lately, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Will’s jaw tightened, but you could see he was trying to keep his cool. “I’m not being distant, I just—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been stressed, okay? Work, life, it’s all piling up, and I don’t know how to handle it sometimes.”

You paused, letting his words sink in. The anger in your chest began to ebb, replaced by something softer - concern, maybe even understanding. “I get it,” you said quietly. “But you can’t just shut me out. We’re in this together, Will.”

For a moment, there was silence, and you saw Will’s eyes soften, the frustration melting away. He stepped closer, and you could feel the tension between you both start to dissipate. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low. “I don’t want to push you away. I just don’t always know how to talk about it.”

You took his hand, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Will. But just talk to me. We’ll figure it out together, we always have each other's backs. You're my best friend Will.”

He nodded, pulling you into a hug. “I promise, I’ll try harder.”

The argument, though tense, ended in the kind of understanding that made your bond stronger. It was a reminder that no matter what happened, you could face anything as long as you were honest with each other.

ROMANTIC GETAWAYS:

The first holiday you took together was a spontaneous decision. Will had found an affordable last-minute deal to a cabin in the countryside, and with just a few days off, the two of you packed your bags and drove out of the city. The air was crisp, and the landscape looked like something out of a postcard, rolling hills and forests stretching into the distance.

There was something special about the simplicity of it all. You spent mornings wrapped in blankets, sipping coffee by the fire, talking about everything and nothing at all. Will, being the adventurer he was, suggested a hike one afternoon, even though it started to rain halfway through. You both laughed as the rain soaked through your jackets, but it didn’t matter. You were in it together, both giddy and carefree in a way that only a holiday could bring.

As you sat at a tiny table in a candlelit restaurant that evening, the rain tapping against the windows, Will reached across the table, his hand finding yours. “This is perfect,” he said with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more me than I do right now, with you.”

You smiled back, squeezing his hand. “Feeling's mutual darling.”

VULNERABILITIES AND TRUST :

There were moments when Will’s usual charm and wit faded, and you saw a side of him that not many people got to seethe vulnerable side. It had been one of those days, the kind where everything felt heavier than usual. Will had been quieter than normal, his usual jokes falling flat, his usual enthusiasm nowhere to be found. You knew something was up, but it took a little prodding before he finally opened up.

You found him sitting on the edge of the couch, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. “Hey, what’s going on?” you asked gently, sitting beside him.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke, his voice tinged with frustration. “I just feel overwhelmed, you know? With everything. Work is so challenging at the moment, I love it, but production are always demanding more from me, I don't know how much more I can give.”

You watched him, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes, something he rarely let show. It hurt to see him like this, but you were grateful that he trusted you enough to let it out. “You don’t have to have it all figured out, Will. I’m here for you, always,” you said softly, your hand gently resting on his.

He exhaled, shoulders slumping as he leaned into you. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I just don’t want to disappoint you, I guess. I’m not perfect, and I feel like sometimes, I’m just too much, or not enough.”

You shook your head, pulling him closer. “You don’t have to be perfect. You’re perfect to me just as you are. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. What did I say, William, you're my best friend.”

He finally let himself relax, the weight on his shoulders lifting just a little. “Thank you, darling - for not running away, for being here with me always. I love you endlessly,” he whispered, his voice full of gratitude.

In that moment, you both knew that even the hardest parts of life were easier to navigate when you had each other to lean on.

It was an evening that came unexpectedly, as most deep conversations do. You and Will were sitting on the couch after dinner, the dog curled up at your feet, the soft hum of the TV in the background. It had been one of those lazy, content evenings when the world felt calm.

SHOULD WE? :

Will, looking thoughtful, turned to you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your hand. “So you ever thought about kids?” he asked quietly.

You looked at him, surprised by the suddenness of the question. “Yeah, I mean, we spoke about it when we bought Nora (the dog). Why?”

He nodded slowly, looking into your eyes with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. “I think I want them, someday, with you obviously. I want to see you be a parent. I want to see us have a little version of us running around, making us laugh.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter at the thought. “I can see it too. I think we’d be great parents.”

“I hope so,” he said with a soft laugh. “But no rush, right? I want to make sure we’re ready, that we’ve got everything in place. It’s a huge thing, but imagine it, babe, mini-us running around, and if they have their mother's genes - oh my.”

You giggled, heat rising to your cheeks, “Stop it you. I agree, but when the time comes I’ll be right there with you. Ready to take it all on.”

Will smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “We’re going to be good at it, I know we will.”

WILL YOU :

When Will proposed, it wasn’t in some grand, over-the-top fashion, it was simple, sincere, and completely him. It happened on a quiet Saturday morning when you were both in the kitchen, making breakfast. He’d been acting a little strange all day, but you hadn’t thought much of it, until he suddenly turned to you, dropping to one knee, holding out a small box with a ring inside.

“Will,” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as your heart skipped a beat.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes shining with emotion. “I can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart full to bursting. “Yes. Yes, of course!”

You both laughed, and he stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace. The ring slipped onto your finger, and you felt a weight of joy settle in your chest. This was it - the moment that sealed your future together.

The wedding itself was just as simple and beautiful. You had a small ceremony surrounded by family and close friends, and Will, dressed in his best suit, looked at you like you were the only person in the room. When the vows were exchanged, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of you.

KIDS OF OUR OWN :

Being parents was a wild ride, one you and Will had both hoped for, but never quite knew what to expect. The first few sleepless nights were filled with laughter and frustration, but through it all, you were in it together. Will, ever the one to lighten the mood, would try to make you laugh even when the baby wouldn’t stop crying.

“Hey, we’re learning,” he would say, holding the baby awkwardly in his arms while rocking him gently. “We’ve got this. We’re totally winning at parenthood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his optimism. Parenthood had its hard moments, but there was something about seeing Will with the baby that filled you with a kind of love you didn’t even know existed. It was in the way he would whisper to the baby in the middle of the night, rocking him back to sleep, or the way he would talk about his day, trying to figure out how to balance work with being a dad.

There were moments when the exhaustion hit, when you both felt like you were running on fumes, but then there would be a tiny hand reaching out for you, or a laugh, and everything would feel worth it. Parenthood was challenging, yes, but it was also beautiful, especially when you had someone like Will by your side.

Together, you were building something new—something incredible. And as you looked at your child in Will’s arms, you knew you’d be ready for whatever came next, as long as you were facing it together.

ANOTHER A/N : i will edit this when my blood isnt purely white wine, but if you enjoyed, then there may be one for george and chris...who knows

#uk youtubers #will lenney #willne #george clarkey #chrismd #harry lewis #willne x reader #willne angst #willne fluff #james marriott

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kilojulietsierra · 3 days ago

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Two thoughts from your Ellis blurb:

Shen was Jack’s first duckling - met him as a scrawny intern then Sam adopted him and started sending extra food. Jack liked Shen was unflappable, and a little quirky. Kept him on his toes.

Ellis gets invited to girls night, “but don’t tell Jack” - when Jack gets wind of Ellis going to girls night he turns to the three ladies and says “do not corrupt her. She’s mine.”

Shen

- Shen kind of gives me stray cat vibes, like we didn’t pick him but we somehow ended up with him 🤷🏻‍♀️

- Jack picked Ellis and then he picked King, basically outright stole them out from under Robby’s nose. But Shen I feel like Robby pawned him off on Jack a little bit.

- Robby and Jack go out for beers and Robby tells him “Brother, I am going to strangle this kid I swear.” Jack snorts “is this you trying to convince me to take him? Because it’s not working.”

- Shen ended up on night shift anyway

- He’s book smart, like really book smart. Which makes Jack nervous. Nights are for the street-smart kids and Jack is a sink or swim kind of teacher.

- Shen gets on his nerves too and boy does Jack give Robby hell because “fuck you man” but one thing, the only thing at first, that Jack can cling to? This kid does not bat an eye.

- Nothing phases him. Nothing. The kid is rock solid, stone cold, unflappable.

- Shen maybe wasn’t ever a “favorite” but Jack still memorized his ungodly complicated Dunkin order. Still told Sam about him. She starts to throw in a little extra food here and there because Jack’s pretty sure he lives on coffe, vending machine snacks and food service cart sandwiches

- Shen will make a good doctor and Jack is going to help get him there, but he’s going to scowl. A lot.

- Jack hadn’t ever really cared to go the extra mile with any of the residents before Shen. They were there to learn and Jack therefore occasionally had to teach. Thankfully not often because no young doctor wants to start on nights.

- So Shen was kind of the test run because, as much as he may have got on Jacks nerves at first, he liked the kid. He wanted to see him succeed.

- A little tipsy on a night off Jack and Sam are cuddling on the patio, Jack is complaining about something Shen did wrong the night before. “I taught him better than that, he should know by now.” Sam starts to giggle “everyone always says you make all the mistakes with the first kid. We’ll do better with the next one.” Jack sips his bourbon with a smirk and nods, “I’m sure he’ll be fine”

- So maybe Shen never got the full Jack and Sam Abbot adoption package, but he’s definitely the one that started it all

Girls Night Out

- They keep it low key. A rooftop bar with a cool vibe and a bougie drink menu

- Because Jack cornered them before they left the house, mostly Emery and Yolanda “do not, look at me, do not get her in trouble, do not corrupt her, do not try to convince her to switch specialties. She’s mine. Am I clear?”

- Walsh gives him a snarky salute.

- Garcia “ok daaaad, whatever you say”

- Sam puts a hand on his chest “best behavior baby, I promise” Jack looks her up and down and tips her chin up for a kiss “don’t believe that for one second” but he has to bite back a smirk

- Parker feels a little out of place at first, like the little sister just tagging along

- Yolanda takes care of that quick tho because she is the friend that can drag you into anything. Good, bad or otherwise.

- Emery has been at PTMC the longest so she gives Parker all the tea. Who’s sleeping with who, who used to sleep with who, who wants to sleep with who. Who costs the hospital the most in malpractice litigation. Who had to retake their boards and how many times. Why Langdon is so bitchy.

- They have a firm no work talk policy apparently but they make an exception the first night because there’s a lot they need to o catch her up on.

- It’s eye opening

- It’s informative

- It’s like cheat codes to the hospital

- Parker learns that Sam used to work as a PRN nurse at the Pitt (second job before she got promoted to charge nurse at the VA) which explains a lot about her relationship with everyone.

- She doesn’t remember the last time she had this much fun and it makes Parker feel a little warm and fuzzy when Emery adds her to a group chat so they can do it again soon

