#embrace turnover

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

one order to be served by lewis carl davidson hamilton please!! oaty slice, english muffin, apple turnover and croissant with a side of tea, cider and pina colada 😁😁 reader is working remotely and having an online meeting but lewis is dying to eat her out and just do it while she was in the meeting 🥵💦

irresistible

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i think this may be my longest story yet, i have been dying to write this and get back to writing after being gone so long, i hate promising to post and then not being able to cause of work, sorry for the late reply <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; husband lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; working from home while trying to hide the fact that your married and pregnant is hard when your husband can't keep is hands to himself, he's just lucky you love him aka lewis eats his wife out while she's on a zoom call

warnings; oral fem!receiving, thigh kisses, belly kisses, semi public sex, body worship, pregnancy kink. [let me know if i missed anything]

tea; semi public sex cider; body worship pina colada; pregnancy oaty slice; "you smell like me" english muffin; "i could die between these legs" apple turnover; "can you keep it down in there" changed to "can you keep it down under there" croissant; "don't you dare"

words; 3.1k

currently playing; hands to myself by selena gomez "can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how hard i'm trying to"

"oh god dammit, boba no!" you scolded your two year old calico who sat on the stool next to your laptop, swatting at the screensaver you had set, picking her up you stepped out of the little home studio you'd made for yourself during the covid days.

"lew!" you called out waiting for an answer but after not getting one, you wandered down the hall and into the living room, as you carried boba into the living room, she squirmed in your arms, clearly displeased at being removed from her new favorite perch, you sighed, scratching behind her ears to relax her "i know, i know the pretty lights are fun, but mommy needs to work."

as you entered the living room, you noticed lewis sprawled out on the couch, completely engrossed in whatever he was watching on his phone. you rolled your eyes fondly, a soft smile decorating your face as you realized why he hadn't answered your call.

"lew..." still no response as his eyes remained trained on his phone "lewis hamilton" you scolded and that caught his attention immediately, looking up at you with soft eyes as he dropped his phone.

"am i in trouble.." he gulped, looking sheepish as he responded.

"not yet," you said, your tone softening as you took in his worried expression. "but you will be if you don't start paying attention."

you merely dropped boba onto his lap and crossed your arms over your chest "please keep her out of my studio... the album is due at the end of the month and i still have three songs to finish" you groaned.

he nodded numbly which made you feel guilty for scolding him over something so silly and so you lent down and placed little kisses against his lips "i'm sorry i called you lewis" you mumbled as your thumb gently traced over his cheek. "you'll always be my lew"

you left him on the sofa, shuffling to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge but before you could move and return to your studio, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, cradling your pregnant belly lightly.

"you smell like me bub" lewis mumbled into the skin of your neck, which sent shivers zipping up and down your spine.

you leaned back into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. a soft smile played on your lips as you placed your hands over his, intertwining your fingers.

"i should hope so," you murmured, turning your head slightly to catch his eye, resting it on his shoulder. "i've been wearing your sweater all day."

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. "i noticed," he said, his arm tightening around you. "it looks incredible on you."

"well i unfortunately have to take it off soon" you groaned "stupid zoom meeting with my producer"

lewis sighed, running his fingers over your bump, the soft fabric of his over sized sweater rubbing on your skin gently. "can't you just keep it on for the meeting?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

you shook your head, a wry smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "not unless i want to explain to my producer why i'm wearing 'the' lewis hamilton's sweater" you giggled.

lewis chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "but i'd love to see see his reaction." his voice dropped into a whisper, your producer had always been flirty with you mainly because he thought you were single and lewis hated it.

you playfully swatted his arm, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity and tone of voice. "that's horrible lew"

"i hate the way he flirts with you, your mine" he growled against the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin. "and this proves it" his finger ran over the cold metal of your wedding band.

"your lucky i love you lew, your so possessive and you and i both know you like keeping this private, i like it being just us" you giggled, removing yourself from his grip, pulling his sweater up and over your head, placing it on the counter.

you stood on your tippy toes to peck his lips "love you, i should go" and with that you made your way back to your studio, almost waddling due to the size of your belly.

as you walked, lewis couldn't help but admire you in your white floral maternity dress, he couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in his belly or resist the surge of desire that simmered within him.

lewis had always found you irresistible but now that you were pregnant he could hardly ever keep his hands to himself anymore, working on your newest album was the only break you got from his ever wandering hands.

but unfortunately for you, it seemed that not even that would be enough to stop lewis anymore, he made his way to your home studio, feet padding on the hardwood floors as he went.

you wouldn't have even known that lewis was there, leaning against the door-frame had he not accidentally bumped the door causing the hinges to squeak.

"what are you doing lew" you mumbled, taking your seat in front of your mic, lewis didn't answer your question, he merely wandered over and dropped to his knees in front of you.

his head rested in your lap, hands holding your hips as he placed kisses to your swollen belly, each of them filled with love and a gentleness that only lewis had ever shown you, it was part of the reason you'd fallen for him.

"want to taste you bub" his words were mumbled but you understood him well enough, you shook your head "don't you dare even think about it" you softly scolded, hand cupping his cheek.

but lewis wasn't in the mood to listen, he wanted to taste you and he had to do it now, the desire simmering within him was pushing him to do so, you were beautiful and he just couldn't get enough of you.

his hands trailed up your thighs, his touch feather light and making a pool of desire simmer in your own belly or was that just the baby getting hungry again, most likely the latter you thought as a giggle escaped your soft lips.

"why do i even bother" you murmured as his fingers started pulling at the band of your panties, eager to get them off and thrown into the nearest corner as soon as humanly possible.

you lifted your hips knowing if you didn't that lewis would simply rip them off you and you couldn't afford to be down yet another pair of panties all because your husband couldn't keep his hands to himself.

you watched as his head disappeared under the skirts of your dress, hands gently parting your thighs to get a better look at your dripping cunt, the way this man could affect you so easily.

he nuzzled against the soft skin of your thigh, you started to get lost in the feeling when the facetime ringtone rang out through the room causing you to jump in your seat, you were so distracted by your god of a husband that you'd basically forgotten you were meant to be facetiming your producer.

"can you keep it down under there" you asked lewis and when he hummed against your skin, you trusted him, bad choice might i say and adjusted your laptop so that both lewis and your belly were out of view before clicking 'accept call'.

"there's the star i know and love" your producer; thomas's voice rang out, you glanced at the screen and smiled as best you could, with lewis currently between your legs, the last thing you wanted to be doing right now was talking to thomas.

"hey tom" you mumbled, voice quiet in order to keep yourself from moaning as lewis kissed at your thighs, slowly inching his way towards your dripping wet cunt with every kiss.

thomas began to ramble about the new album and the last three songs that were needed and while you tried your best to listen, your focus was quickly pulled away from the computer screen and was put into staying quiet when lewis's tongue licked your cunt from bottom to top, nibbling on your clit which he knew would make you squirm.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your composure as lewis worked his magic between your thighs. you could have sworn you could taste the metallic tang of blood from how hard you were gnawing on your bottom lip in that moment.

thomas's voice began to fade into a distant buzz in your ears. your fingers gripped at the arms of your chair, knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to moan.

lewis's hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. the thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal. you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body betraying your attempts to appear normal.

"taste so good" you heard lewis's mumbled voice and if you weren't so focused on trying to remain quiet and not draw attention to what was really going on, on your side of the screen you would've smacked him round the head.

thomas's face on the screen remained oblivious, still chattering away about chord progressions and potential guest artists. "what about olivia, we've been wanting to work together for awhile" you suggested when you managed to calm yourself enough to speak, your suggestion set thomas off on another tangent.

'good' you thought, that should hopefully keep him distracted for a while but you were once again pulled from your thoughts when lewis's tongue swirled around your most sensitive spots, making your thighs tremble around his head.

you were struggling to maintain your composure as lewis continued his ministrations. thomas's voice once again fading into a distant buzz as pleasure coursed through your body.

"that's actually a great idea," you managed to catch thomas say. "maybe we could arrange a writing session next week?" he suggested to which you merely nodded in return.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of your chair, the new angle sent a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you had to disguise the gasp that escaped you as a cough.

"everything okay?" thomas asked, his brow furrowing with concern, he was always concerned when it came to you, sometimes a little too much for lewis's liking.

"peachy" you squeaked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "just recovering from a bit of a dry throat" you lied, reaching for your water bottle to make it seem real.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, he was going to leave bruises that was for sure but knowing your husband as well as you did, he would also make sure to kiss them better because he hated hurting you, even when you insisted you were fine.

you knew you were completely fucked however the moment you felt lewis's tongue slip inside your cunt, desperate to taste every bit of you that he could.

your breath caught in your throat as lewis's tongue explored you hungrily. every flick and swirl sending shock waves of pleasure radiating through your body, your hips began to involuntarily move against his face the best they could with your rounded swollen belly in the way, thank god it was still hidden from the cameras view.

"oh god, bub" you moaned softly, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

he growled quietly in response, the vibrations only intensifying the sensations you were currently feeling. lewis's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured you with single-minded focus, you were his top priority in this moment and his focus would remain entirely on you, until you tipped over the edge of your release.

wave after wave of bliss washed over you as lewis worked you expertly with his mouth, you could feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge of release, just a little more...

"ah y/n, you still with me" holy fuck!, you'd completely forgotten about your producer currently working on a melody on his side of the computer screen, thomas was the most oblivius man you'd ever known and today it was working in your favor.

the fact that he somehow hadn't noticed what was going on almost made you laugh, you bit your lip hard to stop yet another soft moan from slipping past your lips and despite everything that was happening, you somehow managed to croak out a reply to thomas.

