#PLEASE I WAS SCROLLING THROUGH MY DRAFTS AND FOUND THIS

[reveryfics]

You ask for pool smut, I deliver. (I was literally just thinking of it last week UGH stop reading my mind)

Him with messy wet hair is such a turn on, can you imagine tugging and pulling on it and biting his jaw and neck and having him cage you in against the side of the pool, water dribbling down his muscles and his chest and maybe a little nipple play but he's the one recieving it. Maybe he's just full on pathetic and kissing all over your transition scars, murmuring on and on 'bout how you're such a handsome guy, pretty boy, best man in the word, etc etc, babbles turning incoherent as he fucks you senseless. 🙏🙏🙏

Thats my 2 cents

Tease

John Walker x FtM Reader

Summary: After a tough training session, a relaxing evening swim at the towers' pool took a passionate turn as John's hands found their way to you, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

A/N: Every time I get something from you, I'm like foaming at the mouth. It doesn't help we have some down bad conversations. Anyway requests are still open and drafts are almost clear. If you are a female or identify as feminine, just please I'm begging you to scroll past this!

TW: Bottom reader - Top John - Praise - Teasing - Eating out - Verbal - Pool sex - Mention of female genitals - Females DNI - Minors DNI

The cool, polished concrete of the tower floor was a welcome relief against your bare feet, each step a soft thud in the late-night quiet. Despite the hum of the air conditioning, the summer humidity clung to your skin like a second layer, a fine sheen of sweat glistening under the harsh, overhead lights. You were a walking testament to a grueling workout, your muscles still buzzing with the after-burn. A pair of loose-fitting swim trunks hung low on your hips, and a damp towel was slung over your shoulder, a useless accessory against the persistent stickiness. You needed to cool off, and a quick, cool shower wasn't going to cut it. Not tonight. Not after your weekly testosterone shot, a necessary evil that made even the slightest exertion feel like you were walking on the surface of the sun. The intense heat it generated within your body was something you’d learned to live with, but tonight, it was unbearable.

You decided to take a gamble on the tower's indoor pool, a luxurious amenity that was a surprising perk of your new government-funded position. For once, you were grateful for the tax dollars that had been “wasted” on this extravagant luxury. It was late, well past midnight, and you were sure you’d have the place to yourself. The thought of floating in the cool, chlorinated water was a siren song, luring you in.

But as you pushed open the heavy glass doors to the pool area, a flicker of disappointment went through you. A folded towel rested on one of the lounge chairs, a silent indicator that you weren't alone. You hadn't even set your own towel down before the sound of water breaking the silence reached your ears. A soft splash, a ripple, then a steady drip.

You turned, your gaze drawn to the far end of the pool. John was there, his back to you, his hands gripping the tiled edge of the pool as he slowly pulled himself out of the water. His hair was a sopping mess, water clinging to him like a second skin, a river of droplets cascading down his broad back and over the sharp definition of his shoulders. The soft light from the overhead lamps caught on every droplet, making his body gleam like polished marble. The air suddenly felt charged, thicker than before.

"You alright?" The question was a low whisper, his voice a rumbling murmur as he turned to face you, pulling you abruptly from your thoughts.

You snapped your head back, a bit flustered. "Yeah," you managed, your voice a little rougher than you intended. You walked over to a nearby chair, placing your towel next to his. "Just didn't think anyone would be in here," you murmured, turning back to face him, a slight flush rising on your cheeks.

John now stood mere inches from you, the scent of chlorine mixing with the familiar, earthy cologne he always wore. You couldn't help but notice the way the water droplets ran down the planes of his chest, clinging to the curve of his muscles before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. His body was a masterpiece of strength and grace, and you found yourself momentarily speechless.

He, in turn, was taking you in. The way the sweat still clung to your skin, glistening against the pale scars from your top surgery. The way your "happy trail" was plastered to your abdomen by the dampness, a line of dark hair disappearing beneath the loose waistband of your swim trunks. He noted the way your trunks hung on your hips, the faint stubble on your jawline you hadn't bothered to shave, and the tired but satisfied look in your eyes. It was a look he knew well.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the heavy silence. Your gaze flicked to the shimmering water. "You going to join me, or...?" You questioned, silently cursing yourself for how intensely you wanted to get in that water with him, to feel his body close to yours.

John's lips quirked into a slow, tantalizing smirk, his eyes trailing over your body once more before settling back on yours. His voice dropped to a low, husky whisper, a velvety promise that sent a shiver down your spine. "Only if you can keep up, pretty boy. I know you get a little... overheated."

Your jaw clenched at his comment, a familiar wave of frustration and arousal washing over you. He did this every single time, a maddening, tantalizing dance that left you breathless and wanting. It was as if he was acutely aware of the heightened effect your shot had on you, of how even the slightest bit of teasing could practically bring you to your knees. The smirk on his face was a delicious torment, a challenge you couldn't resist. You rolled your eyes, a weak attempt to feign nonchalance.

"Oh, I'll keep up, alright," you retorted, the words meant to be a smooth comeback, a confident jab. But the slight crack in your voice betrayed you, a tiny hitch that gave away just how much he affected you.

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through the air, and John's smirk widened into a full-blown grin. "I don't doubt it for a second," he said, his eyes a warm, knowing gaze. He stepped closer from the edge of the pool, taking another step toward you, the water still dripping from his body and creating a small puddle on the tiles. "Just making sure you're ready for a real challenge. You know how I am."

You gulped, your throat constricting with a mixture of annoyance and pure, unadulterated lust. He was still teasing you, of course he was. It was a game he played, and you were always the pawn, your body's arousing reaction his personal entertainment. You could practically feel his smug satisfaction as you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You mumbled something inaudible under your breath, a low grumble of frustration that you knew he could hear. Without another word, you turned away from him and headed for the shallow end of the pool.

The water was a shock to your system, but in the best way possible. It was cool, almost cold, and it enveloped your body in a welcoming embrace, a blissful contrast to the heated skin you'd been trapped in for hours. You slid deeper, letting the water rise to your chest, then your shoulders. The sensation was heavenly. You took a deep breath before dunking your head completely under the surface, your eyes squeezed shut against the chlorine.

When you resurfaced, you let out a soft sigh, running a hand over your face and pushing your damp hair back from your forehead. You shook your head, sending a spray of water droplets into the air. As you opened your eyes, you saw him. John was just resurfacing from his own dive, his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions, water sluicing down his face and neck. And gods, he looked perfect. The way the light caught on the wet strands of his hair, the sharp angles of his face, the casual grace with which he moved through the water—it was all too much.

Your mind, a traitorous thing, immediately went to places it shouldn't. You imagined what his hands would feel like on your body, tracing the lines of your scars, exploring the newfound curves of your chest. You pictured his lips on yours, a slow, deep kiss in the shimmering water. You imagined the feeling of him inside you, the raw intimacy of it, the way you’d probably lose all sense of yourself and devolve into a needy mess, whining and babbling incoherent whispers against his skin.

The fantasy was so vivid, so potent, that you bit your lip to stop a soft gasp from escaping. You couldn't be here, couldn't be thinking this. You quickly turned your head, a phantom heat rising in your cheeks, and cleared your throat, trying to dispel the thick, erotic tension that clung to the air between you.

You could feel his gaze on you, a physical weight in the water. Even with your head turned away, you were hyper-aware of his every movement. The water shifted around you, a gentle ripple that announced his approach. You held your breath, bracing yourself for his next comment, another bit of teasing that would send your already-frayed self-control spiraling.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing murmur from just a few feet away. The sound of him moving through the water was a soft, rhythmic caress against the silence of the pool. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

You risked a glance over your shoulder. He was treading water, his arms moving in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, his body cutting a powerful figure through the shimmering blue. He had a playful glint in his eyes, a challenge that made your stomach clench.

“Just enjoying the water,” you managed, your voice still a little shaky. You turned back around, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the tiles at the bottom of the pool.

But he was persistent. You felt the water shift again, a gentle wave nudging you as he swam closer. He was now just a few feet behind you, and the scent of chlorine and his cologne intensified, a heady mix that made your head spin.

“Are you?” he asked, his voice now a low whisper right by your ear. “Or are you just trying to hide from me?”

You bit your lip, a soft gasp escaping as you felt the light touch of his hand on your back, just above the water line. He wasn't teasing you anymore, not really. This was different. This was a challenge, a question, a plea. It was a test of your resolve, of your ability to resist the magnetic pull between you both.

"I'm not hiding," you whispered, the words a lie you couldn't even sell to yourself. Your voice was barely a breath, a soft, broken sound in the quiet space.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through your bones. His hand moved from your back to your waist, his thumb stroking a slow, sensual line across your skin. "Good," he murmured, his voice thick with a want you both felt. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

You closed your eyes, a soft gasp escaping your lips. You couldn't take this anymore. You turned around, your body now facing his. His eyes were dark with a desire that mirrored your own, and the smirk was gone from his face, replaced with an intensity that made your heart pound against your ribs.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a desperate plea.

"Taking what I want," he answered, his voice a low growl. And then, he was kissing you. The kiss was a hungry, desperate thing, his lips demanding and yours answering, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between you, just the cool water and the heated skin and the pounding of your hearts.

The kiss was a desperate, hungry thing, a dam breaking after an eternity of restraint. Your hands, as if they had a mind of their own, found their way into his wet hair, gripping the strands and tugging lightly as he nipped at your bottom lip. A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest, a sound that was pure, unfiltered pleasure, and it sent a fresh jolt of desire straight through you. You answered his groan with a soft gasp as his tongue, a velvet-soft serpent, snaked into your mouth, a bold exploration that ignited every nerve ending.

The water, once a comforting coolness, now felt like a heated embrace, a silent witness to the fire that raged between you. His hands left your waist, traveling up your back to cup the nape of your neck, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin behind your ears. He deepened the kiss, a possessive, all-consuming pressure that left you breathless and wanting more. You were a mess of tangled limbs and desperate breaths, the sound of the water sloshing around you a forgotten symphony. Your fingers tightened in his hair, a silent plea for him to never stop.

A soft moan rumbled in John's throat as you gave a final, desperate tug on his hair, and he reluctantly broke the kiss. The separation was slow and agonizing, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips for a fleeting moment before it snapped, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. You both panted, your chests heaving in unison, the silence of the pool area now punctuated by the ragged rhythm of your breaths. Your hands, trembling slightly, slowly slipped from his hair and came to rest on his shoulders, your thumbs stroking the smooth, wet skin.

His breath, warm and tasting of chlorine, ghosted over your lips as he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "You're full of surprises tonight, aren't you?"

Before you could even think of a reply, his hand moved from the nape of your neck, gliding down your chest until his fingers traced the faint, pale lines of your top surgery scars. The touch was feather-light, a tender caress that sent a shiver through your entire body. It was a bold move, an intimate touch. He was teasing you again, but this time, it was a different kind of teasing—a sweet, possessive taunt that made your heart ache with a want so profound it was almost painful. His thumb gently stroked one of the scars, the light pressure a tingle in your chest.

John backed you slowly, inexorably, toward the corner of the shallow end. The cool tile of the pool's edge met your back with a gentle thud, a solid barrier that trapped you between him and the wall. You were a willing captive, your breath still coming in short, ragged pants as his hand trailed from your chest, his fingers splaying across your abdomen just above the loose hem of your swim trunks. His touch was a brand, a possessive heat against your skin.

He lowered his head, his lips trailing a searing path along your jawline. Each kiss was a whisper, a silent question, a bold statement. He moved to your shoulder, his lips lingering on the curve of your muscle before moving to your collarbone, a soft caress that sent shivers of want through you. Then came a new kind of torment: praise.

"God, you're so handsome," he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. A kiss landed just below your collarbone. "So good for me." Another kiss, this one over your heart. "Such a good boy."

His lips found the frantic pulse point at the base of your throat, his breath hot against your skin. He kissed it, a slow, tender press of his mouth that made your knees weak and your head swim. "So fucking handsome," he whispered again, the words a gentle breeze against your sensitive skin. He moved back to your mouth, his eyes searching yours for an answer, a confirmation, a plea. "Tell me you want this."

You nodded, a shaky, breathless movement. Your nails dug into the firm muscle of his shoulders, your grip tightening as he pressed his body more fully against yours in the water. The contact was electric, a searing line of heat that made your head spin.

"I want to hear you say it," he mumbled, his voice a low, demanding growl. His lips brushed against yours, a feather-light touch that was somehow more potent than a full-on kiss. "Tell me you want it."

You gulped, your throat constricting with a mix of need and desperation. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, your eyes locked onto his, the deep pools of his desire mirroring your own. All the teasing, all the yearning, all the unspoken tension between you had led to this one moment, this single word.

"Yes," you murmured, the word barely audible, a fragile whisper that held the weight of all your desire. "I want it."