- They stay out until closing time and at the end of the night when Sam snatched the bill and dropped a card on the tray that very clearly had Jacks name on it she must catch the nervous look on Parker’s face because she laughs “told you you’re his favorite”

~~~~~~~~~~~

A part of the Save Me From Myself universe!

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt headcanons #the pitt imagine #dr jack abbot #dr yolanda garcia #dr emery walsh #dr parker ellis #dr john shen #jack abbot x ofc #dr Jack Abbot x ofc

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festivating · 19 hours ago

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Omgg I just saw you have some Attrition hcs so now I wanna know any coupley cutesy Silk Chiffon headcanons lol

Hell yeah!!

Despite what you might think, it takes a while before most people at Shiz realize they're dating because they don't… do anything differently than before. They hold hands everywhere, sit together all the time and are always occupying the same space just like they did when they were friends.

They both really like giving gifts to each other. Galinda mostly buys stuff for Elphie, and Elphie mostly makes stuff for Galinda.

I think they go out a lot, too. When they have the time they explore Shiz the way they explored Frottica. And I think at one point they get really into having a little shared journal where they rate the places they go to, and where they want to go next and things like that, and they leave each other cheesy little notes inside of it.

Their love language is info dumping to each other.

I don't think they share their regular clothes all that much but they do share loungewear quite often. They also share accessories often, little hairclips or bracelets or wristwatches and things like that.

They got rid of Elphaba's little bed in their dorm so they could have space for more stuff. Elphaba is not exactly a maximalist like Galinda is but she discovers likes having Stuff because she never could before.

They alwaysssss wear the compasses of course.

Little anniversaries are taken very seriously by Galinda. Monthiversaries, first kiss-versary, the anniversary of the first time Elphaba held the door open for her, that kind of cheesy stuff.

Constantly touching of course… I don't think I have to say this considering they are the way they are in the fic but sdjfsd the most joined at the hip girls you ever did see.

I don't think they argue often? But they are not the best at conflict resolution because I think Galinda is the sort of person who wants to sit and think her feelings through before she can talk about them, but Elphaba is more like. We should talk abut this Now. But they learn to manage this <3 And even when they're mad at each other they still like. Hold hands under the table or whatever.

Getting ready for the day together <3 all the time <3 and also getting ready for bed together <3

Anyway Galinda's moms weren't the only ones who had a bet on how long it would take them to get together. A great part of the university was involved in something like that. Nessarose made a ton of money.

They write home to Frottica a lot a lot a lot and send letters together all the time <3 Yes Galinda signs their names as Galinda & Elphaba Upland.

#the babiessss #gelphie #answered #i need a silk chiffon tag i wasn't expecting to talk abt it so often on this blog...#silk chiffon tag

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crownmemes · 2 days ago

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Questioning Sentences, Vol. 44

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"If I'm holding something back, is it so unthinkable that I have a good reason?"

"Why can't I stop kissing you?"

"How long have you had a thing for older men?"

"What does she have that I don't have?"

"Haven't you ever done anything stupid just for fun?"

"I need to trust you. What if I can't?"

"Are you bored with me?"

"What do you want from me? What is it that you expect me to do here?"

"Why did you ask me if something was wrong when I came in?"

"What if there were no tomorrow?"

"I guess you haven't got much experience sleeping on the ground?"

"You're a fucking drama queen, you know that?"

"Do you spook easily?"

"Have you actually be discharged from the hospital?"

"What is it going to take for you to get comfortable with me?"

"Seeing as you let yourself in, forgive me if it's forwards to ask, but who the hell are you?"

"You don't say much, do you?"

"Whose idea was this? Who sent you?"

"Is today the day you finally give me something remotely challenging to do?"

"Can I please stay here? Just for one more night?"

"So, what are you running from?"

"How many hearts have you broken in your life?"

"Did you believe you could change me in the way I've changed you?"

"Can't you give me a straight answer anymore?"

"Why can't you grasp that it's over for you?"

"What the fuck happened to us?"

"Have you come here to just look down on me?"

"Where were you when my life was in peril?"

"Are we no longer on a first-name basis?"

"Don't you think that was a little too easy?"

"Do you really think we're going to beat the odds?"

"You really don't know how to have fun, do you?"

"What do you think you're playing at?"

"You've changed. What the hell happened to you out there?"

"You haven't learned your lesson, have you?"

"How are you still alive?"

"Why would I hang out with a loser like you?"

"If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you like to be?"

"Tell me something; would you ever consider working for me?"

"What are you afraid that I'll discover in that head of yours?"

"Why are you being such a bitch right now?"

"Has a woman ever punched you in the face?"

"Is that blood? Are you okay?"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#questioning;

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witawwy-ponyboy-curtis · 2 days ago

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I know everyone is like, "We need a Finnick POV!" genuinely, I think we do. I'm gonna go on a whole rant under the cut because this is gonna be kinda (not really) long. (Be aware, mentions of child prostitution/sex trafficking)

I can't remember which book, it was either in Mockingjay or Catching Fire that Finnick talks about being sold out by Snow. It's also implied that had happened to Johanna as well. Except Finnick and Johanna handled it differently. Finnick, instead of asking to be paid, asked for secrets about The Capitol/Snow. Johanna had tried to say no, and everyone she loved was taken away from her.

We know how horrid of a person Snow is from the original trilogy and SoTR, but neither Haymitch nor Katniss were sex trafficked by Snow (They had attempted to perform breast enhancement surgery on Katniss to make her more appealing(?) but Haymitch had stopped them from doing so which makes me wonder if they were considering selling out Katniss). We also already know how The Capitol exploits people for entertainment and pleasure. If we get a book from Finnick's POV and it goes through his games but ALSO him being prostituted and we see his interactions with the people he's been sold out to, we'll learn more about Snow and the things he's done that way. Yes we've learned a lot from TBoSaS and SoTR but we don't know the full extent of things Snow has done. And in Chapter 12 of Mockingjay, Finnick says this about the things he'd been told ".. And this is where you'll want to stay tuned, President Snow. Because so many of them were about you." (I think that's what he'd said.) Which now makes me curious about the things Finnick had been told about Snow and how much it could contribute to Snow's character. Maybe even things about him that we weren't told in TBoSaS.

I know a lot of people have said "We need a Finnick POV!" Because he's just a character they really like and want more of him, but I do think if we get his POV it'll tie so many things together and it will bring so much to light about The Capitol and the kind of person Snow is.

Additional notes that I didn't know where to add:

I think it was said that after he had won, he wasn't immediately sold out to people? If I remember correctly, I think they'd waited until he was sixteen.

It was also (implied or said I can't remember) that Cashmere had also been sex trafficked by Snow.

Knowing the Capitol, I'm assuming it wasn't this entire underground business and that it was like an infomercial that was just "Hey, do you really like this victor? You do? Boy do I have some great news for you!" And people ignored the fact Finnick (or any other victor) was a minor because if they're sending kids in an arena to kill each other, why would they care about children being sold out?

I also think a book like this would be good because I'm still seeing people show sympathy for Snow and I think young Snow and Finnick are like, people's top two favorite characters so if you show the people who are still sympathetic for Snow what he did to Finnick, I think they'd immediately turn on his character. (Hopefully).

If you have anything you'd like to add to this at all, please go ahead I love seeing other people's ideas and theories.

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wheneverfeasible · 2 days ago

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Sticky Sweet: A Marshmallow Story

wc: 8k || rating: E || cw: perceived slut shaming || tags: underage Steddie, o!Steve Harrington, a!Eddie Munson, intersex omegaverse, chubby!Eddie Munson, vaginal penetration, anal sex, fingering, mild dacryphilia, rough sex, knotting, angst/comfort, smut with feelings || brief summary: Set several hours after the events of Marshmallow, Steve and Eddie come to certain understandings. || ao3

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

Many years ago, when Homo heidelbergensis branched off into split evolutions, the evolution of Homo hominilupus fought with the branch of Homo sapiens for territory and dominance, ultimately winning and annihilating the ancient branch in a course of evolution that changed the future of Earth as we know it.

This was something that every pup learned in school. Which was, Steve thought, something he would forever be grateful for since it led to this exact moment.

He was bruised, sore, and most noticeable of all, sticky.

Eddie was collapsed against him, curled against his side with his small breaths of sleep brushing against Steve’s utterly annihilated neck covered in Eddie’s teeth marks and Steve’s ruptured capillaries. The only spot unblemished was the one spot that meant so much to every omega.

It ached that it was unblemished.

Steve could be patient, however. He had waited this long, of course, and it did not seem like Eddie would be entirely opposed to the thought. Hopefully.

Steve knew he was deficient in many ways. Sure, he was the most sought after omega at Hawkins High, perhaps in Hawkins in general, but he also knew that his promiscuity could be a deficit. Some alphas had a real issue with omegas enjoying sex just like alphas did.

Which really, how fucking hypocritical was that?

Alphas were expected to be sex crazed, to be fucking anything they could at any given opportunity, yet omegas were expected to be chaste and innocent? If that was the case, then just who exactly were alphas supposed to be fucking? Each other??

Though, Steve certainly didn’t mind the thought of a couple alphas going at it with each other. Some of his favorite porn was the bitching sort. There was just something so intriguing about putting an alpha in their place and taking control over them.

Yet, Steve never wanted to stud. He didn’t want to stud anyone to become an alpha or have the alpha of his choosing bitched, much less doing the bitching himself. He loved being an omega. Loved feeling his pussy or ass being filled with a thick cock and knot. Taking control though? Yeah, he got into that shit. It didn’t matter if his partner for the night was an alpha, beta, or omega; he just liked fucking and being fucked.

Maybe that made him a slut, but he was having fun. And truthfully? There was only one person he could see any real sort of relationship with.

Sure, there was Nancy. She’d intrigued him, and she was certainly very pretty, and he thought that maybe in another life he could see himself being very happy with her and the pups he secretly always wanted. But if he was being honest with himself? His heart had already belonged to another.

And then it happened.

He’d honestly thought Eddie would be another omega, if not a beta what with how late he presented, but to everyone’s surprise the contrarian boy had instead presented with the most delicious toasted marshmallow scent. Like fucking s’mores on a cold night with a side of honeyed bourbon.

Perfect, in other words.

Steve could admit it to himself; he had been gone on Eddie Munson for a while now. He’d have propositioned him long before now had he been given the opportunity, but Eddie had made it clear that he hated all things jock. Until now.

Steve knew he would be touching himself to the memory of Eddie fucking against him on that wrestling mat for years. Of Eddie calling him his. Fuck, that had been hot.

But it paled in comparison to right now.

Hell, he could still feel his pussy leaking Eddie’s spend even hours later. He felt full, stuffed, completely filled with Eddie in a way that made Steve wish he wasn’t on birth control.

Made him wish he was with Eddie’s pups right now, even though he didn’t know if Eddie felt the same way.

Even though Eddie probably saw him as just the slut omega who fucked anything with a pulse, no matter what he said while in his fever.

It didn’t matter. Even if this was all that Steve got, he would cherish it. Would never ask for anything more. No matter how badly he wanted it.

“—eve,” Eddie’s gruff, raspy voice broke into his thoughts as the alpha’s nose and lips snuffled against his sore neck, sending a thrill down Steve’s spine.

Steve could admit that he maybe took advantage of the situation. His fucking crush had gone into a presentation rut for him; of course he would take advantage of it. He had made certain that Eddie was lucid enough to make that decision of course. He would have left had he thought Eddie hadn’t been aware of what he was consenting to, hadn’t been aware of what was happening, and been done with it all.

And then Eddie’s fever had grown scalding.

“M’here, baby,” Steve murmured, turning his head to press his lips against the sweaty crown of Eddie’s head. His arms encircling Eddie’s middle tightened, enjoying the slight give that the alpha’s plumpness gave him.

Fuck, he wanted more of it.

While he dreamed of growing round with pups with dark brown eyes and curly hair, he also dreamed of providing for his mate so that his mate never had to worry for anything, no matter their designations.

Now, he thought about how fulfilling it would be to make his alpha softer, rounder, wider; to provide for his alpha and make certain his alpha wanted for nothing.

For now, however, he had his desired alpha plastered against his side, slowly becoming more aware.

Eddie’s dark eyes were hazy when he finally lifted his head, awareness and cognizance slowly returning to him. Which meant that he soon became aware of just where he was at, and just whose nest he was in. And just what they had done.

Steve had never hid his sexual appetite or his sexuality. He liked sex and he had a lot of it, no matter the designation or gender. He’d been knotted more than once and enjoyed every minute of it. Hell, he’d helped both his alpha friends through their presentation ruts, though they’d since taken to helping each other now. He’d be surprised if Tommy wasn’t bitched by their senior year.

All that said, however, he had no idea how Eddie would feel about such things. He didn’t regret his past at all, didn’t feel ashamed about it, and wouldn’t change any of it for the sake of his preferred mate. If his intended couldn’t accept this part of him, then he knew that his intended would never be able to be the one.

He wanted Eddie to be the one, though.

Wanted Eddie to want him outside of his rut too.

Hazy but bright brown eyes met his, and then chapped lips pressed against his chin in a sloppy kiss. He would need to get his baby some water. As soon as he could extricate himself from his hold.

“Omega,” Eddie breathed in a way that had a fresh wave of slick leaving Steve, no matter how much he had come in the last twelve hours. He honestly didn’t know how he’d survive a full heat with Eddie if he was ever lucky enough to experience that. Never had he been so satisfied in bed before.

Even still, Steve rolled his hips up against Eddie, a soft though quiet moan leaving him. “Alpha,” he answered back without hesitation. He had no intention of hiding his desires either. He wanted Eddie. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life before. And not just for sex.

Eddie’s eyes sharpened at the thrust against his hips, the presentation haze leaving them as he obviously began calculating his situation. Playing dirty, Steve’s hand slid down over the bulge of plumpness above Eddie’s wide hips, further evidence of the baby fat that, despite being nearly legally an adult, had never left Eddie’s frame.

Christ, Steve wanted to mouth all of it, taking all of Eddie into him. The soft give of Eddie’s stomach causing a curl of arousal through Steve he had no hope of hiding with Eddie’s thick thigh between his own.

“Harrington,” Eddie gasped as awareness returned to him, his muscles tensing against Steve, and oh, oh that hurt. A whine left Steve entirely without his permission, because Christ, what if this meant nothing to Eddie after all?

He had thought, perhaps, that Eddie returned a mere fraction of his feelings. But if Steve had just been an easy way to get through his rut?

Fuck.

How depressing.

Except an answering whine left Eddie at Steve’s hurt, the alpha’s nose nudging under Steve’s jaw as his arms tightened around the omega, causing a purr to escape Steve immediately after.

“Steve,” Eddie corrected himself, though even then he sounded hesitant, as though he wasn’t certain he was allowed.

“Eddie,” Steve answered with a grin, turning his head to press his lips over Eddie’s cheek, then over the bridge of his nose, then his other cheek, and then he was swinging his leg over Eddie’s hip and pressing him back against his nest until he was once more straddling Eddie properly.

“Ff-u-uck…”

He’d come this far, had pushed his luck this much, and…maybe Eddie wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of something more, given the possessive way in which his thick fingers were digging into Steve’s hips at present.

“I love the way you say my name, baby,” Steve murmured, lowering himself against Eddie and beginning to slowly roll his hips over the alpha. “But I like it when you call me ‘omega’ even more.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, even as his own hips began to thrust up to meet Steve’s movements. Yet, Steve could tell that there was still a bewildered quality to Eddie’s eyes, as though he didn’t know what was going on beyond the physical aspect of things.

“Baby,” Steve sighed, sitting up as he pressed a hand to Eddie’s supple chest, pushing him back against the nest. “Are you with me, baby?”

Dark eyes drew themselves away from Steve with seeming reluctance, darting about the nest room Steve’s parents reluctantly allowed him to have. It wasn’t necessarily that they opposed the idea of an omega son. Sure, there had been brief disappointment about not having an alpha, but people frequently looked over the power of an omega.

It was hilarious how so many people thought alphas were the leaders of a pack. Even his parents suffered that delusion, even as they accepted his independence. Steve knew the truth though; omegas were the only ones who knew how the world truly worked, the only ones who could get their way against any designation.

The only ones who could take an alpha and mold them into the perfect mate.

Except Steve didn’t want to tame Eddie. He wanted Eddie exactly as he was.

“I want you, baby,” Steve whined, repositioning himself before rocking against Eddie in a way that had the alpha’s thick cock nestled against Steve’s folds, the tip rocking against the crease of Steve’s ass.

”Steve!” Eddie once more gasped out, and oh yes, there was the further thickening of the alpha’s cock as Eddie’s body woke up beneath him. It had been fascinating seeing the way Eddie’s cock engorged as his alpha hormones changed the molecules of his body, leaving him with something one could never mistake as anything other than alpha dick.

Hell, after Steve’s presentation heat and physical changes to his body, he’d spent almost every spare moment alone playing with his new pussy and learning what made it feel good. He’d barely slept for a month straight as he tested out his fingers and then later what toys he convinced his friends to buy for him.

Steve was very passionate about omega sexual liberation. He just hoped that one day to be able to have Eddie use those toys with him.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve breathed, rocking his hips as he felt his slick leaking out of him to coat the turgid length beneath him. He was undeniably sore, however, as he’d let Eddie use him quite thoroughly through his little mini rut.

Which did give him quite the idea, however.

Smirking, Steve bent over to slowly lick up Eddie’s neck, savoring the dried and fresh sweat and taste of arousal there. He pressed his lips to the shell of Eddie’s ear in a soft kiss. “Do want to fuck me in the ass, alpha?” he whispered, feeling his own arousal heighten at just that thought alone. “I want to feel you there…”

A sharp keen left Eddie at Steve’s words, his fingers digging into Steve’s flesh hard enough to leave bruises, and when Steve pulled back to check, his dark eyes were even darker with pupils blown in clear arousal.

“Shit, Steve,” Eddie moaned, pulling down on Steve’s hips as he started softly thrusting up against him. ”I-is this…for real?”

Steve could only let out a soft laugh, moving to take one of Eddie’s hands from his hips and bringing it up to his mouth. He kept eye contact with Eddie as he slowly wrapped his lips around one of the alpha’s thick fingers, flicking his tongue over a callus the older boy no doubt obtained from his sinful guitar playing.

He slowly sank his lips down the alpha’s finger past the first knuckle to the second, only breaking eye contact when Eddie’s gaze dropped to Steve’s lips around his finger with a small gasp. Humming with pleasure at the way Eddie twitched beneath him, he laved the digit with his tongue before slowly pulling away, leaving it spit slick.

“Touch me, alpha,” he ordered with a hint of a whine, lifting his hips just enough to indicate just where he wanted Eddie to touch him. “I want you to prepare me for your cock. I want you to fuck my ass and spill your seed deep inside me. I want you to claim me in every way imaginable.”

Eddie, the good boy he was, had already begun moving his hand behind Steve to do just as he was instructed, but Steve’s words made him pause. He blinked up at Steve, confusion and something Steve hoped was a desire of a non-sexual sort filling his eyes.

Christ, he looked so cute with that puckered brow, his nose scrunched up ever so slightly.

“In every way?” Eddie asked, eyes darting back up to Steve’s, and there was a note of his usual distant tone there, as though it was unheard of for a jock to want anything to do with a freak like him.

If only Eddie knew that Steve loved him at his freakiest.

Because that’s what it was, truly. Love. Maybe it was too soon, too much, to call it that, but Steve didn’t care. His heart wanted what his heart wanted, and it wanted Edward Munson.

Now, if only Eddie’s heart could want someone like him too.

“Every way,” Steve quietly reiterated. “Any way that I can get you, baby, I’ll take it. Even if this is all I get, even if you never want anything to do with me after you’ve taken what you need from me right now, I’ll take it. I’d give you everything.”

And maybe it was too much, considering neither of them were even eighteen yet and Steve was just a junior in high school, but Steve tilted his head and arched his neck in a way that made his intent unmistakable with the way it emphasized his unblemished mating node.

Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Harrington,” he sharply rebuked after a tense moment of silence, and fuck, Steve could feel the rejection like a solid blow to his solar plexus. He felt the sharp and warm sting of tears behind his eyeballs, but blinked them rapidly so nothing could truly form.

He really should have known. What alpha would want a used up omega like him? He had thought, perhaps, that Eddie and all his talk of non-conformity and ‘mine’ during his mini rut would be different, but perhaps that had simply been wishful thinking.

Whatever. At the very least he had gotten a few good fucks in, and hopefully if he hadn’t botched it all up, he could get at least one more.

Except Eddie’s eyes were widening in pained horror, a scent of distress leaving him, and the alpha was pushing off the bed with one hand to wrap his free arm around Steve’s back and pulling him against him. He snuffled along Steve’s jaw with a small punched out whine.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered, sounding so sincere that Steve couldn’t help but close his eyes and wrap his own arms around the alpha. “I didn’t mean…I just…Steve.” The sound of Eddie thickly swallowing was followed by a soft exhale. “Omega, sweetheart, you can’t actually want me like that.”