"y-yeah, just concentrating," you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady, thomas nodded absentmindedly, completely focused on the track he was currently mixing. "what do you think of this bassline?" he asked, pressing play.

a pulsing beat filled the room, providing the perfect cover as lewis picked up his efforts, he wanted thomas to know what was going on but you were not about to let that happen, not on your watch.

"it's good," you gasped out "maybe try... ah speeding it up a bit?"

as thomas began to fiddle with the tempo, you felt yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, lewis's skilled tongue was soon joined by his equally skilled fingers slipping inside your tight hot cunt as his mouth started to suck and nibble on your clit.

all the emotions and sensations that you were feeling was making your head dizzy, you wanted to end the call with thomas right then and there so that you could focus on lewis and lewis alone but you knew that, that wasn't about to happen unfortunately.

as lewis's movements intensified, you were struggling to maintain your composure, your breath quickened as you fingers tangled in the fabric of your dress skirt and hiked it up and around your hips.

as you did lewis looked up at you with mischievous eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pleasurable spongy spot inside you as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud, you swore you could feel lewis smile agaisnt you.

"is everything alright?" thomas asked, finally beginning to notice how quiet you were being on this call compared to all the other video calls you'd shared over these past few months.

"ah.. actually no" you stammered out. "i think i might be coming down with something" you lied to thomas for a second time today.

lewis increased his pace, determined to push you over the edge, you weren't sure how much longer you were going to be able to hold on.

your breath hitched as you tried to maintain your composure, thomas's concerned voice crackled through the phone, "do you need to rest? we can talk later if you're not feeling well."

"n-no, it's okay," you managed to mutter, lewis's fingers dug into your thighs, his tongue and finger's relentless rhythm threatening to unravel you completely.

"are you sure?" thomas pressed, clearly unconvinced. "you sound... strange." panic fluttered in your chest. you couldn't let him suspect what was really happening. "i'm fine, really," you insisted, your voice strained. "just a bit of a headache." you reached for your water once more.

lewis pulled away from your cunt, his fingers slipping out of your warm cunt as well, his breath was hot against the skin of your thighs as he whispered, "tell him you have to go” oh how you prayed thomas hadn't heard that.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at lewis's command. your mind raced, torn between the overwhelming sensations that your husband was making you feel and the need to stay on the video call with thomas and finish the album.

"actually," you gasped out, "i think i might need to lie down for a bit." you had caved, mind you with a husband like lewis, who wouldn't cave when asked.

"of course," thomas replied, his voice laced with genuine concern for you "get some rest. we can catch up tomorrow."

"thanks," you whispered, your finger moved the cursor so it was hovering over the end call button. "i'll text you later." as soon as the call disconnected, a low moan escaped your lips.

lewis looked up at you again "good girl," he murmured, his voice husky with desire for you, his beautiful wife. "now, let me hear you properly."

you finally allowed you restraint crumble and you cried out, no longer having to hide the pleasure coursing through your body. "your a fucking menace lew" you scolded your husband as he went back to work, tongue flicking across your clit with renewed fervor.

lewis chuckled against your sensitive core, the vibrations sending shock waves of pleasure through you once more, his strong hands which you loved oh so much gripped at your thighs, holding you in place as you writhed in your seat.

"you love it," he murmured "no i love you" you replied, fingers tangling in with his twisted braids "my handsome handsome husband"

"don't you dare stop," you gasped, your voice hoarse with need, lewis redoubled his efforts, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just so and that's when you saw stars, your back arched as waves of ecstasy washed over you

"that's it, baby," lewis encouraged, your body trembled as he guided you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his touch now feather-light and teasing, when your breathing finally steadied, he kissed a trail up your body paying special attention to your bump before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, you swore you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're so beautiful when you come undone," he murmured pulling away his voice low and husky, his hands rubbed at your thighs soothingly "i could die between these legs" he chuckled.

"i am so going to write a song about this" you teased with a giggle, hand cupping his cheek as you stared into the brown eyes you loved so much, that could be a pretty could be an interesting way to announce your relationship you thought.

he leaned into your touch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "oh yeah? what's it gonna be called?" he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"hmm," you pondered, pretending to think hard. "how about 'the ballad of lewis's talented tongue'?" you joked.

lewis could help but burst out in laughter, burying his face in your neck, "cheeky," he mumbled against your skin, pressing a soft kiss there. "i like it though but i might have to fight you for the rights to it."

you ran your thumb across his cheek, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "we could always collaborate," you suggested, your voice softening. "i think we would make beautiful music together."

lewis lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a tender look that made your heart skip. "we already do, love,"

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART THREE

paige x azzi

word count: 5.3k

A/N: Here’s a chapter with a lot more interaction between Paige and Azzi. Don’t do too much on my girl this chapter y’all she getting better😭. Let me know what you think and leave reactions! I’m low key starting chapter 5 today 🤭

—————————————————————————

April 2021

Azzi and Paige's respective seasons had come to an end, though in completely different fashions.

For Azzi, it was the perfect finale to her high school career. After a long recovery from her ACL and MCL injury, she returned stronger than anyone thought possible in her senior year. And she was able to cement her place as one of the best players in the nation after everyone questioned if she would be able to come back the same. She became a McDonald's All-American and earned the prestigious Morgan Wootten Player of the Year award on top of carrying her team to another state championship, leaving her high school legacy on the highest note possible. When she walked off the court for the final time in her high school jersey, the roar of the crowd and the embrace of her teammates felt like the perfect send-off. Azzi was content. She had conquered every challenge thrown her way, and now she was ready for the next chapter at UConn.

For Paige, the end of her freshman year at UConn was a much different story. On paper, her season was nothing short of extraordinary. She had helped the Huskies defeat their rivals time and time again, putting on performances that left commentators and fans in awe. She’d scored a season-high 32 points and dished out 7 assists against St. John’s of New York—a game where it seemed like her fierce competitiveness toward the St. John’s she’d grown up playing against carried over to this completely unrelated team.

The accolades poured in. Paige was named Big East Player of the Year, unanimous Big East Freshman of the Year, and helped UConn secure the Big East Championship title. She had the most points by any UConn player in their NCAA tournament debut. By the end of the season, she’d been crowned AP Player of the Year and Naismith College Player of the Year—the first freshman in history to earn both honors.

But none of that mattered to Paige.

For all the individual awards and historic milestones, she couldn't forgive herself for how the season ended. UConn had made it to the Final Four, and the weight of expectations—both internal and external—was immense. Paige believed it was her job to lead her team to a national championship, but when they lost to Arizona in the semifinals, everything came crashing down for her.

She replayed the game in her mind constantly, scrutinizing every missed shot, every turnover, every moment she thought she could have done more. The praise and accolades felt hollow, and no one could convince her otherwise. For Paige, and according to the media, the loss was a failure. It didn’t matter that she was only 19 years old, it didn’t matter that she was only a freshman, the media tore into her from every angle and she hated herself for giving them the room to talk in the first place, despite what everyone around her said. If she had won they wouldn’t have had anything to say.

While Azzi basked in the glow of a picture perfect end to her high school journey, Paige drowned herself in guilt and frustration. Day after day, she was in the gym, pushing herself harder and harder. No one had to tell her to work—she was relentless. The sound of basketballs hitting the court echoing through an otherwise empty gym.

For Paige, there was no off-season. The only way to make peace with her freshman year, she thought, was to be better.

Her freshman year had been historic. But Paige didn’t care about history. She only cared about winning, and anything less wasn’t good enough.

May 2021

Paige was back home in the DMV, spending her days exactly the way she had since the loss in the Final Four. The small, private space her trainer let her use had become her sanctuary. She had poured every ounce of herself into her offseason grind, putting on muscle and sharpening her skills. Each shot, each drill, each drop of sweat was a reminder of what she wanted to fix.

The gym was empty, just how she liked it. Paige worked in solitude, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood as she moved through her drills. The sharp echo of the ball bouncing against the floor filled the space. She was locked in, oblivious to everything but the rhythm of her workout.

The faint creak of the door opening didn’t even break her focus.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out.

Paige barely glanced over, recognizing Azzi immediately. She gave a slight nod in polite acknowledgment but kept shooting. Azzi lingered near the door for a moment, unsure if she should stay or leave. Last summer, she would have turned around and walked away without hesitation like she almost did. But not this time. She stepped farther into the gym, watching Paige as the other girl moved with mechanical precision, no emotion on her face

After a while, Azzi spoke again, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Are we ever going to talk? You know, now that we’re going to be on the same team.”

Paige didn’t even look up. “Not really in the mood to talk today, sorry.” She said, launching another three-pointer that swished through the net.

Azzi sighed, crossing her arms. “Seems like a pattern,” she muttered, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

That made Paige pause. She caught the ball as it rebounded toward her and turned to face Azzi, her expression annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Azzi leaned against the wall, arms still folded. “You know what I’m talking about. When I came to visit UConn in December, you blew me off. You couldn’t even speak, let alone stick around for five minutes.”

Paige scoffed, dribbling the ball lazily as she shook her head. “Not everything is about you, Azzi.”

Azzi pushed off the wall, her brows furrowed. “That’s bullshit. You were avoiding me. Just stop being pussy and admit it.”

Paige let out a humorless laugh. “Contrary to this inflated-ass ego you seem to have, other people have things going on. It didn’t have shit to do with you Azzi.”

Azzi stared at her, stunned eyes almost bulging out of her head. “I have the ego? You can’t be serious right now?”

“Yes,” Paige said flatly, bouncing the ball once before shooting it again.

Azzi stepped closer, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “You couldn’t put your feelings aside for two seconds to welcome me to UConn because your ego’s so damn big.”

Paige rolled her eyes, spinning the ball on her hand before letting it drop to the floor. “Like I said, it didn’t have shit to do with you. I played like garbage the day before and needed to clear my head.”