"Good boy," John mumbled, the words a raw, possessive rumble against your lips. The praise was a bolt of pure electricity, and you moaned, your body arching into his as his mouth finally claimed yours again. This kiss was different. It was a hungry, no-holds-barred consumption, a desperate feast after a long, agonizing famine.

His lips were a brand against yours, firm and demanding. He devoured your mouth, his tongue a bold explorer that mapped every curve and crevice, every taste and texture. You met his fervor with equal intensity, your own tongue tangling with his in a frantic, needy dance. Your hands, still on his shoulders, began to slide, your fingers digging into the wet, warm skin of his back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

He responded with a low, guttural groan, his hand abandoning your abdomen to travel back up your body, his fingers lacing through your damp hair at the nape of your neck. He held you firm, tilting your head back to deepen the angle of the kiss, his thumb stroking a slow, sensual rhythm against your skin. You were a whirlwind of sensation, of desire, of a need so profound it consumed you whole. The water around you was forgotten, a mere backdrop to the inferno of your shared passion.

His lips left yours for a moment, tracing a searing line of kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, and back up to your jaw. "I've been wanting to do this since the moment you walked in here," he breathed, his voice a ragged whisper against your skin.

You whimpered, a soft, pathetic sound, as his mouth returned to yours. This time, the kiss was softer, slower, a teasing prelude to the promise of more. He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his dark with an emotion that mirrored your own, a mix of triumph and raw, unfiltered lust.

John's hand, a warm and heavy presence, found the hem of your swim trunks. He pulled, slowly and teasingly, the material inching down your hips. You whimpered, your body arching into his as he completely stripped them from your body before tossing them in the general direction of the lounge chairs. He pecked your lips, a quick, chaste kiss that was in direct contrast to the heat of the moment, before his arms wrapped around your waist, his muscles bunching as he lifted you completely out of the water.

You let out a soft gasp as he settled you on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the cool water. He stood between your thighs, a triumphant smirk on his face as his hands came to rest on your upper thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. The touch was a new kind of torture, a sweet agony that made your core clench with a desperate need.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hands, once again finding their way into his wet hair, tugged. "John," you breathed, the word a plea and a demand all at once.

He chuckled, a low, sexy sound that vibrated through your bones. He lowered his head, his hot breath ghosting over your clit and sending a shiver of pure pleasure down your spine. Those damned blue eyes, dark with desire, stared up at you as he held your thighs apart, a silent question in their depths.

He peppered the inside of your thighs with hot, wet kisses, each one a spark that ignited a new fire within you. He occasionally bit and sucked at the soft skin, the gentle nips sending tremors through your body, a silent promise of what was to come. You were a mess, a panting, needy mess, and you didn't care. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted it now.

John pressed a hot kiss just below your navel, a gentle press of his lips that sent a jolt of heat through your core. You instinctively arched your back, a silent plea for more. He continued his descent, his tongue trailing a slow, teasing path down your abdomen until it found its target. The first lick was a lazy, languid stroke over your clit, a single, deliberate movement that made you gasp.

You couldn't help it. Your hands, still tangled in his hair, subconsciously tugged, a desperate pull that brought his face closer to you, a wordless demand for more. His hands, now on your inner thighs, began to move, his nails lightly scraping against your skin, a tantalizing torment that made you squirm on the edge of the pool.

He began his work in earnest, his mouth a hot, wet vortex of pleasure. His tongue was a masterful instrument, flicking and swirling, circling and pressing, a relentless rhythm that built a sweet, unbearable pressure deep inside you. You were a symphony of moans and whimpers, your body a taut bowstring ready to snap.

"So handsome," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled but his praise clear. "You're so fucking handsome, good boy."

He would pull back for a moment, his eyes, dark and intense, staring up at you. The look on his face was one of pure devotion, and it was almost as intoxicating as the pleasure he was giving you. He'd lick you again, a slow, deep stroke that made your hips buck. "Such a good boy," he'd praise, his words a melody that only fueled your need.

His fingers would occasionally press into your thighs, his nails a gentle, delicious scrape that made you writhe. The sensation was a glorious mix of pain and pleasure, a delicious ache that made you want to claw at his shoulders. You were on the edge, teetering on the brink of an orgasm, your mind a foggy mess of need and want.

"So good," he'd whisper against you, his voice thick with a desire that mirrored your own. "So, so good."

You were a mess, a panting, moaning, needy mess. His praise, his touch, his worshipful kisses—it was all too much, and yet it wasn't enough. You wanted more, needed more, needed him.

John slowly pulled away, a soft, wet sound as his mouth left your skin. He rose to a crouch, his hands leaving your thighs and moving to the waistband of his own swim trunks. He shucked them off with a practiced ease, tossing them to land in a heap next to yours. He moved between your thighs once more, his arms wrapping around your waist, his grip firm and possessive. With a smooth motion, he pulled you back down into the water with him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body settling perfectly against his.

He pressed your back against the tiled wall, the cool, solid surface a new kind of anchor. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath a hot, ragged rush against your skin. Your hands, once again, found purchase in his wet hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands. You began to tug, a light, teasing pull, and kissed and nipped at his jawline.

With each gentle tug, John let out a small whimper, a broken sound of pure need that sent a thrill through you. His hands gripped your hips, his knuckles white with the force of his hold, his lips brushing against your neck as he begged. He became more whiny with each tug, the cool, confident demeanor from before completely gone.

"Please, baby," he groaned, his voice raw and desperate. "Please, I need you. God, you're driving me crazy. Let me, please, let me fuck you."

You moved to kiss the soft skin under his jaw and above his Adam's apple, feeling it bob against your lips with each desperate plea. You nipped at the spot, a sharp, teasing bite, and then, you whispered the words he was begging to hear. "Yes," you breathed against his skin. "Yes, please."

With a ragged exhale, he slowly pushed into you. The water sloshed around the two of you, a gentle wave that rippled outward from the point of your connection. Your grip on his hair tightened, a low whimper escaping your lips as the fullness of him filled you. He began to move, a slow, deliberate thrust in and out, the pleasure building with each stroke.

He was all a mess of words now, his control completely gone. "You're so good, baby," he rasped, his voice thick and strained. "So perfect, so fucking handsome." He thrust again, a little deeper this time. "God, you feel so good. So good around me. Is it as good for you, baby? Is it as good for you as it is for me?" His words were slurring together, a stream of praise and desperate questions as he worshipped you with his words and his body.

You pulled him into a sloppy, desperate kiss, silencing his praises with your lips. Your hands, still tangled in his hair, pulled him closer, your fingers digging into his scalp as his thrusts grew harsher and faster. He was a man possessed, his whines turning into guttural groans as he slammed into you, his body a relentless piston of heat and desire.

He broke the kiss, his lips a hot, wet line against your neck. "You're so tight, baby," he groaned, his voice a ragged whisper. "So fucking good. I can't... I can't stop." He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in short, harsh pants. "You're perfect. So perfect."

Your moans were a symphony of need and pleasure, your hips bucking to meet his every thrust. The water, a tumultuous sea around you, sloshed and churned with every movement. You were both a mess, a tangle of limbs and desperate pleas, your bodies a perfect fit against the cool tile wall.

"Come for me, baby," he begged, his voice a raw, desperate plea. "Let me feel you come around me."

He thrust one last time, a deep, earth-shattering plunge that made you cry out. Your body clenched around him, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you. You were a mess, a shaking, panting mess, and you didn't care. You were in heaven, and he was the god who had taken you there.

The world narrowed to the two of you, the cool embrace of the water and the scorching heat of your joined bodies. You came undone, a shuddering, breathless wreck as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashed over you. Your climax was a deep, guttural moan that echoed off the tiled walls, your nails digging into John's shoulders, a desperate anchor in the storm.

He groaned into the crook of your neck, his own body convulsing with a raw, powerful release. His thrusts became a frantic, desperate rhythm, his voice a broken litany of your name, of praises, of "Good boy," and "Perfect." He shuddered around you, his body a taut bowstring that finally snapped, his final thrusts a deep, consuming plunge that left you both breathless and spent.

The aftermath was a beautiful, chaotic mess. Your bodies, slick with sweat and water, were a tangled knot of limbs. John’s head was still buried in your neck, his ragged breaths hot against your skin as he slowly began to withdraw. You whimpered at the loss, a soft, needy sound that had him pressing his forehead against your own, his arms tightening around your waist.

"God, you're so good for me," he whispered, his voice still hoarse with spent passion. He peppered your face with soft, lingering kisses, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You could only nod, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You were exhausted, but a deep, profound sense of peace settled over you, a quiet calm that replaced the earlier heat and hunger. You were his. And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that this was just the beginning.

[ghostnotoast]

How the hell do I open this 😭 I've tried shaking and pulling but the little fucker bit me

[azzibuckets]

i wanna see you [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: lil oneshot bc i can’t stop thinking about paige singing for azzi to open the door

masterlist

“I wanna see you.” Paige’s loud, sing-songy voice penetrates through Azzi’s supposedly soundproof Bose earbuds, and Azzi resists the urge to slam her head against her desk.

“Paige, don’t piss me off right now,” she calls out, trying to focus on the words swimming around on her laptop screen.

She’s been working on her paper for what seems like hours, with Paige curled to her side for the first bit. At first, she’d tried to make it work. Brainstorming was easy enough, and she jotted down thoughts floating through her head as she’d structured her outline. But then Paige had rolled over, insisting on lying her head on Azzi’s chest, which inevitably came with the full weight of her 6’0 self pinning Azzi’s arm down. See, the thing about Paige Bueckers is that physical touch is her love language, so of course that meant that with her, there was no such thing as just a simple head on chest. Paige found every opportunity for maximum skin to skin contact, which meant her entire body was slumped over Azzi’s - a habit Azzi usually found endearing, but not when her paper was due in three hours.

With a sigh, Azzi had relented to her fate of only typing with one hand. But after five minutes of only being able to write a single painstakingly slow sentence, her right hand started to cramp and her left arm started falling asleep with pins and needles. “Paige,” she’d said gently. “Can you get up please? I really need to finish this.”

With a huff, Paige had dramatically flung herself to the other end of the bed. “My girl hates me,” she’d goaded under her breath, which Azzi had pretended not to hear for both of their sakes. Thankfully, with a couple of feet of space between them and full range of her hands, Azzi was able to finish the first draft of her introduction.

Some steady progress was finally being made until she felt a socked toe start rubbing the inner part of her calf. Looking up, she was met with hooded blue eyes and a smirk. “You look sexy right now, mami, working so hard.” The blonde has always been a little bit more down bad for Azzi whenever she wore her glasses, which the younger girl always gave her shit for but secretly loved.

On Azzi’s end, it certainly didn’t help that Paige was fresh from the shower, her hair down for once with blonde strands spilling over her shoulders. Her sweater had ridden up to show the outline of her abs, and her sweatpants were hanging on so low to her hips that Azzi could see her v-line. It had taken everything in Azzi not to throw away her laptop and kiss the other girl.

“Paige,” she reprimanded, masking her desire with irritatation. “No talking, okay? I really need to lock in.”

Pouting, Paige had shut up and resorted to scrolling mindlessly on Tiktok, thankfully with her volume down. But soon enough, she started laughing to herself, quietly. Azzi closed her eyes briefly, waiting for her to finish so she could write in peace, but Paige seemed to find each video funnier than the one before, her soft giggles turning into full on belly laughs. Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. “What could possibly be this fucking funny?”

Paige froze, eyes flicking up from her phone. “Ummm. It’s a drawing of us. Wanna see? You look hella goofy.” She eagerly turned her phone around, scooting closer to show Azzi, but Azzi pushed her hand away.

“Paige. Seriously. This is important, and I can’t focus.” She nudged her shoulder. “You gotta go.”

“Are you for real?” Paige’s mouth dropped a little. “You kicking me out of my own room?”

“Either you leave or I go back to my room and there will be no sleepover tonight.” Azzi’s voice was firm, leaving no room for an answer.

“This is fucked up,” Paige groaned, getting up from the bed to collect her things. “What am I supposed to do?”

“The exact same thing you’re doing here - but there.” Azzi pointed towards the door. “I’m sure the other girls are doing something fun. Go join them.”

“My own room. My own bed. My headphones,” Paige grumbled, choosing to ignore her girlfriend’s suggestions. “You might as well just break up with me.”

That had been a brief 20 minutes ago, and Azzi had thoroughly enjoyed the brief period of peace until she’d heard a thud, presumably of Paige slumping on the floor on the other side of the door. “Let me in,” Paige began singing. “I wanna see your face.”

Azzi grits her teeth.

“Please open the dooooor,” Paige continues. “I need you to open the door.”

Azzi turns up the volume of her music, but to no avail.

“Just one kiss,” Paige moans from outside. She hears amother thud, this time from her girlfriend’s head hitting the door. “One kiss and I’ll goooo.”