Steve frowned even as the pet name caused his chest to clench, pulling back with a petulant scowl as he glared down at Eddie. Though, considering he was still naked in his lap, it probably lacked his typical kingly gravitas.

“And why not? Because I’m too used up to be anyone’s mate?” he scoffed. He could see the way Eddie’s nostrils twitched so he could only guess how his scent had changed. Bitter, probably. Sour. Rejection could do that to you.

He hoped the scent didn’t permeate into his nest. He’d probably have to throw the whole thing out and start afresh after this. Which would suck, since his parents had only reluctantly allowed him use of their scents and it’d be awkward to request something of theirs again. Not to mention having to ask Carol and Tommy again. Questions would be had.

Though, perhaps he’d have to do all that anyways, just to get rid of the memories of when he almost had what he so desperately wanted.

A small snarl left Steve as he tossed his head back with an eye roll. “So I like sex, sue me. You certainly weren’t complaining earlier.”

“I’m not complaining now,” Eddie quickly pointed out, sliding his arm from around Steve to lightly cup his jaw, though there was a panic behind his eyes as though worried this much wasn’t allowed. “I just…Christ, Steve, I thought I was going to be an omega. Am I really the sort of alpha you’d want to be shackled to?”

“I’d want your bite even if you were an omega. I…I like you, Eddie Munson. I have for a while now,” Steve quietly confessed, unable to keep himself from nuzzling gently into Eddie’s palm.

Eddie made another punched out sound at that which quickly grew into a whine. Then, in a move that could only come from wrestling class, Eddie wrapped his large hand around the back of Steve’s neck as he pushed his hips forward and knocked Steve back against his nest, causing the omega to let out his own punched out sound. Without a pause, Eddie was then covering Steve with his weight, pressing his lips and nose against the other boy’s throat and jaw.

“Shit, Stevie, who even are you?” Eddie mumbled against him, but the appellation and the way Eddie’s teeth grazed against his flesh made it impossible for Steve to answer him. “You’re like the…quintessential high school god. You’re young, popular, athletic, rich, and fucking hot. You’re supposed to be a douchebag, man, not…not this.”

“A-and what is…’this?’” Steve gasped out, hands scrambling along Eddie’s back, hooking a thigh against Eddie’s hip to pull him even closer. He didn’t know if he wanted to bite Eddie out of anger or desire.

“You’re still kind of a bitch,” Eddie snorted, but there was a tease to his tone that took the sting out of his words. And…yeah, okay, Steve was a bitch. He never denied that. “But you’re also…caring, protective. I’ve seen you, you know.” Eddie pulled back just enough that Steve could see his face again. “I’ve seen you look out for those younger than you, and those the rest of the school turn a blind eye to. Even random pups on the street.”

Steve felt his face heat up at Eddie’s words, utterly taken aback. Sure, he stepped in if he noticed Tommy or the others going a little too far, but he wasn’t some avenging angel or whatever. He just did what anyone else would do. Well…what anyone else should do. And the only pup he’d really helped recently had been Nancy’s little brother, not that the jerk had appreciated it at all.

No, if anyone was an avenging angel for the less fortunate, it was the alpha currently pinning him to his nest. Eddie was…fuck. Eddie was something else. He was a freak in all the best ways. He never stayed down for long, never let bullying go, always stood up for others in a way that had been what had inspired Steve to do it in return. If Steve was caring, it was because Eddie had made him want to be caring.

“Baby,” Steve choked out, reaching up to brush Eddie’s hair behind his ear. No one had ever thought him admirable like that before. For being rich, and hot, and popular, sure. But not for being anything other than what society told him he should be. “Baby, do you even know how amazing you are?”

No, of course Eddie didn’t; Steve could see that clearly enough in the alpha’s bewildered gaze.

“You’re the caring one, Eddie. You protect everyone who needs it, whether they’re part of Hellfire or not. You draw so much attention to yourself to keep it off the others, and you don’t care about this bullshit high school and who they try to tell you to be. You’re unapologetically you and you refuse to back down. How could I not fall for you?

“You’re everything I want in a mate, baby. You’re kind, and brave, and protective, and talented, and smart, and Christ, Eddie, do you even realize how fucking hot you are?” Steve let out an aggrieved sigh because it really was unfair. Eddie was the whole fucking package.

Eddie blinked down at Steve, mouth dropping open in surprise. Steve could see the way Eddie was calculating everything, could see him trying to decide if he believed everything Steve was telling him, and…fuck, maybe all hope wasn’t lost? Because Eddie wasn’t laughing at him, wasn’t saying Steve was delusional, or stupid, or crazy, and if anything, Eddie seemed more like he was uncertain that Steve could truly mean his words.

So Steve would make certain that Eddie had no reason to doubt him.

“I wasn’t lying back on the mat, baby. I really do want you no matter your designation, though I won’t deny the thought of those little mini Munson-Harringtons have me preening,” he murmured, causing Eddie to shudder and give him another startled look. “I’ve been halfway in love with you since sophomore year,” he laughed without humor, tightening his legs around Eddie when the alpha looked like he might bolt.

“Steve,” Eddie choked out, but Steve wasn’t done. If this was his one chance, he was going to lay it all out there. He knew he was physically and sexually desirable, knew he was unbearably cocky because of it at times, but he wanted to be desired as a person too. For more than just his pussy, as succulent as it was.

Steve sighed. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way about me, no matter what you said then. I know I’m not the typical sort of omega,” he mumbled with a self-deprecating shrug of a shoulder. “I know I’m a slut, a jock, popular, and everything else you despi—mmf!”

It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed during all this, but as Eddie surged in to capture Steve’s lips in a bruising press to silence him, it felt like none of the kisses of passion they’d had before during Eddie’s presentation rut. Sure, there was passion there, but there was something else as well, something that had Steve’s toes curling and a moan erupting out of him. And slick leaving him.

“I could never despise you,” Eddie whispered against his lips when he finally pulled away. “I…I can’t tell you I love you right now because I don’t know if I do yet, but…”

Eddie swallowed, pulling back to dart his gaze back and forth between Steve’s eyes as though plumbing their depths for the truth. “But I think I could,” he hoarsely whispered. “My inner a-alpha…it wants you too.”

Sparks shot up Steve’s spine at that admission. It was so much more than he could have expected after everything. He had let himself hope for the briefest moment when Eddie’s alpha woke up because of him, had laid his own claim back there in the gym when he threw caution to the wind and decided to take Eddie home to his nest, but…

He’d wanted this. He just hadn’t been certain he’d ever actually be able to achieve it, didn’t even think he was truly worthy of it, if he was being truthful with himself. But the open and honest way Eddie was staring at him as though surprised with himself at his own admission?

Fuck. It was everything.

It was Steve’s turn to surge forward, wrapping his arms back around Eddie’s shoulders and sliding one hand into his sweaty mess of hair to pull and hold him close, smiling against his lips.

And maybe he wasn’t the one supposed to be saying it, maybe he should have been the demure omega and let his intended alpha take the lead, but instead he found himself whispering against the only person he ever wanted to mate, the words a needy croak.

“Let me court you.”

Eddie shivered against him, but he wasn’t pulling away in disgust. No, instead he moved his mouth to Steve’s neck, to that unblemished spot that craved the bite of teeth, and suckled a soft bruise there instead. “Yes,” the alpha breathed against him. “Court me, Stevie. Court me, and if you still want me after everything, after we graduate, I’ll give you my bite.”

A happy, trilling chirp left Steve at that. Eddie’s bite, truly? He hated the thought of waiting, wanting it right here and now, but he understood the need for the wait. They were both still underage, even if Eddie was almost legally an adult, and Steve still had another full year of school after this one.

Plus, there was the fact that his parents would never approve of the match and would seek to break it if he went ahead with it while still a minor.

Assholes.

Though, speaking of assholes…

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve gasped as Eddie leaned in once more, nipping at his mating node. “Alpha, please…”

Eddie’s fingers skimmed over Steve’s side, sliding up his throat to tap lightly at his chin. “How about we pick up where we left off, omega?” Eddie teased with a purr, and even though Steve could tell that Eddie was still nervous, still unsure, the alpha was still playing his part in taking the lead and actually initiating something outside of his fever.

Fuck, he loved him.

Steve, always oh so willing to top from the bottom when necessary, happily let himself submit to the silent request and dropped open his mouth to allow Eddie to push his first two fingers inside. It was heavenly, and while he was eager to get his lips around wrapped around something else too, it didn’t stop him from closing his eyes in pleasure as he suckled at the digits against his tongue, coating them with slick spit.

”I might not be able to say I love you yet,” Eddie murmured close to Steve’s ear. “But I’d be lying if I denied how much I’ve been drawn to you, even when I tried to convince myself you were off-limits. That it was foolish to even hope that you could look at me and see me as something desirable.”

Steve very much wanted to protest, wanted to proclaim just how desirable Eddie had always been, but Eddie’s fingers were currently pushing down on his tongue leaving him only able to whimper at the thought.

“I want to make you mine, omega,” Eddie continued to whisper, slowly pulling his wet fingers from between Steve’s lips. “So why don’t you be a good little omega and present for me?”

A sharp bolt of arousal lanced through Steve at those words. Perhaps in part because, even now, he could tell that Eddie was uncomfortable speaking like the typical knotheaded alphas he hated and taking lead in this way while clearheaded, but fuck if it wasn’t hot.

Eager to please his alpha-to-be, Steve scrambled around in his nest, rolling over under Eddie who moved away just enough to allow the omega to reposition on his elbows and knees, legs spread and the swollen lips of his pussy shiny with slick below his far too empty ass.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, looking absolutely dazed as he took Steve fully in for the first time since his fever hit, Steve feeling utterly pleased about it as he glanced over his shoulder at the alpha; his alpha.

“Want your knot, baby,” he whispered. “Want your knot in my ass, want you to claim me. M’yours, baby. Only yours.”

Eddie’s expression only looked more and more stunned at Steve’s words, as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d said what he said, despite the hours long fuck session they’d had during Eddie’s mini-rut.

Then again, this was said when they were both fully mentally cognizant, so Steve had to admit that it was probably more than Eddie might have ever expected him to say.

Which, truly, only made Steve fall more and more.

“I mean it,” he murmured, though maybe it was a whimper. “Fuck, Eddie, I want you. Not just any alpha, or anyone with a dick. I want you, Edward Munson. Now and forever. Only you. Wanna mate you, marry you, be pupped by you. Please.”

This was, apparently, the right thing to say. Eddie made another punched out sound, and then he was covering Steve’s back with his chest and pulled Steve’s chin further back over his shoulder to press their lips together once more, if only briefly.

“Shit, Stevie,” Eddie breathed. “Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I’ll make sure you’re rounded with my pups when you walk that graduation stage.”

A needy whine left Steve at that, fresh slick coating his insides, an ache of want settling into his core. Want for Eddie’s magnificent dick, certainly, but a deeper want as well, a want that desired the warmth of a pup in his belly and his arms. His and Eddie’s pup.

Eddie’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as they grazed over Steve’s ass, hesitating for a moment, but then the spit-covered fingers slipped between Steve’s rounded cheeks and pressed against the spot Steve so desperately craved him.

“Fuck,” Steve gasped, dropping his head between his shoulders as he pressed back again the searching fingers. “That’s right, baby,” he groaned, arching against the touch as Eddie pulled back enough to watch what he was doing. “Just like that.”

“Christ, you’re unreal, Harrington,” Eddie groaned, and Steve didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that Eddie’s gaze was firmly trapped by his ass. He could feel it burning him as Eddie traced his puckered entrance. The use of his unfortunate surname did not sting quite as much in this moment, the drag of Eddie’s callused fingertips sending a sharp flare of arousal through him. He did nothing to hide his gasps or moans, wanting Eddie to know just what he was doing to him.

“Need you inside me, alpha,” Steve groaned. “Please let me feel you inside me. Fuck my ass, baby, please.”

A muffled swear left Eddie’s lips, fingers stuttering where they rubbed at him, and then Eddie’s hot mouth was nipping at Steve’s lower back which pulled a startled yelp from the omega. “This ass is mine now, Stevie. Right? No one else gets to touch it except for me.”

The possessive growl in Eddie’s voice caused a fresh wave of slick to coat Steve, but he wasn’t given a chance to answer before Eddie’s index and middle fingers slid from his ass and over his taint to spear inside his wet cunt all the way to the final knuckles. A sharp cry left Steve instead, his own fingers scrambling and flexing in the material of his nest for purchase as Eddie pumped inside him.

“If you ever need a dick in your ass, your pussy, or your mouth, it’s gonna be mine, understand?”

“Y-yours,” Steve shakily moaned out, clenching around the fingers moving inside him. “Only yours, alpha.”

A whimper left him when Eddie’s fingers did, but he wasn’t given time to truly complain as those thick fingers were swiftly returned back to his ass, slick and warm and stroking over his hole until, finally, the first one pressed inside.

The feeling, like always, was exquisite, but there was a certain something else to the knowledge that it was Eddie knuckles deep inside him, and soon a whole lot more. A startled chirp left Steve, jerking forward on instinct before pushing back against the intrusion with a groan of anticipatory pleasure.

The thing was that he knew that Eddie was inexperienced. That much was obvious, even with his alpha instincts thoroughly working Steve over during his mini rut. The boy had never had a chance to properly explore his sexuality before his presentation, which Steve could slightly relate to, though he had presented earlier than most of his classmates.

Which had, of course, lent himself to becoming probably the biggest known slut at Hawkins High since perhaps its founding. Steve liked sex and he saw nothing wrong with that. The only reason he slept around so much had been because he’d never had anyone he truly wanted in this way, and then after falling for Eddie…

Well. Maybe it was a bit premature since they were only just now talking about this being an official thing, but he was ready to settle down.

That didn’t mean he had to stop being a slut for his alpha though.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve gasped out as Eddie worked him open with his finger. His pussy clenched around nothing, but he really couldn’t complain as his ass was filled with first one finger, and then two. “Feels so good, alpha…”

Eddie grunted behind him, his free hand moving to cup Steve’s ass before pushing his cheek aside to open up the view, watching his slick fingers disappear inside Steve over and over again.

“You take me so well, omega,” Eddie breathed, and Steve could tell he was trying to sound confident and alpha-like, but there was no hiding the awe in his voice. It made Steve preen, pushing back against those fingers with a moan.

“Want all of you, baby. Only you. My alpha,” he whimpered, fingers curling in the materials of his nest as Eddie’s own fingers pushed in as deeply as they could go. The burn of the stretch did nothing to end his pleasure, and it in fact only heightened it as Eddie’s thick digits began pumping in and out of him in earnest, the wet sound of it a symphony to Steve’s ears.

This was his alpha. Steve didn’t know if he believed in fated mates, and yet he knew that Eddie was his. He’d watched Eddie from afar, had sought to learn everything he could about him, and thought they were at polar opposites of the social spectrum, there was no denying just how similar they were to each other.

“Alpha,” Steve whimpered, Eddie’s fingerings curling almost instinctively to hit that spot inside Steve that sent sparks through his synapses. “Please, baby, need more,” he groaned, fingers curled in his nest and pushing back against the intrusion.

“Shit, Stevie, you really are a slut for this, aren’t you?” Eddie breathed, but the awe was still there, Eddie’s arousal still ripe in the air.

“Only for you now, baby,” Steve breathlessly grinned, his slick trailing down his thigh with want.

“Good little omega,” Eddie groaned, and Steve clenched his empty cunt with a sharp moan as Eddie thrust his two fingers inside Steve hard and deep. He could only whimper when they withdrew before a third one speared inside him with the others, a choked out cry leaving him.

“Shhh,” Eddie soothed, his free hand sliding over Steve’s arched spine. “Gonna fill you so good, omega,” he whispered. “Everyone will know you’re mine after today.”

“Please,” Steve groaned in agreement. “Want everyone to know. I’m yours, baby.”

“Mine,” Eddie breathed, or maybe it was a growl, or maybe it was something else entirely. Steve could hardly care about the specifics when, after working him quite open, Eddie drew away and pulled out his questing fingers.

He was not given time for disappointment.

Eddie’s fingers moved then to grip him roughly by the hip, and then the alpha’s cock was slamming into his cunt in a way that left Steve breathless, stars exploding behind eyes, the slick sound of his wet pussy as Eddie thrust into him repeatedly filling the air with the salty scent of arousal. It was exquisite, yet not the end goal.

Mere moments later, Eddie was once more pulling free, thick cock coated in Steve’s juices. The shiny head was then pressing against his asshole, the ring of muscle fluttering in anticipation.

“Can’t wait to make you a Munson, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed so quietly that Steve didn’t even know if the statement was for his benefit or not. Eddie might not be in love with him yet, but Steve’s most hopeful thoughts imagined that he might very well be on his way to be.

And Steve had no intention of letting the alpha he claimed for his own go again.

A sharp keen left Steve then as Eddie’s cock pressed in, lubricated with Steve’s own slick. He slid his knees farther apart to allow his alpha greater access, arching his back both to show off and from genuine pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, breathless as Eddie’s thick cock sunk deeper and deeper inside him. “Y’feel so good. So big.”

Eddie’s fingers squeezed where they had returned to Steve’s hips after guiding himself in, thrilling Steve as he knew they would bruise in such a lovely and telling way. There would be no denying what sort of bruises they were. Steve would need to remember to wear some of his more low hanging pants to show them off.

“Can’t believe you’re this tight,” Eddie groaned, pausing halfway in to catch his breath, though it left him again in a muttered curse when Steve clenched around the hard length inside him with a smirk. His pussy game was strong, but he knew how to use his ass as well.

He could feel his empty pussy throbbing with desire, could feel even more of his slick gathering at his lips to drip out of him. He’d never been more turned on in his life. Sure, he had always been the sort of omega to get wet easily, always had a Slip ‘N Slide pussy, but he couldn’t recall ever being this wet outside of his heats before.

And it was all because of the boy sliding deep inside his ass at that moment.

Any pain that came from Eddie’s thick cock spearing him open was forgotten in the pleasure of it all. Drool gathered in Steve’s mouth, dribbling out of him as he panted and keened as Eddie bottomed out inside him, the slap of the alpha’s balls sending another pulse of arousal through him.

Eddie’s weight draped along Steve’s back, their sweat mingling together, just like their scents. The older boy nuzzled at Steve’s equally sweaty hair, licking a slow path up his neck and over the mating gland.

“My perfect omega,” Eddie whispered, though his voice was strained with the effort it took not to fuck and claim in that moment. “I will ruin you for every other alpha out there.”

Steve could only grin. “You already have,” he wheezed, arms and thighs quivering with the effort of not letting himself fall, as well as the effort to not push back for more. “Please, baby. Don’t hold back. Claim me.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath, a hand sliding around to stroke over Steve’s chest and down over his cocklet, fondling the smaller though no less hard length before moving once more to dip between Steve’s legs.

“I already have,” Eddie purred, and though Steve could not see it, he could feel the smirk Eddie placed as a kiss against his shoulder blade. “Mine.” Giving no more warning, Eddie sharply bit Steve’s shoulder as he twisted and hooked his fingers into the omega’s pussy to use as leverage to pull him back against him, at the same time harshly thrusting forward.

“Eddie!” Steve cried out, both in shock and in pleasure, unable to miss the loss of those fingers when they were pulled from him as Eddie finally began to move.

Slick coated fingers gripped him tightly by the hips once more as Eddie slid nearly all the way out of him, only to thrust forward with a force that nearly toppled Steve. And it would have, had it not been for the way Eddie pulled Steve back onto his dick at the same time, only to repeat the process again.

Steve could hardly catch his breath at the near-punishing intensity of Eddie’s thrusts as he fucked deep into Steve’s ass over and over again, the sound of his balls slapping Steve’s skin and the wet schlick of Eddie’s dick pumping into him nearly drowning out their combined gasps, grunts, and swears.

Tears gathered at the corners of Steve’s eyes from the pleasure, nearly going cross eyed with it, salivating tongue all but lolling out of him at the brutal pace Eddie set. Eddie had been quite…energetic during his mini rut, had left Steve quite bruised and sore, but this here now was unlike anything before.

Firstly, Eddie was fully cognizant of himself this time, moving with genuine desire over presentation instinct. Eddie’s words were thus far more meaningful, his actions far more telling.

Secondly, Steve loved anal. Sure, there was nothing quite like his pussy being filled with hard cock, but there was just something a little special about letting someone take him from behind. It required a certain level of trust, after all, but dear god, the feeling was exquisite. It scratched an itch he sometimes didn’t realize he had, his pleasure points igniting like fire at the stretch and ache of it all.

Perhaps that was a shallow reason, but Steve never claimed he wasn’t shallow at times.

Thirdly, lastly but not leastly, this was a mere promise of what was to come for their future. He had hoped that Eddie had understood everything he’d said in the gym, but he had mean more than prepared for this to be a one-time occurrence. Now, Eddie’s possessive bruises literally his body in promise, Steve knew that tonight was merely just the first night.

Now Steve knew that the future he’d always desperately wanted, one with a spouse that loved him and pups underfoot as they travel near and far, might not just be a fairytale after all.

A large hand pushed between his shoulder blades below his neck, forcing his face into his nest already damp with sweat, spit, and tears. He went willingly, rolling his hips as well as he was able in his position to meet every one of Eddie’s strong thrusts. They were becoming more erratic, quicker and more pounding, and he could feel how his ass and hips were already reddened by skin slapping skin.

Of Eddie’s inflating knot signaling how desperately Eddie wanted him too.

And then there was the way Eddie was growling Steve’s name in litany like a prayer, of the way he claimed him as his omega over and over again in promise, the way Eddie gave Steve everything he had ever wanted.

Steve was going to come with Eddie’s dick in his ass and Steve’s heart in Eddie’s chest.