Azzi tilted her head, her tone incredulous. “You played fine, Paige. I watched that game.”

Paige snorted, shaking her head as she bent to pick up the ball. “No, I didn’t.” She straightened up and started ticking off mistakes on her fingers. “I had a sloppy turnover, missed three shots that all hit the rim the exact same way because my footing was off, got scored on because I went under screens too many damn times…” Her voice was rising, her frustration with herself evident.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the laundry list of self-criticism. “That’s not even that bad, Paige. You’re just trying to find excuses for being childish and avoiding me.”

Paige’s eyes flashed as she now fully faced Azzi, her tone sharp. “See that’s your problem, Azzi. You’re fine with ‘not bad.’ You’re fine with mediocre shit and you get mad at people who aren’t.”

Azzi, clearly offended. “You don’t know shit about me if you think I’m fine with mediocre Paige.”

“Oh, I know enough,” Paige shot back, her voice laced with irritation as she shot the ball again.

Azzi let out a muttered, “Whatever,” as she turned away. She grabbed her basketball shoes, plopping down on the bench to lace them up. Afterward, she moved to stretch, her movements calm and deliberate, just like she always did.

The silence between them was heavy, but neither seemed willing to break it. Paige resumed her shooting, her focus sharp and a little intense now. Azzi followed suit, picking up a ball and taking her own shots. Unlike last summer, when they’d somehow found a rhythm together, this time they kept their distance, rebounding their own shots and staying on opposite ends of the half court.

The only sounds were the echo of the basketballs, the swish of the net, and their heavy breathing. The tension that lingered between them from the argument didn’t dissipate, but they both seemed like they were just going to ignore it.

Paige’s focus faltered as her phone, lying on the bench nearby, began to ring. The sharp tone interrupted her music in her ears, cutting into her concentration. She ignored it the first time, then the second, but by the third, she was definitely irritated.

“Are we serious?” she muttered under her breath, catching the ball after it went through the net and tucking it under her arm. She walked over to the bench, her frustration evident in every step. Grabbing the phone, she glanced at the screen before answering.

“Yes, E?” Paige said, clearly irritated with everything happening today.

Azzi glanced over briefly but kept shooting as she heard the nickname she knew was for Evina, her movements still smooth and efficient. She couldn’t help but listen to Paige’s side of the conversation, even if she pretended not to.

“I’m fine,” Paige said, her tone clipped. A pause, then, “No, I don’t need you guys checking in on me every five minutes. I’m not a kid.”

Azzi caught her rebound, her curiosity piqued. She heard Paige’s exasperated sigh before she continued. “I said I’m fine!…I’m sorry…I’m just in the gym, okay?”

Another pause, longer this time. Paige’s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained defensive. “Yes, I’m eating. No, I’m not overdoing it. Can you guys please just stop hovering for like two seconds? I swear I’m fine.”

Azzi missed her next shot, distracted by the way Paige’s voice wavered slightly on the last sentence. She retrieved the ball and glanced over again, noting the way Paige’s jaw was clenched slightly with the conversation.

“Yes E, I get it, okay? I do. But I don’t need you to—” Paige stopped mid-sentence, closing her eyes and letting out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, I know it’s not my fault–Yes I know. Ok, I’ll call you later.”

She hung up abruptly, tossing her phone back onto the bench with more force than necessary. Her shoulders sagged for a moment before she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and straightened up, spinning the ball in her hands as she made her way back to the court.

Azzi didn’t say anything, but she watched Paige carefully, her expression unreadable. Paige didn’t acknowledge her, resuming her shooting with a little more force than before, as if trying to work out her frustrations on the court.

The silence between them stretched on, filled only by the rhythm of bouncing balls and the occasional swish of a perfect shot.

July 2021

The short break before heading to UConn for the summer session had gone by a little too quickly for Azzi. It felt like one moment she was at home with her family, soaking up their familiar warmth, and the next, she was packing her bags, giving tight hugs, and heading off to start a new chapter in Connecticut. The thought of being at UConn felt surreal, even though she’d visited before. Now it was official—she was part of the team.

The roster had shifted quite a bit since her last visit. Azzi wasn’t the only fresh face; two other freshmen, Caroline and Amari, had joined the team. The sophomore class had thinned out, now consisting of only Paige, Aaliyah, Nika, and Piath. Aubrey was the only junior on the team, and was known for her quiet but steady presence on the court. The upperclassmen rounded out the roster, with seniors Christyn and Olivia bringing their experience, Evina stepping into a leadership role, and Dorka, a graduate transfer, joining the fold for her first year at UConn.

It was a balanced team, a blend of youth and experience, and Azzi felt a mix of nerves and excitement at the thought of working with them. The expectations were high, but she was ready.

…

From the moment she arrived, the practices were intense. UConn’s reputation as a basketball powerhouse wasn’t just for show, and the demands were grueling on Azzi’s body. The upperclassmen set the tone, with Evina and Christyn emerging as clear leaders, guiding the team both on and off the court. Paige, despite being only a sophomore, was right there with them. She had an undeniable presence, her skills speaking louder than words, and her surprisingly calm demeanor commanded respect everyday at practice.

Azzi, however, was still trying to get a read on Paige. The girl was an enigma. For someone who could be so fiery and competitive on the court, Paige seemed almost indifferent to Azzi off it. She didn’t go out of her way to ignore her, but she didn’t engage either. Paige showed up to team bonding events, polite and cordial, but her interactions with Azzi were nonexistent unless they were arguing during drills or scrimmages.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Azzi couldn’t tell if Paige didn’t like her or just didn’t care for her presence. And yet, somehow, during today’s team bonding activity—a scavenger hunt organized by Coach CD, of all things—Azzi found herself assigned as Paige’s partner.

Paige muttered something under her breath when the pairs were announced .

Azzi crossed her arms, arching a brow. “Trust me, I’m not exactly jumping for joy here either.”

Paige rolled her eyes at Azzi’s comment , adjusting the strap of her backpack. “Let’s just go.”

The rest of the team was already scattering in pairs, armed with clue sheets and a mix of determination and excitement. Azzi glanced at their first clue and sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.

The two of them trudged through the scavenger hunt, their movements as tense as the silence between them. Paige seemed perfectly at ease with it, her eyes fixed on the list in her hand. Azzi, on the other hand, was brimming with unspoken frustration. She wasn’t one to hold things in, and after several minutes of biting her tongue, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why don’t you like me?” Azzi blurted out, the words cutting through the quiet.

Paige barely looked up from her paper. “I don’t not like you,” she replied, her tone not hinting at her emotion.

Azzi huffed, folding her arms as she followed Paige. “Yeah, sure. That’s why you barely talk to me outside of practice. That’s why all you do is argue with me when we scrimmage. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you roll your eyes every time I open my mouth.”

Paige finally stopped walking, turning to face Azzi with a mixture of confusion and something else. “You’re reading too much into it Azzi. Just because we don’t hang out doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her expression incredulous. “Then what does it mean, Paige? Because from where I’m standing, it sure feels like you’ve decided you can’t stand me and you bust my ass everyday in practice.”

Paige sighed, glancing around as if hoping for the next clue to appear and rescue her from the conversation. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means I think you need to be better.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the statement. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice even. “You’re good, Azzi. Everyone on the planet knows you’re good. But if you want to be great—if you want to be what this team needs—you have to start acting like it.”

Azzi scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. “Are you kidding me? I work my ass off every single day. I’m in the gym just as much as you are—probably more.”

Paige shrugged, not bothered by that last comment knowing it wasn’t true. “It doesn’t matter how much you work if you don’t carry it with you onto the court. Until you start playing like you know you’re the second-best player on this team, it’s not going to mean anything.”

“Second best,” Azzi repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, what an honor.”

“Exactly,” Paige said, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t agree. You need to own that. Play like it. Make everyone feel it.”

Azzi shook her head, incredulous. “Just because I don’t have a giant ego like you doesn’t mean I don’t think I’m the best.”

“I don’t have an ego,” Paige said. “I just know what this team needs.”

Azzi stepped closer, her voice rising slightly. “Oh, you mean they need another uptight, self-centered recruit who thinks they have all the answers?”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but she kept her voice calm. “No, they need the top recruit they just got to stop being passive and start leading. They need someone who plays like they know they’re the best so the rest of the team can feed off of it.”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “So... basically an asshole?”

Paige exhaled sharply, clearly done with the conversation. She shook her head and turned back to the scavenger hunt, muttering, “You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t,” Azzi shot back, her tone challenging. “And you know what? You don’t get me either. You think you’ve got me all figured out, like I’m some shy, passive player who’s too scared to take charge. But you don’t know the first thing about me Paige.”

Paige stopped walking, spinning around to face Azzi. “And you think you know me? You think I’m just some uptight ass self-absorbed player who doesn’t care about anyone else? I just have my own shit to deal with. Not everything is about you.”

Azzi bristled at the words, her voice dropping to a quieter but still heated tone. “I never said it was about me. But you could at least try to make me feel like I’m part of this team instead of treating me like an outsider.”

Paige’s expression softened for just a moment, but she quickly masked it with a shrug. “Maybe stop acting like one.”

Azzi stared at her, her frustration mixing with hurt. “You really think I’m not trying?”

Paige didn’t answer right away, her eyes flicking back to the scavenger hunt paper. “No that’s not what I said, I think you’re holding yourself back. And this team doesn’t have time for that.”

Azzi shook her head, biting back a retort. They resumed walking, the silence between them now heavier than before. Paige stayed focused on the clues, while Azzi followed a step behind, her mind racing with everything they had just said—and left unsaid.

After a stretch of silence, the tension between them still hung heavy in the air. Azzi walked a step behind Paige, her frustration simmering beneath the surface as Paige stayed focused on the scavenger hunt paper, seemingly unaffected.