When Azzi opens the door, Paige stumbles forward into her, surprised. Azzi grabs the collar of the older girl’s shirt, pulling her in to press a firm kiss to her mouth. Paige responds eagerly, tongue swiping at her bottom lip as she tries to deepen the kiss, but Azzi gently pushes her away before it can get too far. “Satisfied?”

Paige grins dopily. Azzi plants another kiss on her lips before releasing her shirt. “Okay. Go chill out.” With a roll of her eyes, Paige finally gives up, ambling over to the couch to join KK’s live.

Two hours later, Azzi is finally done. She slams her laptop shut, her eyes bleary as she wanders out of the room. KK is on the couch, playing Fortnite. “Where’d Paige go?”

“I think she went to your room. Said she was gonna take a nap,” KK responded, not looking away from the TV.

When Azzi opens the door, Paige is slumped in her bed and cocooned in her favorite purple blanket, snores coming out of her parted lips. Azzi climbs onto the bed, hand wrapping around the older girl’s waist and face nuzzling into the nape of her shoulders. Paige stirs slowly before blinking awake. “You finished your essay?” she asks groggily, flipping around so they’re eye to eye.

Azzi nods, slinging a leg across the other girl’s hips. “Tired?”

“Mm.” Paige closes her eyes, almost falling back asleep in Azzi’s arms before realizing she’s still supposed to be mad. Eyes twitching, she crosses her arms, angling herself away from the younger girl’s body.

“You mad at me?” Azzi kisses her cheek, watching closely for her reaction. Paige’s hands stay folded across her chest, but her fingers twitch with restraint. Azzi notices and bites back a smile. “I’m sorry, honey.” She bites at her ear, capturing the soft flesh of her lobe between her teeth and tugging gently, but Paige remains stiff. “I had to focus.” She rolls over directly on top of Paige, smoothing back her blonde hair away from her face with both hands and rubbing her thumbs across her cheeks. “Let me make it up to you?”

“Lock me out of my own room again and we’re gonna have problems,” Paige threatens, trying to sound as scary as possible. She knows she’s failed when Azzi’s dimples appeared.

“Never again,” her girlfriend promises, beginning a trail of sweet, open mouthed kisses down Paige’s shoulder. This time, Paige responds, hips pressing up into her as one hand finds the back of her head, guiding her motions. “You’re a big baby, you know that?” Azzi teases, smiling fondly down at the blonde, who shakes her head indignantly. “But you’re my big baby.” She smothers Paige’s face in more kisses until the older girl can no longer fight back her smile.

“You finish your paper?” Paige asks.

“Yes. But remind me to never try and do homework with you ever again.” Azzi dips her head against Paige’s forehead.

“That’s offensive,” Paige complains. “I can lock in.”

“Don’t even try me,” Azzi argues back. “And don’t get me started on your fuck ass singing. You’re so obsessed with me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stay away from you,” Paige admits. “Not since I was sixteen.” And she’s not wrong. Paige has never been able to stay away: not when they were kids on a plane, heading home after winning a gold medal. Not when they were in upperclassmen in high school, facetiming each other after every game into the hours of the morning. Not when Paige was a freshman, sending Azzi highlight reels and talking about the day they’d win a national championship together. Not even now, when they see each other every day, but Paige still falls a little bit more in love the more she knows every little thing about Azzi.

But Azzi hasn’t ever been able to stay away, either. Admitting that, though? She can save that for another day.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - PART SIX

Summary: “Y/N goes to a self defense class filled with unexpected confrontations, confessions, and an undeniably beneficial deal…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3.8k

Warnings: sexual tensioooonnn, and a tiny bit of angst

A/N: Heeyyy…. How y’all doing….

I got tagged bc someone was trying to look for this series and it made me realize I had this chapter sitting in my drafts and I just kind of missed writing on here so here y’all go🫶

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Y/N stood at the front doors of the gym, her breath fogging the window as she watched the people inside.

She felt like a proper creep staring into the building like this, but her social anxiety was getting the best of her. It was a form of stalling, and Y/N was aware that she it was a bit ridiculous, but she stayed put nonetheless. So far, she could only make out the receptionist and a couple of janitors.

"Who are we watching?"

A shriek fell from Y/N's lips as she jumped in shock at the sudden whispering voice in her right ear. She turned around and slapped Harry on his arm as soon as she saw the smug grin on his face. He had his hands behind his back, feigning innocence as he cackled at her misery.

"You prick!" She tried to sound mad, but the chuckle in her voice betrayed her. Her heart was beating faster and the hairs on her arms were still standing up, but she'd felt the calmest she had all day. Harry was good at that; making her comfortable.

He only laughed, holding open the door for her. Still squinting at him, she walked through the door and entered the gym. Scanning her membership card, she passed through the little gates and made her way to the room where their lessons always took place.

"Why were you lurking outside?" Harry asked playfully, shutting the door behind him while Y/N puts down her bag. She grabbed her water bottle and turned around.

"I wasn't lurking." She corrected him. "I was just checking if you were inside already."

He only let out a skeptical hum, walking over to the box and plugging his phone into the aux. Immediately, a great song came on, and Y/N smiles as the melody sounded through the speakers in the room.

"How do you always have this perfect music mix ready?" She smiled, strolling toward where he was standing. "Do you have a playlist or something?"

She hadn't expected him to even answer that question. But when he shrugged, she realized it wasn't just an empty theory meant as a joke; it was true.

"Can I see it?" She pleaded, and Harry rolled his eyes. "Please?"

That was enough to have the phone handed over to her, unlocked and ready to see what kind of playlist he had found.

Only, she came across a self-made playlist. It had all the songs Y/N had ever mentioned, and other ones she enjoyed, all neatly packed into one list. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the title of the playlist: an angel wings emoji.

Y/N swore she felt her heart malfunctioning as she scrolled through the list, every last one of them being one she liked. Most of these, she hadn't even mentioned. How did he know she liked them so much?

It took her great strength keeping the tears in her eyes from flowing over as she stared at Harry's cellphone screen. Handing the phone back to him, Y/N mustered a light, grateful smile. His lips quirked up in return, but when his eyes grazed over her hand as he took back the device, his entire face expression fell. Y/N frowned, glancing down at her hand.

A blush painted her cheeks as she observed her bruised hand. Her knuckles hadn't yet healed from punching Oscar in the face, and her wrist was still marked from his painfully tight grip. It would have been a lie to say that her right hand didn't still hurt like hell and had become a constant reminder of what had happened Friday night, but she hadn't wanted to think about it too much anymore. Instead, Y/N had been trying to focus on the temporary bliss that Harry had graced her with.

But the look on Harry's face told her that she wouldn't be able to escape the topic of Oscar anytime soon.

"How much does it hurt?" Harry's voice was soft, and the tinge of sadness that accompanied it caused a quick lie to fall from Y/N's lips.

"It doesn't."

Harry frowned. "Don't lie to me. I know these kinds of bruises, they fucking hurt."

Y/N let out a breath, shrugging her shoulders. Mindlessly, she went to pull her hand back, but was stopped by Harry's hands wrapping themselves around hers. Stroking her knuckles with his fingers, he looked up at her.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable," Harry started, and Y/N's heart rose to her throat. "but if that asshole— if he did something to you without your consent, I need to know."

"Why?" Y/N scanned his eyes; they were filled with a simmering rage that echoed in the hidden growl behind his otherwise stoic tone.

"Because I'll fucking kill him, that's why." He said it like it was an obvious thing, as if she should have seen this reaction coming. But she hadn't, and her eyes widened at his words, though she couldn't deny she had the slight urge to smile at his protectiveness. It felt nice, people caring about her feelings.

Silence filled the room as Harry waited on Y/N's answer. She could see on his face that he was hoping she'd say no, that she'd tell him not to worry because he never touched her like that. But Oscar had touched her like that, and threatened her afterwards, and it was fucking humiliating. Y/N's heart ached as she felt the bitterness spread across her mouth, but she couldn't get the words past her lips. The lingering fear of trouble, a possible escalation, stopping her from telling Harry the full truth. Instead, she opted for something different.

"Where would you hide the body?" She joked, hoping it would distract Harry from noticing she couldn't answer his question truthfully. Nerves swirled when Harry's brows lowered, and before Y/N knew it, he turned around and began walking towards the door.

"Harry!" She called out, hurrying after him. He wasn't listening to her at all, proudly marching over to the exit of the gym. "Where the hell are you going?!"

Y/N only caught his hands when he was outside, at the parking lot. She let out a quiet gasp upon seeing the look on his face. The anger on his face was downright scary. He breathed out through his nose, looking to his left; any other way than into her eyes.

"I told you I'm going to fucking kill him." He said— or rather growled as he frowned into the distance. Y/N clenched her jaw, desperately trying to catch Harry's eyes. With a sigh, she grabbed his chin and spun it towards her so he was forced to look at her. The second Harry's eyes took in hers, that fiery rage of his melted into sorrow.

"Harry—"

"He hurt you." He interrupted Y/N, and she was quite sure she felt her heart cracked at the words. He looked so devastated... for her.

"I know." Y/N breathed. "But I need you to let it go."

His mouth fell open. "What? No! I'm not going to let him get away with—"

"I meant for now." She was quick to put a stop to his rant. Harry still looked confused. "Technically, I work for him, Harry. Besides, he's way more important at the firm. I need to figure out the best way to deal with this without ruining my own career in the process."

Harry's gaze travelled to the ground, the corners of his mouth tilted downwards. After mulling over her answer for a second or two, he reluctantly began to nod. It didn't take long before his green eyes found hers again, filled with more calm and certainty this time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to jeopardize anything. It's just—" He sighed, defeated. "He's an asshole, and I would just like to physically remind him of that all the way to the nearest hospital."

Y/N couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her mouth at Harry's vague and aggressive muttering. She hummed in agreement, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the gym again. She kept her eyes on him as she walked backwards.

"Maybe if you teach me that left hook I've been trying to perfect, we can give him that reminder together." She said, and her belly fluttered when she saw a smile slowly appear on Harry's face.

"Yeah?" He asked, letting her guide him back inside. She nodded.

"Call it team building." Y/N shrugged as she pushed the door open, not noticing how Harry's eyes lit up at her joke. There seemed to be no one inside anymore, the last staff probably gathering their things at the lockers. Still, Harry swept a quick glance of his surroundings before grabbing Y/N's waist and turning her around. Not expecting the sudden turn, she stumbled into him, hand on his chest to keep herself from falling over. She peered up at him like a deer in headlights. He thought it was adorable.

"We're a team, then?" Harry gave her a little nod that nearly sent her knees near buckling. Y/N swallowed—hoping it wasn't too obvious—and smiled awkwardly at him.

"Uh— I mean, I guess— I was just—"

Harry could only smirk at her, tongue running over his teeth. "I like the sound of it."

The nerves settled in her stomach and arose again all at once. He looked so good in this light and his jawline seemed even more prominent than it did before. Y/N could've sworn he was shaped by the hands of a divine extraterrestrial being; it would be the only logical explanation for his face.

The distant sound of footsteps snapped Y/N out of her analysis of Harry's impossibly handsome face, and she felt as red as a tomato as she writhed out of his grip and hurried over to hide in their training room as the rest of the staff said goodnight to their boss. She heard his casual response, and when the front door closed, he came stalking into the room.

"You're nervous around me." He stated, not even looking at her as he said it. Y/N frowned, head whipping towards him.

"What?" She scrambled to find cohesive words but Harry already began talking to her again.

"Is it because of what happened last week?" He asked, squinting his eyes at her. He had been quite anxious about what happened on Friday. He could imagine how much it must've afffected her, and he didn't want to do anything that might make her feel uneasy. He liked her— scratch that, he thought she was an angel sent to earth. But he wouldn't want to pursue her if that was not what she needed, especially regarding the circumstances.

"I'm not nervous—"

"You are, I can tell." He argued, gesturing towards her. "Listen, if I made you uncomfortable in any way—"

Y/N frowned. "You didn't! I swear, you didn't. I just—"

Harry raised his brow, signaling her to go on. She let out a heavy sigh.

"I was worried they'd see." Y/N confessed, anxiety lodged up her throat as the words reluctantly leave her mouth. She didn't want to offend Harry, and by the way his face expression didn't change one bit, she couldn't tell if she did or not.

"Who? My employees?" He tried to clarify. When she nodded, a hum fell from his lips. "Why?"

"Because it's unprofessional! I don't want them to think I'm like... a slut."

Harry couldn't fight the corner of his mouth tugging up ever so slightly at the way she whispered the last word. Though, the genuine look of distress on her face made him get back to business as quickly as possible.

"First of all, you're not a slut. Second of all, I don't think my employees care enough about my love life to be invested in who I'm sharing a bed with."