The blunt press of Eddie’s dick head hitting those spots inside him with every thrust, the way his dick swelled even more inside Steve in preparation, the way Eddie’s knot banged at his entrance…Steve felt the tight coil tightening further, could feel his slick dribbling out of him like a spring.

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to breathe. All he wanted was to stay in this moment with the one he loved.

Of course, such a thing was impossible, and biology had other ideas. Eddie apparently did too, which Steve could hardly find fault with as it led to the best approaching orgasm of his life.

Eddie’s thick fingers left his shoulder blades to curl into Steve’s hair, jerking him back roughly to arch his neck even as his other arm wrapped firmly around his middle to pull him back onto Eddie’s dick until, with a cry of pained pleasure, Eddie’s knot popped inside him. At the same time, Eddie’s teeth bit down into the sensitive skin of his neck over his gland, though not enough to break skin or spill Steve’s mating blood.

That promise of future, the feeling of Eddie’s fingers twisting and pulling his hair, of Eddie’s knot buried deep inside him in the most intimate way…

The coil at the base of Steve’s spine snapped, arching against Eddie’s body as much as he could with a sharp cry, tears spilling down his cheeks as a flood of slick left his pussy and his cocklet squirted from the sheer intensity of his pleasure.

Ropes and ropes of Eddie’s seed spilled deep inside him, hot and comforting in its claim, Eddie’s own cry of orgasm muffled against Steve’s neck.

Pure…bliss…

After a few jerking switches of Eddie’s hips as his knot tethered them together, his cock even now still twitching and spilling his seed inside Steve’s ass, the alpha carefully maneuvered them to their sides in the nest, keeping Steve clasped firmly against his soft chest. Blindly, Steve sought out Eddie’s hand to hold, intertwining their fingers and holding them tight to his own chest, the occasional soft keen of pleasure leaving him as Eddie’s knot worked desperately for a pup that (for now) would not be.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathed, voice full of affection and awe. Slowly, carefully, he licked at the bruise mating gland, hips briefly jerking once more, before carefully lifting himself just enough peer over into Steve’s face. Whatever worry puckering his brow was wiped away at the expression on Steve’s wet face, the omega knowing it was flushed with contentment and pleasure.

“My Stevie,” Eddie whispered again, leaning again to lightly lick at the salty trail of Steve’s tears on his cheek. “My beautiful omega.”

“My perfect alpha,” Steve sighed happily in return. He brought up their joined hands to lightly nuzzle against them, placing a soft kiss of his own over Eddie’s knuckles.

He knew they would need to talk more, would need to figure out all of the logistics of their changed circumstances and new roles, but he couldn’t find the strength to care at the moment. He was nestled in his future mate’s arms, bound together in the most intimate way imaginable, and he knew that whatever may come their way, they could handle it. Together.

“Samwise.”

Steve blinked in confusion, his alpha’s sudden voice pulling him from the dozing slumber he’d been slipping into. “What?”

“For our first pup. I like the name Samwise. It can be a middle name too.”

Though still confused about the name, something warm fluttered deep in Steve’s chest at the idea of Eddie already looking forward to their first pup together. First, Eddie had said. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips.

“What if it’s a girl?” he lightly teased, though having never heard the name before, he supposed that it could go either way.

“Elanor, obviously,” Eddie snorted, kissing the back of Steve’s neck, causing him to shiver, clenching around the knot and still hard cock inside him. Eddie let out a small hiss at that, his arm underneath Steve to hold him close tightening as he rocked his hips against Steve’s ass.

“Hmm,” Steve said after a breathless moan. “Sam and Elanor. I’m not opposed, though I get to name the next ones.”

Eddie let out a soft, almost disbelieving chuckle. His toasted marshmallow scent bloomed with his happiness. “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

Steve slowly slid Eddie’s hand still clasped in his lower, clenching again as he felt his pussy pulse in response. “Maybe we should get some practice in, first,” he whispered, his words becoming a soft gasp at the end as Eddie’s fingers obediently began to lightly probe at his folds.

“As you wish,” Eddie quietly breathed, and while Steve knew that they really did need to talk about their future, as well as eventually clean up and preferably shower, he found himself instead basking in the sticky sweet scent of his beloved.

Hello again everyone! So I might have disappeared for a bit due to unfortunate circumstances but I am doing my best to get back into fandom shape so that I can enjoy these lovable idiots with you all again. I hope this story makes up for my absence some!

note: the original Marshmallow story was written for my beloved @scoops-aboy86 based on one of her prompts, while this continuation was an idea sparked by the lovely @curiouserstrangeone (EmOfCrows on ao3) so I hope this satisfies the both of you 😉

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-weirdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes @hiei-harringtonmunson

Fic tag: @mugloversonly (you wanted to be tagged for the first one so tagging you here too jic)

#steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #plot thots #fic: marshmallow

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spaceprincessleia · 1 day ago

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Rebels with(out) a cause

Here are some points I want to talk about regarding Vel, Cinta and storytelling:

It’s Vel’s story, not Cinta’s (Intention)

Vel in season 1 – and Cinta

What kind of story did we get?

The mess (Outcome)

The impact of queerness and race on the story we got

The story we should have got (Fix)

My conclusion

Feel free to dive into 1269 words of analysis. Good luck if you do.

Disclaimer: This is just an opinion and doesn't consider every aspect ever. Also, I don't read (many) interviews with people involved in the show or listen to/watch analyses. I really just had an itch to write down my thoughts, and they turned into ... many thoughts.

Also, this is an analysis that points out storytelling flaws. I love Vel and Cinta deeply, their story overall makes much more sense than the parts that could/should have been better, and I'll forever be happy that we got these characters and their relationship.

It’s Vel’s story, not Cinta’s

Andor introduces us to characters at important moments in the rebellion. Backstories are often reduced to minimal context (except for Cassian’s, because he’s the main character).

One of these stories is about a “rich girl” who walks away from privilege and wealth to fight the Empire directly – unlike a politician working from within the Senate. That’s an angle we haven’t really seen before, and we explore it through Vel – why did someone with her background join the fight?

To tell that story, Tony Gilroy created Cinta as Vel’s narrative foil, aka a marginal role and not a fully independent character. So, she wasn’t written for more screen time or deeper development; we were never meant to learn how she joined the rebellion, where she came from, or how she and Vel met.* Also, Cinta’s angle isn’t one we haven’t seen before.

* If anything, we do know why Vel and Cinta are (were) in a relationship: to contrast the protagonist, Vel, to highlight her choices, conflicts and growth. That’s not the in-character explanation for their love that we want, of course, but a meta explanation – the relationship exists for the story’s structure, because that’s how Tony decided to tell it.

Vel in season 1 – and Cinta

In season 1, we see two sides of Vel: she’s trying to become a leader and find her place in the rebellion (emphasis on trying), and she’s in love with Cinta. She wants both, but clearly struggles to find balance. Cinta is the opposite: she knows exactly why she fights and puts the rebellion first.

After the Aldhani heist, Vel and Cinta are worlds apart, both literally and figuratively. Vel ends up on Coruscant, no longer looking like a ground soldier, while Cinta returns to her role on the frontlines. Their priorities contrast as well: Vel becomes more caught up in her emotions, while Cinta remains focused on the rebellion.

We learn a little bit more about Vel, too, through Mon, Cinta and Perrin (for example that she’s Mon Mothma’s cousin, that she comes from a life of wealth and privilege, and that she grew up in a conservative, possibly homophobic society).

By the end of season 1, the focus is very much on Vel and Cinta’s relationship, and not on just Vel and her “why.”

What kind of story did we get?

Instead, Vel’s relationship with Cinta became the main point of her character – and the exploration of her “why” disappeared. The story focused almost entirely on their dynamic, and as a result, Cinta evolved into more than “just” a narrative foil. She became a character, and the one with more narrative clarity.

Therefore, many of us expected to see both of them grow/change individually in season 2 as well as a conclusion to their relationship.

And we did get both in season 2: they changed, and they found balance. They could love each other and still work well as a team dedicated to a common cause.

So far, so good, right? *record scratch* Well ... no, actually.

The mess

There are three points here that add to the mess of Vel and Cinta’s arc, in my opinion:

Firstly, all of Vel and Cinta’s character growth happened off-screen during the time skips. There’s no build-up to the conclusion of their arc, it’s resolved in minimal screen time. Vel’s core motivation is still unknown and it can’t be explored through her relationship with Cinta, since Cinta is killed off in episode six. Wasn’t exploring Vel’s core motivation the whole point of her character though?

Secondly, If Cinta’s death was supposed to become Vel’s “why,” the missing part in her arc, then that doesn’t work. Vel isn’t a new recruit, motivation doesn’t come after you’ve already committed, and if Vel only really starts fighting because of Cinta’s death, it reduces everything Vel did before.

And thirdly, things get even more complicated when we address what we haven’t yet: Vel and Cinta are a queer love story, with Cinta portrayed by a queer woman of color. And all of this matters, whether it was intentional or not.

The impact of queerness and race on the story we got

Tony tells a story here that generally works regardless of gender, sexuality or race. There’s nothing wrong with creating a marginal role (like a narrative foil) and even killing them off to advance another character’s arc.

But stories don’t exist in a vacuum. Even if the focus isn’t on identity, they become part of the story, and should be considered within the story (the vacuum) as well as the context of the real world.

Andor touches on queerness beyond just the portrayal of a same-sex relationship: for example with the line “Everyone has their own rebellion,” delivered by a queer character from a conservative, possibly homophobic society.

While the line refers to people from different backgrounds who join the rebellion for different reasons, a queer audience will pick up on a more specific meaning in that context, too. Because to many, being queer is a “rebellion” against the norms of a heteronormative society.

Additionally, the marginal character whose primary role is to support the development of a protagonist is portrayed by a queer woman of color, and the protagonist is white.

Considering both of these aspects, Tony Gilroy tapped into a long, painful tradition in media: queer women of color are often sidelined, underdeveloped or killed off to serve the arcs of others.

The story we should have got

Now, could the pain over Cinta’s death have been avoided? No. It would always have hurt fans who were invested in her and Vel’s relationship. But could the mess around that pain have been avoided? Partially, yes. Better storytelling choices regarding both Vel and Cinta could have made it less frustrating. Still, with so much character development skipped over through time jumps, some level of dissatisfaction may have been inevitable.

For me, the best fix would have been to

stay true to the original narrative purpose of Vel’s character, and

show Vel and Cinta’s development on screen, over time, in season 2.

The reveal of “why” Vel chose to fight the Empire should have been the primary focus of her arc. We’re shown her commitment, but not the core reason behind it. And that’s not a small thing: Vel would feel much more complete as a character with a defined motivation.

That missing “why” could have been explored through her contrast with Cinta. Vel is portrayed as someone who chooses to join the fight. Cinta, meanwhile, had no choice: her life was destroyed by the Empire, her “why” is clear.

Vel and Cinta’s journey to find balance in their relationship is a story I love with all of my heart. It could have grown alongside Vel’s personal arc, not replace it, and it could have honored Cinta’s character with more narrative space.

Conclusion

There’s still much more that could be analyzed and debated – but the bottom line is:

In my opinion, Tony Gilroy lost sight of his original intention with Vel: exploring her perspective and the reasons she chose to join the fight against the Empire.

Additionally, his casting and writing choices needed to be handled with more awareness.

Because of this, Cinta deserved more screentime and narrative space in season 2, even if she was always intended to be a foil and her death planned from the start.

And due to the timing of Cinta’s death in the storyline, it could never have meaningfully served as Vel’s “why” anyway.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#andor #andor spoilers #vel sartha #cinta kaz #velctina #*mine #i feel so much better after getting this all out actually

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ashyblondwaves · 21 hours ago

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I Would Have Died For You

Katniss can’t say what’s broken, only that it is. But Peeta’s still there, and sometimes, that’s enough.

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

The room is dark except for the hearth; the quiet is almost maddening. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes after something breaks. This time, it was only a quick headline. Another name we knew, another reminder of what we survived and who didn’t. No one says a word about it, and they don’t have to. The silence speaks for itself.

I sit on the floor, my knees drawn to my chest, nails digging into the skin. My blanket is abandoned somewhere behind me. The fire’s almost out, there’s nothing left but the occasional snap of a stubborn ember. It’s not cold, not really. I can feel the heat of the embers on my face, but I’ve been shivering since the sun went down.

The stairs creak behind me. His steps are soft. Far softer than they used to be. Every step used to come with noise, but now, it’s like he’s learned how to walk around ghosts.

“Katniss?” Peeta’s voice is low and careful. Not tiptoeing, not anymore. Just... steadiness.

I don’t turn around. I can’t. My throat is full of something heavy, and if I open my mouth, it might escape. I’m afraid I’ll start sobbing or screaming or maybe laughing in a way that isn’t quite right.

Even so, he waits.

Then, when I don’t speak, he crosses the room and sits a few feet away, just close enough to feel, but far enough to leave me space. His presence settles around me like a blanket I didn’t ask for and didn’t realize I needed.

“I would have died for you,” I finally murmur. The words fall out. I didn’t mean to say them, but they’re true. And I’m tired of choking on the truth.

Peeta doesn’t flinch. He just looks at the dying embers like it has all the answers.

“I know that now,” he says.

“No. I mean it,” I say, shaking my head. “I wanted to in the arena, in the Capitol, everywhere. It was always easier to think about dying than… than surviving.”

My voice breaks on the last part, and I hate it. I hate that even now, after everything, I still can’t say what I mean without it sounding like a mess.

Peeta shifts, but he doesn’t reach for me yet. He never does unless I ask.

“But you did survive,” he says, quietly. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah.” I huff a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem.”

He doesn’t argue. And though he never tells me not to feel what I’m feeling, sometimes I wish he would for my own sanity. Instead, he just lets it live in the space between us.

“I don’t know how to be what you deserve,” I whisper. “You give and give and I… I can’t even remember how to hold someone without feeling like I’m going to break them.”

Finally, he moves closer. Knees to knees. Still not touching me, but it feels like he’s wrapped around me anyway. Not in the way I used to feel guilty about. In the way I’ve started to trust and depend on.

“You don’t have to be anything but here,” he says. “I didn’t survive so you could love me the right way. I survived so I could love you, even when you don’t know how to let it in.”

Something sharp and soft twists inside my chest.

I look at him, and for the first time tonight, I see him. His eyes are tired, and there’s a smudge of flour still on his sleeve from whatever he’d been doing before he realized I wasn’t in the kitchen with him anymore. He never stops trying. Not even when I give him every reason to.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice wrecked. “I want to be better. I just... don’t know how.”

He reaches for my hand, slow, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away, but I don’t. Our fingers meet, and it’s like breathing for the first time in days.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs. “Together.”

He holds my hand, and it’s filled with promise. It’s not a fix, it’s not a cure. It’s just something to hold on to when the wind picks up again.

The embers are all but out, and I realize I’m shivering from cold now. I shift closer to him, my knees brushing his, and let my head fall against his shoulder. It doesn’t feel dramatic. It feels necessary.

Peeta doesn’t say anything, he just leans into me gently. I can feel his warmth, his heartbeat, his whole steady presence.

I don’t cry. I thought I might, but I don’t. The ache is too deep for tears. It’s old, buried, and half-fossilized. Grief for everything we lost. Guilt for everything survived. An ache for everything I still can’t give him.

But he’s here anyway. He always is.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m holding on by a thread,” I whisper. “Like if I let go, I’ll disappear.”

Peeta’s arm wraps around my back, hand splayed between my shoulder blades.

“Then I’ll hold on for both of us,” he says into my hair.

I close my eyes.

That should make me feel weak, but it doesn’t. Not with him. With him, it feels like choosing to stay alive. Again. And again. And again.

We sit there in silence for a while. The kind that says everything words can’t reach.

“Come to bed?” He eventually asks.

“I won’t sleep,” I say without hesitation.

“That’s okay. Just be near me,” he replies, his thumb caressing the side of my face before He stands and reaches for my hand again. I take it and let him pull me to my feet.

Upstairs, the bed is crisp and clean from when I made it hours ago. It feels more like a lifetime. A lifetime since I read the headline and the world suddenly closed in. But as I slip in, the sheets still smell like him. Like bread and pine and something warm that I can only describe as Peeta. Peeta slides under the covers behind me. I let him pull me close, chest to chest, and I don’t have to brace myself for the act of intimacy. I don’t even flinch. I crave it tonight.

I let myself breathe him in. Let myself feel it as Peeta traces lazy circles on my back with his fingers.

“You don’t have to know how to love me,” he says. “You just have to let me love you until you remember how.”

And it’s not a declaration. It’s not even a reassurance. It’s a lifeline.

I press my forehead to his collarbone and whisper, “Okay.”

And for the first time in days, maybe even weeks, I believe that maybe surviving doesn’t always have to feel like punishment.

#i write shit #the hunger games #everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #post mockingjay #angsty #but hopeful #thg drabbles

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charcubed · 2 days ago

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I watched Sinners in IMAX a few days ago.

I saw it after a long work day and basically had a religious experience.

My friend and I talked about it in the parking lot for an hour, and then I got home at 11:30pm and fell asleep with my phone in my hand at 1AM while writing down my thoughts about it in a doc (at the request of another friend). I took a half day off of work the next day to sleep in and wrote for 4 more hours, then finished cleaning up the doc a couple days later.

So here's about 4,000 words (?!?!) of my thoughts on this incredible fucking masterpiece of a movie.

Certainly not expecting anyone to read this but I do want to put it here for myself :) Because this is how I have fun for some reason!

Disclaimers:

I’m not Black so I’m obviously discussing topics outside the realm of my experience / culture and could be completely off the mark on anything. Apologies in advance if I am. I also assume I’m not the first to say any of this analysis.

These are my initial thoughts and interpretations before deep-diving or Googling or reading interviews about this movie! (That's my rule.) Just from my brain’s first watch and my limited knowledge of history and sociology.

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

-I cannot fucking wait to rewatch this movie with subtitles someday because I know for a FACT I missed some things.

-I liked how Stack drove the red car and Smoke drove the blue truck :) so cute. I was like yaaayyy, hammer home this visual separation so I can get a sense of them as individual people before we keep going, thank you <3 so many good framing and color and lighting choices throughout this movie that foreshadowed things too!

-Lowkey I totally get why people probably want sequels and spinoffs of this universe to learn more lore, but I felt very content with where it left us. The themes/subtext are so strong and so well-executed that the story feels fairly complete in that regard to me because it had things to say and said them well. Not to say the metaphors couldn’t be continued in more storytelling and worldbuilding, obviously, and I’d eat it up if they did decide to do it… But I also think what we got feels fairly satisfying to me.

-However: WHERE IS MY CHOCTAW NATION VAMPIRE HUNTERS SPINOFF. GODDAMN!!! Also love how we get them for literally 3 minutes and they embody every aspect of this movie’s messaging perfectly. Insanely cool shit

Okay anyway

-The opening intro makes such a bold claim about how the music we’re about to hear that’s so incredibly beautiful. It talks of music that transcends time and holds so much power it attracts outside dark forces. And then… when Sammie first plays and opens his mouth to sing… Stack’s reaction is our reaction in the audience, because that claim is immediately upheld as believable. You immediately believe the folklore’s validity because of his skills. Astonishing feat. Holy fucking shit. God I love blues music

-The opening sets up the unsubtle thesis, but then Slim’s story in the car (and its beautiful sound design!!!) after they see the slaves take encouragement / heart through music underscores it all. It felt like a powerful tool to further set up a grounding for the supernatural we were about to see play out, and a reminder of its intended metaphors. Slim’s brother was a blues player who was lynched for the crime of simply existing in his Black joy and trying to get to make a bigger life for himself, and (as Annie later tells Smoke) money was no true power that could save him. In fantasy and reality, when people of color are just living with authentic joy by enjoying their own unique culture and music and lives, it attracts white supremacists who want to gleefully, hatefully leech from or destroy all of it.

-And then Ryan Coogler really was like, “Just in case you missed this movie’s unsubtle messages, we are going to be loud.” The way the vampire fight isn’t the final violence or the point… God. Instead, we end on the justified KKK slaughter. The real klan, the actual reason all of this happened because they set it up, the start of it all and the white supremacy that fuels the darkness. It says, These are the true monsters, and don’t you fucking forget it.