Finally, Paige slowed her steps, glancing over her shoulder. Her voice was quieter this time but still firm. “Azzi… I don’t not like you. Seriously.”

Azzi looked up, startled by the unexpected comment. “Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.

Paige turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “You belong on this team. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. And yeah, you can be frustrating as hell and I definitely don’t agree with a lot of the things you say, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re good. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you and I’m sorry if I made you think that.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the blunt acknowledgment. She shifted her weight, her frustration tempered but not entirely gone. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like I had something to prove all the time, I’d actually feel like I belonged.”

Paige exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Pushing you is how I know you do belong. I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you if you didn’t.”

Azzi’s lips pressed into a thin line, but a flicker of understanding passed through her expression. “Fine,” she said after a beat, her tone quieter now. “But maybe try dialing it back a little. Just… once in a while. It’s tiring.”

Paige shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Azzi rolled her eyes at the silence but didn’t press further. They resumed walking, the tension between them still lingering, but the weight of it had lessened—just enough to keep moving forward. Maybe Azzi would try her luck again at getting to know the blonde.

…

Later that night the team was gathered in one of the larger suites, the atmosphere buzzing with energy as conversations overlapped and laughter echoed through the space. Players lounged across couches and the carpeted floor, munching on snacks and joking around. It was one of the nightly bonding sessions the seniors insisted on, a tradition meant to bring the team closer as the season loomed.

Paige sat at one end of the couch, scrolling through her phone with a focused expression. Azzi, perched on the armrest opposite her, noticed how Paige’s grip on her phone tightened slightly, her jaw set in a way that betrayed her usual calm demeanor during times like this. Curiosity piqued, Azzi leaned subtly to get a glimpse of what Paige was reading. The headline immediately made her frown: “Paige Bueckers: Can She Handle the Pressure This Season?”

The article was harsh but clearly biased, questioning Paige’s ability to bounce back from the previous year’s challenges. Paige’s face betrayed nothing, but Azzi could feel the tension radiating from her as her jaw continued to tighten.

Without a word, Paige suddenly stood, catching everyone’s attention.

“Where are you going?” Nika asked from her spot on the floor, looking up with a raised brow.

“The gym,” Paige replied flatly.

A collective groan went around the room.

“Come on,” Christyn said, leaning back against the armrest of a chair. “We’re supposed to be bonding, not sneaking off to the gym again.”

“You’ve been there all day already,” Olivia added, shaking her head. “What’s left to work on?”

Paige crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed by the protests. “You don’t have to drag me out later I swear. I’ll be fine.”

Before anyone else could chime in, Azzi spoke up, her voice cutting through the noise. “I’ll go with her.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to Azzi. Nika blinked, looking as though she misheard.

“Wait, what?” Aaliyah asked, tilting her head.

“Azzi, you good?” Christyn asked, confused about her voluntarily being around Paige.

Even Paige hesitated, glancing at Azzi with a mix of surprise and confusion. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” Azzi interrupted, her tone firm. “There’s some stuff we probably need to work on together anyway.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to figure out Azzi’s angle, but she didn’t argue.

Nika glanced at Caroline, who sat beside her on the floor. “Am I the only one wondering what’s going on here?”

Caroline shrugged, looking equally curious. “Nope.”

“I mean, we’re all thinking it,” Dorka chimed in, earning a few quiet laughs.

Paige sighed, clearly ready to leave the scrutiny behind. “I’ll grab you some clothes,” she muttered, already heading toward her room.

Azzi stood, ignoring the murmurs and exchanged glances from the team. Aubrey, who had been quietly observing from the corner, gave her a small smile, the only one not visibly surprised.

As Azzi followed Paige out of the suite, Nika leaned toward Aaliyah, whispering just loud enough to be heard, “This is either going to end in a fistfight or... something we don’t want to know about.”

“Probably both,” Aaliyah replied with a smirk.

Azzi caught the comment but didn’t react having no idea what they were talking about.

…

Azzi and Paige had just finished an intense workout. They worked through it together in silence for the most part with the occasional high five or pay on the back. The gym was eerily quiet at this hour, with only the hum of the overhead lights and their heavy breaths filling the space. Both of them were seated on the floor, backs resting against the padded wall, their bodies dripping with sweat.

Paige let her head fall back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling before finally looking at Azzi. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Azzi glanced over at her, slightly caught off guard. It wasn’t the thank-you that surprised her—it was the way Paige was actually looking at her. For the first time, there wasn’t a guarded or dismissive edge in her expression, just sincerity.

It threw Azzi off balance for a second, and without thinking, she blurted out, “Woah your eyes are blue.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “They sure are,” she said, amused.

Azzi shook her head, laughing at herself. “I just mean, I never noticed before,” she admitted. “Probably because you’re always glaring at me the few times you actually address me.”

Paige laughed again, the sound lighter than Azzi expected. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I know I can be... a bit much sometimes.”

Azzi shrugged, brushing it off.

They sat in comfortable silence for a beat before Azzi tapped her phone screen, the faint glow illuminating the time. “So, you wanna tell me why we’re in the gym at...” she squinted at the numbers, “1:47 a.m. on a Wednesday?”

Paige glanced at her, the corners of her mouth quirking up slightly. “I know why I’m here. You wanna tell me why you decided to join me?”

Azzi leaned her head back against the wall, smirking. “I knew they wouldn’t let you come if I didn’t. Plus, like I said earlier, there’s some things we need to work on.”

“Like what?” Paige asked, her curiosity piqued.

Azzi turned to face her more directly, her expression serious but still teasing. “Like you passing the ball where I’m going instead of where I am.”

Paige rolled her eyes, a playful scoff escaping her. “I’m a great passer.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “And I’m the best shooter in the country. I move a lot. You need to figure out where I’m going to be, not just where I currently am.”

Paige blinked at her, processing the critique. Her lips twitched like she wanted to argue, but instead, she let out a small laugh, nodding slightly as she thought about it.

Azzi stood up, brushing off her shorts before grabbing the ball that sat nearby. She spun it in her hands and tilted her head toward the court. “Come on,” she said, motioning for Paige to follow her.

Paige smiled despite herself, pushing up from the floor. “Fine,” she said, her tone mock-defeated.

Azzi grinned. “Let’s see if you’re as great as you claim you are.”

Paige laughed, jogging after her toward the court, the tension between them starting to ease in the quiet rhythm of the game.

Paige and Azzi stood at the top of the key, the ball in Paige’s hands as Azzi explained what she’d meant earlier.

“You follow my eyes, just like everyone else,” Azzi said, dribbling the ball before passing it to Paige. “But my eyes don’t always tell you where I’m going. You’ve gotta look at my movements instead.”

Paige nodded slowly, absorbing the critique. She dribbled the ball once, then shifted her stance. “Alright,” she said, her voice intrigued. “Let’s run through it.”

They started with basic passes, Paige watching Azzi closely. Some were spot-on, hitting Azzi perfectly in stride. Others lagged slightly behind, forcing Azzi to pause or adjust.

“See?” Azzi said after one of those off passes, tossing the ball back to Paige. “You’re looking at where I am. You’ve gotta watch my hands.”

Paige tilted her head, brow furrowing. “Your hands?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, holding them up. “My hands show you where I’m going to end up. Pay attention, and you’ll see it.”

Paige bounced the ball a couple of times, nodding. “Alright, let’s try again.”

They went through the drill several more times, Paige focusing on Azzi’s hands like she’d suggested. Slowly but surely, the passes started to click. Paige began to notice the subtle flicks of Azzi’s fingers or the way her hand angled before she cut. After a while, the passes were seamless, their movements flowing together effortlessly.

“See?” Azzi said, catching another perfect pass in stride. “Told you.”

Paige smirked, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face. “Guess you were right.”

“Always am,” Azzi teased, tossing the ball back.

The two of them had been running the same drill for what felt like forever. Paige’s passes were sharper now, landing perfectly in Azzi’s hands as she moved seamlessly through her cuts. The flow of their movements had become natural, like they’d been doing this together for years.

Azzi caught the ball mid-stride and jogged back to the top of the key, bouncing it casually. “You know it’s almost three, right?” she said, glancing at the clock.

Paige paused, hands resting on her hips. “They’re going to kill you for letting me stay this late,” she said, half-smirking. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one, remember?”

Azzi shrugged, her lips curving into a small smile. “They never said what time you had to leave,” she replied. “All they said was that it was supposed to be team bonding.” She held the ball out toward Paige. “I’d say we bonded a little bit. Plus,” she added, her smile widening, “we haven’t argued the whole time we’ve been here, so that’s a win.”

Paige chuckled, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the hem of her shirt. “Guess you’ve got a point.” She reached out and took the ball from Azzi. “And for the record, I wouldn’t call you responsible. You’re just as bad as me for sticking around this long.”

Azzi laughed softly, leaning back against the padded wall at the baseline. “Maybe. But if you didn’t notice, I’m not the one who dragged us here in the middle of the night.”

Paige shot her a playful glare, bouncing the ball a couple of times. “Fair enough. But you didn’t exactly put up a fight about it either.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Because I saw how tense you were and someone had to make sure you didn’t overdo it. Like I said—team bonding.”

Paige shook her head, laughing under her breath as she lined up a shot. The ball arced perfectly through the air, swishing cleanly through the net. “Fine,” she said, turning to Azzi. “But if they ask, this was your idea.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, sure. I’m sure they’ll believe that.” She walked over and retrieved the ball, tossing it back to Paige.

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet gym, the weight of the night settling between them. Paige glanced at Azzi, a hint of gratitude in her expression. “Thanks, by the way. For coming with me.”

Azzi shrugged, though her smile softened. “Don’t mention it.”