Not only the allusion to sex, but the insinuation that Y/N was a part of Harry's love life caused her ears to burn. She was quick to look down, and when in a curious moment she glanced up, Harry's head was tilted.

"There's something else you're not telling me." He said with a determination that had Y/N stomach twist. How could he read her so well? Or was she just being that obvious?

"W— what do you mean?" She stuttered, any hope of coming across nonchalant ruined by her nervousness. She scratched the back of her head, taking a step back. Harry took a step forward.

"Something else is holding you back, and it has nothing to do with other people's opinions. I just can't figure out what it is."

Y/N's heart was racing so hard by now, she felt like it was going to fall right of her chest. How did he make nausea feel so good? "Harry..."

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

Her eyes widened, the question catching her completely off guard. "Uhm, I—"

"Answer the question, angel. Do you?" Harry repeated, building even more proximity between them as he took some steps forward. Y/N took a deep breath, summoning all the courage she had to look him in the eye without appearing like a deer in headlights. She wasn't sure if she was succeeding.

"Yes."

He hummed, eyes flicking down to her lips, before staring back at her again. "Okay, do you want me to kiss you?"

A deep sigh. "Yes."

Y/N swallowed at the grin that spread across Harry's face. It was hard to steady her breathing with him looking at her like that. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth again.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

The question felt like a car crash.

Too flustered to actually speak, Y/N lowered her gaze away from Harry's observing eyes as she nodded timidly. The soft touch of his fingers under her chin had her weak in the knees, and when he nudged Y/N's head up, the expectant look on his face was demanding enough to verbalize her answer.

"Y—yes." She responded, and the twinkle in his eyes told her what he wasn't saying out loud. Good girl.

Bending over even more, Harry brought his face nearer and nearer to Y/N's, his eyes softly closing for a second when he was close enough to take in her scent. It was as if she was floating a cloud; that's what being near to Harry felt like.

"Then what's holding you back?"

The whispered question made her take a physical step back. Harry didn't look offended, only curious as he awaited an answer from Y/N. She crossed her arms.

"It's stupid..." She scoffed. "and embarrassing."

"Is this about what you told me yesterday? About not being 'experienced' as you put it." Harry asked, and took it as a yes when she didn't immediately respond. "Angel, you know that doesn't matter to me. Like, at all."

She sighed. "It's just— the experiences that I've had—with the exception of yesterday of course—haven't really been great, and I don't want to like... disappoint or something."

"So now, I— I tend to backtrack when things get too intimate." She confessed, crossing her arms. Her ears were burning from the vulnerability of her words and the proximity to Harry. He still hadn't stepped away. "It just doesn't feel comfortable for me."

She looked at Harry, who looked like he was thinking it over for a bit. It almost felt intrusive, the way he stared at her, as if she was a capturing painting in a museum. She could tell he was trying to make sense of it— of her. She just hoped he'd interpret her the right way.

"You felt comfortable yesterday, right?" He asked.

"I think I did." Y/N answered, and by the way Harry's face pulled she immediately regretted the answer. "I mean, I just wanted... it— you... really bad so I wasn't really focused on anything else."

That made Harry smile. He was allowed to, Y/N thought, he did a good job with those fingers of his. "Well then, what's the problem?"

"I just... I know the pressure is probably going to get the best of me. It's gonna make me close up and screw up." She half-smiled, but her heart broke. This was it, she was basically rejecting Harry and now he was going to back of like the gentleman he was, and Y/N would have to spend the rest of her life fantasizing about what he could've felt like.

"What pressure?" He wondered. Y/N shrugged.

"I think... the pressure of 'dating' or 'hooking up' I guess. Labels freak me out. Feels like so many expectations hang from them." She tried to articulate how her body had failed her romantic life for years now, hoping there was some part of Harry that would understand her. But he was quite silent, and with each second that passed, Y/N's faith in that sunk further and further down. Until Harry finally spoke.

"Then we won't date."

"What?" Y/N blinked, this answer being the last one she expected. Harry only shrugged.

"You don't want the expectations? Then we won't date. Won't give anyone anything to talk about either."

She frowned; that confused her. "So... you want to go back to how it was before?"

Y/N's impending stomach ache was miraculously lifted when Harry shook his head. "No... I was thinking, I could— assist you."

She tilted her head. "Assist me?"

Harry's mouth quirked up slightly as he hummed. "Find out what you like or don't like, explore a little bit. Y'know... take some of that pressure off."

With her eyes wide and lips slightly parted, there were one too many things flying through Y/N's head. So many, in fact, that the only comprehensible response was one word and one word only.

"Oh."

Harry sniffed a laugh and out his hands behind his back. "We don't have to of course, if you don't feel comfortable—"

"No! I do." She said quickly, a bit more desperate than to her own liking. "I mean— I feel comfortable."

Y/N's skin felt like it was on fire when Harry reached for her face and tilted her chin upwards with his fingers. She looked at him expectantly as he analyzed her face again. He was looking for traces of doubt, but Y/N thought he best be looking forever because there wasn't any on her part. She'd been attracted to Harry since the day that they met. And he was right, the knowledge that there would be no prying eyes suddenly incited a certain... craving in her.

"Okay, let's do that." Y/N said, her tone a bit more confident this time. She could tell he was equal parts surprised as amused by it.

"Yeah? You gonna let me help you out?" He was teasing her, his fingers spreading a little bit, almost as if his hand was going to wrap around her neck. A sensitive ache started growing in Y/N's lower stomach. She was in a for a rollercoaster and she liked it.

"Technically, you're already helping me." She just had to point it out. Her awkward laugh caused Harry to let out a genuine one, and her belly swirled at the sight of his tongue grazing his teeth.

"I am, aren't I?" He said, a bit softer. His eyes radiated it too, the fondness he seemed to hold for her. She had no idea why, she felt like she was the human embodiment of a baby deer that was figuring out how to walk. Somewhat endearing, yes, but mostly awkward and after a while, annoying. For some reason, the light in which Harry saw Y/N didn't paint her that way. Lucky her, she guessed.

"You're sure about this?" He asked again, and Y/N felt the need to roll her eyes. She didn't feel like she could be much clearer.

"Yes." She answered hurriedly. Harry quirked up a brow and caught Y/N off guard when his hand suddenly did wrap itself around her neck. She looked up at the man in front of her, heat pooling between her legs.

"Still sure?" He asked. When she hummed, his hand trailed down her body. Y/N felt her body tense up as his finger traced down her stomach and stopped right at the waistline of her leggings. Maintaining eye contact, Harry hooked two of his fingers into the legging, pushing it down just an inch.

Y/N felt the fabric of her panties getting wet with each second that his fingers were touching her skin. She was downright throbbing down there, which made her feel a little bit hazy because she hadn't felt that for someone in— ever, she thought.

"And now?" Harry asked, his fingers dipping into her leggings and lowering down towards her underwear. Y/N shut her eyes, nodding aggressively. She figured a non-verbal answer probably was inadmissible on his part, and decided to speak up.

"Yes." The word came out as a gasp for air, which it basically was, because as soon as his hands disappeared in those leggings it knocked the wind out of her.

But then he was gone.

Suddenly, Harry slipped his hand out of her legging and by the time Y/N opened her eyes he had already taken a step back. It was almost as if she dreamed it, with the ache between her legs and his devilish smirk being the only proof of what just occurred.

Y/N just stared at him, confusion—give or take a profanity—written all over her face. She saw the pride he took in it— her wanting him. If only he knew how attracted she was to him, his ego would never recover.

"Let's start working on that left hook, yeah?"

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east@mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove@bitchidontpost @lomlolivia @harringtonhundreds @fruit-harry

[squirrellypoo]

I sewed a Wolfkiller Cloak!

I have been a fan of Lestat's Wolfkiller Cloak for 30 years(!!) so when it made a surprise appearance in season 2 of Interview with the Vampire I just knew I would be sewing one for myself.

It looks incredible in the show, but then we also got to see more of it in better lighting during the short, behind the scenes "Episode Insider" for the episode. Essentially, this is a calf-length, blood-red velvet cape with an additional, elbow-length capelet on top, and a fur-lined hood.

But having made capes in the past, I realised that they are really impractical to wear due to limited arm mobility and having either your arms or body freeze through the openings.

So instead of sewing exactly what I saw on screen, I realised I could instead sew a swing coat + little capelet on top with fur-lined hood! And even better - make the capelet removable via hooks at the neckline so that they could be worn together or separately. This was a Eureka! moment for me. I wanted to make something that is somewhat authentic to the look of the original, but also practical to wear as an every day winter coat!

After quite a few muslins, I settled on the Charm Patterns Swing Coat (with some modified sleeves), and a self-drafted capelet (similar to my earlier cape from Claudia S1 NYE look) with a fur-lined hood. I drafted the hood pieces so that the fur lining is longer and wraps around the opening edge. This makes the fur more visible when its down around the shoulders, as in the show.

I used 5m of burgundy velvet and 0.5 m of Arctic Grey Wolf faux fur from CRS Fabrics (UK) - the fur itself was £60/m(!!) so I'm extremely pleased the show version wasn't entirely lined in fur like the book description (scroll down for more on that!). I underlined it for warmth using cotton flannel to block the wind, and found an incredible dark grey skull jacquard lining fabric at Mood Fabrics (US).

The swing coat pattern only has one button at the neck, so I made it count! I found the most perfect wolf head button on ebay and adjusted my bound buttonhole accordingly, but it really is the best statement button I could've ever asked for! The rest of the front opening is closed with enamel hooks and hidden thread bars to not distract from the clean lines when worn open.

In all, this took me about 6 weeks to sew and I am SO chuffed with how it turned out. I usually only take daytime photos for my sewing in order to best show off the details and seamlines, but for this I couldn't resist an additional nighttime shoot, too.

Even better - after I posted it to Instagram, the costume designer for the show, Carol Cutshall, not only said she loves it, but revealed a new piece of iwtv lore - they originally tried the cloak entirely lined in fur, but it was too heavy for Sam to move in!! (Which I can totally believe because mine is super heavy even with a lightweight lining!)

[hnslchw]

one of these days (part 2) - Aemond Targaryen X Reader

Summary: You were young when you promised to love him. You meant it. You still do. But something unspoken has rooted itself between you—something cold, something cruel. And the deeper you fall into the life you've built, the more you wonder if love is enough to survive what comes next.

Warnings/Themes: MDNI, slight ooc plot details, BLOOD AND CHEESE, targycest, marital strain, emotional conflict, greif/loss, references to war, infidelity, child death, trauma, implied sexualcontent (non-explicit), references to violence, complicated family dynamics, psychological distress, HOTD canon violence (pls tell me if Ive forgotten anything)

Word Count: 1.1k words

Authors Note: hello guys sorry short update 😖 I'll be posting the finale soon tho soooo. Anyways please let me know what you think and if there's any mistakes and warnings I've missed.

Taglist: @immyowndefender

part 1, part 3

The skies over King’s Landing bled a gentle grey the morning Aemond left for Storm’s End.

You stood by the window with your three year old son asleep in your arms, his soft breaths fogging the pale silk of your gown. Aemond kissed your temple and rested a hand briefly on your belly—round now, full of the child you’d soon meet. He didn’t know that Lucerys would fly to the same castle that very night, didn’t imagine that the winds would turn and never let either of them return the same.

You kissed him goodbye.

By the time the raven arrived, the skies had turned violent.

The scroll fell from your fingers before you’d finished reading.

Your knees struck the cold stone with a sound that echoed. And then the pain came, sudden and slicing—your womb contracting violently as if trying to mourn in flesh what had been lost in spirit.

The maester was summoned. The servants carried you to your chamber. You tore into sheets, into your own skin, into Aemond’s name as the contractions came faster, more brutal than the first time.

“Please—please, just get him out,” you sobbed, head flung back against the pillows, drenched in sweat and blood.

Your screams echoed down the halls of the Keep, and only Helaena dared enter the room, silent and pale, gripping your hand through the waves of agony. You didn’t stop screaming until your throat was raw, your body torn, and your son’s first cry split the air like a cracked bell.

He was alive.

So were you.

But something in you had changed. You knew it the moment you held him—knew it in the way your tears wouldn’t fall and your hands trembled even after the pain had passed.

You didn’t ask where Aemond was.

You already knew.

You wrote the letter while your sons slept.

Each word carved out of you like marrow, but gentler than war.

Mother,
I beg of you, I beg for peace. I have two boys now. The second came too early—he is strong, but he cries like he remembers every scream I made to bring him here.
I do not ask for forgiveness, only an end. I married a man I loved. I thought love could be enough to quiet the fire in our blood. I was wrong.
I know what Aemond has done. I know you grieve Lucerys. I do, too.
But if you burn the world, my children will choke on its ashes. Please, Mother. End this. Before the gods take more from us.

You sealed it with trembling hands and gave it to the raven-keeper before the dawn rose. You never heard back.