-But, our plot’s main monster is REMMICK. He’s no Southern white man. He’s specifically Irish! I fucking love that they did this. So much nuance here. Remmick has been isolated from his own people, heritage, and language through colonialism and the rise of the Baptist Christian church. Cornbread tells him (and the 2 Klan members…) that there are plenty of other spaces for them and their banjo music, and while of course he’s right – Black people (and POC in general) deserve their own safe spaces of expression, and too often white people are trying to encroach on those – for Remmick, there’s sadness here too. Those other white spaces are not his spaces either. He’s Irish and Celtic; they’re not his culture. He’s adrift and has no place, disconnected from his home, Othered by being an Irishman and a vampire, and the loss of his own culture and family has him desperately seeking attachment to others’ – but in the worst way. His fate is what he now violently forces onto others. While he ostensibly hates the KKK, he aligns with them indiscriminately in search of connection and his own survival, and he essentially helps them achieve their goal of destroying Black people – a mirror to how, in history, Irish people benefitted from white supremacy for their survival at the expense of Black people. (And a mirror, of course, to how white people broadly try to steal from Black culture daily.) Remmick’s message is basically “just assimilate and be free,” simultaneously asking them (especially Sammie) to assimilate into his culture for his sake because it’s what he needs, yet assimilation is clearly its own form of entrapment and death. It’s a tragedy that it was what Remmick was faced with as an Irishman, but it’s a larger inexcusable tragedy that he turned around and decided to perpetuate the same cycle of violence onto others in alliance with white supremacy.

-Of course, we see this most in the contrast between the music ensembles (and holy shit, SHOUT OUT TO THE ASPECT RATIO CHANGES IN THESE!!! Religious experience!!!). Sammie’s “I Lied to You” blues music is transformative and joyful, inspiring multicultural connection and appreciation that honors history and genres. It’s filled with warmth and life, and is perhaps even a hopeful depiction of the true melting pot of America. But Remmick’s “Rocky Road to Dublin” song with the vampires he’s turned has everyone washed out, looking and sounding homogeneous in a sinister way, blending together in the perfect terrifying depiction of what assimilation does. Individuality and different cultures are gone; there is now only this, powered by the violence of whiteness. Remmick’s supposed position being “We believe in equality” is of course a farce, and though he’s not motivated by racism (like the KKK), he has no qualms with aligning with its results. More importantly, his enforced assimilation in the name of supposed equality brings to mind the harmful modern adages of “I don’t see color” and other similar positionings which erase differences in culture rather than honor them. Add to that the moments where Remmick showcases having the memories and skills of people he’s turned, who are now all “connected” to each other but in a way where they’ve lost all individuality. When he speaks Chinese, it’s a moment of horror because it’s a language he didn’t learn for genuine connection but rather stole for cultural appropriation, and then he specifically uses it as a tool of violence (and threats of sexual assault!) against Grace.

-ANNIE. I find it fascinating how she kind of embodies the movie’s critique of the Christian church and evangelism as a tool of white supremacy to placate Black Americans and encourage or enforce assimilation. Annie practices (to my knowledge) hoodoo, occult magic from African culture and a form of spirituality that Christians would obviously deem evil and sinful. But here, her mojo bags and ancestral knowledge are the only things that keep anyone safe. (Notably, Christian crosses did nothing for protection.) She’s another layer to the concepts of being in touch with your culture and ancestors… and she chooses death rather than turning/assimilation or losing her sense of identity. I couldn’t help but think about the history of African slaves jumping overboard from ships because they chose to die on their own terms rather than live in enslavement.

-SLIM. He’s the Black elder who’s seen and experienced and survived horrendous, evil things. Yet despite it all, he’s the comedic relief of the movie. While Slim drinks to repress the trauma (which is objectively not the most healthy decision and it’s constantly pointed out), it doesn’t compromise his connection to his music or to his people. Despite everything, he’s still filled with joy and good humor and wisdom – something that feels very true to life in regards to the fortitude of so many Black elders. And when push comes to shove, he puts his life and body on the line to be ripped to shreds (not assimilated!) by the destructive forces coming for his culture and his people in an attempt to protect them. I fucking loved him.

-MARY. She’d be considered Black by the One-Drop Rule / Jim Crow laws, and she’s grown up in this community, but… she’s not really Black. She feels Othered by that, yes, and it was a natural continuation (to me) to know that was going to result in her becoming a vampire in the plot. Of course there’s a level of sympathy to be given to her and her situation, in the sense that she’s also a victim of segregation, as anyone in an interracial relationship was. She just wanted to live with the man she loves but society wasn’t structured to allow that. But at the end of the day, she still had safety in the ways she was able to move through the world as a white woman — and power. (Stack tells Sammie not to look at her at the train station; if white people claim a Black man looked at a white woman the wrong way, it can turn into a lynching.) It’s notable that Mary is able to go speak to the white people/vampires with less perceived risk to her in ways none of the Black people could… and then she’s also able to be metaphorically turned to their way of seeing things. It’s not an accident that she’s the first turned, then them letting her in and Smoke fucking her is what kickstarts their collective downfall. Mary was a “safe” white person for her Black family all their lives, until abruptly she wasn’t. A too true-to-life tragic possibility.

-PEARLINE. She’s a bold, unapologetic Black woman connected to her culture who chooses her own freedom and authenticity vs Christian traditionalism. A sinner through “infidelity” – a word which can mean being unfaithful to a partner, or unfaithful to religious/Christian belief. And she dies because of it.

-[Side note: super interesting to see the scene of Pearline’s musical beats being timed with the violence of Smoke and the other men killing a guy who was threatening the haven of solidarity and community they’d built. A commentary on being distracted by in-fighting while the real enemy and evil of white supremacy is on the move]

-GRACE. The embodiment of how, when shit is going down, POC solidarity can crumble. At the start, we see her and her family being on “both sides” with the white and Black stores, and able to cross between those 2 stark worlds/realities with ease. “We didn’t sign up for this,” Grace says, when the evil white people come for the Black people; the fun and the culture, but not the fight. Then she makes the selfish and individualized decision to let the evil in at the expense of everyone else. And yet… Her name. Grace. Does the story want us to grant her a little bit of it? I’d argue Smoke gives her grace, because he includes her and her husband in his fond and motivating memories of the earlier parts of the day. Is what Grace does defendable? No, but perhaps it’s meant to be understandable. In the moment, she’s not thinking of saving her own skin or uselessly trying to save her husband; she’s thinking of wanting to protect her daughter and the rest of the town, so instead of choosing passivity, she opts to protect them by addressing and destroying the monsters head-on so they can’t continue their evil mission. But unfortunately, in another example of lack of solidarity, she goes straight to destroy her husband and her fight stops there regardless of everyone else’s fight. Her vindictive revenge turns into mutual destruction because she burns up with him. And she’s perhaps also an example of how when someone is so focused on being combative with a person who broke their tradition they forget to focus on what they still have to protect.

-Speaking of names… lol. CORNBREAD. Obviously there was intentional comedic relief happening in the scene where he’s pissing in the woods and monsters are hidden around him whispering “Is that cornbread?” lmaaaooo but also… Not just silliness! Cornbread is historical food for survival and resilience that has roots in several different cultures. It stems from making something from very little under the forces of oppression and enforced famine, and it’s what the Indigenous people, Black Southern Americans, and the Irish all made. Something that should be or could be a source of connection and a way to let each other in (as he was the doorman!), but instead becomes another tool of violence and of a right vs wrong way to be.

-SMOKE. Violence as protection, and a burden to be shouldered for tenderness and love. He killed his father to protect Stack. He killed Annie because she asked him to. He sent Sammie away to face and kill the KKK men by himself, knowing he might be killing himself in the process. I think of the scene where he’s dying and Annie in the afterlife is watching him while holding their child. As Smoke unloads bullets into the dying klan member, she doesn’t flinch at his violence, and neither do we as the audience. It’s righteous and justified, and in the very next moment, he holds his daughter softly. The violence stands in contrast to his connection to his brother and lover and daughter, but it’s not antithetical to it or a threat to it. Defense of Black culture – and Black masculinity itself – is not inherently violent. Smoke is not his violent father; he broke that cycle too. He is tender and loving, and it’s the reason for his protectiveness and informs his violence that’s directed outward in defense of his family, and especially at the vampires and white supremacists. There’s also something to be said for how Smoke has these violent skills and weapons because he was a soldier in WWI. He served a country that treats him and his people as less than human. And Grace even tells him, “Aren’t you a soldier?” Yes, he was. He shouldn’t have to be at home. And yet, this too is a war, with him and his people being constantly besieged when all they want is peace. Along those lines: At first, Smoke thought that money could be a form of power, to the point of nearly slipping into valuing it more than community when it came down to payment for drinks at the juke joint. But he internalizes and learns especially from Annie that money can’t save you; money didn’t save Slim’s brother who was lynched, and the twins throwing money at a Klan member for the juke joint didn’t stop them from pulling up to their door. Smoke comes to fully learn that All we have is family, community, and our traditions, and we can’t let them take that. Perhaps that’s also part of the reason why he couldn’t kill Stack in the end, instead killing Remmick (as he killed their father) to give Stack his best chance at freedom.

-SMOKE & STACK. The older brother looking at his now-wayward younger brother who suddenly feels like a different person. The twin who looks at his mirrored self and doesn’t recognize who he sees anymore. Who is Stack now? Did Smoke fail him? But there’s something in Stack that is still him, even though he’s forever changed, and ultimately Smoke can’t destroy that. From one sibling to another, it’s the thought of “I can’t abide by or agree with what you’ve become but I can’t destroy you either.” There’s no me without you in the sense that we’re forever tied, but also in the sense that we were instrumental in making each other who we are, for better and worse.

-“ELIJAH MOORE” VS “STACK.” Names are powerful. Smoke’s real name is used in the end as a nod to the connections to his history and roots, and also to his truest self, which he reunites with just as he reunites with Annie, their child, and spirituality in death. Contrast this with Stack, who is going by his nickname in perpetuity – a half name that’s forever cut off from Smoke as the other half, and a disconnect from his old self he’s buried. In the end credit scene, STACK is seen on his ring and visually tied to stacks of money under his hand, aka empty power at high cost. It’s a sad reversal of Stack’s prior thoughts on community and people being more important than profit, when he and Annie were united at the juke joint in pushing back against Smoke’s pursuit of “American dollars.”

-SAMMIE and “This Little Light of Mine.” My goodness. At the start of the movie, Sammie’s preacher father wanted him to sing gospel as a way to lead others in the church, but he never gets to in the context/timeline of the movie. We only hear the choir singing it in the opening instead without Sammie’s involvement. But then, the final credits scene: Sammie has his guitar, which we know doesn’t exist anymore because it’s the guitar he used to fight off demons (literal and metaphorical), and now he’s singing it as a blues song. Did he sing it in church at an earlier point before the events of the movie? Who knows. Doesn’t matter. What matters is this: Sammie’s preacher father tried to give him an ultimatum. Put down the guitar; put down the blues music and the dancing and the sex; put down the sinning. It all attracts darkness, so come back to church and return to the Lord. Be pure. The Christian church, explicitly used as a tool of oppression that benefits white supremacy. But even after the horrors and trauma Sammie experiences – some of which he even draws in through his music (and metaphorically his “sinning”), which is not his fault – Sammie won’t let it go. He can’t. It’s who he is, and it’s his culture and connection to his ancestors, and there’s nothing sinful about any of it. The music, the dancing, the fucking, or anything else. It’s all beautiful, and the embracing of it all then necessitates (because of his father’s ultimatum) a level of rejection of the church in order to continue to live. But despite all of that… The church (and perhaps some redefined aspect of faith) is still a part of him and his culture too. He carries it with him, which is a relatable notion for many people who were raised religious and either chose to walk away or were forced to because of the inherit ultimatums in its restrictions. And so: Sammie had been told to lead and use his music to shine his little light all around the world. It may not be for the church or in the way his father wanted, but by God, he still went out and did just that. In his way, on his terms, without forgetting where he came from.

-Sammie stands in church at the start of the movie. His pastor father has been pushing, Give me the blues guitar. Rejoin our congregation. Sing gospel. Sammie stands in church and it’s intercut with flashbacks of Remmick attacking him. Give me your music. Join our clan. Sing Irish folk songs for me. And yeah, Sammie’s grip on that blues guitar stays real tight.

-[Side note, mostly kidding: all vampire stories could do with a bit of queerness. As merely a fun exercise, if I was choosing to make one aspect of this movie queer in a way that naturally further services the themes… I’d make Pearline a man. Have Sammie be a “sinner” in another dramatic sense by making him queer. What if on the best day of his life in the juke joint, he connects with another man through music and then fucks a man? Much to think about. But there’s a lot going on in this movie already of course, in a specific historical context. And people would’ve gotten too distracted from the various core messages about race and culture (because no one can be normal about seeing queer stuff and understanding intersectionality). But hey, that would’ve hit! And would’ve fit. Just an interesting and extremely unnecessary what if in the privacy of my own mind.]

-STACK (& MARY). Still alive, but dead inside. How good is the life they lead? Stack, when trying to convince Smoke to join the vampire clan, referred to the assimilation they were experiencing as a form of freedom because of the (tangential-to-whiteness) power. But not only is that freedom untrue and filled with conditions, it also comes at a high cost. Eternally separated from their family, divorced from culture, their old selves and lives dead and gone, with no one but Sammie left to remember who they really were. Frozen, adrift, unable to move on or grow. But here’s the thing: was it their fault? Both Mary and Stack’s turnings were nonconsensual. Their disconnection from and erasure of their culture was nonconsensual, and they became Different before they realized what was happening. Remmick is killed and they’re free of his influence and control now, but where does that leave them anyway? They’re still ostracized and left out in the cold, and can’t be let back in unless someone lets them in, which no one is inclined to do – except for Sammie. In Stack and Mary, we see the cost of leaving your cultural roots behind, or (more accurately) having them taken from you violently, forcefully, or through the inescapable encroaching influences of colonialism and white supremacy. As foreshadowed by Sammie’s question to Mary in the juke joint: what are they now? They’re something Other, trying to make their space in the world, and dressed not dissimilarly to the genres of music seen when Sammie’s blues transcended time. So maybe they’re trying to make their own spaces work. But in particular… Stack can’t fit with the white humans, and he can also never go home. Yet he and Mary long for home and for culture, and make an attempt to reconnect with it – which, incredibly, Sammie allows. Sammie is now (visually) the elder who lets the wayward young people back in. He literally embraces Stack – and I think it’s key that he doesn’t embrace Mary. Stack and Mary may be together, but the ways in which they’ve been changed and the disconnect they’re experiencing is undeniably different, because Stack is Black and Mary is not. Its relevance can’t be ignored. This moment and this culture is not hers in the same way. Sammie takes a last parting shot at that point and hammers the themes home by changing the lyrics of his “Travelin’”: I don't know why in the hell I'm here, because the woman I'm lovin', you know she really don’t care. Fully justified? Slightly unfair to her trauma? Maybe mostly the former and a tiny bit of the latter, and heartbreakingly understandable regardless.

#sinners #sinners movie #sinners 2025 #sinners spoilers #we throw around the words poetic cinema a lot but seriously. holy fucking shit. what a triumph #I had my hand on my chest in the theater more than once. I felt that shit IN MY SOUL.#yes I cried.#char writes things

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dent-de-leon · 2 days ago

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Some things that still really get me about Caleb and Molly--when Mollymauk dies, Caleb expresses that a part of him very much wants to stay. To at least wait a few days, clinging to this desperate hope for a miracle--to fairytales--aching for some way for Molly to still walk away from all this alive.

"The man dug his way out of a grave once, if he is to be believed...He's done it once, maybe he will do it again. Do we stay here, do we try to find...? I don't, I--I have read of miracles..."

He even leaves a letter behind for Molly, asking him to come find them if he wakes--Caleb, who wrote constant letters to his own deceased parents, who kept holding onto them because he told himself this wasn't goodbye, that one day he'd change fate and turn back time. Caleb who refuses to gives up on his loved ones, who only went all that way to Cognouza because he intended to bring Molly back. "Why did we come all this way, if not for this...?"

And in the wrap up, Matt says Lucien's resurrection essentially happened because the Nein just buried Molly and then never went back to check on the body...The way the Tombtakers were handed the perfect opportunity, went so long working towards Cognouza because...everything just fell into place, and it just happened that the Nein never followed up--

Matt: "I wanted Lucien to be this spirit that jumped from person to person, trying to find a way to kill Molly and take the body back...and then Molly died, and I was like, fuck...and it took a long time for you to go back to the body...”

Just. The way Caleb's instincts not to leave Molly behind were so very right. How it could have made all the difference if they stayed close to his body longer--or if they'd gone back to visit him so much sooner. Even if Molly wasn't going to get up and walk away on his own again, like that first time--we do know that at one point, it was possible. And even when Lucien is the one resurrected, we know from his novel that that shard of Molly's soul came back with him. That his "shattered fragment" of a soul still endured.

It's also so important to me that--while Caleb is the one who first tries to tell Gustav about Molly, he also adamantly refuses to say anything to Cree. Caleb thinking about what Mollymauk would have wanted, trying to honor his wishes. He thinks Gustav deserves the truth, because that's what Molly would want. And he doesn't even give Cree the satisfaction of knowing, because he realizes just how much Molly would hate that--

The stark contrast between Caleb trying to find the words, letting himself be more vulnerable for a moment, self-consciously apologizing for not being "good at this." Just. The world of difference between, "It's maybe a little bit for you, but also for--I'm not good at this, does someone want to...We were fond of him, and he was fond of you, so..." and the cold way he tells Cree, "That is correct. He had his own business to attend to. We parted ways...It didn't end well. It seems doubtful, but ja, if we see him again, rest assured..."

It's only afterwards, when Cree corners Fjord for answers, that she finally learns the truth. And I think it says a lot, that Fjord is moved by Cree's feelings, wants to give her some closure. But as much as she cares, as much as she loves Lucien--even still, Caleb doesn't give her anything.

Because whoever she is, whoever Lucien was...Mollymauk makes it clear that this is no friend of his. And it's his feelings only that Caleb is moved by here; he looks at Cree's genuine concern, and still wholly believes that she doesn't deserve to know Molly's fate. That she hasn't earned it the way Gustav and the Nein and everyone Molly would consider family did.

Just...the way Caleb following his instincts and his feelings for Molly could have prevented Lucien's revival. And how much he really did care about Mollymauk--

#mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #putting them in a snowglobe and shaking them #i love them i lov them--#ahHH #thinking of caleb in the wake of molly's death again and. all the little things that led to lucien coming back #how matt had literally no intention of any of it happening #but once the nein laid molly to rest and didnt go back in all that time.....for matt it just. completely sealed his fate--#they couldnt have known. but man....#i do wonder if it could have changed things if caleb had followed his feelings....

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theredcuyo · 10 hours ago

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More of the au with Sqq deciding that he's had Xie Lian for a few months but if anything happens to him he's killing everyone in heaven and then Jun Wu

"Ah, so you did like the new robe we got the other day!" Xie Lian was rather embarassed on this kind of topic, but really, it had been a gesture of good will and Sqq was just so happy to see him wear it "Yes, it's rather beautiful, Shen-Ge"

"Isn't that right? The butterfly motif really brings it out, it's good that we got that spell that keeps it from getting dirty, it would be a shame if not, don't you think?" It would surely sound normal, if Sqq wasn't glaring daggers at every single official they came across from behind his fan while he said it

"It's good it'll stay like this but i still think Shen-ge shouldn't brother himself with things like this" Xie Lian, appreciated the gesture, he really did, but this much for his sake wasn't necessary "Nonsense! Our A-Lian is so pretty, he should be allowed to shine even brighter, ah, but it is true that even if something happened we will be able to clean it up perfectly, not a trace left, i'm sure Chengzu would know what to do even if i didn't"

Covering his face with his hands, Xie Lian didn't know wheter to laugh or cry with such a direct treat to everyone else "Shen-Ge, please..."

"Fine, fine, i'll stop" Sqq conceided, happy to see the other officials squirm on their places and quickly run away. "After all, i wouldn't want A-Lian to get mad at me and sent me away, ah, what would i do then? I would get so worried about A-Lian"

"Shen-Ge..." Xie Lian had to look away, although he knew it was a joke it reminded him of old things, but well, Sqq patted his head again, like he did everytime he was feeling down "I know, i know, our A-Lian has a kind heart, there's almost nothing he could get angry at and if there is, it's surely deserved"

Xie Lian hadn't told him about that person, and didn't plan on doing it anytime soon, little did he know, there was no need, for his brother in law knew already and had experience dealing with abandonment issues, and had also, decided he was to be protected since he reminded him so much of a white lotus he had once helped bloom and decay "But still, even if A-Lian got angry at me and told me to leave, i wouldn't"

"Huh?"

"Ah, i mean, that wouldn't work, i would get too worried about you, so i would stick around and wait so we could solve it out" Xie Lian kept his gaze down, a memory catched on his throat. "After all, if i did something to anger A-Lian, then i should find a way to apologize and make amends, since i care about you, i would much prefer that you feel happy"