Paige held the ball, debating for a second. Then she smirked. “One more run?”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head with a chuckle. “Fine. But only one more.”

“Promise,” Paige said, already moving to her spot.

Azzi jogged to hers, the exhaustion fading as they fell back into the rhythm they’d built over the past few hours. It was definitely more than one run through.

[nhlclover]

𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄

summary: attempting long distance makes it clear to you and jamie that you need each other

warnings: loneliness, sad jamie, kissing, tiny bit of cursing

word count: 1.19k

Jamie was sprawled out on his bed in his cramped apartment in Philadelphia, staring blankly at the empty walls. He hadn’t decorated yet, let alone had the proper furniture. His bed was simply a mattress on the floor, his coffee table doubling as a kitchen table.

Jamie had been in Philly for about a month now. You’d think a month was enough to adjust to a new city, and while he had settled into a routine and gotten comfortable with all of the city’s quirks, something still felt off.

It was you. He missed you deeply. Your laughter, your presence, your comfort. You were his anchor. But you were tied to your job over 2,000 miles away in Anaheim. You guys had discussed this before he left, that 3 months wasn’t that long and you could withstand it. Then, at the season's end, you’d talk about your future together.

However, here you both were, on opposite sides of the country, distance putting a strain on the both of you.

Jamie did his normal pre-game routine with you on his mind. He thought of the fact that you were probably at work right now, wrapping up final tasks, before heading home and putting on the Flyers game. It was a miracle he found someone as supportive as you, willing to put up with the long days and stress that being a professional athlete could bring.

Each game he played knowing that when he got home he wouldn’t be coming home to you made them harder and harder. The facetimes and calls were not enough anymore and the strain on Jamie was starting to show in his gameplay. Today’s game was horrible. Jamie was benched for almost the entire third after he gave up 3 separate turnovers. Amidst the rowdy Philadelphia crowd, upset that their team was losing, his mind wandered to you. It was always you.

Jamie kept to himself while getting changed and showering, truly wanting to go home just to call you. After an unbearable 5 minutes with the media, Jamie trudged out of the locker room, shoulders slumped and spirits in the basement. Walking down the hall, Jamie feels an arm hook around his shoulders.

“Why the long face?” Cam asks.

Jamie shrugs off Cam's arm, his mind still reeling. "Just had a rough game, man. Ready to get out of here."

Cam flashes him a sly, knowing grin. “It’ll pick up soon, bud.” He says.

Jamie ignores his teammates' words, continuing down the halls of the Wells Fargo Centre. As he turned the bend, greeted by a myriad of voices, there you were.

Jamie could’ve sworn he was seeing things, maybe reaching a point of delusion. But there you were, standing with his teammates' girlfriends. Jamie’s heart lifted upon seeing you, the weight of a thousand worlds falling behind him as he headed straight for you. When he reached you, his arms enveloped you in a tight embrace.

The world around him fades away leaving only you two suspended in this moment. His touch is firm yet gentle, a silent declaration of his need for your presence, your comfort.

“Hi, James.” You say softly into his chest. Your delicate tone nearly sends Jamie over the edge, the reality of everything catching up to him, tears threatening to prick at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says softly. You guys stay there for a few more moments before you force Jamie to walk to his car with you.

Deciding you had so much to talk about, Jamie drove you to a park to walk around while you guys spoke. You intertwined your fingers with Jamie's, drawing strength from the reassuring warmth of his touch. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the struggles you had endured during your time apart.

“So, what are you doing here?” Jamie asks, his grin having still not faded since first seeing you.

“I had to see you…” You tell him. “So I took two weeks off.”

“You did what?” Jamie asked.

“Jamie, I missed you so much, it was almost unbearable.” You confessed, your voice conveying the pain it had truly caused you. “With the time difference and our weird, conflicting schedules… I had to come and see you.”

Jamie's expression softened, his gaze filled with empathy as he listened to your words. He understood all too well the pain of separation, the relentless tug of loneliness that pulled at his heart with every passing day.

“Y/n, I missed you too. I’ve been fucking miserable.” Jamie said, a small chuckle escaping as he recounts the past couple of days. “It's like… no matter how many times we talk on the phone or text each other, it's never enough. I need you here with me, physically, emotionally… I just…”

Jamie suddenly stops walking, turning to face you.

“Marry me.”

The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before he knew it, the both of you sharing the same shocked reaction to his words. The unexpected proposal makes you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Despite them being blurted out, Jamie knew that they were real feelings.

“W-what?” You ask. It felt as though time stood still as you processed his words. Jamie takes both of your hands in his, his eyes glimmering.

“I’m serious. Marry me.” He says again. “These last couple of months have been…fucking hell on earth. I’ve been miserable. And for a while, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. At first, I thought it was the lack of sun… or maybe it was taking me a little longer than I thought to adjust to a new city. But it was you. I couldn’t bear not having you with me.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, jaw open slack as you were processing his words.

“I want you here in Philly, with me. And whatever it takes.” Jamie says. “You can get another job here, in Philly, I’m sure the guys of their wives have connections here and they could help. Or don’t work! I can support you, I don’t care. What I’m trying to say is-”

You cut off Jamie’s rambling, pressing your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. Your lips melded together, picking up as if you had never been separated. As you parted, a small smile graced your lips. Jamie’s eyes scanned your face, desperate to read what you were thinking.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady with resolve. "Yes, I will marry you. And yes, I will come live with you in Philadelphia. We can figure everything else out later.”

Jamie let out a huff of relief before scooping you up in his arms and spinning you above the ground. You squeal, your laughter ringing like a melody in Jamie’s ears.

“Oh my god, I have a wife!” Jamie cheered loudly.

He leans down pressing a kiss to your lips, holding you close once again. As you held each other close, the weight of loneliness lifted from Jamie's heart, replaced by the comforting certainty of your presence.

“I love you so much.” Jamie whispers against your lips.

[kteezy997]

You’re So Breedable//T.C. (one-shot)

Information: you’re a housewife and Timmy is your hardworking accountant husband who’s been stuck working overtime a lot lately.

Warnings: smut, a bit of a breeding kink obviously, dirty talk, cursing, finger sucking, cumshot

Timmy was working over time again tonight. He had called your home phone to let you know he would be a couple of hours late. You were so proud of him working so hard to provide for you and your future family, but you couldn’t help but miss being able to spend time with him in the evenings.

You had already finished dinner when he called, so you decided to keep it warm in the oven while you whipped up something for dessert. You decided to bake some apple turnover pastries with a cinnamon icing drizzle over the top.

The turnovers had just come out of the oven, looking golden in the outside and super tasty and you were drizzling the icing on, admiring the brown flecks of cinnamon in the creamy sweetness. You heard the front door of your home open and close and you smiled to yourself as you heard your husband’s footsteps come closer and closer to the kitchen.

“It smells amazing in here.” Timmy said, touching your waist and leaning in to kiss your neck.

The stubble on his upper lip tickled your skin. He had only just begun growing his mustache, so you were still not accustomed to the feeling. “Welcome home, my love.” you cooed.

“Awe, you made turnovers? You’re the best, baby.” he smooched your cheek, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yep, and there’s pot roast ready in the oven. Let me set the table really quick and we can eat.” you peck his cheek, tapping his jaw lightly as you attempted to move away from his grip, but he held you in place.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” he smirked.

“Timothée Hal, I have to get the plates for our dinner.” you insisted.

“Dinner can wait,” he eyes scanned down your body, “I need you now.”

“Timmy…” you squinted your eyes at him and shook your head.

“You know, I was just thinking at working today, “why haven’t I put a baby in my wife yet?” And I didn’t have an answer.”

“But honey, you’re away from home all the time. Wouldn’t you want to wait until you’re not needed at work so much?”

Timmy came to you, putting his hands into your lower back, closing the gap between your bodies. “All of this over time has been worth it, my love. They’ve given me my own office now, and I’ll only work nine to five and Monday through Friday only. It’s perfect. And they’ve given me a pay raise, so I’ll be able to provide for three of us, or four, if we wanted.” He smiled proudly, eyeing your lips for a brief moment.

You blushed, thinking about two little Timothées running around your home, thinking about how hard your husband had been working the last two years you had been married to provide for your family. “Oh, Timmy, I love you and I’m so proud of you.” you beamed, hugging him.

He squeezed you back in a warm embrace, nuzzling into your neck, inhaling your scent. “Mm, you smell amazing. Like cinnamon.” he cooed, his voice low, vibrating against your skin.

You giggled as you felt his lips on the tender spot of your neck.

“You’re so breedable.” he groaned just before picking you up off the ground, tossing you over his shoulder with your bum in the air.

You yelped, laughing, “Timmy, what about dinner?”

“We can warm it back up afterwards.”

……

He tossed you onto the bed.

You put your hands out on either side of you, propped up as you sat watching him undress.

He wore a pale blue button down shirt, that he had undone and exposed his white tank top underneath. His gold necklace shimmered in the bedroom light.

“Are you going to put a baby in me?” you teased.

“Yes, I’m going to put a baby in you. Your belly will bulge with my cum.” He was such a mild mannered, strait-laced working citizen, your husband, so to hear him speak so perverted, so explicitly, it turned you on. It made you ache with need.

He tossed his billowy shirt into the floor, whipping off his wife-beater, and unzipping his trousers. Just as he touched his glasses to remove them, you interrupted, “No, keep them on, please. I love you in your glasses.”

Timmy smirked at you, “What wifey wants, she gets.” He dropped his trousers and boxers to the floor, and climbed on top of you.

You giggled, instinctively putting your hands on him, sliding them over his back. His muscles were hard, but his skin soft and smooth. And he smelled incredible, even after a long day at the office.

He attacked your mouth with hungry kisses, he tore your clothes off quickly.