The silence said everything.

Aemond found your drafts of the letter days later. His face, unreadable as he skimmed the pages—lips tightening, eyes going distant.

“You were going to run?” he asked, voice low. “Take them to her? To them?”

“I was asking for mercy,” you replied, barely able to look at him. “Not for me. For our sons.”

But the damage had already been done. That night, he did not touch you. He stood by the window instead, as far from your bed as war was from peace.

Days passed. You saw him only in passing. The coldness in his eyes, the mechanical motions of fatherhood, the shadow of loss eating at his spine—it all made him less a man, more a monument.He turned away from you that night, and the cold that settled between you never left.

🗡️

You’d tucked your firstborn into bed only hours ago—he had begged for another story, and you’d caved, his little hand curled against your wrist as you whispered tales of brave dragons and gentle kings. Your youngest slept swaddled in the cradle by your side.

You stood outside the nursery door with Helaena, the two of you sharing whispered thoughts, heads bent together as the sounds of sleep settled into the hall. She laughed at something small you said, and for a moment, you both looked through the nursery doorway as if the world might stay suspended there forever.

Then the thud came.

Soft. Dull. Then again, harder.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

Helaena turned, eyes already narrowing. “That wasn’t—”

The door slammed open.

A scream—your scream—tore the air in two.

The men were inside the nursery before either of you could move. One held a dagger. The other, a sack. Your eyes widened as you recognized them—not their faces, but what they were here to do.

“Which one?” the fat one grunted. “You choose. Else we take both.”

“No—no, no,” you choked out, shoving past them, reaching for your son, who was sitting up in bed now, confused and blinking.

“Stay away from them!” you screamed, throwing yourself in front of the cradle and the bed, arms wide.

“Which one is the heir?” the thin one said, eyes dancing. “Come now, Lady Wife. You know how this works.”

“I’ll give you gold,” you begged. “Dragons. Anything.”

But they didn’t want dragons.

They wanted blood.

You lunged, but the fat one struck you down. You hit the ground hard, cheek splitting open on the stone.

And then it happened.

You didn’t see it—you only heard your son’s voice say, “Mother?”—before the silence fell.

A heartbeat.

Then screaming.

You scrambled forward, slipping in something wet. Blood.

Your son’s blood.

Your firstborn. Gone.

“NO!” you wailed, clutching what was left of him, sobbing like your bones would break. “No, please—he was just a boy, he was just a baby—”

The guards came. They were too late.

The men were gone.

You pressed your forehead to your child’s still-warm chest and sobbed. Helaena held you as you shattered. You don’t remember what was said after that. Only the way your world cracked in half.

Your son. Your heart.

Taken.

Not by war. Not by honor.

But in a bed where he should have been safe.

And in the marrow of your grief, you knew this had been your mother’s reply.

No ink. No words.

Just death.

[ecstasturns]

inspo writers if you’re experiencing writer’s block

we all get tired of writing and struggle to find inspiration. when Pinterest and tik tok stop working, where else do you go? well I have to say there’s nowhere better to get inspiration than from the talented, hard-working people on this very app. so here’s a carefully crafted list of writers I’ve found really helpful when it comes to upping my pen drive.

@mattluvr I’m a mattlluvr-luvr because every single piece of writing is amazing. I can never get bored on her account. polly, seriously let me give you head.

@waitforyrlove first of all, the AESTHETICS of this account. but no, the quality of the fanfics are undeniable. ik she’s currently on a hiatus but I had to mention it. go binge rn if you can’t write.

@sturnsrecord matilda is my favourite writer oat. also her theme rn is really great if you’re reading at night for some inspiration. istg sometimes i have dreams based off her writing.

@bernardsbendystraws i swear every time i need to get my motivation back i read through rose’s blurbs and fics. the genuine talent shines through on her page. there’s nothing she can’t write.

@ifwdominicfike please please please we need to make sure this queen never leaves. some nights I don’t think I would have survived if it weren’t for her works. avery is also just so sweet so leave her a nice message after binging.

@luvs4matt i actually have a dilf!matt blurb in the drafts based off her version of the au. cherry you are such an inspiration to me, and if anyone is reading this looking for daddy Matt motivation…

@delilahsturniolo bro. delilah is the fucking cutest. and I love her album marathon to pieces. also wanna say I love the theme. I have definitely scrolled through her account for inspiration.

@mattybsgroupie personally, I’d suck and fuck maria. anyway, yeah if you want some examples of well-structured smut that manages to be original and still interesting GO TO HER.

@55sturn star has the coolest aus. they are all structured so nicely and I’m star’s no.1 little sister. she’s also very open to giving advice so send her your questions.

@hysteria-things a sturniolo token writer. I’m literally haleigh and Chris’ love child. her masterlist is my home. and I’m willing to share so if you are bored or losing interest in wtv you’re writing, go read.

@darksturnz sol is so fucking cool, i mean just look at her account. she has the best takes and I am very fucking loyal to artist!chris. something in her writing is unique and it’s so easy to read while being entertaining.

@vanteguccir layout? check. skill? check. personality? check. lele checks all the boxes. her ability to write coherent storylines is something i look up to. if you want long, varied fics, her blog is the place you need to be.

@strnilolover has got to be the most supportive person ever. you can count on her to hype you up but also to write like Shakespeare with a keyboard and a viagra. do i need to say more?

[sweatyracoon]

Mine

A/n: this has been in my drafts for a very long time, and I saw the picture, and felt like taking a bite.

Warnings: suggestive, neck biting, marking, fluff

You sat on the couch next to your boyfriend, scrolling through Instagram, viewing his most recent fancam.

It was a common occurrence to view him online, despite having him in the flesh, but he didn't mind. He found it sweet.

It wasn't often he danced and sung just for you, so this was your way of getting your fill.

He was drifting as the movie dragged on, his eyes closing. He wasn't asleep, just resting while basking in your presence, seeing as he just got back a few days before.

Their world tour took a lot out of him, so he was glad to see that all you wanted from him were cuddles.

You grinned as you watched the man dance, his body rolls maturing into actual rolls. He was always so shy when it came to such a provocative dance, but it seemed he was becoming more comfortable with it.

It made you proud.

You scrolled through the comments, always happy to see the support the fans have for him. He needed it.

He wasn't as confident as he claimed he was, and you knew that these words empowered him, especially when doing shows.

You kept scrolling, smiling brightly. Until that comment. A desperate fan commenting lewd demands and desires, making your stomach twist with jealousy.

Your relationship wasn't a secret among the company, but you weren't public. You didn't mind until moments like these, making you want nothing more than to claim him.

This persons thoughts were displayed in the comments, the words making your head spin.

But he was yours. No one else's.

You couldn't help shoving your phone into the arm of the couch, huffing out as you crossed your arms across your chest.

One of Seungmins eyes opened in question, his Adams apple bobbing from swallowing. It was such a pretty sight.

"You okay?"

You shook your head, coming to straddle his hips, pinning him against the couch, making his eyes widen.

You had never been intimate before, so this was new to you both.

"Y/n?" His voice trembled, searching your eyes with his own, trying to guess at what made you snap.

"What, Min?" You whispered back, bringing your hand up to twist his hair. It was soft.

"What are you doing?"

You avoided his eyes, feeling the jealousy build up again at his question.

"Some of those fans of yours are too much, sometimes..." You mutter, your brows pinching together.

Seungmin realized what you meant, grasping your hips lightly in reassurance. He thought the sudden jealousy was cute.

"You know I'm yours, y/n. You don't have to worry," He gave a pat to your torso, but it did nothing for you.

"Yeah, but they don't know that," You whine, escaping his gaze by nuzzling into his neck. You rubbed your closed lips against his skin, making him shudder.

"Why would they, pup?" He leaned into your touch, loving the attention despite your sour mood.

"Maybe I should show them," You whisper so quiet he could barely hear you, but he did.

His eyes widened.

"What?" Before he could pull you away, you latched onto his sensitive skin, pulling a whimper from him.

You sucked gently before nipping at the skin, leaving a mark from your mouth.

You continued, marking as much skin as you could; his neck, collar bone, his throat.

All the while, his head tilted back, giving into you. Whines and light moans slipping passed his lips, his breathing becoming heavier with the more you moved against him.

Yet neither of you made a move to please each other where you needed it most. You were both satisfied at the moment. All you wanted for now was to show that he was yours, and yours only.

"Your neck is so pretty, Min," you moan against his skin, making him hiss as your teeth grazed his adams apple.

"It's all yours, pup."

His answer pleased you, rewarding him with a kiss, finally pulling back to admire your work.

His face was covered in sweat, his eyes lidded, his mouth swollen from biting them.

His neck was littered with dark spots, all screaming claimed. He looked so innocent despite the sex glaze over his eyes, making you want to coo at him.

"Now they'll know," You say more to yourself than him, but he took it with pleasure.

"I have an idea," He muttered before reaching for his phone.

You questioned him before he opened his camera, pulling you into a sudden kiss, taking a picture. Your eyes widened before he took another with you looking at him, him looking at you, angling it so that the hickeys were on full display.

He moved his fingers quickly across the screen, closing it before nuzzling back into you.

You heard your phone ding, making you unlock it to see your boyfriend had posted on his insta story. Your heart fluttered.

Opening it, you saw the two pictures you had just taken, the caption saying:

Taken. And they are magic~

You smiled, turning to see him grinning like an idiot.

"You're going to get in so much trouble,"

He then quoted you by saying, "At least they'll know."

[byhees]

when you find their baby photos.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship petnames light profanity (god) mention of food — more

a/n. i really dug through my drafts n found this keke

heeseung would snatch that little picture out of your grip in an instant, cheeks lightly brushed with a pink tint; “what’re you doing, love??”, but it’d be laced with slight bashfulness and embarrassment. would hold the photograph high up in the air, arm outstretched and everything, making it exponentially harder for you to retrieve the little treasure piece. “baby picture? what do you mean, love? i don’t see any around here.” is trying his hardest to conceal the painfully obvious flush of his face…

jay would stare at your phone screen, wide-eyed; first thought to run through his mind would be ‘how did you even manage to find that??’ would awkwardly clear his throat, whilst being bombarded with heaps of compliments— “woah, you look so cute here.” the tips of his ears are reddening. “aww, look at your little cheeks!” at this point, they’re probably neon-red; given your cooing at the slightly pixelated image, he doesn’t find it that surprising that his baby picture is adorning your phone lockscreen the day after, a shy chuckle escaping his lips...

jake would simply gawk at your phone; ‘oh, no yeah, who’s that?’ would be an ample encapsulation of his expressions. would be so so embarrassed (because who wants their significant other to see a picture of their younger selves striking a questionable pose— he’s definitely not a part of that population). would try to divert your attention away from the photograph of baby jake— but would fail miserably upon seeing you swipe to another picture, his little plan crumbling in pure mortification of the photo. “oh my god, what am i even doing…” is what he’d say, face buried in the palms of his hands, cheeks heating up with every passing compliment…

sunghoon would, first, let out the tiniest of shrieks because, is that a baby picture— correction, his baby picture— being shoved into his face? is dramatically swinging his arms in the air; would raise a hand to your eyes, as though to shield his photo from your gaze. “sweetheart, this is very embarrassing, by the way,” he’d say, awkwardly coughing. would, lowkey, smile a little upon hearing your soft coos; ends up holding you close to his embrace, smile growing with every endearing comment…

sunoo would tilt his head ever so slightly, and blink rapidly in confusion; after all, you did just burst into the room, a small, precious baby picture clutched in hand. honestly wouldn’t mind too much, finding himself really cute, actually. would say things like “don’t my cheeks look as squishy as before?”; manages to, somehow, convince you to reveal a baby photo of yourself— both of you would wind up entangled in a lazy hug, hushed squeals falling from your lips at the sheer adoration of it all…

jungwon would take a brief look at the photo and pause; he had not expected to see a zoomed-up picture of his younger self, holding a little heart gesture towards the camera. would burst into immediate laughter— snorts at how ridiculous he looks, posed with his slice of pizza; unintentionally recreates the image, face twisting to the same, jubilant smile. tiny tiny screeches along the lines of “that was cringe, please forget that”. would spend the night scrolling through his chat history with you, adamant and determined to find a baby picture of you in the midst of the chaotic texts— just wants to say “my baby’s still so pretty”, to you...

riki would, initially, be flabbergasted, gobsmacked even; a very audible gasp would fall from his lips. tries to get hold of the little rectangular device— that is, your phone— but fails because of how adept you are at defence; “hoho, two can play that game,” he’d say, whipping out his phone from his pocket; you both end up shoving baby pictures of the other in each others’ faces, lips pressed into thin lines to suppress uproars of giggles and disbelieving “what am i doing, oh my god”. your wallpapers are now baby pictures of the other…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[angelkiyo]

you never really thought you would be in such a damming cycle. the neon city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows of the taxi as you scrolled through your phone, ignoring the unread messages piling up.

another afterparty, another setlist played under flashing stage lights, another night he’d stumble back into your life just to leave again.

it was toxic, you knew that. but you couldn’t help but keep crawling back. especially since you’ve been doing this since he had gotten signed 5 months ago.

the phone screen lit up with his name—semi eita. your heart clenched, fingers hovering over the decline button, but you knew you wouldn’t press it. you never did. even if you wanted to, you just couldn’t. maybe it was attachment from high school or maybe it’s the insatiable desire you’ve had for him.

when you finally answered, his voice was low and raspy, almost drowned out by the bass thudding in the background. “where are you?”

you exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat and running your fingers through your hair. “why does it matter, eita?”

he let out a bitter chuckle. “you tell me. you always pick up.”

you hated that he was right. that no matter how many times you promised yourself you’d walk away, you were always waiting for him to call. always stuck in this cycle of late-night confessions and morning regrets.