"Even if you didn't do anything wrong?" Sqq sighed, what was with him having this heart to heart conversations lately? Ah, really, married life was making him into an emotional old man "Then A-Lian is not mad at me, and i should help him out, you know? My Binghe wasn't at his best before either, when i died, and it took me a while to understand that. That kind of pain, really, i wouldn't wish it on anyone, much less if i can help"

"But... What if i hurt Shen-Ge?"

Sqq opened his fan, the faint memory of Binghe's face in the roof flashing before him "... I don't think A-Lian is the person to do it without reason, whatever it could be"

Not for the first time, Sqq lamented the lack of modern psicology advancements, he wasn't exactly a psycologist and all he knew came from his sister's rants about it "And... if it was a bad reason?"

"Everyone makes mistakes" Xie Lian thought it was probably easier for him to say it, not knowing what he had done, and much less knowing of the regrets Sqq couldn't possibly tell him about "And we learn from them, we fix what can be fixed"

For the first time in a while, Xie Lian lifted up his head, and just for a second, he found that in Shen Qingqiu's gaze was an all familiar guilt "... Is there something Shen-Ge regrets?"

Sqq's hand around his fan tightened "...many things, A-Lian, maybe not enough"

Ah, so it was like that. Maybe it wasn't the same, and they're really weren't the same, but at the same time, he felt like perhaps, there was someone who did understand, as those were thoughts he often had too.

And so, they kept on walking, a topic much softer came, while Sqq hoped that the intention of derailing their path to walk by certain generals' palaces was worth something, he might not like them too much, but Xie Lian deserved friends, friends who could share things with him, that he could not with them, a friend from the same Hometown was a rare gift. "Ah, Shen-Ge i've been meaning to ask... Did ah... Shang Qinghua use to be a heavenly official?"

Sqq huffed. "Someone like him could only wish such thing"

"Ah, then it wasn't a secret inmortal language he was talking in?" Xie Lian had never been one to interact with other inmortals, or even heavenly officials back in his first ascension, so, of course he wouldn't know, or so thought Sqq, but he didn't know either, or he hoped for Airplane's sake that he didn't "Perhaps it's a foreign language? May i know what he said?"

"He said uh... Something like 'buddy, you're awakening Cucumber-bro's daddy instincts, or is it mommy instincts since he takes the heavenly pillar back there?, is he a milf now?, you made Cucumber-bro into a milf' i think...?" Xie Lian's broken try at English didn't make the words less clear on Sqq's brain "Ah, i see, didn't you ask him what it mean?"

"He said it was something about a deal he was working on" Xie Lian's innocent smile didn't betray that he had conveyed this information on purpose, for he hadn't ignored the path they had been walking on, he didn't really know what it meant tho "A-Lian cover your ears"

"Ah... Shen-Ge-"

"Cover. Your. Ears." And Xie Lian did, because those eyes reminded him a little bit too much of Guoshi, when he sent him to copy the sutrhas for a whole night.

The heavens were shaken, just enough for Ling Wen to wonder if someone had ascended again.

Shang Qinghua, on the northen palace, sneezed and felt a sudden urge to hide under Mobei-Jun's bed.

Lil' extra on Wwx's imput on this, because Sqq is not leaving him out of seudo group therapy:

"Wuxian, may i ask you something?" Sqq asked when the three of them were drinking tea, as they recounted the latest heavenly gossip for Wwx "Yes, Shen-Ge?"

"... Do you have something You regret?" Wwx kept his smile, and waved his hand around his body, of course, he'd rather joke "What do you think Shen-ge? Do i?"

Sqq sighed "You know that's not what i meant, do you remember that which you regret?"

Wwx kept his smile as he scratched his head "Aiyah, well, my memory is never been that good, you know! I couldn't even remember my own little radish and the love of my life, how could i remember that?"

Sqq and Xl blushed a little at his wording, really, only Wuxian would be capable of saying 'Love of his Life' with such a straight face, even if that was the only straight thing about him. Xie Lian tho, could feel in his smile something familiar "Wei-Ge... I know you said that now you stay for Wangji and Sizhui-er but..."

Wei Wuxian, who had not long ago convinced Xie Lian to call him ge, was still a little bit weak to it. "I know, i know, but there are things that can't be fixed, right, Shen-Ge?"

Sqq sighed, it was like they were birds of the same feather, and he knew that, but still he didn't want such a sad face into someone he cared for, so he reached out to pat Wwx's head, and he, who had been expecting to get hit with the fan again, froze "We fix what can be fixed, but sometimes when we want to put back together a bowl, we get cut with the pieces, so we should also bandage ourselves and not just think about the bowl"

"I..."

"Since you're a mess, i'll bandage it for you if you wanted to" Wuxian huffed something similar to a laugh "And My Binghe would try to heal you with his blood, again"

"Shen-Ge, i think San Lang's butterflies work well for those too" Xie Lian smiled at both of them, a supporting hand on Wwx's shoulder "Ah, but i also know some ways! Rouyue wouldn't mind helping you too, Wei-ge!"

Hearing its name, Rouye popped up from Xie Lian's sleeve, rolling itself friendly on Wwx's hand "Ah, but, you know, A-Lian? I think Wuxian would much rather have Wangji kissing it better"

At that, Wwx actually laughed, his usual shamelesness back with him "Aiyah! Shen-Ge knows me too well, Lan Zhan's kisses are truly magical even when he makes a fuss about it!"

-------

I think the metaphors are pretty on the nose for this one? And not me again considering to write a damn fic already, tbf, i wanted this one to be short, it didn't ask me when it decided to keep on going

Sqq deciding he's going to protect the others because they're his family now is my second favorite thing about this au, the first one is Hua Cheng having a family that loves him-

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crazydestinymilkshake · 1 day ago

Text

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 22

I'm back :) praying CC plays tomorrow and feeds families from the Iowa logo...

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

Sophomore Year, August-September, Iowa City 2021

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

The lawn was too green. Like someone had punched the saturation slider too far to the right, trying to make a boring photo feel alive. Caitlin sat stiff in one of the rusted patio chairs, arms locked around her knees, watching the sprinkler arc like a slow, broken metronome. It hadn't touched this patch of grass in months. Of course now it did.

She hadn’t been home in forever. Not really. A laundry drop here, a silent dinner there. Nothing long enough to mean anything. Definitely not long enough for this conversation.

She hadn’t wanted to come. But her mom texted three times. Her dad called once. Just to talk, on the way home from Chicago. Please, they said.

Sure.

The house smelled the same. Dust and cinnamon gum and fabric softener clinging to every couch cushion like a warning. Same living room. Same lamp with the crooked shade. Same framed photo of her holding a trophy in braces and neon shoes. Like none of them had moved forward a single inch. Like she’d imagined her own progress.

Colin had already made himself scarce. Her mom had asked him to stay. He said, “She doesn’t need a translator,” and walked out the door. Caitlin had never loved him more.

Her mom brought out two glasses of lemonade and set them down like they were peace offerings. Her dad hovered behind her, hands in his pockets, posture tight.

“You didn’t have to come back,” her mom said.

Caitlin shrugged. “Well, I’m here.”

They all sat. Not together, exactly. More like in the same scene.

A breeze slipped through the screen door. Somewhere, a dog barked. Caitlin wanted to bite her own tongue just to feel something.

“We thought it was time to talk,” her dad said, trying too hard to sound casual. “Really talk. No tension. No pushing.”

“You mean no Notre Dame?” she asked. It came out sharper than she meant. Or maybe exactly how she meant.

Her mom winced. “Yes.”

Her dad nodded. “We messed that up. Badly. Cait...”

She stared at the condensation pooling under her glass. Didn’t say a word.

“We were proud,” her mom tried again. “But scared. And it came out all wrong. We thought we knew what your life should look like, and when you chose something else—”

“Someone else,” Caitlin said. Voice flat. Just a jab to see if they flinched.

Her dad didn’t take the bait. “Somewhere else. We didn’t know how to support you, and instead of learning, we shut down.”

Caitlin’s nails dug into her sleeves. “You didn’t come to a single game.”

“We know,” her mom said. Quiet. Ashamed.

“You missed the Purdue buzzer-beater. Michigan comeback. First thirty-piece. All of it.”

“We watched them all on TV,” her dad offered, helpless.

“It’s not the same.” Her voice cracked. Just a little. “You think I didn’t notice? I watched every parent in the stands walk down to hug their kid after a win. And I just... went to the locker room. Alone.”

Silence.

“You left me alone.” I had Kate. She thought to herself.

Her mom folded her hands tightly in her lap. Her ring clinked against the table. “We owe you more than an apology.”

You owe me presence, Caitlin thought. You owe me curiosity. You owe me the version of you that doesn’t make love conditional on a zip code and a goddamn uniform.

But instead, she said nothing. Just let the weight sit there.

Her mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Slid it across like it might matter.

Caitlin blinked. Her own handwriting. Her commitment letter to Iowa. The one she printed herself because they hadn’t said a word the day she signed.

“We found it on the fridge,” her mom said. “Behind Colin’s SAT stuff. And I realized... we never celebrated it. We never framed it. You made a decision for yourself, and we turned our backs.”

Her dad cleared his throat. “We’d like to come this year. To games. If that’s okay.”

Caitlin ran her thumb along the edge of the paper. Folded. Soft from neglect.

“No more transfer talk,” her mom added. “No more guilt trips. You’re where you belong. And we see that now.”

The tightness in her chest didn’t vanish. But it rearranged.

“I’m not the same girl you wanted to reroute,” she said finally. “I don’t need you to show up to make me feel worthy. But I do need you to stop making everything I love feel like rebellion.”

Her mom’s mouth trembled. “We miss you. Not the version we imagined. You.”

Caitlin folded the paper again, this time with care. “Okay.”

Her dad stood. Didn’t reach for her. Just waited. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’ll help you pack.”

She waited.

Then:

“You’re not hard to love, Cait.” Her dad’s voice was steady. “We were just too scared of what it meant to do it right.”

And just like that, something in her gave. Not forgiveness. Not quite. But something cracked. Something shifted.

She let him take her hand.

But in the back of her mind, a question curled like smoke: if they come back into her life now... will there still be room for the part of her that loves Kate like breath?

And worse: will they see it, name it, and expect her to shrink?

Caitlin didn’t know. But she knew it was coming. And it scared the shit out of her.

—------

The car ride back felt longer than the drive out. Iowa’s late summer haze bled across the fields in a slow, golden smear. Caitlin kept her sunglasses on even after the sun dipped low. Didn’t touch the radio. Didn’t sing. Didn’t do anything but count fences and wonder what it would feel like to slam the brakes and let the car skid until everything stopped.

She hadn’t cried until the interstate exit. Then it came fast and hot. Not loud. Just this unbearable, quiet leak of pressure she couldn’t hold anymore.

By the time she pulled into the lot behind Kate’s apartment, her hands hurt from gripping the wheel. She didn’t get out. Just sat there, forehead against the leather, waiting for her heart to slow down.

Kate opened the building door and leaned against the frame. “You gonna live in your car now?”

“I’m weighing the pros and cons.”

She meant it more than she wanted to admit. But she got out anyway. Kate didn’t try to smile, just took the keys from her hand like it was muscle memory. Their fingers brushed. Caitlin flinched like she hadn’t expected kindness.

Inside, the apartment smelled like sunscreen and lemon dish soap and something distinctly Kate. The lights were soft. A fan hummed in the corner. A book was open on the table, half a page dog-eared.

Caitlin walked in too fast. Dropped her bag like it burned. Her shoes thudded against the wall. Then she turned and crashed into Kate’s chest like gravity had finally caught her.

Kate caught her—but Caitlin pulled back just as quickly.

“Sorry,” Caitlin muttered. “That was—”

“Human,” Kate said.

“I didn’t want to need anything when I got back.”

Kate didn’t answer that. Just stepped aside and gave her space.

They ended up on the couch, sitting like two girls trying not to break open again. Caitlin’s hands stayed fidgety. Her eyes didn’t settle.

“They said they were proud of me,” she said finally. “That they’re gonna come to games this year. That they’re done with Notre Dame. And LSU.”

Kate’s eyebrow ticked up. “That’s a pretty sharp reversal.”

“I know.”

“Do you believe them?”

“I want to.”

Kate nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”

Silence stretched.

“I kept waiting for the part where they brought up God,” Caitlin said, too bitterly. “Or asked about dating. Or told me not to be ‘too visible.’ But they didn’t.”

“And that felt worse somehow?”

“It felt... careful. Like they’d been coached.”

Kate tilted her head. “Did you tell them about me?”

Caitlin looked away. “No.”

A beat.

“They don’t get to have that part.”

Kate didn’t move. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” Caitlin added, voice sharpening. “They disappeared on me for a whole year. And now they want the clean version. The one they can clap for from the stands. They don’t get the parts of me that bleed.”

Kate’s face didn’t flicker, but something in her posture softened. “Good. That’s yours to protect.”

“But you should know...” Caitlin’s voice thinned. “I think they’d try to make me smaller again if they could.”

Kate gave a small, sad smile. “Yeah. I figure”

“I won’t let them,” Caitlin said, fast. Like she needed to beat back the thought with volume.

“You don’t have to prove it to me.”

They looked at each other, still across the couch. Still not touching.

“You’ll tell me if I start shrinking?” Caitlin asked.

Kate’s voice was steady. “You won't shrink. You'll compress. You fold yourself smaller to survive. But yeah—I’ll tell you. And I’ll help you unfold again. I promise”

That cracked something.

Caitlin reached out and grabbed Kate’s hand, hard. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have to.

They curled up in bed later; the sheets pushed to the end of the bed; a breeze cutting through the humidity. Caitlin was still wound too tight to sleep.

“Are you nervous?” she whispered.

Kate shifted. “Yeah.”

“About what?”

Kate hesitated. “This might be my last year. I don’t know if I’m staying.”

Caitlin blinked up at the ceiling. “I thought we’d talk about that later.”

“I don't want it to be a secret.”

Caitlin didn’t argue. “Okay.”

“I love it here,” Kate said. “I love you. But I’m tired. And I think there’s a version of myself out there I want to find. But I want to stay. I want to win. I want to just, be the best version of myself. And I don't know where I can be that yet. ”

Caitlin swallowed. “Do you think that version still has room for me?”

Kate turned toward her fully. “Yes. Always yes.”

Caitlin nodded, almost too fast. “I want to win the conference this year.”

Kate smiled. “We will.”

“I want to lead. Not just with stats. I want to be the reason other girls feel like they can hold the ball with both hands and not flinch.”

“You already are.”

“I want to get stronger,” Caitlin continued. “I want to stop counting everything I eat like it’s a punishment. I want to play like I’m allowed to take up space.”

Kate didn’t say anything. Just brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed Caitlin’s knuckles one by one.

“What do you want?” Caitlin asked.

Kate looked at her like she was seeing her whole. “I want to leave something behind that makes the next generation better. I want to lead with integrity. I want to teach the freshmen how to fail with grace. I want to beat Indiana. I want to see you hit a game winner again”

Caitlin laughed, and it broke something loose.

They made a list together, whispered into the dark. Beat Maryland. Earn a double-bye. Win the conference. Go further in March. Trust each other when it’s ugly. Don’t hide. Don’t shrink. Don’t let fear be the loudest voice.

When Caitlin finally fell asleep, her face was tucked into Kate’s neck and their hands were still clasped. Kate didn’t sleep for a while. She just lay there, holding her girl and all the jagged pieces the world had asked her to smooth out.

Kate wouldn’t let her lose herself. Not this year.

Not ever.

—--------------

It started with a group text from Monika that said, simply: 🫡 mandatory team vibes. my place. 7. Then five minutes later: bring drinks. bring energy. bring Caitlin.

By the time Caitlin and Kate walked into Monika’s apartment, half the team was already there—Gabby and Jada sprawled on the floor with a deck of cards, McKenna shimmying in socks to a Dua Lipa remix, and two freshmen sitting too straight on the couch, trying too hard to seem chill.

One of them—AJ, wide-eyed and eager—watched Caitlin like she might combust.

Monika spotted them from the kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand, wearing a backwards bucket hat like it was her job. “Clark’s back, bitches!”

A cheer went up—half sincere, half performative. One of the freshmen clapped too hard, then stopped like she’d made a mistake.

Caitlin raised a hand awkwardly. “Hi. Uh. I have no updates. I’m still a nightmare.”

McKenna whooped. “As if we didn’t know!”

Kate dropped their bag by the door and brushed her hand across Caitlin’s lower back as she passed—just a whisper of touch. Caitlin froze for a breath, then moved like it hadn’t meant anything. But she felt it bloom all the way up her spine.

They worked the room in tandem—Kate asked about summer leagues, bumped fists, corrected a freshman’s squat form in the corner. Caitlin got ambushed by Kylie, who demanded, “Give me the weirdest fan moment of the offseason. Go.”

“Someone sent me a handwritten letter saying I changed their life,” Caitlin said.

“Aww,” Gabby said, grinning.

“Then they asked for a lock of my hair.”

“Ew.”

“Right?”

Near the kitchen, AJ glanced at them and whispered something to the freshman next to her. Caitlin caught the tail end of the look. Not exactly judgment—but not comfort either. That low flicker of unfamiliarity. She turned her back on it.

Later, Monika clanked a spoon against a White Claw can. “Alright, shut it. Captains, let’s go. Tell the youth how not to embarrass us.”

Kate leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Rule one. Don’t argue with the strength coach. Rule two. Don’t hook up with anyone from Northwestern. Rule three. If you’re offered a brand deal for detox tea, decline.”

Laughter rippled.

McKenna raised her spoon again. “Also, if you think two of your teammates might be hooking up—no you don’t.”

One of the freshmen choked on her soda. AJ coughed loudly and muttered, “Captain Sapphic over here isn’t even denying it.”

A beat. One of the freshmen choked. Gabby laughed a second too loud, then immediately went silent. Her eyes darted between Caitlin and Kate.

And then Jada—trying to keep the vibe light—added, “Come on, Captain Sapphic’s been running this place since last fall.”

The laughter this time was thinner. Uneven. Kate’s face didn’t flicker. She just sipped her drink.

Caitlin half-smiled like it didn’t catch. Like it didn’t sting.

Monika cut in, easy but deliberate. “Anyway. Back to actual advice—don’t leave tape rolls in the ice bath. We’re not animals.”

After most of the team had left—after the pizza had gone cold, Sydney had declared a dance battle to “Cool for the Summer,” and someone had spilled seltzer on Gabby’s sock—Kate and Caitlin slipped out to the balcony.

The night air was cooler now. A breeze swept through the haze. Caitlin leaned into the railing, freckled arms bare under the string lights. Kate stood behind her, just close enough for her knee to press against the back of Caitlin’s thigh.

“We did okay, right?” Caitlin asked.

Kate didn’t answer right away. “Freshmen are freshmen. They’ll calibrate.”

“I don’t want them to calibrate into something fake.”

Kate stepped closer, her voice low in her ear. “You’re not fake.”

“I’m edited.”

Kate slipped her fingers around Caitlin’s wrist, grounding her. “You’re surviving.”

Caitlin let her eyes close. “Did you see AJ’s face?”

“She’s young. You’re a legend. She probably slept in your jersey growing up.”

Caitlin huffed a laugh, then sobered. “I hate that I noticed. That it got to me.”

Kate brushed a knuckle along her spine. “You want to lead. Of course it gets to you.”

“I want to lead without needing to hide you.”

“Then don’t.”

“But if they see it—”

“Then they see it.”

Caitlin turned, needing to look her in the face. “You don’t ever worry they’ll blame you? For… softening me?”

“I worry they’ll blame me for wanting you out loud,” Kate said. “But not enough to stop.”

Caitlin didn’t respond. Just leaned forward, hands sliding into Kate’s hoodie. Her mouth found Kate’s like it couldn’t not.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Desperate. The kind of kiss that asked a thousand questions all at once: Are you here? Are you mine? Do I still feel real?

Kate answered by pulling her closer. By kissing back like they had all the time in the world and none of it at all.

When they broke apart, Caitlin rested her forehead against Kate’s. “I want this year to be worth something. Not just for the team. For us. I want it to mean something.”

Kate’s hands tightened around her waist. “Then let’s make it matter. All of it. The wins. The mess. The parts we don’t show anyone else.”

Caitlin nodded. “And if someone asks—one of them—if we’re together?”

Kate kissed her once more, soft this time. Reverent.

“We say yes.”

Caitlin exhaled. “Okay.”

Kate leaned closer, chin brushing Caitlin’s shoulder. “Also? You almost lost it when I touched your back earlier.”

Caitlin elbowed her. “You were watching my mouth the whole fan letter story.”

Kate smirked. “Can you blame me?”

Caitlin turned to face her, voice low. “That thing you did with your hands—”

“Mmhmm?”

“—still makes my legs shake if I sit too fast.”

Kate groaned, teeth catching her lip. “Jesus.”

From inside, Gabby called: “Hey lovebirds! Are you making out or just psychically scissoring again?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Let’s go before I embarrass myself in front of the children.”

They didn’t stop holding hands till they hit the stairs.

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

It happened two nights later. No music this time. No freshmen. Just the four of them—Kate, Caitlin, Monika, and McKenna—tucked into Kate and McKenna’s apartment, shoes off, pizza boxes open, legs curled under throw blankets. The window was cracked just enough to let the breeze in, and someone had lit a candle that smelled vaguely like cinnamon.

They didn’t mean for it to turn serious.

At first it was just catch-up. A few jokes about lift tests, professor name mix-ups, Monika’s failed attempt to start a team group meditation. But when Caitlin shifted on the couch, close enough so she was laying back in Kate's lap, like they did every night in Chicago, something in the room tipped.

Monika stretched, then gave a pointed look to no one in particular. “Alright. We doing this or not?”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

McKenna snorted. “She means the unspoken ‘how do we navigate you two now that we’re back in season’ conversation.”

Caitlin blinked. “We’re right here, you know.”

“Exactly,” Monika said. “Which is why we’re having this conversation with you, like adults. Or at least like athletes who pass their classes.”

Kate leaned her head back against the couch. “Okay. Rules, expectations, boundaries. Let’s go.”

McKenna grinned. “Love a group policy doc.”

Monika looked between them. “So. You two are… what now?”

Caitlin shrugged. “Still very much in love with each other. Trying not to make it anyone else’s problem.”

Kate added, “And trying not to get fired as captain by my aunt.”

“Reasonable,” McKenna said. “So what’s the plan for on-campus stuff? PDA? Holding hands in the dining hall? Intense eye contact in the weight room?”

“Eye contact is allowed,” Caitlin deadpanned. “Just not the gay kind.”

Kate laughed. “We’ll keep it respectful. But we’re not pretending we’re not together, at least with the team. But we're not putting it on display like we're in a rom com to campus."

Monika nodded. “Good. Because everyone on the team already knows. Subtlety isn’t exactly your brand, Cait.”

“Rude,” Caitlin muttered.

“But fair,” McKenna said.

Monika leaned forward. “More seriously—can we agree on no rooming together during travel?”

Kate nodded. “Already assumed that.”