“Timmy, don’t rip them!” you cried.

“You’re worried about your clothes right now? You should be thinking about my cock.”

You giggled as he removed every article off of you. He touched your pussy, you gasped as his fingers brushed against your warm, wet folds. His fingers were slightly roughed from years of typing and using a calculator, so he irritated your flesh in the most erotic way.

“Are you thinking of my cock?” he demanded, deepening his voice, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock touching your clit.

You shuddered, “I was actually thinking of your fingers, my love.” But you wiggled slightly, feeling eager to have him inside of you.

“Yeah? Taste yourself on them.” he dared, putting his digits to your lips.

You looked in his eyes, unsure.

Timmy nodded, “You should. You always taste good, baby.” He was back to his tender, sweet self for a moment.

You took a gentle hold onto his hand, bringing the tips of his middle and forefinger into your mouth, moistening them even more, tasting the salty and sweet flavor of your slickness.

Your husband bit his lip, groaning ever so softly at the sight. “Do you have to be so breedable? Fuck.”

With that, his plunged his thick cock into you. Unable to do anything else, you kept his fingers in your mouth, sucking.

Timmy’s voice rumble in his throat as he started to buck his hips, slowly at first, stretching you, then faster. The flesh of his skin started slapping against your wet core. “Yesss, ahh.” he groaned, clenching his eyes shut in pleasure.

You shuddered and cried out your moans as his cocked bucked hard into you, deeper and deeper.

His thrusts were rough, but determined. He held your face as he nuzzled into your neck, kissing, nibbling on your throat, cursing under his ragged breath. "You feel amazing, it's hard not to come yet." he muttered.

You placed your hands on his back, not wanting him to ever get off of you. You loved the warmth of his body and the pressure of his weight on you. His balls slapped against your ass as he gained more speed. "Ah!" you yelped, the leg muscles tensing and your toes curling. You hand found his hair, tugging. It was so intense, so warm, and so much friction. You loved feeling so full and so loved.

"Fuck, here it comes." Timmy grunted, "Ah, I'm gonna fill you with my cum, you're having my baby soon." He cupped his sweaty hands onto your hips. "I love you so much."

You felt his sperm spill and spirt into you. He shoved his cock deep inside, fucking the baby making serum further. You let your head fall back, your core felt numb, and you saw only stars. "I love you, Timmy. I'm gonna have your baby." you said weakly as your body went limp.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[yeeterthek33per]

It hurts (but I've got you)(Katrina Gorry x reader)

A/n I'm gonna warn everyone right now. This one is gonna get dark. It's a fresh loss, and I'm feeling ridiculously angsty. Warnings include mental illness, unaliving mentions, past abuse, self degradation, and panic attack warnings. and some seriously dark thoughts. A lot of mentions of trauma coping. Seriously, do not read if you guys can't cope with it or if it triggers you.

Also, this isn't the only Gorry fic I'm writing atm 😅

----------

It felt like you knew the moment your fiancee had been subbed off that this game was it.

3-1 down with just 3 minutes left of regulation time. Even with stoppage, nothing felt like enough. None of you were processing Tony's yells from the sideline, none of you could feel the rush you needed to.

And they just kept coming at you. The exhaustion was setting in and nobody could keep up with them anymore.

Sam couldn't get the touches she needed to.

Mackenzie wasn't communicating well with the girls at the back, and they weren't aggressing like they needed to

You felt helpless in the chaos, despite being in the midfield. Your passes weren't connecting, and every touch you had felt like it was a turnover to England.

It felt like Chidi wasn't being given enough time to work her magic. The English defence was reduced to several layers of blue. None of the strikers up front had the energy to challenge that.

Steph was completely out of it, Caitlin was trying, but she didn't have the strength.

In the end, none of your attempts were enough, and it was weighing on you like a pile of bricks. You felt sick. To the point where your sobs nearly turned to dry heaving.

You'd collapsed to the turf the moment the whistle blew. Hiding your head in your knees, you avoided any possible camera angles of your face, not wanting to be seen losing it like you were.

You could barely budge when you felt a hand on your back.

Everything was just overwhelming... not processing, but still somehow all setting in at once.

You felt several pats on the back over the course of a couple of minutes. You assumed the England players. Proven when you heard your old teammate Alessia, rubbing your back and mumbling to you how proud she was of you, especially watching you play throughout the cup.

You could barely acknowledge the blonde though.

Everything was screaming in your ears, all the pressure, the deafening silence of the crowd aside from the few England fans that did show up, the players off the side of the pitch yelling and celebrating.

The first person to force you out of your shell, though, was Katrina. She's knelt in front of you and tugs at your arms, pulling them from around your head and urges you into her embrace. You meet her eyes enough to see the tears, and that just sends you further. You feel like you failed her.

It didn't feel like enough. Nothing you did during that game was enough. Her voice is shaky but it's soothing enough to get you to slow your tears, but it's just piling up behind walls in your head at this point. It's being boxed up and padlocked.

Your first reflex is to apologise. And you do.

"I'm so sorry, it wasn't enough, I wasn't trying hard enough, I failed you."

Katrina feels her own heart crack a little further, hearing those words come from you. You'd played your heart out this entire world cup.

You were exhausted. You all were. But you couldn't see that you were doing all you could. It hurt more than anything to know you were blaming yourself for this. Though she fully expected it. You were still learning to process losses like this. She was hoping you'd made enough progress in case a loss like this happened.

It was something you'd both been working on. It's one of your childhood traumas. Losses were ingrained into you like life failures. You'd been taught from a young age that failure was never an option. That it resulted in beatings.

That it meant you should die.

That was something that you'd ingrained into yourself as a coping mechanism while you were still with your foster family.

Katrina knew of the abuse, but she didn't know much about the state of your mental health. It was something you'd only recently opened up with. Little by little, but not a lot.

It bounced around your head like a mantra.

You failed, it's over.

You failed.

You failed.

You're gently brought back out of your head, Katrina's hands on either side of your face, her thumb caressing your cheek, her forehead leant against yours.

"Look at me, baby, breathe, just listen to me, okay? You're in your head too much. Just listen to me and try to breathe with me. C'mon baby, you can do it. Come back to me."

You try to match her breathing. You hadn't even realised the panic attack had hit you.

Your chest was heaving, and you managed to slow it down a little.

"That's it, my sweet girl. You've got it."

You try to take in her words.

Just breathe.

You're a failure.

You're okay.

You've got this.

You fucking useless-.

Just breathe Y/n.

Breathe.

It's okay.

You're safe.

"That's it, you're safe here, Baby. You did so well."

Her lips press a kiss to your forehead.

"That's it, baby girl. You did it. I'm so proud of you."

Her hands shift to your neck to rub at it gently. Her nails scratch at the skin lightly, and you let it distract you. Your breathing is finally relaxed enough to let her pull you to your feet.

You almost can't bring yourself to look around. But you pick up your head and take a deep breath as Katrina keeps you looking at her.

"That's it, Y/n, that's it."

You close your eyes and take a final deep breath, and then meet her eyes again. You feel guilty for dropping this on her right now. Now is not the time for her to need to comfort you.

So you stone wall it back and fake a little relaxation in her arms.

"I'm good, I'm good, I'm okay. I-...I'm"

Sorry. I'm sorry.

You didn't say it out loud, but her face immediately shifts, and it seems you don't have to. It's almost like she can read your mind.

"Hey, no, uh uh. None of that, you don't need to apologise to me. You're my girl, and you're allowed to be vulnerable around me. I'm always gonna be here for you. Don't ever apologise for not being able to handle things on your own."

You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back, blinking back any tears.

You've got this.

You nod, whiping away tears.

She rubs your shoulder softly. And you finally manage to look around at your teammates. A few of them are still just... sitting... contemplating the game.

Sam in particular. She looks like she's holding it in just about as much as you are, although more than likely a little better. The disappointment is still fresh in her eyes, though, and you can't quite face your best friend just yet. So you move to hug the others.

Katrina follows behind you a little. Not directly, but enough to keep a close eye on you as you console the girls. Charli and Kyra stick by her as well. The two of them had been the first to go to her after the whistle blew.

Though they do come find you after a few minutes. You were marrying their practically adoptive mother, after all. That and you were family to them as well.

Charli is the first to reach you. You let her hold you for a few minutes, and you rub at her back as well.

"Thanks, Cha Cha, I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to play today like we'd hoped."

She shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter. You all played the best you could today. I'm so proud of each and every one of you."

Your eyes well up a little bit, but you suck it back in.

"I know."

She ruffles your hair a little bit, managing a small goofy smile, and it gives you enough to let out a watery laugh.

"Atta girl."

It gets a little easier to breathe after that. And you find it easier to approach Kyra too.

"Hey, kiddo."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this."

"Not your fault, Ky. You played the best you could today."

You're quick to envelope her, too, pulling her into your chest, resting your head on hers. She's a little shaky but she's coping.

You both start to walk the pitch after that. Beginning to applaud the crowd for their support throughout the tournament.

It still stings. You know it will for a while. But each step is an easier breath. For now at least.

But at that, with each step comes a new echo in your head that you have to push down. It helps having your family there with you. Your real family.

You don't even register the huddle or the locker room talk.

When you get on the bus, Katrina is quick to shove her way into the seat beside you. Not that she has to, really. There's this unspoken rule about the team. Katrina is always next to you after a loss. They know it's for good reason, but they never pry or ask why.

By the time you're back to the team hotel. Its late and everybody returns to their own rooms.

You try convincing Katrina that you'll be fine, that you're just tired, but she's adamant about staying in your room. She reads you like an open book. Truthfully, you definitely aren't fine, and being on your own is not something she's wants for you right now. Harper is with Linda, Katrina's mother, thankfully, so she doesn't have to see this.