“just come over. please, y/n.” he murmured, voice laced with something dangerously close to desperation. that thought alone made your legs weak.

and despite everything, despite knowing how this would end—you went. his grey-brown eyes entranced you the moment you entered his hotel room. you felt yourself practically squirming in lust as quick as you entered.

semi eita could be utterly enraged at the world in the lyricism found in his discography, but when he was with you, he touched you like you were made of porcelain.

he thrusted his hips at the right pace, hitting the right spot as you wrapped your arms around his neck tighter. you let out euphoric sighs of pleasure and rode his cock every time he quickened his speed. you felt him grab at your hips and move them out of acting in desire. “you’re gon come f’me, baby?

“mhm…”, you nodded and tugged at his ash blonde hair as he buried his head between your breasts. his raspy voice sent you over the edge as you felt his hands against your hips become tighter and his thrusts being more disoriented.

even after he cummed inside you, you stayed on top of him still. you looked at him, keeping your gaze upon his blissed expression. you tried to enjoy this the best you could, knowing he’d leave you as quick as he invited you over.

it was all too quick with eita. because you didn’t know whether it would seriously be the last time you would be with him.

however, all your doubts would soon vanish the next time he called you.

idk wtf this was lowk like schools been kicking my ass I need requests pls. also let’s also ignore how this old wip needed to get out of my drafts :]

[eqt-95]

💙 for supercorp , pretty please!

oh brilliant! yes of course!! i was hoping for this one so i'd finally be motivated to write the scene that was inspired by this post. i have literally had it saved in my tumblr drafts since february. and yes i just scrolled through half of my 784 drafts to find it.

- - - - - -

“Actually no, we're not ‘dating’. We're bound together for infinity. Like the stars. So, fuck you, actually-”

Alex clicked the remote, freezing the screen to perfectly capture a very outspoken, very drunk Lena Luthor doing an uncanny impression of Taylor Armstrong in front of a throng of paparazzi.

“Can we watch it again?”

“No,” Alex answered tersely, setting the remote next to three overflowing folders, a coffee mug that needed to be filled with something a little stronger, and a cellphone she had to silence after the hundredth social media notification sent it rattling off the table.

Nia slouched in her chair with a ‘hmph’ and muttered something that sounded like garbled nothing to normal ears but very much like ‘never any fun,’ to Kryptonian ears.

“Right,” Alex continued, her attention directed across the table. She’d spent the majority of the recording with her face downturn and fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in what could only be described as ‘resignation’ mixed with the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ strategy she had been trying with Esme.. “Care to explain what compelled you to proclaim you... infinite, cosmic link with Supergirl?”

“Not really, no,” a much more subdued, much less drunk Lena answered.

“Seems pretty self-explanatory,” Nia chimed in, spinning in the chair next to Alex. “Luthor can’t hold her liquor.” She bounced a clicky pen on the table-surface to accentuate the point. Alex gritted her teeth.

“I most certainly can-”

“Channel 7 says otherwise,” Nia grinned. The clicky pen was pointed accusingly.

“That,” J’onn began, and then pen clicked in offense, “is the least of our concerns-”

“Exactly,” Alex interrupted while blindly swiping the pen from Nia's hand and slamming it onto the table. “Do you have any idea how many conspiracy theories have started because of this? This has gone national-”

“International, actually,” Brainy added. “Canada and Australia have both picked it up.”

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world is needling around about- about…” Alex’s face plunged closer to a shade of raspberry.

“About what, Alex?” Lena asked. She leaned forward, arms crossed with her super sexy calm, cool, and ceo-collected face. It was almost working too, except for the mischievous glint and flicker of her eyebrow that revealed she was not taking this remotely serious enough for the eldest Danvers sister. “About my throuple with Kara Danvers and Supergirl?”

Alex’s face found her hands. Nia sputtered laughter from behind her own. J’onn stared longingly toward the closed door. Brainy scowled in confusion.

“It cannot be a throuple if two members are the same person,” Brainy said, glancing quickly toward Nia who nodded in confirmation.

“CNN doesn't know that. But fine, call it infidelity, stepping out on-” Lena offered lazily.

“Still not the point. You’ve jeopardized Kara’s secret identity,” Alex interrupted crossly. “And now you've put her in danger of-”

“I thought it was sort of sweet.”

Five pairs of eyes turned toward Kara who, until now, had remained silently observed. She sat at the head of the table wearing her suit and a recent bout of puppy love. Two pairs of eyes were gobsmacked, the third was failing to hide the glee over the entire exchange, and the fourth included a quick wink that made Kara’s cheeks flush even redder and bat her figurative tail even harder.

“Sweet. Right, well,” Alex began again, “‘Sweet’ doesn’t exactly handle the problem, does it?”

“It’ll blow over; these things always do,” Lena added. “We can have Andrea run a boring fluff piece about my night on the town being a slew of misguided comments. Say I said the earth was flat and that I challenged the Second Law of Motion or something. Make it dry. Everyone will chalk it up to part of that.”

“Fine.”

“And we can put this whole thing to-”

“Don't you dare-” Alex warned.

“-bed.”

Alex sighed, J’onn climbed to his feet like a tired high school teacher, Nia bounced giddily in her chair, and Lena was already glancing over at Kara and giving her a look that suggested they were not going to make it through the day without a trip to the broom closet. 

Kara's cheeks flushed even redder if that were remotely possible.

•••••••

And so a fluff piece was written, the tabloids took a few lazy swipes at another Luthor edging toward instability, and then the story deflated entirely into obsolescence. The news cycle moved on, Alex's blood pressure returned to normal, and Kara was permanently living on cloud nine.

Everything was fine.

Everything was great.

Everything was going swimmingly.

Until the second video was discovered.

From the same night.

Nia brought popcorn. J’onn brought a heavy sigh. Alex brought a decade of instantaneous aging. 

“Care to explain?” Nia asked with her best angry-Alex impression. 

Meanwhile Alex was struggling to unclench her jaw.

“Deep fake?” Lena offered lamely.

“Deep fake,” Alex parroted. “You think someone somewhere invested the time to deep fake Lena Luthor and Supergirl making out? For what? Fun? Kicks? Laughs?”

“They already spend hours writing steamy fanfiction,” Lena shrugged. 

“They what-?” Alex choked.

“Hot, steamy, inspired sex, really-”

“No-”

“Kara, darling, do you remember the one with my desk and the full-length windows?”

Kara flushed but nodded. Nia squealed with delight. Alex had had it.

“Enough-”

“Or the one where we lived in an alternate universe and you were a cowboy and was your-”

“Stop. Stop it.” 

Lena leaned back into her chair, a smile of victory spreading across her face.

“I’m just saying, stands to reason someone might show us in the throws of deep, passionate-”

“I don't want to know. I don't. Want. To know,” Alex interrupted, hands cupped around her ears.

“Cosplay?”

Again five pairs of eyes turned to Kara. 

“Could've been cosplay.”

“I can't believe… J’onn can you… handle… this,” Alex waved between the two.

“Should we watch it again?” Nia suggested. “Just to check Kara's theory.”

And without preamble, she clicked play again. It was far fuzzier, far more amateur, and far less deniable than the first.

“Charlie, Charlie, baby look here,” the phone holder shouted over a group of laughing, tipsy NCU students. “Do the impression again, please? I want it for-”

“Yo, yo, check it out.” 

“Is that-?”

The camera pivoted from the ginger-haired Charlie to a dark alley between 

“Oh damn, is that Supergirl?”

“And… Lena Luthor?”

“I knew it. I told you!”

The stage whispers were doing far more for Alex’s discomfort than the shaky camera zooming 2x onto what was very clearly Supergirl pressing Lena Luthor into a wall and doing a very good job of ripping Lena’s $1,200 blouse open. 

“Ooph, Mrs. Fischer is not going to be happy about that,” Nia commented.

A glitter of buttons bounced off the sidewalk, and Supergirl’s mouth was moving hungrily and decidedly across the exposed skin.

“We’ve seen enough,” Alex chimed in and reached, some might say ‘desperately’, for the remote in Nia’s hands. “Once already scarred me for life-”

“But we won’t know until we see drunk, cosplay-Lena’s face. It’s for science, Alex,” Nia answered, clutching the remote like the lifeline to a sinking ship and climbing onto and over the conference table just as ‘cosplay’-Lena pulled ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s mouth back to her.

“Bullshit,” Alex hissed, making quick work of scattering across the same table. 

Meanwhile ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s hands were no longer visible and the gang of NCU students were actively chanting them on. “Nia Nal, if you do not turn that off right now-”

The chase continued under the table, over three chairs, and around a trash bin Nia knocked over in a valiant attempt to slow her assailant. And while Nia and Alex made a mess of the conference room, ‘cosplay’-Supergirl was making an absolute mess of ‘cosplay’-Lena’s bun-

“Never!” Nia huffed and side-spun before making a poor calculation and tripping over an empty chair. Alex saw her window and lunged, tackling Nia, gripping the remote free and slamming pause just as ‘cosplay’-Lena found the zipper to ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s suit.

“Do you have any idea the-” Alex’s vitriol stopped in its tracks. Why? Because they were totally and completely alone. No Brainy or J’onn and worse, no Lena or Kara. “What… where’d they go?”

“Probably the broom closet,” Nia mused.

- - - -

ask game

[takamiwife]

Got sick and can not stop coughing at all and yhe worst part is my period started the same time rip

Could i request a lil comfort thing for hawks or dabi comforting the reader who is sick and also feels even worse cause she has rlly bad cramps?

AWW I HOPE YOURE FEELING BETTER :(( sorry this is likely out after you’re all better but this still deserves to be written !! if you’ve submitted something to my inbox dw, i have seen it and it’s in my drafts, im just going in order!! 💞 also, there’s some sex and the city spoilers toward the end of it, for season 3, so just watch out for that if you’re watching it/interested in watching it!

well, sick season was back and hit you full force. you woke up, your throat feeling like it had been scratched by a thousand cats and your nose stuffed. you groaned, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. you shuffled out into the kitchen, nearly passing out from reaching up into the cabinet to get some tea.

“baby? are you okay? you’re up early” keigo yawned, following you out into the kitchen

all it took was for you to turn around, looking at keigo; tired, darkened eyes, puffy cheeks, and your body being able to stand.

“jesus, you definitely are not,” he frowned, putting a hand to your forehead. “you don’t feel like you have a fever… here, come on, sit down,” he guides you over to the couch, watching as you slump against the comfortable throw pillows. he hands you the remote and moves back into the kitchen, immediately making you some tea — you never seemed to have an appetite when you were sick, but hopefully you could handle this.

after adorning your tea with honey, he moved back to the couch, placing them in front of you, replacing the throw pillows with his own body as you lay on his lap.

you whimper, holding your stomach; as if everything else wasn’t bad enough, the universe decided to curse you with cramps too.

he stroked your hair, using a few of his feathers to retrieve the pill bottle from the bathroom, not wanting to move from his position. he opened the red-capped bottle, tapping a few pills into his hand. “here, cmon, you can sit up for me right?” he coos, helping you sit up and make sure you toon the pills, hopefully to at least help with the pain. “there we go, that’s my girl” he smiled

“don’t you have work?” you say quietly, moving your head back down to his lap.

“i can be a little late, they can manage without me. don’t worry about it, alright?” he said softly, running his hands along your side.

now, had you woken up with dabi, it would go a little different.

you lay in your shared bed, surrounded by his scent, but your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. he had been out all night doing.. god knows what with the league, and you had woken up with all of the worst symptoms imaginable. you scrolled on your phone, praying he’d be back soon so he could help you.

luckily, something listened, as he cracked the door open, trying his best to be quiet; a surprisingly sweet gesture from him when he was out all night on missions.

“shit, are you okay?” he kneeled in front of you. “you look awful”

“thanks for the reminder,” you say through a stuffed nose. “my throat is on fire, i can barely breathe through my nose, and of course i have to have fucking cramps..”