“No hooking up in team spaces,” McKenna added.

“Obviously,” Caitlin said. Then paused. “Though technically the locker room is where I fell in love.”

Kate smacked her knee. “Stop it.”

“I’m just saying,” Caitlin grinned.

Monika rolled her eyes. “You two are disgusting.”

“And adorable,” McKenna offered. “But mostly disgusting.”

They all laughed. The tension broke just enough to breathe easier.

After a moment, Caitlin asked, “If someone on the team asks directly… we’re honest?”

Kate looked at her. “I think so. As long as it’s someone we trust.”

McKenna said, “I think that’s fair. We’re not asking you to hide. Just to think before you act. You’re leaders. And what you model matters.”

Caitlin nodded. “Got it.”

Monika reached for another slice of pizza. “Alright. This was weirdly productive.”

Kate leaned into Caitlin slightly. “We’re a powerhouse of emotional maturity.”

“You’re a menace,” Caitlin whispered.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

McKenna sighed. “Please just don’t make us have this talk again midseason.”

“We won’t,” Caitlin said. “We’ve got it.”

They did. For now, anyway.

—------------

The crash-out started with a crack in her footwork.

Kate missed a hedge on a screen, turned too slow, and caught the back of Jada’s sneaker instead. She stumbled, caught herself, kept going—but she felt it. The delay. The drag.

The second time, she missed a pass. Then a shot. Then another. Her knees didn’t sit right under her, her elbow flared too far out, and her follow-through had no bite.

By the end of the scrimmage, she could barely look up.

They weren’t even supposed to be practicing hard yet. Preseason was unofficial, all captain-led and unstructured. But even in that chaos, Kate felt the structure collapse under her own two feet.

And she knew why.

While Caitlin was in the gym every day this summer, building her shot, tightening her handle, Kate was stuck behind a desk. Long hours at her internship. Patient meetings. Commuter trains. She got shots up when she could—before sunrise or after dark—but nothing consistent. Nothing like Caitlin, who had nothing but time and drive and hunger.

Kate could feel the gap now. Not just in her legs, but in the air between them.

“Fuck,” she muttered, pulling at her jersey the second she got to the sideline.

Caitlin walked over slowly, unflushed from the run. “You okay?”

Kate didn’t answer. Just grabbed a water bottle and turned away.

“Hey.” Caitlin caught her arm. “Kate.”

“I want to be better,” she said, voice tight. “I want to give you the season you deserve.”

“That’s not your job.”

Kate shook her head. “Yes, it is. You want to win the conference. You want to go to March and take it all. I’m your captain, Caitlin. I’m supposed to lead. And I can’t even get my feet right.”

Caitlin softened. “You’re allowed to be behind.”

“No, I’m not.” Kate’s voice cracked. “Not when I’ve got freshmen watching every move. Not when I’m supposed to be the example. Not when I’m the one who’s supposed to ground you.”

Caitlin stepped closer. “You do ground me.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get what you came here to find.”

“That’s not even close to the truth.”

Kate looked away. Her jaw Kate looked away. Her jaw clenched. “Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be as good as you need. You got better this summer. You leveled up. And I—I spent half of mine in scrubs. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be as good as you need.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Kate blinked, startled.

Caitlin didn’t back down. “You think I need perfect? I’ve had perfect. Perfect is cold. Perfect is lonely. Perfect doesn’t carry my weight when I can’t hold it.”

She pressed her forehead against Kate’s. “I need you. Not some version of you that never misses a rotation. You.”

Kate’s breath caught. “I want to give you what you want. I want to work hard and be better and not drag you down. I want—fuck, Cait—I want to matter.”

Caitlin reached out and cupped the back of her neck. “You already do.”

Kate didn’t flinch. But her eyes brimmed. “Not like you.”

“No one’s like me,” Caitlin said, a little too lightly.

Kate laughed, sharp and cracked. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

“You love that about me.”

“I really do.”

“Let me help,” Caitlin whispered. “Tomorrow. Early morning. Just us. Let me help you get your rhythm back.”

Kate closed her eyes. “You’ll go easy on me?”

“I’ll go hard on you and then I’ll go down on you,” Caitlin smirked.

Kate choked on a laugh. “Jesus.”

Caitlin kissed her temple. “Bring your shoes. Bring your fire. I’ve got the rest.”

Kate hesitated. “You sure?”

“Let me help you get your rhythm back.”

Kate swallowed. “Okay.”

—-------------

The next morning, they were on the court by 6:15. No music. No distractions. Just echo and breath and the slap of sneakers on polished hardwood.

Caitlin had the lights on low, the overhead fluorescents still warming up. A single ball skidded across the floor when she passed it to Kate.

“Three pull-ups from the elbow,” Caitlin said. “No drifting. No thinking. Just shoot.”

Kate caught the ball, set her feet, and fired. Missed left.

“Again.”

She caught, reset, fired. Rattled out.

“Again.”

Caitlin’s voice wasn’t cruel—it was relentless. Kate swallowed the sting in her throat and shot again. Swish.

“There’s my girl,” Caitlin said, voice low and proud.

Kate exhaled through her nose, hard. “One out of three.”

“One that felt right.” Caitlin stepped closer. “You want your rhythm back? Then stop measuring it. Just move. And do it 15 more times."

She did.

They rolled into footwork drills next—quick steps across cones, off-the-dribble hesitations into snatches. Caitlin mirrored her at half-speed, barking adjustments. “Drop your hips. No, lower. Reset. You're coasting. I want an explosion.”

Kate shoved off the baseline with a grunt, drove into the turn, and pulled up for a midrange. Net.

Caitlin grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Kate shook out her arms, breath coming short, chest slick with sweat. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I like watching you work,” Caitlin said, stepping into her space. “I like watching you fight for it.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed, sharp with something hungry. “Then spot me in the weight room.”

They moved without pause. Upstairs, the gym was silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint clink of weights from the racks. The air was thick with rubber, chalk, and whatever heat still pulsed between them from the court.

Caitlin tied her hair up into a messy knot. Her chest was still rising fast beneath her cutoff tank. She watched as Kate peeled off her overshirt and dropped it to the floor. Her tank top underneath was soaked through at the lower back, clinging to her like a second skin. Her sports bra straps were sliding just slightly off her shoulder blades, exposing the strength threaded through her frame.

“Front squats,” Caitlin said. “Three sets. Ten reps. I’ll rack you up.”

Kate didn’t blink. Just stepped into position like she was walking into battle.

The first rep carved heat into her thighs. The second scorched through her quads. By the fifth, her breath was ragged, and Caitlin was close enough behind her that she could feel her—heat, presence, a hand brushing beneath the bar with every rise and fall.

“Stay low,” Caitlin whispered. “Drive up through your heels.”

Kate dropped. Rose. Dropped again. Her face flushed deeper, a bead of sweat trailing down from her temple, catching at her jaw. Her forearms trembled. Her core pulled tight. Caitlin’s palm skimmed lightly across her hip to correct her angle—and Kate shivered, not from the strain.

“You’ve got more,” Caitlin murmured, voice thick now, lips near her ear. “Come on. Show me.”

Kate dropped lower, grunted, and exploded up, teeth grit, everything in her locked on that voice. When she finally racked the bar and stepped back, her legs were shaking and her tank stuck to every line of her ribcage.

“Fuck,” she gasped, hand braced on her knee. “You’re a menace.”

Caitlin’s gaze dragged up her body. “You look strong.”

Kate caught her breath, then grabbed the hem of her shirt and peeled it off in one motion. Her abs glistened under the overhead lights, muscles tight and twitching from exertion.

“Then let’s keep going,” she said.

They rotated through circuits—power cleans that turned into competitions, barbell rows that left Kate’s back rippling, lunges that burned a slow, deep ache into her thighs. Caitlin followed her every move, coaching with clipped instructions and too-warm eyes. She spotted her through triceps dips, corrected her alignment with hands on her waist, adjusted her back position with a palm low on her spine.

At the bench press, Kate lay flat, chest rising and falling. Her breath was high in her throat, skin flushed and glistening. Caitlin leaned over her, hands ghosting under the bar, eyes burning down.

“Focus on the drive,” Caitlin said, low and firm. “Not the drop.”

Kate grunted, pushed. The bar wobbled—just for a second—but she recovered. Pressed up, arms shaking, biceps pulled tight.

Caitlin’s eyes didn’t move. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now.”

Kate’s arms gave out a little at the end of the set. Caitlin caught the bar, helped her rack it.

Kate sat up fast. Breathless. Jaw tight.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she said, “and I’m gonna take you home and make you scream my name until you forget how to talk.”

Caitlin leaned in. Lips brushing her shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

Kate stood. Shoulders bare. Still sweating. Still burning.

“We can’t,” she said, barely getting it out. “We promised Monika. No team spaces.”

Caitlin’s mouth twitched. “So what?”

Kate stared at her for a beat—then grabbed her hand.

“Race you.”

And just like that, they were gone—sprinting through the hallways, breathless and laughing, until they burst into the sun.

—-

They were back in the apartment by 9:40. Rays poured in through the east-facing windows, warming the hardwood like a blessing. Their bags thudded to the floor. Caitlin pulled off her hoodie the second the door shut, tank damp beneath, skin flushed from the run. Her breath still came high in her chest, not quite even.

Kate watched her like she was made of heat and gravity.

“You good?” Caitlin asked, stretching her arms overhead with a groan. Her stomach flexed under her shirt. She was flushed, radiant, alive.

Kate didn’t answer.

Instead, she stepped forward, pressed her palm flat to Caitlin’s sternum, and walked her backward until her spine hit the hallway wall. Then kissed her—fast and hard and messy. Teeth. Tongue. The kind of kiss that had nothing to do with politeness.

Caitlin didn’t argue. She grabbed Kate by the waistband and pulled her down the hall, shedding layers as she went. Her tank top hit the floor. Socks next.

Caitlin moaned into Kate’s mouth, hands already fisting in the hem of Kate’s shirt, tugging it upward. Their hips bumped. Their breath tangled. They were still half-laced in gym clothes, sweat cooling on their skin, heat rising anyway.

Kate’s fingers were digging into the waistband of Caitlin’s shorts, thumbs sliding under the hem. Caitlin’s pulse jumped under her skin. The hallway air buzzed—warm and golden and charged. The world had narrowed to the heat between them.

Kate dipped her head to Caitlin’s collarbone and kissed her there. Once. Again. Slower the second time. Caitlin gasped, spine arching off the wall.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Kate whispered, mouth brushing the hollow of her throat. “I need to take my time with you.”

Caitlin’s hands tightened in her hair. “Then do it.”

Kate sank to her knees.

The sight of her there—sweaty, flushed, wild-eyed—took Caitlin’s breath. Kate didn’t look away as she pressed a kiss low on her stomach, then another below the waistband. Her thumbs slid under elastic, peeled down Caitlin’s shorts inch by inch, reverent.

Kate kissed her thighs like they were scripture. Bit once. Then soothed the mark with her tongue. Her hands wrapped around Caitlin’s legs and pulled her forward just enough to grind her down, just enough to say, I’ve got you. Caitlin shivered hard.

Then Kate leaned in and worshipped her properly.

It was slow at first. Precise. Her mouth finding every soft spot like a promise. Caitlin moaned loud, her hands scrabbling at the wall. Her hips jerked forward and Kate held her steady—anchored her there with fingers that said you’re not running from this. Not from me.

Caitlin gasped, “God, Katie—”

And Kate hummed low into her, proud, possessive. “Say my name again.”

“Kate—fuck—Kate.”

Caitlin shattered against her mouth, breath stuttering, body shaking. Kate didn’t let up. She stayed there, licked her through it, until Caitlin was moaning into her own shoulder and begging, please, I can’t.

Kate stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and kissed her—deep and slow and full of fire. “Yes, you can.”

“Lie down,” Caitlin whispered, pushing Kate down.

Kate, her back hitting the mattress, her muscles still warm from the workout, looked up as Caitlin climbed on top. Her knees bracketing Kate's hips, and she just looked at her for a moment—like she needed to memorize every angle.

“You need this,” Caitlin said, brushing her fingers over Kate’s jaw. “To feel strong. To remember what you give.”

Kate swallowed. “I’m not you. I don’t—score forty. I don’t lead out loud.”

“No,” Caitlin said. “You lead with your whole body. You love with your whole soul. And you’re mine.”

She bent down and kissed her—deep, slow, devastating.

Kate moaned into her mouth, hands sliding up Caitlin’s thighs, gripping tight at her waist. Caitlin rocked her hips forward, teasing, breath catching when their skin met. They moved like they remembered each other. Like their bodies had waited all morning to get back to this.

When Caitlin slid down, kissing her way across Kate’s chest, sucking Kate’s sensitive nipples, and rubbing her own nipples against the soft buds. Kate arched into her. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m not stopping,” Caitlin whispered. “I’m claiming you,” she growled into Kate’s ear, biting down on it and lightly teasing Kate’s pussy against her knee.

She worshipped Kate the same way Kate had just worshipped her. Kissed every freckle, licked every line of tension from her abs to her hips. Her hands gripped Kate’s thighs as she sucked a bruise into the sharp edge of her hip—mine, mine, mine - she whispered biting down on Kate’s hip bone lightly.

Kate was panting by the time Caitlin moved between her legs. Caitlin kissed her inner thigh once, then again, then again, until Kate was trembling. She let herself linger—nose brushing the inside of Kate’s knee, lips pressing into sweat-warmed skin, hands stroking up along her calves, her thighs, her hips, throwing all the fabric off her body.

Caitlin devoured her.

Not like she was a prize.

Like she was a promise.

When Caitlin finally mouthed over her, she did it soft—just a flick of tongue, a press of lips, a slow, coaxing tease. Kate gasped and jerked forward, her back bowing off the mattress like she was reaching for something she hadn’t let herself need in weeks.

“Breathe,” Caitlin murmured, voice muffled against her. “I’ve got you.”

Kate whimpered. “Don’t tease. Not today.”

“I’m not.” A kiss. A lick. “I’m building you up.”

Her hands gripped Kate’s thighs, thumbs stroking circles, grounding her. Caitlin worked her mouth with intent now—firm strokes, slow suction, rhythm and reverence all at once. Not just chasing release. Drawing it out. Showing her what it meant to be wanted.

Kate’s hands clawed at the sheets, then found Caitlin’s hair, anchoring. “Fuck, Cait, please—”

Caitlin glanced up, eyes dark and full of heat. “I need you to let go.”

“I’m trying—” Kate choked.

“No.” Caitlin kissed her once, deep, right where it counted. “I mean let me. Let me carry you.”

That broke something open.

Caitlin didn’t rush. She kissed her again—slow, sure, deliberate. Then she pulled back just enough to bring her hand between Kate’s thighs, slick and steady. Her fingers moved in sync with her mouth: gentle at first, coaxing. A rhythm that said I see you. I know how hard it is to let go. But you’re safe here.

Kate whimpered, hips twitching. Her whole body was one taut line of tension, holding on by a thread.

Caitlin felt it. Felt the need, the fight, the instinct to earn every inch of this. So she went slower. Deeper. She curled her fingers just right and dragged them forward, over and over, until Kate gasped, “Oh my god—Cait—please—”

“Let it happen,” Caitlin whispered, hot breath against her skin. “Don’t hold back.”

Kate’s hands gripped her shoulders like she was going under.

Caitlin pressed deeper, licked harder—using her whole mouth now, her jaw working, her free hand anchoring Kate’s hip to the bed.

Kate bucked against her—once, twice—and then broke.

She came in waves, loud and shuddering, her whole body collapsing into Caitlin’s hands like something sacred. Her head tipped back. Her throat bared. She wasn’t quiet. She didn’t want to be.

And Caitlin—wrecked, breathless, wild for her—didn’t stop until she’d wrung every last pulse from her, until Kate was whispering her name like a benediction.

Only then did Caitlin crawl up her body, settle their foreheads together, and kiss her long and slow.

Their eyes met. Kate’s chest heaved.

“Now,” she whispered, dragging Caitlin up fully onto the bed. “Now I fuck you.”

Caitlin nodded, dazed. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

Kate rolled them with practiced ease—Caitlin flat on her back, Kate straddling her hips. Their skin was slick, their chests heaving in tandem. Light slanted across the bed in stripes. Everything glowed.

Kate kissed her. Deep. Lingering. A kiss that tasted like sweat and salt and devotion. Her hand trailed down Caitlin’s side, slow, then lower—dragging her fingers through Caitlin’s slick folds until Caitlin was gasping and arching against her.

Kate worked her like a game she’d trained for. She teased—slow circles, then a pause. A gentle thrust, then a retreat. Caitlin arched, whined, grabbed at her wrist.

“Need you,” Caitlin breathed. “What do you, need right now?” she asked, steady.

Kate’s hands were already sliding up her sides. “I need to feel strong again,” she said. “I need to take control of something and know I’m good at it. I need to fuck you like I deserve to be on the floor next to you.”

Caitlin brushed her fingers along Kate’s jaw, eyes locked. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. But I want you. And I want you to have what you want, too.”

“I know.” Kate kissed her again, then pulled back, chest rising fast. Her hand still between Caitlin’s thighs, fingers full of her. She hesitated, just a beat. Then her voice dropped, low and rough. “Can I ask you something?”

Caitlin blinked up at her, dazed. “Of course.”

Kate’s hand stilled inside of her, rubbing just her clit in circles. “Will you let me… try something different?”

Caitlin’s heart stuttered and her breath sharpened.

Caitlin nodded once. “What do you mean?”

Kate swallowed. Her hand moved to Caitlin’s hip, thumb brushing the line of her pelvis. “I want you on your knees. Hands down. I want to fuck you like that.”

Caitlin’s breath hitched, Kate had two fingers circling her clit. Caitlin's fingers curled in the sheets.

Kate kept going. “I’ve been stuck in my head. About the court. About everything. And when I was under you just now, when you looked at me like I was everything… I want to hold onto that. I want to feel strong again. Not just loved. Strong.”

Caitlin’s voice shook as she moaned. . “Take me how you want me, baby.”

“This isn’t like before,” she growled, breath hot against her skin. “I’m not being gentle. I’m going to pin you down, fuck you deep, and make sure you feel exactly how much I want you. Every second. Every inch. Until you stop trying to be good and just let go.”

Caitlin didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Kate paused, and then continues. “It’s exposed. Raw. I’ll see everything. You’ll feel everything. I’ll tear you open—in the best way. I’ll keep you wide and shaking and mine. But only if you want that. If you want me.”

“I want all of it,” she whispered. “I want you to see everything. To take me apart. I want to feel you claiming me like you mean it. I don’t need gentle. I need you.”

Kate blinked hard, her throat clenching around the knot rising fast. “Even when I’m like this?”

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. She traced her thumb over Kate’s trembling knuckles. “Especially like this,” she whispered. “When you let me see the want. When you don’t hide. When you choose me.”

Kate leaned in, breath shallow, pressing their foreheads together like it was the only thing holding her upright. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Caitlin said, low and certain. “You never have. You couldn’t.”

Kate swallowed. “You’ll tell me if you need to stop? If it’s too much?”

Caitlin’s eyes flickered, full and open. “Yeah. I always will. Thank you for asking.” She tightened her grip on Kate’s hand. “But I want this. I want you. Like this.”

A long beat stretched between them—hot, charged, pulsing.

Kate’s exhale came rough and uneven. “Roll over,” she rasped. “Now. Please.”

And Caitlin did. Slow like a secret. Intentional like a promise. She turned, crawled across the mattress with her back arched and thighs parted, every motion deliberate, offering herself up without apology. Then she looked back over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes blown wide with hunger and trust and something that tasted like surrender.

Kate's breath stuttered, the ache in her chest eclipsed only by the rush of power curling low in her stomach.

Caitlin held her gaze, eyes full and gleaming. “Take what you need,” she whispered, shifting her knees wider, spine curving with anticipation. “I’m yours.”

Kate should’ve just looked at her and moved. Should’ve let instinct take over. But something in her stalled—caught between reverence and hunger, trembling on the edge of too much. Because Caitlin wasn’t just offering her body. She was giving her everything. Trust, want, devotion. No caveats. No armor.

It hit Kate like a wave—sudden, staggering, holy.

Her knees nearly buckled.

How the hell did I get this lucky? How the hell do I hold this right?

She reached out, fingertips tracing the dip of Caitlin’s lower back, breath catching at the shiver it pulled. Her voice, when it came, cracked around the edges.

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you right now.”

And then she moved forward, heart in her throat, ready to make Caitlin feel every inch of it.

Kate reached for the drawer already half-open, strap tucked where it always lived—top left corner, folded like something sacred. Her fingers closed around it with care, reverence. The lube sat beside it. She grabbed both and stood.

For a moment, she just breathed.

The weight of it in her hands grounded her. Reminded her what she was about to do. Not just fuck. Not just perform. But give. Give something only she could offer Caitlin—here, now, in the quiet where no one else got to see.

She stepped into the harness, tugged the straps up her thighs, fastened the waist around her hips. Tight. Secure. Then, with careful fingers, she slid the vibrator attachment into place where her clit rested - the one they picked out together in Chicago. The one Caitlin held in her palm in the store.

It nestled snug against her, sending a slow, teasing but light pressure through her core. She adjusted the base against her pelvis, breath catching as sensation sparked low in her stomach. Her heart pounded under her ribs like a war drum.

It wasn’t just arousal. It was a drive. Hunger. That gnawing want to do something right. To feel worthy. Worthy of Caitlin’s body. Worthy of her gaze. Worthy of the way she’d just looked up and said “Take me how you want me” like it was the easiest truth in the world.

Kate buckled the last strap and looked down. She slicked her fingers with lube and breathed through the rush of heat that spiked low in her belly.

Breathed through the sensation on her clit—already throbbing from the vibrator’s steady hum, pressed tight where the base met her skin. Every movement sent a ripple through her, not overwhelming but insistent, building under the surface. It made her more aware of everything—her breath, her hands, the girl waiting for her, raw, and open, at the edge of the bed.

God. She loved her.

Kate dropped to her knees on the bed, leaned forward, kissed Caitlin’s lower back, and whispered against her skin, “I’ve got you.”

Then Kate reached down and coated herself with lube—slow, deliberate, fingers gliding with purpose—while her other hand pressed into Caitlin’s hip, steadying her.

Caitlin's breath stuttered.

They'd done this before. A few times. With Kate on top of her.

Caitlin knew the stretch, the fullness, the way Kate moved inside her like she meant it. But never like this. Never from behind—open like this, vulnerable like this, bare and bowed and ready to be taken.

Her cheek pressed to the mattress. Her thighs parted wider.

And still, her body begged: More.

This wasn’t careful. This wasn’t slow eye contact and murmured words and hips cradled in trembling hands. This was primal. Intimate in a different way. She couldn’t see Kate’s face, couldn’t read her in real time—and that made it hotter. That made it more.

Every inch of her was exposed. Every nerve lit up.

She felt the head of the strap brush against her, slick and steady, and her breath caught.