You go to join her in saying goodnight to her daughter, but she tells you to stay put for now. You can see her tomorrow.

You almost whine saying you missed the two year old, but you know not to push it, and you know you aren't in the right headspace to be around her right now.

You get ready for bed, and it only takes ten minutes for your girl to return again.

"She's doing fine, a little confused why Cha Cha didn't wanna play Aeroplane tonight, but she went down without much fuss."

You smiled a little at that, Harps was such an easygoing kid. It was hard not to fall in love with such a sweet little thing. Being in love with her mother certainly didn't help prevent that either.

"I'm glad she's doing okay then."

Katrina swaps out her (your) hoodie for one of your sleep shirts and strips down to just underwear.

"I think we'd both be a little better if her mama was too, though." It's not even subtle. You know she's not trying to be. She never is. She's gentle about it, though.

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." It's said in a joking tone, but the unimpressed brow you get makes you feel a little guilty for that one.

"You want to talk about what happened?"

"Want to or want to?"

"You have to want to talk about it before we get anywhere. I won't force it out of you, I know it's still so fresh, but you need to want to before we can talk, sweetheart."

You sigh a little, resting against the wall behind the bed. You think about it for a minute. Before ultimately deciding to just hold on to it for a bit longer.

"Not just yet."

She nods in understanding.

"I'm here when you're ready baby."

"Maybe in the morning, it's just a little more tender than I'd like."

You still feel bad, though. Katrina played the same game you did. Lost the same game you did. Yet you couldn't handle it the same way.

You slip under the covers, and she joins you, slipping under, on her side and behind, spooning you. Her arm tucks itself over your waist, pulling you back into her shorter self. In that moment, you let her warmth lull you to sleep, thoughts of regret and guilt still plaguing your mind.

-------

It's weird. You've never seen Sam mad like this before. She's always been a relatively calm captain. Even after losses this big. You'd never seen her raise her voice at another teammate. Sure, sometimes people do stupid shit, and she has to pull them aside to speak with them, or lightly scold them, and that usually works, but...

Here you were.

She'd asked you to come to the meeting room downstairs first thing this morning. She's been yelling at you for the past five minutes. With each sentence, you just shrink, smaller and smaller, and it's like you're back on the pitch again.

"How could you let this happen?! Why did it take eight of you to let them through?! After all that hard work? How hard is it to keep them out?!"

"I-"

"How hard is it?! You're a defensive midfielder. You should know you have to keep them out, and you failed me!"

"Sam I-."

"You fucking let me down, I am absolutely fucking disgusted with you y/l. Why did you think it was okay?!"

"Sam, I'm sorry I-"

"'Sorry' isn't a fucking excuse, you knew you couldn't let us lose and you fucking let me down. You let them all down, you fucking failed us."

You're sobbing at this point, barely able to get a word in. You're curled up in the corner of the room, and Sam is standing over you. You can barely register the feel of artificial turf beneath you as the blaring lights of the stadium nearly blind you.

She's still yelling, but it's like she's muffled now.

Off to the side even.

You look up around you. She's still yelling, but you can't hear her over the crunching of grass beneath a pair of leather loafers. It screams in your ears, almost painfully. You know those sounds all too well.

Your foster father walks towards you slowly, with purpose. His belt bent and tucked back into his hand again.

"What did I tell you would happen, Jessica?"

It makes you tremble, and your body is rooted to the spot. You feel like you can't move. He always tried to force the name on you. Your foster mother just let it happen.

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out are more sobs and half met pleas. He's standing right over you now. His arm raises the belt in the air. And right before he brings it down. You see the angry and disappointed faces of everyone. Sam still yelling.

Steph, Caitlin, Charli, Kyra, Ellie. Katrina stands on her own, shaking her head at you. She turns away right as the belt comes down.

-----

Your eyes blink open. You feel the stickiness of dried tears on your face, fresh ones replacing them quickly.

You have to take a quick few breaths to gather your surroundings again.

It's okay. You're in your room. He's not here to hurt you.

Katrina's arm is looser around your waist now. You're tucked into her front but on your back now, and she's dead asleep on the pillow beside yours.

It's okay.

You're safe.

How could you let this happen?

Fucking dumbass.

Worthless piece of-.

That's all it takes for you to carefully slip out from under the covers. Careful not to jostle your sleeping fiancee. You couldn't get the look of disappointment on her face out of your head.

She'd looked completely done with you. She couldn't even look at you. She was so disappointed.

Tears were still flowing from your eyes. Your breathing was starting to become more rapid as you slipped out of the room's door, a small click behind you as you shut it.

You couldn’t stay here.

That was all you could think about. There was no way security would let out at this hour without questions, so you have to find a back door.

You sneak into what looks like an old busted fire escape hall. There's an old alarm attached to it, but it's not even enabled, you having prepared to bolt if it had gone off if you were wrong about it. You'd heard one of the staff talking about it needing replacing soon and that they'd disable it until it could be fixed.

Your socked feet are quiet, but slip on the tile floors as you walk out the back door. Looks like the alarm isn't enabled from the inside. You duck out quickly and just run down the road. You keep running. It's dark out still. You didn't even check the time before running off.

But it doesn't matter.

The thoughts in your head are spinning. Everything's just crashing down on you. You're curled up in an alleyway, beside a dumpster.

Fucking useless piece of crap.

You couldn't keep them out?

You're worthless.

You-

It's all just echoing around, piling in your head. Your head is between your knees as you rock back and forth.

It-

It scares the shit out of you when a pair of hands carefully rests on your shoulders.

You let out a little scream, not expecting anyone to have followed you. It's Katrina. You're relieved for a second but quickly tense again.

Shit, you hadn't meant to wake her on the way out.

"Hey, it's okay, it's just me. Im sorry I scared you."

She's hesitant to speak at first, processing what she's going to say, you assume. So you speak first.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

She shakes her head at that.

"Baby, that's not the problem. In fact, I'd rather you have woken me up... baby, what's going on? What's happening in that head of yours? Talk to me, why are we out here?"

"I-." Your voice is shaky, and you have to clear your throat. Your eyes drift to look anywhere but at her.

Her fingers on your chin bring your gaze back though.

"Look at me. What's going on?"

Your words are mumbled softly, like you're trying to force them out, but they just let out almost inaudibly. Thankfully, traffic outside had calmed down in the earlier hours of the morning. So she does hear you when you say it.

"It was just a bad dream, i needed some air."

Her face softens, but she's still sceptical. Thankfully, she doesn't have to prompt you further. Everything just feels so kept up. You let it out slowly, but the more you talk, the more tears that flow out to join the words whispered.

"It's just... God, I feel so stupid. It's not like everyone around me isn't dealing with the same shit."

She's silent as you try and process what to say.

"I- everything's just collapsing in on itself, it feels like... I know it's not the end for me, or for us as a team, but..." There's a little understanding dawning on her face. "Everything in my head has just been crumbling lately. Yesterday, just kind of, I don't know? Completed that? Compiled it? I don't know. It just built and built and built and everything's just being thrown back at me again."

"So that dream...?" She urges gently.

"Was just everything compiling in one go."

"Do you want talk about what happened in it?"

"I-not here, I won't make us have this conversation beside a dumpster."

Katrina laughs a little, letting her hand come up to hold your cheek. "Fuck baby, we could have this conversation on the edge of a cliff and I would still sit and listen. Whereever you wanna be my sweet girl."

You let yourself lean into the warmth of her hand, the cold now having started to seep into you as you're sitting down on the concrete.

You nod quickly. "Let's go. My ass is starting to freeze." She chuckles and pulls you to your feet gently.

Thankfully, Katrina had half the mind to leave the access door unlatched, and you sneak back into the hotel with little to no trouble.

Back in the darkness of the hotel room, you're leant back into her, sitting between her legs on the bed. Her hands run through your hair, gently scratching at your scalp as you replay the events of the nightmare.

"It was so daunting, and it just kept finding its way into my head, and just... god... I love Sam... and I know she would never, but... it just felt so real."

"And it just kept going. It just devolved into... well. My old foster dad... he just..."

Tears started to well up, and you couldn't finish it after that. The words wouldn't come out. At your hesitation, Katrina is quick hush you, pressing her lips to your temple.

"It's okay, baby, you don't have to say it. I'm so sorry you have to deal with that."

"S'not your fault, just my stupid brain."

" Your brain is just trying to help you process the loss, okay? You've suffered so much, and it's okay to be grieving and dealing with it how you need to deal with it."

You lean your head back against her shoulder, letting the tears fall. God, you didn't deserve this woman. She was an amazing mother, a brilliant football player, and an amazing soon to be wife, too. She doesn't wipe the tears away this time, and you let them go.

Instead, she holds you. She lets you cry into her.

She lets you cry into the super early hours of the morning before you finally manage to exhaust yourself into a heavy sleep, tucked between her arms and her whispering sweet nothings, soft praises, and promises of forever with you as you do.

"I know it hurts, baby girl, but we're all here for you, and I've got you, and I'm not gonna let go in a hurry or ever."

You may not be able to tell her everything yet, but she sure as hell would make sure she was there to listen when you do.