“well.. hey, at least you aren’t pregnant” he shrugged

you glare at him, a small part of you finding the silver lining a bit amusing

“can you.. help me, please? you know, like a good boyfriend?” you hide your smile

“uhh…” dabi trailed off, playing with a strand of your hair. of course he wanted to help, he just.. didn’t really know how. he didn’t really get sick, and if he did he just popped whatever pill was in his cabinet and said fuck it and continued on. “yea.. what do you want? we’ve probably got a whole stash somewhere - xanax, percocet, oxy, if you want something a little stronger.. uh, a little coke might not hurt, just rub it on your gums”

“are you insane?” you stare at him blankly. “do you just have, like.. tylenol? midol? anything like that? and not.. crushed up and in a line. in pill form”

“yea, yea, let me go check. pussy..” he muttered, shooting you a smirk.

you used your little strength to smack his arm, unable to hide your smile.

after digging around under his sink, he was finally able to find some normal, non-hard drug tylenol.

he returned to you, holding onto your side as you sat up, taking the pills with a swig of water.

“you uh.. really don’t feel good, do you?”

“you couldn’t tell?” you ask through your scratchy voice.

as you lay back down, he looked at you, your eyes closing as you groaned. he tried to remember back when he was a child; there was a short period of time where he got quite sick during the winter, and his mother was nothing short of a saint. cartoons, warm soup, medicinal tea, cool wash clothes on the forehead.. the whole nine yards. it was clear that what you needed right now was him, and he was more than willing to give that to you.

“c’mere..” he shuffled beside you, pulling you onto his chest. “are you.. hungry? do you want anything warm? that’d help your throat, right?”

“not right now.. just wanna sleep right now..” you say into his chest, and he pulls the warm blanket over you, kissing your head as you fall back asleep, finally sound and able.

now, as you fell back asleep on keigo’s lap, he knew he couldn’t ignore his work any longer or they’d have his head on a spike. in an indiana-jones style move, he replaced his lap with a pillow, draping a blanket over your sleeping form. he kneeled in front of you, watching you sleep as he kissed your forehead.

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m sorry i have to leave..” he whispered, brushing some hair away from your face.

luckily, with the day being quite boring, within about three hours of working, he was able to convince his side kicks to take over for the day; “you guys can handle this, i have a sick girlfriend i need to take care of. i mean, what horrible things are going to happen, it’s a random tuesday.”

back at home, you stirred back to life, the pain now having subsided a decent amount. you reach for your phone on the coffee table that sat beside your tea, clicking keigo’s contact. he picked up rather quickly, his voice being a comfort on the other line.

“hey my love, finally awake huh?” you could hear his smile through the screen.

“yea, i just woke up”

“ah, well your throat sounds a bit better. how are the cramps?”

“um, a lot better.. sorry to make you late, but i appreciate you staying with me”

keigo chuckled

“they were fine without me, love. actually, i just left them”

“what? but-“

“but nothing. i’m on my way home, want me to get your favorite?”

you sit up, smiling. “…if it isn’t too much trouble”

“i figured you’d say that. i’m already on my way there. i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“okay.. i love you”

“i love you too”

still being held in dabi’s arms, you slept surprisingly soundly despite everything. he slipped out of your grip, making sure you were comfortable before going to the raggedy kitchen downstairs, searching for anything that could make you feel better. but he was doubtful the crumbs in the dirty cupboards would help much. so, with no other choice, he put on his hoodie and a mask, pulling it up over his nose, less likely to be recognized.

so, after walking a few blocks to the nearest convenience store (that also happened to have a deli), he returned home with your favorite soup, a box of tea bags, and an ice cream bar for you to enjoy later if you felt better. after placing the ice cream in the fridge, he made a nice warm cup of tea (thanks to the help of his quirk) and brought that, along with your soup up to the room, setting it on the bedside table.

“hey,” he shook you gently. “i got you something.”

“mmh.. you’re supposed to let sick people sleep.” you whined.

“fine, go on and sleep, but your soup is gonna get cold”

you opened your eyes; okay, you were quite hungry now. you reluctantly sat up, placing your back against the wall.

“there she is,” he grinned slyly. “morning sunshine” he said, handing you the cup of soup with the plastic spoon. “and there’s um.. tea, too.”

“wow, you really went all out, huh?” you smile from over the cup.

“of course i did. it’s for you, after all.” he brushed it off.

“well, thank you honey.” you coo, gently scratching his chin. damn, he loved when you did that.

he sat beside you, occasionally accepting bites of your soup.

“if i get sick from this, you’re so dead” he

“you’d love me taking care of you, don’t lie”

“…fair enough”

within about forty five minutes, keigo had returned home, takeout bags in hand as you paused your show. he placed them down on the coffee table in front of you, unpacking them.

“thank you, kei. i mean it, really. you didn’t have to do all this.” you say, smiling at him as he came back with plates for the two of you.

“what do you mean? of course i did. i love you, and you didn’t feel good, so of course i had to help you feel better.” he said, placing the food onto a plate and handing it to you.

“well, still-“

“still nothing,” he cut you off, leaning toward you. “you take care of me all the time. this was nothing compared to all you do for me.”

your heart swelled as you stared at his determined face.

“now, catch me up. what’s going on with the girls?” he gestured to the tv.

“well, carrie just cheated on aidan with mr. big…”

after a few hours of lazing about and watching your favorite show on dabi’s phone, he returned to the room with his hands behind his back.

“i got something else for you, too… figured since you’re feeling better..” he pulled out the wrapped ice cream bar, holding it out to you.

“oh, baby..”

“i know it’s not the best, but it could help your throat feel better and.. i dunno, you like ice cream, so..”

you sit up on your knees on the bed, pulling him into a hug.

and as you enjoy your treat, he sits beside you.

“so, feeling better?”

“much. thank you, doctor.” you tease.

“well.. good. i don’t like seeing you like this.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, holding your ice cream up to him.

as much as he hated seeing you sick, dabi loved taking care of you for the day. of course he wanted you to feel better, but.. he wouldn’t mind another day of holding you in bed.

[gingerteawrites]

Babysitter - Geto Suguru

A/N: One of my lovely friends mentioned this idea in passing and I have NOT been able to stop thinking about it. So enjoy reading my brainrot lol. Definitely the start of a series hehe.

Content: geto suguru x female reader, dad!Geto, college student reader, non jujutsu au, angst, fluff.

Divider by: @k1ssyoursister

School be damned, the economy be damned. In fact, the entire world be damned. Making ends meet these days was becoming an achievement. And your little college student pockets hurt (more accurately, they were utterly and desperately empty).

You had applied for every open position you came across; on-campus, barista at your local cafes, server at that one sketchy bar and even dog walker but nothing seemed to last. Interviews went awry, creepy bosses drove you to the end of your wit and bad pay was routine. You sighed, beyond exasperated as you flopped onto your tiny twin bed.

Selling feet pics was starting to look a little too enticing of an option.

You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your email inbox, hoping to see something positive from any of the positions you had recently applied for.

**ding**

The pop-up of a notification draws your attention away from the endless emails --mostly unanswered-- and you open the text.

[girly I think I found you a job]

You immediately sit up, the words from Kugisaki leading fresh hope to bloom in your heart. Your fingers tap quickly across your keyboard.

[wait fr?? istg if you're playing with me]

[if you think i'm lying then i won't tell you what it is anymore]

[no, no come back] you send a string of crying emojis, imagining the smirk on her face before the typing bubbles reappear on your screen.

[since you asked so nicely! Babysitting job. A guest lecturer for one of my classes. Really chill dude]

You sighed, shoulders drooping as soon as your brain registered the message. You were about to turn your screen off when the bubble appeared again.

[I know you don't like babysitting jobs, but give this one a try okay? Plus the guy pays really well] attached was an email address, certainly that of the one looking to hire.

[Thank u, I really appreciate it <3] you typed back, flopping back onto your bed.

Your sighed again, and closed your eyes. It was so cold. Your town had been victim to a series of winter storms. Even nature seemed done with the world's shit. But the prospect of having to deal with another high electricity bill if you turned the heat any higher led you to your closet, grabbing one of your thicker hoodies instead.

You should be grateful. You muttered to yourself, heading to the bathroom and splashing water on your tired face. Financial aid covers tuition, and you are not homeless. You turned the faucet off, watching the heavy bags in your reflection. The person in the mirror looked so tired, life slowly drawn out of her. You should be grateful. The mantra had long lost its desired revitalizing effects but you kept at it regardless. Repeating it to yourself incessantly.

Somehow you managed to find leftover takeout in your tiny fridge, eating your dinner to the sound of your old radiator using the last of its life to barely warm the place. You sighed again, eyeing the email address your friend had sent you. She wouldn't recommend someone untrustworthy. She would never put you in harm's way.

Resigned, you drafted an email. The usual pleasantries, introduction and intent for the position. As soon as you clicked the send button, you pushed your phone away. It didn't matter. The person would probably ghost you anyway.

And then, you really would have to look into feet pic selling forums.

He had replied. In record time actually, only a few hours after you sent your email. Your eyes scanned over the words of the email again, in partial disbelief.

[Thank you for your interest. An interview with me and my girls is all I need to see if we would be a good fit. Please let me know your earliest availability]

Straight to the point and maybe a bit dry, but it was much better than most of what you had been getting. You chewed on your bottom lip, deep in thought.

Being in a strange man's house for extended periods of time was still unsettling.

You should be grateful for the opportunity. Are you really going to let your trauma get in the way. Stop acting so weak.

A reply was typed in before you could psych yourself out, sighing as you put your phone down. He better pay as well as Kugisaki promised. Well, you would find out soon anyway.

What kind of people were Geto Suguru and his daughters... And would this job finally allow you some respite? A hint of stability in these tumultuous times?

Trying to get myself out of a writing rut ughhh. I hope you enjoyed this one though, I'm really excited about starting another series. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[gimmeyourlovepls]

Trapped

paring: earth 42! miles morales x reader

warning: cheating, gaslighting, basically not a cute fic

summary: you find out miles is cheating on you, and with a heavy heart, decide to leave him, but he's not letting you go.

a/n: hey! sorry this is the first thing im contributing to this fandom, i have a really long story in my drafts that im still working onnnnn this piece of work is inspired by a fic i either saw on here or ao3, pls tell me if u find it so i can credit them ;-;

Cariño = Honey

¿Entiendo? = Got it?

"Thanks for coming, have a nice day!" The cahier said as you walked out of a bakery with a box full of cupcakes, along with some chocolates and other snacks you bought earlier. You were basically bouncing with joy, a massive grin present on your face.

Today was you and Miles' 2 year anniversary, and although there had been a couple of bumps on the way, you were happy that both of you were still together. You looked at your phone to check the time and saw that Miles texted you back.

Mi amor <3

You: happy anniversary!

You: i have a surprise for you but its not ready yet

You: I'll text you when its done then you can come over <3

Mi amor <3: aight see you soon princessa

Giggling, you walked over to Miles' apartment building and walked through the hallway towards his room, already searching through your pocket for the extra key he gave you in your bag. As soon as you found it, you opened the door as quiet as you possible could, which was hard as hell with all the stuff you were holding.

You pushed the door open with your feet and walked slowly, and it seemed like Miles didn't hear, you, because you heard no footsteps coming for you. Putting your stuff down on a couch, you walked around trying to find him.

As you neared his room, you started to hear noises that sounded like Miles and something else, you couldn't really tell. You still wanted to surprise him through, so you slowly pulled open the door.

"Miles please..." A girl who had never seen before was on YOUR man's lap, pressing kisses on his face and slightly grinding against him. "Calm down, cariño, I'll take good care of you soon," he said as he held that girl's hips and grinded her hips down with a groan.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you brought your hands over your mouth. You slowly walked backwards and slammed his door, knowing he would be able to tell he got caught, grabbing all your stuff, leaving his extra key that he gave you on a table and running.

Your legs carried you all the way home, though it was a far distance. You couldn't even feel the burn with how sad you were. As soon as you got to your house, you locked all the windows and doors, knowing Miles would try and get in. You just wanted to lay in bed and cry, but you knew you had one more thing to do.

Mi amor <3

You: dont fucking text me anymore, be happy with that girl.

You: by the way, happy anniversary :)

================================================

Scrolling on your phone, feeling sorry for yourself, and eating the snacks meant for you and your now ex was not how you thought your night would go, but the occasional funny video made up for it. You changed out of your nice outfit and wore your most comfortable pajamas (apart from Miles' shirts), stuffing chips into your mouth when you heard banging on your window. Your mom was home and asleep, but she wasn't that heavy of a sleeper, so you went to your window and pulled back the curtains.

"Ugh," you groaned as you saw who was standing behind the glass-pane. "I'm gonna keep knocking if you don't let me in." His voice was muffled, but you understood enough to unlock and open the window for him.