Caitlin’s breath hitched. Her skin burned where Kate touched her, a live wire pulled. She could feel the slick heat of her own arousal dripping down her thigh, could feel the anticipation building like pressure behind her ribs.

She’s going to be inside me.

Caitlin wanted to feel it stretch her open, claim her, make her whimper. She wanted Kate to hold her hips down and fuck her like she meant it. No pretense, no carefulness—just hunger and heat and truth.

Kate looked at the girl in front of her—arched and waiting and brave—and thought, Let me be the best for you. Let me be the best at this. Let me give you what you deserve.

“This okay?” she asked, hovering at Caitlin's entrance, voice lower now. Steadier.

Caitlin nodded, breathless. “Yeah. I want this.”

Kate poured a careful line of lube along her palm and worked it between her fingers, warming it before touching Caitlin. She kissed the small of her back first, soft and grounding. Then slid her slick fingers between Caitlin’s thighs—slow, reverent, checking her every breath.

God, this felt different.

Caitlin’s chest was pressed to the sheets, knees apart, ass up—and it should’ve felt ridiculous, humiliating even, but it didn’t. Not with Kate. Not with the way Kate’s hands moved—slow, careful, like she was handling something priceless. Like she was already inside the moment before she’d ever slid in.

Caitlin let her head fall forward, cheek brushing the pillow. Her hips rolled involuntarily toward Kate’s hand, toward that slick, steady pressure that was coaxing her open one breath at a time.

Kate’s fingers circled around her entrance again. A whisper, a tease.

“You’re already so good for me,” Kate murmured, and the words hit Caitlin somewhere deeper than her body.

She couldn’t see Kate’s face from here, but she could feel her. Every breath, every shift in weight, every trembling inch of restraint. The air between them was thick—charged, worshipful. Caitlin’s pulse thrummed in her neck.

And then she heard it. Low. Guttural. Kate moaning behind her—quiet at first, then sharper, like she hadn’t meant to let it out. The vibrator they’d tucked into the base was working through her, too, and Caitlin could hear it in the way her breath caught, the way her hips rocked forward like she was losing control of her own rhythm.

God, Caitlin thought, she’s feeling it too.

The thought made her clench around nothing. Made her push back into Kate’s hands, desperate to be filled, to be claimed.

Kate slid one finger in, slow and careful.

The angle made everything sharper. Fuller. There was no softness to fold into, no eye contact to blur the edges. Just the open curve of her spine, the shake of her thighs, the raw throb of being taken from behind—of being seen like this and still loved through it.

Caitlin gasped.

Kate stilled. “Okay?”

“Yes.” Caitlin's voice caught, breath punching out of her. “Just—fuck—it’s a lot.”

Kate leaned in, kissed the middle of her back. “It’s supposed to be.”

She started moving again, shallow thrusts, curling her finger with purpose.

Caitlin bit the sheet, breath coming hard. She’d never felt this open. Never felt Kate this deep, this deliberate. It was like being peeled back layer by layer until all that was left was nerve and want and love.

Another finger pressed in beside the first, lube easing the stretch. Caitlin moaned, arching back. “Kate…”

“I’ve got you.” Her voice was molten now. Steady. Certain. “Let me get you ready. Let me give you all of me.”

Caitlin shivered. “Feels, so, good, baby.”

She let herself surrender to the rhythm of Kate’s fingers, letting her body bloom under the attention. Every nerve lit. Every inch of her shook with something holy. Her thighs trembled, breath gone uneven.

Kate’s lips ghosted along her spine, reverent and slow. “You’re doing so fucking good for me.”

Her fingers curled again, working Caitlin open with patient, filthy precision—slick sounds filling the room, Caitlin’s body trembling beneath her.

Every breath Caitlin took felt ragged. Electric. The second finger made her stretch wide, ache deep. And the way Kate said “all of me”—like a vow, like a promise—sent something hot and helpless spiraling through her.

Kate pressed her palm flat against Caitlin’s lower back, anchoring her. Grounding her. And then she withdrew her fingers slowly, trailing lube and want and heat in their wake.

“You ready?” she murmured, voice dark, breath shaky with need.

Caitlin nodded fast, eyes squeezed shut. “Please. Now.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Kate said, hoarse. “So ready. Always ready for me.”

Caitlin moaned as Kate lined up.

“Tell me,” Kate said again, voice rough, trembling with restraint. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Caitlin exhaled hard, the words pouring out like prayer. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you take it. Not because you’re trying to be enough. Because you already are. Because I need you. Like this.”

Kate’s breath hitched. Her hand slid up Caitlin’s spine, slow and grounding, fingers splayed wide to feel every heartbeat under her skin.

“You’ll have me,” she said, barely above a growl. “All of me. Now.”

“You’re mine?” Kate asked, voice thick.

Caitlin looked over her shoulder, eyes heavy. “Always.”

Kate leaned down, kissed the spot where Caitlin’s shoulder met her neck. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Kate spread her knees wider, lining up. But she didn’t thrust yet. She ran her hands along Caitlin’s thighs, slow, possessive. Then dragged her fingers between her legs—slick, aching, ready.

Caitlin groaned. “Been wet for you since you spotted me on the barbell.”

Kate grinned against her skin. “Good.”

She teased—rubbing, pressing, circling her clit, which she had ignored completely before, slow. Just enough to make Caitlin whimper, shift, beg.

“Kate,” she gasped. “Please.”

And then Kate pressed in.

“Louder.”

“Please, I want you to fuck me, Kate.”

Then—

She thrust in—deep and all at once—burying herself to the hilt.

Caitlin cried out, back arching, thighs trembling, the stretch ripping through her like a tidal wave.

Kate stilled inside her, both hands firm on Caitlin’s waist. “You feel that?” she murmured, voice wrecked. “That’s all of me.

Caitlin moaned, nodding into the mattress, wide open. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare.” Caitlin’s mouth fell open, her back arching as Kate filled her. A low cry broke from her lips. Kate gripped her hips, held her steady, and drove in deeper. She didn’t start fast. She started intentional—deep, rhythmic thrusts that made Caitlin keen with every pass.

Kate kept at it. One hand fisted in Caitlin’s hair, the other holding steady at her hip. Caitlin arched into it, cried out, nails clawing at the sheets. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was all grit and slick and momentum—Kate driving into her like she could rewrite every ounce of doubt.

“Let me hear you,” Kate growled, voice cracking. “Let them all know who you belong to.”

She buried her face against Caitlin’s shoulder blade and exhaled. “God, you feel good. I feel—fuck—I feel everything.”

Kate’s hips pressed flush against Caitlin’s, every breath staggered with effort and heat. Sweat slicked their skin, glinting in the morning light. Her thighs burned. Her heart pounded. But her mind—her mind was quiet. For the first time in weeks, no spiraling thoughts, no fear of being behind or not enough.

Only this.

The slick slide of skin against skin. The way the vibrator inside the harness pulsed in time with Kate's thrusts—sharp, heady jolts that made her legs shake, made her groan against Caitlin’s spine. Every time she moved, she felt it. The friction. The fullness. Caitlin’s body clenching around her, and the delicious ache that bloomed low in her own core. It wasn’t just control—it was connection, mirrored and mutual. She was fucking Caitlin, yes, but she was being unraveled, too.

Caitlin moaned, loud and wrecked. “Kate. Kate. You. I’m yours. Please don’t stop.”

Kate’s breath stuttered. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. The sun kept pouring in. Caitlin’s body rocked forward with every thrust, fingers clawing the sheets, legs trembling. Kate wasn’t thinking about missed shots. About film breakdowns or off-seasons or being the second-best player in any room. She was thinking about Caitlin — right here, right now — on her knees, trembling, taking every part of her and asking for more.

“You feel that?” Kate hissed. “That’s control. That’s mine.”

Caitlin moaned in response, pushing back into her, every motion a promise: I believe in you. I trust you. Take it.

“You’re so good,” Kate said, voice shaking. “So fucking good for me. You give me everything,” Kate panted. “Let me give it back.”

Kate leaned over, her chest brushing Caitlin’s back, her hand trailing from Caitlin’s hip to the space just below her ribs. She didn’t thrust again yet. She just held her there. Felt her. Listened to the sound of Caitlin’s breath catching. The low, guttural sounds that spilled when Kate rolled her hips just enough to tease.

“You are,” Caitlin gasped. “You are. You’re perfect. Just like this.”

Kate leaned over her, kissed the back of her neck. Then drove in harder, groaning with every thrust. Caitlin sobbed through it, bliss and pressure building.

Caitlin cried out, twisting her fist in the blanket. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Harder.”

Kate gave her everything.

She angled her hips, reached under Caitlin’s body to find her clit, rubbed in time with her thrusts. Caitlin shattered—full-body spasms, moans broken open.

Kate fucked her harder through it. Deeper. Her breath fractured. Her body coiled. Kate watched Caitlin crumble beneath her, and for the first time in weeks, something inside Kate surged—powerful, rooted, right.

“You’re so good,” Caitlin whispered through gasps. “You’re so strong. You’re everything.”

Caitlin’s mind was haze and heat. The pressure of Kate’s body behind her made her feel completely surrounded — taken, grounded, cherished. This wasn’t just deeper physically. It was fuller. She felt Kate in every inch of her spine, every muscle flexing against her skin. And even as she moaned, even as her knees shook from the sheer force of it, what she felt most wasn’t pain or fear or even want.

Kate couldn’t stop shaking.

Not from effort—not really—but from the weight of it. The way Caitlin gave herself over so completely. The way her body opened and arched and took Kate in like it was meant to. Like this was always where they were headed.

She drove in again, hips rolling, her own breath ragged from the pressure against her clit, the ache coiling tighter inside her. The vibrator throbbed with every motion, and Kate felt it as if Caitlin were pressing back into her from the inside out—like their pleasure was layered, echoing, infinite.

It was trust. Pure, whole-bodied trust.

Kate pushed forward again, this time slower, deeper. Caitlin gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets.

“You feel that?” Kate murmured, her mouth near Caitlin’s ear, her fingers twirling Caitlin's nipple. “That’s you opening for me." Pinching lightly. "That’s me knowing I can do this right.”

“You are,” Caitlin panted, voice destroyed and breathless. “You’re everything. Right here. Right now. You’re winning.”

And Kate felt it in her bones — the high, the rush, the roaring in her chest. Not just from dominance or control, but from finally stepping into her own skin again. Giving everything. Getting everything.

She curled a hand around Caitlin’s waist, pulled her tighter, and drove forward again.

Each movement was a declaration.

The vibrator pulsed in time with her hips, sending jolts of pleasure up Kate’s spine, turning every thrust into a shared circuit of need. She felt everything—Caitlin’s heat, the slick glide of her body, the tension rising fast and bright inside her own core. The friction, the closeness, the trust—they lit Kate up from the inside, unraveling her even as she held Caitlin steady.

You’re mine. I love you. I’m here. I’m not afraid. I can be the best for you.

The vibrator pressed harder—against her clit, against her resolve—flooding her with sensation until her legs trembled, her vision blurred, and the only thing anchoring her was Caitlin’s body wrapped around her rhythm.

And Caitlin met every thrust with a cry, a push, a silent yes that echoed deeper than anything she could say aloud.

“Harder,” Caitlin gasped, voice barely recognizable. “Please, harder.”

Kate grunted, something wild flaring behind her ribs. She tightened her grip, fingers digging into Caitlin’s hips, and gave her what she asked for — a bruising rhythm, relentless, precise. Not just control. Mastery.

She growled, each word pressed into Caitlin’s skin with her thrusts. “You take me so deep. Like you were made for this.”

Caitlin’s mouth fell open. “I am. I am—Kate, I’m—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Could barely breathe. All she could do was rock back and meet her again and again, slick and wrecked and shaking.

Kate slowed, just a second — dragged her hips in deep, letting Caitlin feel the full length of her, the grind, the pressure, the heat. Caitlin’s whole body shuddered.

“You’re gonna come like this,” Kate murmured, voice hoarse and reverent. “On your knees. With me inside you. Because you trust me.”

Caitlin’s voice broke on a sob. “I do. I trust you. I love you. Don’t stop—please—don’t stop. Please, make me come Katie.”

Kate slammed in one more time, teeth gritted, thighs trembling, the vibrator pulsing so hard it nearly buckled her. Caitlin cried out—sharp, high, desperate—as her whole body curled tight around the wave crashing through her. But Kate didn’t let up. She chased it. They chased it together.

Their rhythm frayed, messy now, fevered. Their moans broke into something raw, reverent. They fell forward, hips still meeting every thrust, shaking with the force of shared release.

Kate leaned over her, mouth at her spine, panting. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, voice wrecked. “I’ve always got you.”

Caitlin came with Kate’s name on her lips and Kate’s hands locked around her hips like a vow.

And then Kate followed—surrendering to the pulse that lit up her core, shaking hard, her orgasm ripping through her with a cry she buried against Caitlin’s back.

They collapsed together—tangled, slick, wrecked, radiant. Not just held, but known.

A quiet beat passed between them, thick with afterglow. Breath slowing. Skin cooling.

Kate exhaled shakily as she pulled out, gentle now, every movement in slo-mo. She unbuckled the strap, slid the vibrator from the harness, turned them off, and pulled Caitlin deep into the present.

Her voice cracked. “Thank you.”

Caitlin turned to face her, flushed and glowing, eyes soft with love and just the hint of a smirk. “Told you I’d get your rhythm back.”

Kate laughed, broken and bright, then leaned in and kissed her slow—like gratitude, like surrender, like yes, you were right Caitlin Clark.

Kate collapsed against her, chest to back, arms wrapping instinctively around Caitlin’s waist like she couldn’t stand to let her go. Her breath was ragged in her ear, warm and trembling. Caitlin’s body still shook in small, uncontrollable pulses — the kind that came not just from an unrelenting wave of pleasure.

Kate pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the side of her neck, holding her tightly through the aftershocks. “I love you,” she whispered, voice frayed and quiet and full. “I love giving you this. I love being with you.”

Caitlin turned, slow and loose-limbed, letting herself be rearranged. Kate helped, cradled her, pulled her onto her side, and then curled around her like a second skin. Their legs tangled. Their breaths synced. Sweat cooled between them.

Caitlin blinked, slow and dazed. Her throat felt thick.

“That was…” Caitlin trailed off, breath still uneven. “Just—different. Like you weren’t just in me. You were with me. Everywhere.”

Kate didn’t speak right away. Her fingers skimmed Caitlin’s hip like she was still anchoring herself. “I needed that,” she said finally. “Not to win. Not to prove I could. Just… to feel you. All of you. Like I belonged there.”

Caitlin’s hand slid over Kate’s chest, fingertips resting where her heart still pounded. “You do.”

Kate’s eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward, forehead to Caitlin’s collarbone, breath catching like it hurt to believe it. And then she stayed there—silent, still—like maybe holding Caitlin was the only thing keeping her steady.

Caitlin could feel the weight of it — the effort, the meaning, the way Kate poured herself into every touch, every thrust, every breath. Not just to feel strong, but to make Caitlin feel wanted, filled, claimed.

And she had. God, she had.

“I’m yours,” Caitlin whispered. “I mean it. You don’t ever have to question that.”

Kate didn’t answer at first. Just kissed her again, reverent and quiet, then pulled the blanket up and around them both.

“Thank you,” Kate whispered again, voice rasped and uneven. “For letting me show you. For letting me want you like that. For letting me take it—need it—without apology.”

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with afterglow. “I needed it too.”

Kate touched her jaw, thumb brushing softly along her cheekbone, coaxing her to meet her gaze. “Yeah?”

“I like giving you that space,” Caitlin murmured, pink blooming at her cheeks. “I like watching you take control. Feeling how much you want it. Want me. You’re... unstoppable when you let yourself go.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was charged. Full of reverence. Full of what neither of them had to explain.

Kate leaned in, forehead to hers. “I love you,” she said again, steadier now. Truer.

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. “I love you.”

And she meant it. Every word. Every pulse of her body still singing with it.

They lay like that for a long time — arms wrapped tight, their love still humming in the space between.

She kissed her slow, deep, reverent.

And for the first time in weeks, Kate felt powerful again.

Like she could lead. Like she could win. Like she could give Caitlin exactly what she needed—and more.

They collapsed in a heap, tangled and breathless, skin slick and trembling.

Kate’s voice cracked. “Thank you.”

Caitlin turned her face into the pillow and murmured, “You’re back.”

And Kate believed her.

—--------------

The apartment was quiet again.

Not empty—just settled. Steeped in something soft and slow.

After the high. After the sweat. After Kate had collapsed on top of her, breathless and grinning, whispering that she was back. That she was enough. That she could give and give and still have something left. Caitlin had kissed her like she believed it. Like she’d never stop believing it.

Now the shower steamed faintly behind a cracked door. The air smelled like clean skin and lavender soap. Caitlin moved through the stillness in an oversized tee, bare legs catching the warm slant of afternoon sun. Her collarbone still glistened faintly—like a secret the light hadn’t let go of yet.

Kate was already gone, off to a film session with the staff. But she’d left a note by the coffee pot, written in that sharp, all-caps scrawl Caitlin pretended not to find adorable:

YOU’RE EVERYTHING. DON’T FORGET.

Next to it sat half a protein bar, the good kind Kate never shared.

Caitlin smiled. Pressed a fingertip to the note like it might hum beneath her touch.

The world outside kept moving. But here, for a moment, she was still. Loved. Full.

Caitlin stared at the note a little longer than she meant to, heart humming, body still loose and aching. It was the good kind of sore. Earned. Like something had finally opened inside her. Like she’d let Kate hold her and hadn’t broken apart. Like maybe she wouldn’t.

Her phone buzzed. Monika: Freshman pairings today. AJ’s yours. You two are meeting at the union at 2. Buy her coffee. And be good.

Caitlin groaned and let her head fall back against the couch. Her thighs still ached. Her arms were jelly. She wasn’t ready to mentor anyone. She barely knew how to lead herself.

Ten minutes later, she was walking across campus in sweats and a hoodie, sunglasses pulled low and iced coffee in hand. Her hair was still damp as she stepped out into the late afternoon sun, backpack slung over one shoulder and water bottle clipped to the side. Her knees twinged on the stairs. Her brain still felt like it was recovering from a storm. She slid into a bench just outside the student union, face tilted to the sun.

AJ was already there. Seated like she owned the bench. Hoodie sleeves pushed to the elbows. Cross-legged. Phone in hand. Headphones around her neck.

“You’re late,” AJ said, not looking up.

“You’re early,” Caitlin shot back.

AJ glanced at her. Then gave a little shrug. “You’re Caitlin Clark.”

“Last I checked.”

“They told me I’d be your little. Not sure if that’s a threat or a challenge.”

Caitlin raised a brow, instinctive. Default. The armor came on before she even realized it. “Do you want it to be either?”

A smirk tugged at AJ’s mouth. “I don’t want anything except a good freshman year, and a B1G Ten Championship.”

“Reasonable.”

Caitlin tried to settle her shoulders, which had been tense all week. Maybe all summer. It was strange, sitting like this—out in the open, with a freshman who didn’t worship her or flinch around her or ask for a selfie. Just… spoke.

“You don’t talk like I thought you would,” AJ said.

That caught Caitlin. “What does that mean?”

AJ stretched her legs in front of her, relaxed in a way Caitlin couldn’t remember being at that age. “You know. You're kind of a legend. I figured you’d be—”

“An asshole?”

“I was gonna say... bigger.”

Caitlin laughed despite herself. “I’m tall enough.”

AJ looked at her sideways. “Not what I meant.” Then, softer: “Is it weird, being you?”

Caitlin blinked. The question landed deeper than she expected.

What did it mean to be her? A highlight reel. A hashtag. A jersey selling out in six states. A walking stat line, a leader in a sport that didn’t always feel like it wanted her whole self. Her body still ached faintly from that morning—Kate’s mouth, Kate’s hands, the way they’d fallen apart together. She’d been cracked wide open and put back together by someone who really saw her. And now here she was again, in the sunlight, being seen by someone else. Someone new.

“I just mean…” AJ continued, “people look at you and they see highlights. They see stats. They don’t know you.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. She’s right. Most days, it felt like no one did. Not really. Except Kate. Except maybe McKenna, on a good day. But not the crowds. Not the reporters. Not even her family—not yet. Sometimes she wondered if she even knew herself beyond the numbers and the noise.

AJ didn’t wait for a response. “I’m just trying to figure out who I’m supposed to be learning from. Not the basketball stuff. The other part.”

Caitlin took a breath. Her chest still felt raw, like it had been opened by something holy. “I’m still figuring that out.”

“Okay,” AJ said. Simple. Like that was enough—for now.

They sat in the quiet. The quad buzzed—late summer breeze, the scrape of sneakers, a speaker somewhere blasting something too loud. Caitlin picked at the edge of her coffee cup. Her fingers twitched, like they weren’t used to stillness. AJ kicked a pebble by her foot.

For the first time in weeks, Caitlin didn’t feel like she had to be on. Didn’t feel like she had to perform being a captain, or a girlfriend, or the best. She could just be a girl on a bench with her little, breathing in the tail end of summer. Trying.

Then AJ said, not quite looking at her, “Can I ask something?”

Caitlin tensed, heartbeat kicking up. “Sure.”

“You and Kate,” AJ said. “You’re a thing, right?”

Caitlin’s stomach flipped. “What?”

“I notice stuff,” AJ shrugged. “The way you are with her. The way she is with you. It’s not hard.”

Caitlin didn’t speak. Didn’t move. She felt it in her chest—like being spotted mid-step, caught in a place she wasn’t ready to be seen.

AJ looked at her. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“We’re not public,” Caitlin said quickly, voice tight.

“That because of her or you?”

Caitlin froze. The wind moved gently through the quad. Somewhere, a bike tire clicked on pavement. Then, quieter than she meant to say it, Caitlin answered.

“Me.”

She looked down at her coffee cup, thumb dragging along the lid’s edge. “It’s me.”

Her voice didn’t shake, but something in her face softened—like admitting it made it real.

“You’re kind of intense,” AJ said, almost smiling. “But not in the way I expected.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” AJ shrugged, eyes flicking out across the quad. “I thought you’d come in all alpha. Big speech. Dominant energy. but instead you’re just… figuring it out. Like the rest of us."

That landed. Not in a big, dramatic way. But it sank in.

“Hey,” AJ added after a beat, “for what it’s worth... you don’t have to lead like Kate. Or Jan. Or anyone else. But you do have to lead.”

Caitlin looked over at her. “What if I mess it up?”

“Then you learn,” AJ said, standing. “That’s what the rest of us are doing.”

Caitlin stood too, still quiet.

AJ didn’t say anything else. She just started walking, one headphone back in, iced coffee in hand. After a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder.

“You coming, or do I gotta lead the way?”

Caitlin shook her head, smiling despite herself, and followed.

And maybe that was the start. Not of being a perfect leader. But a more authentic one.

Someone worth following.

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