"Hey look-" He started, but you were NOT listening to his BS. "No Miles, you look. I have dealt with you for the past TWO years. Every time you have stared, flirted, or even made out with another girl, I have ignored it and forgiven you. I have NEVER cheated on you, I have even ignored all my male friends for you because you get so jealous. I'm tired Miles, and I can't with you. Please leave."

"Cariño-" Miles pleaded with you. "Don't call me that. That's what you called that girl you were smooching earlier. Go back to her and never talk to me again." You started pushing him towards the window, desperate for him to leave before you either started crying or beating the crap out of him.

"No, we aren't doing this shit." He pushed you backward until your back was against the bedroom door. "Miles, don't-" Your insults dissolved into air as he started to kiss you, the way he did at the beginning of your relationship, when you thought he still loved you. "I ain't leaving you, and there is no way your leaving me, ¿entiendo?"

You wanted to say no, but your heart still longed for him desperately, so you melted into his touch. He noticed your response and pulled back to pull you into a passionate kiss.

It didn't matter what you did, you were trapped, and Miles certainy wasn't letting go.

hey yall i was feeling silly and decided to writeeeeee hope u at least semi enjoyed it and that u have a good day/night :))))

(also if ur waiting for a part two, dont hold your breath, im literally having the worst writers block ever and can not. HOWEVER, if you have requests, please send them in so i can write thank youuuuuuuuu!)

[jojo-oliver]

How to tumblr for artists… my own version

A collection of things that have been working for me, but may not work for everyone

~~~ your posts ~~~

!!!reblog your own stuff!!! you need to reblog your own stuff, there is nothing morally wrong with reblogging your own stuff regularly. in fact, it is morally right to allow the chance for more people to see your artwork.

~~~ queue it!! ~~~ my queue is 500 posts strong. maybe don't try to make your queue hundreds of posts strong in the same day omg but like… once every month or two i'll go through my whole blog and just scroll and "add to drafts" to every one of my own posts i have. then i'll use the "mass post editor" to add content warning tags. and add to queue, and shuffle. and then I write down what the date was for when I last added my posts to be reblogged on queue. this is helped by turning on timestamps for posts in tumblr "dashboard preferences" settings.

queueing is necessary and life saving for me. It takes out so much work with decision fatigue and the anxiety around posting. It also guarantees that even if I suddenly need time off or away from my phone, I don't just disappear and lose all traction. It also breaks the instant-gratification cycle that you expect when you finish an artwork. It's hard to keep creating when you post something and, when you're expecting to get that gratification, you get none... If you queue your new artwork to come out at a later time, you've separated that expectation - with time. It hurts less and contributes to a more consistent gratification thing instead of peaks and troughs.

~~~ tag ya stuff ~~~ when you're making a new post, the first 20 tags are what gets put into the searchable tags. do not feel shame for using lots of tags. shame is the mind-killer. tags are hard. hard to know what to tag a post with. hard to remember the tags. so I found some ways to help myself. maybe they'll help you too. dedicate some time towards just figuring out what tags you want to use. i have a list in my phone notes that i add tags to and reference whenever i'm making a new post. i have the phone right beside the laptop while i'm tagging so that i can just look at it and scroll. tags are the only way for people to find your artwork, other than people manually coming to your blog because they saw you somewhere. there is no algorithm. posting without tags, until you have an established fanbase, is throwing something into the void.

When I'm doing tag research, I look at what people seem to use - when you put something in the search bar, tumblr recommends you some that have a higher following, typically. Looks like this on desktop:

if you like one tag, look at what other people who use that tag also tag their posts with. Observe and learn how this tag is used. search through a bunch of them and write them down.

here's what i got in my notes, for the specific kind of art I post and look for:

these tags are sort of specific to me and the kind of art I make. You'll want to research your own tags, but this is an example of how I keep them organized to make posting more effective. I generally only write down a tag when it's got more than 2k followers. You might be tempted to use the tags with millions of followers, but I've actually found those a lot less functional for small artists. If your stuff doesn't immediately get a bunch of notifications, you're drowned out and pushed to the bottom much faster. But the bigger tags are better than no tags, so I keep them if I can't think of anything else to tag something with.

~~~ post at the right times….? ~~~

fridays and saturdays is when I post fresh new things... usually. every website has it's own peak hours, and you can find those hours in many different online articles that try to sell you social media growth services. tumblr is unique in having later hours.

here's some random graph from google images:

please don't over think this. please don't let this consume the idea of when to post, preventing you from posting at all. it doesn't mean too much - if you post during very active hours, maybe your art would just be pushed down the feed faster. if you post at the end of hours, maybe everyone's going to sleep… if you post at inactive hours, maybe there's less 'competition'… if you post at the beginning of active hours, maybe that's just more time for your post to circulate for the day, if you have enough people reblogging it once it drops....

this also is in EST. So fuck the other time zones, I guess. I'm over here in europe knowing that the "best" time to post would be like 2-3am or something. It's like this for most english-speaking majority sites - higher traffic in north american time zones.

it's also worth mentioning that this is scattered as heck, compared to other social media sites. and it's not like, the activity times of your followers. it's not the best time to post for your niche. this is just tumblr, broadly. all of tumblr.

~~~ Plan ahead for annual dates ~~~

Your artwork will get more circulation if it's posted on a celebratory day. You could just put them on your calendar and if you're wondering what to make, look on the calendar for what's coming soon. For example, asexual awareness day, trans day of visibility, location-specific holidays, etc. Here's my phone notes thing with my own recorded annuals:

I got these dates from googling and reading different articles, but I find that I still miss dates, and then I add them for next year. If you know of some I missed, tell me and I'll add them please <3

~~~ reblog other people's stuff ~~~

tumblr is sorta about ecosystems. things get passed around within groups of people that are all following eachother. to enter this ecosystem, you must engage and reblog other people's stuff too.

if you reblog other artists' stuff, sometimes they'll come over and reblog your stuff too. sometimes they'll follow you back. this is called becoming a mutual. I'll search specific tags for the kinds of people I want to follow and the kind of art I like - those are listed in the screenshot of my tag note under "Tags for finding new people".

I see a lot of blogs out there that are very clean, posts are tagless, and are only for the artists' content. like scrolling through a portfolio. I imagine this is good for people who are migrating to tumblr but already have their own established fanbase from elsewhere.

you don't need to do reblog other people's stuff on your art blog, you can do this on a separate blog. but if the two don't look very closely correlated, it's hard to tell who you are when you're interacting. and hard to make sure people know that you are the same person as your art blog. and you gotta remember to promote yourself on your personal blog.

~~~ have an art tag ~~~

make your blog easy to search!

if i go to your blog, and you've written 'artist' or 'sometimes art' in your bio, i wanna see it… it make me so sad when i don't get to see it. i want to reblog it. please let me reblog it :(

to make a tag on your own blog searchable, you don't need to repost it to add a tag. you don't even need to reblog it. you can actually just go back to the original post and edit it to add your tag. I've seen post people just have their art tag be something like #(blogname)art . you can see my own in my tags image above. if it's very unique, then it'll work tumblr-wide. I think that's good, since the tumblr search function is really weird. Otherwise it should still work if it's not entirely unique, people just have to make sure they're searching specifically your blog to see only your stuff.

I like to have a link in my pinned post where people can click to have immediately searched for my art tag. Convenience is king. Keep in mind that most people are on mobile, and if something isn't immediately clickable, they often won't find it.

~~~ be consistent and be patient ~~~

!!!this time will pass anyway!!! how many notes you have is not correlated with how good you are as an artist. wanting to earn something from your art means you essentially have two jobs. two potentially full time jobs. this shit's difficult. most of the job is promoting yourself. don't undersell how hard it is to do… don't feel bad for not immediately succeeding. I would write about how hard it's been to promote myself, but it would just be long and sad I think.

This isn't a full guide, please feel free to add more!!

I'm sure in another year I'll disagree with a lot of this, it will become irrelevant with time, and I'll have a lot of different opinions. Chip in and share what you've been doing? Teach me? This is very overwhelming. Don't do it all at once, just like, try one thing at a time, and see how it works for you. Your niche might be different. One size does not fit all. If you're confused about some of the things I talk about in here, you might be on mobile. I do most of my queueing and posting from the desktop browser version.

I will update this with more as things change, but I think you'll have to click through to see the updated post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"So your sister will be coming by next week with the little ones," your mother declares as you stand at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of roast beef and potato. "You'll get to play auntie for the day."

"Mhmm," you nod, "what about Justin?"

"Oh, your brother's down visiting with his fiance's family. He said he'd try to make if for Christmas Eve but you know how her family is."

You sniff and pretend to know. You really don't. It's all hearsay to you. You don't hear much from either siblings; they have lives, you just happen to be related.

"S-sounds great," you utter as you put another plate in the rack.

"Oh, honey, you should just use the dishwasher," she says.

"It's f-f-fine, this works," you insist.

"Well, what about you? What are you up to?" She leans on the counter.

"I..." you don't know what to say. You need a lie, anything to appease her. Your brother's engaged, your sister has the white picket fence and you have nothing, "oh, I h-have a job interview."

"You do?" She sounds thoroughly disbelieving.

"Uh, yeah, w-well," you stammer through, trying not to give away your deceit, "since n-no one wants to h-hire me in my f-field, I f-found something new."

"That's exciting," she chimes, "what is it?"

"Uh, I w-want to see i-if it turns out b-before I say," you give a tight-lipped smile, "don't want to d-disappoint you again."

"Sweetie, you're not a disappointment," she hums, "I'm always happy to see you trying."

You look down at the sink and shrug. Behind that comment is the inference that you weren't trying before. That you haven't been. The long nights with vivid nightmares don't exactly motivate you and you've been all but blacklisted as an executive assistant. Even admin roles aren't responding. Even if you do get a bite, the job market is drawn out and tedious.

"Thanks, mom."

"Just... try not to mope around the kids," she chides, "it's Christmas."

You flutter your lashes, "sure, mom."

That's what you are to everyone; weak, pathetic, useless. No, don't do that. You'll make another appointment with Lisa, she always knows what to do.

☕️

Well, this is it. A last resort. One of those freelancing websites that pays pennies. It's better than nothing and will keep you from having too big a gap on your resume. You could easily do the writing gigs, easy money for transcription. You apply to a few of those and scroll on.

You sit up as you see a particular posting that interest you. Oddly enough, the pay isn't half bad. It's also labeled as 'may lead to ongoing work'. Well, well, well, now that's something.

You click into the posting for 'Podcast Script Writer' and review the details. A sample is required for application and lucky enough, you have lots of those hanging around. If it wasn't for your stammer, you'd have an episode done by now. You deleted enough recordings to the point of giving up. Well, this is a solution. You can get your work out there without having to embarrass yourself.

You go through the application, putting in your info and editing a draft before attaching it to the application. You just hope it's thorough enough. You never really let anyone else see and hitting submit makes your stomach flip. With the final click, you close your laptop and quickly get up. Alright, you're not going to dwell on it. If you hear anything, you'll worry then.

You try to read but can't focus. It just makes you think of the posting and your application. Oh jeez, imagine you're rejected but worse, they tell you you've done everything wrong.

Appointment! You can't forget that. You login to the app and put in a request for a Zoom appointment that week. Alright, you're getting things done, you can't say you've done nothing.

You put a video on your phone and lean it on the pop out grip, propping it up on your mattress to watch the compilation of sitcom moments cut together on Youtube. Your mind wanders and your eyes begin to sag as the day shrouds you in fatigue. You slip into a shallow doze as the glare of the screen flickers over you.

The distant clack of keyboards and clicking of mouses needles behind your ears. It's as if you're trapped in a bubble of silence, all colours and noised dampened by the unseen wall. You shudder as you hear his voice, the only thing that's clear. Your name crawls up behind the shell of your ear with his breath as his hands settle on your hips. Your body aches as every muscles tightens and your bones lock in place. Please, no, not again...

"Sir..." you try to speak but nothing comes out. He's always tugging your skirt up, his hand is around your throat. You close your eyes as tears stain your cheeks.

You wake with a start, your phone black as the battery's drained from neglect. You sit up and pant, looking around your dark bedroom, the moonlight limning shadows sinisterly. You gulp and fall back, watching the ceiling as the tears rise in reality and sting your eyes.

If you'd just said no. A simple word. Even you can manage that.

You lay for a while until your restlessness boils over. You get up and plug in your phone. The screen lights up as you rub your eye socket and yawn. There's an email notification in the taskbar. Probably more ads for things you can't afford.

You pull down the menu but find ‘Application Update’ emblazoned across the notification. Oh wow, that was fast. You keep yourself from tapping on the email.

You don't know if you can handle another rejection. You'd rather languish in the uncertainty. You've been doing so for so long, it almost feels safe.