[blondbrat]

★ — SLUT !! drew starkey x actress reader

summary - your dating the man of your dreams, drew starkey, your fellow cast member and boyfriend.. but like always, people have to hate on you — the only comment people ever for female celebs existing happily in their relationships ‘she’s honestly just a slut’

warnings - use of y/n, slut shaming, overall shitty comments, stressed!reader

a/n - part of a drew starkey!au I wanna start. inspired by taylor swifts song ‘slut !!’ honestly in love with drew I can’t he’s so perfect :) as someone who’s been slut shamed, I definitely wanted to empathize how hard it is, especially as a woman, just simply living your life and getting hate for it x

If they call me a slut you smiled sweetly to yourself. posting the picture with a click of ur finger, a cute outfit for a fun night ! work had been going on long lately — not that you didn’t love every second of it. it was just tiring, and you were glad u could finally take a breath. just a chill night with your cast members and drew.. god, your smile turned into a cheeky grin as a knock sounded on the door.

you sighed softly, letting the weeks weight finally fall of your shoulders as you clicked off your phone — muting your notifications was an unconscious habit of yours

—instagram / 8:34 pm saturday

y/nprimrose : basketball game group date! their really trying to bet on who’s b-ball team will win, as if it won’t be mine! in all respect, it will be 💞 @*drewstarkey @*rudypankow @*madylncline

drewstarkey baby, my love, sweetheart, we both know what team will win, mine ❤️

↳ obxhasmyheart STOP this kind of relationship >>>

↳ user1 the way he uses the nicknames for y/n 🥺

primrosefanpage how does she always have the cutest outfits?? I LOVE HER

↳ drewsactualgf1 cute, the fuck? I guess if she works as a stripper…

user2 does she always have to have her tits out tho? just like her character wow

↳ drewsactualgf1 slut on screen, slut off screen. a slut in general 🥱

↳ user3 the only reason she was able to pull drew!! like cmon over here mr.starkey, I have tits AND a personality

user5 fucking put on some clothes. drew. deserves. better!!

user4 the fucks wrong with this comment section…

you didn’t glance at your phone once — drew peaking in with his usual grin. god, he was handsome as always. before you knew he pulled you into a cuddly embrace “hi baby, saw your post, you really think your teams gonna win huh’?” you beamed ! wrapping your arms around his neck as you gave him a soft peck — that shut him up quickly ! the night was perfect — everyone riding together as you all laugh and talk, simpering even more hysterically and playfully as the ride went on.

you found urself finally about to just relax. hand in drews as you all walked into the packed basketball building. crowed and buzzing with excitement. grinning sweetly at the array of papperazzi that greeted you, you all were used to it by now ! even posing in some as u four found ur seats, taking a few pictures with fans that seemed to be frozen in shock as u all waited for the game to begin.. you loved interacting with your fans, exactly why you requested normal seats — you loved being able to get to know them, helping them calm down once the realization hits in. it was as much as an experience for you as it was for them

“you look beautiful” drew leaned over and whispered in your ear, chuckling at the bloom of blush that crept over your cheeks. he couldn’t help himself, you did!

before you knew it, the game was starting — the turnover resulting in your team making the first basket ! you and rudy cheered, pocking drew in the side laughing as he rolled his eyes playfully. once more baskets were made and sarcastic laughs extanged, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder — leaning his head against yours as he kissed you on the forehead gently. both your friends too busy joking around to notice the sweet scene.. but it made it all the more perfect. this is what u both needed, just a night to be together ♡

drews arm still around you, you chatted with madayln — both agreeing work has been a lot lately while keeping your gazes on the game. your team was winning ! and you simpered, scrunching your face in mocking triumph as u glanced down at your phone — trying to slyly see if their was only a little amount of time in the game left, which would guarantee your favorite teams win ! but your recent notifications caught your attention instead.. and all you could see were specific words instantly ‘slut’ ‘stripper’ ‘a pair of tits and that’s it’ what the hell?? your face immediately fell, and you clicked on the notifications frantically.. expecting to find a porn scene or something with a woman who looked somewhat like you (which had happened before) not your joking post from earlier.. the picture wasn’t even the main reason you posted it. and let alone.. to get all this hate. for wearing a fucking shirt??

your feed was bombarded with hate after hate. slut, slut, slut and so much worse.. your gut twisted, a strange feeling of guilt and embarrassment fogging your head !! your anxiety spiking !! drew and all your friends were destined to see the post soon enough?? drew commented on it, just before all the comments were posted.. it was humiliating. and u couldn’t help but doubt urself —would everyone agree with the comments? did everyone think of u like that, just a pair of tits?? maybe it was a bit revealing? you’d struggled with these kinds of comments before u got famous.. and after the stress of non stop filming, the one day u finally let urself breath — this fucking happened :(( it was just all too much

your head was spinning — you convinced urself you were overreacting, this happened to all female celebrities atleast once.. but fuck, you never realized how humiliating it was !! until then.. u tried to breathe, and Drew noticed ur tenseness immediately, ur pretty eyes seeming to fall in.. shame?

you shook his hand from ur shoulder, standing up instantly “g-gotta go to the bathroom” you murmured — before drew could even grab your hand you paced away, dodging cameras and people as you slammed the door into the single stall bathroom. you just needed to process.. and hiding with the hopes drew hadn’t yet seen the comments. slut. slut. slut.. for wearing a pretty shirt?

tears began to well up in your eyes, satly droplets — and you wish they didn’t !! just like everything else that seemed to be happening, you had no control over it. your breathing was hitched, fast and panicked as u paced around the bathroom. reading every hate comment like you’d atleast find one that said it was a joke.. it wasn’t.

u were staring at yourself in the golden brimmed mirror — clumpy mascara running down ur face, leaving black stains in their fall. slut. slut. slutyou had just recently came to fame.. ‘slut’ met drew, the man of your dreams ‘slut’ and still, these small (not) things effected u— isn’t it fucked up? how its drilled into woman’s brains that it’s their fault.. for simply loving their bodies and being happy?

your thoughts were interrupted by a banging on the door.. it had been there the whole time “baby! y/n open up! let me in will ya? please baby I’m worried!” your heart melted at his concerned voice, eyes softening as you tried to wipe away ur foggy tears — meeting his eyes as u opened the door. ur best friend, and love of your life instantly swooning u in his arms.

“hey, hey baby look at me ok” he whispered softly, cradling u like he never wanted to let go.. he didn’t. “you scared me sweetheart, running out of there like that.. talk to me” his body was so warm, so hard, so perfect.. your home. and before you knew it you were letting urself breath. meeting his sapphire eyes. “drew.. do you ever-ever fuck do you ever look and me and frown because I look like a… s-slut” you stumbled whispering, adverting your eyes from his. “y/n w-what?!” he squeezed you in his arms even tighter, tilting ur head up to his so gently it felt like a butterfly’s touch. “Did someone say that to you?! someone here?!” he glanced around protectively, his face furrowing intimidatly before softening when he again found yours

“n-no.. just something I posted on insta—“

he didn’t let you finish your sentence — his heart breaking at the crack in your voice.

it wasn’t long before you were leaning agaisnt the sink, still snuggly in his arms as you cried in his shoulder. whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you let it all out — the stressful week, the exhaustion.. and then finally, the post.. the comments

you knew you would never forget the moment drew cupped your face with his hands, kissing the bridge of your nose — the touch so gentle it was like a butterfly. you could see the anger in his eyes, not at your of course, never at you. the fact anyone had the nerve to say such things about his girl, but more than anything, he needed to make sure you understood they were utter lies, being spurred in jealous envy “y/n please look at me babe, they are lies.. you are a beautiful, kind, and fucking incredibly talented actress and singer” you giggled at his empasis, tears no longer streaming down your face as u finally found his eyes “and fuck, the love of my life.. I’m drunk in love with you Primrose, and if some out of millions of people can’t handle that.. do what you do best-“ the words were like soft silk against your skin — drew, smiling softly, leaned down as gave you a soft kiss. “give them the bird, baby” he whispered against your lips, his breath fanning your teary face — eliciting a rapsy laugh from your pretty lungs.. god, he truly was your home

You know it might be worth it for once

—instagram / 12:00 pm Thursday

y/nprimrose : NEW SONG OUT NOW : SLUT !! ps. call me one, it’s worth it ❤️

drewstarkey your such a masterpiece baby, so drunk in love with you primrose ❤️ always doing what you do best ;)

you didn’t bother reading the rest of the comments, to occupied with drews kissing to even care (the song becomes a HIT)

Might as well be drunk in love xoxo

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Trey Clover - "The Sweet Escape!"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain vice prefect of Heartslabyul spends time with you in the dorm kitchen and makes you all the sweets you could ever want. Or; In which you sneak off from your dorm, Pomfiore, to spend time with your malewife angel of a boyfriend, Trey Clover.

                                                                                                   

♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️

Trey chuckles as he feels your arms wrap around his waist from behind. He doesn't bother to turn and face you even as you whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You always seem to appear out of thin air; suddenly embracing him from behind and refusing to give him a clear answer on whether you should be elsewhere.

"Hmmmm~ Trey."

You hummed; your soft but whiney voice muffled by his clothed shoulder.

The arms that enclosed tightened just slightly as you pulled him closer; face digging deeper into his shoulder. He felt your chest swelling against his back as you took a deep breath in and let out a long sigh of contentment.

"Yes, my dear?"

He muttered gently, chuckling as he felt you pull him impossibly closer to you.

"Mn hmph hmmnn..."

You replied, but your words were so muffled Trey could hardly understand but in the end he got it.

The forest green-haired man humms as he turns his attention back to the counter in front of him. It was a new recipe that Cater had asked him to try his hand at after seeing it in a post on MagiCam; a caramel apple turnover, it was called. He had just taken them out of the oven just before you arrived to hold him close as you usually did.

Trey glanced back at you, catching the fluffy locks of hair from the top of your head out of the corner of his eye. The pastries were cool enough to eat now and he knew that you would immediately jump at the chance to try his baking. It honestly made him so flustered when you were so enthusiastic about his passion, even going as far as to deny any sweet treat that didn't come from him.

Picking up one of the warm pastries, he gently called your name and brought the sweet treat to a stop just in front of your now-lifted face. He could hear the crunch of the crispy pastry as you took a bite and the hum of delight that came from the back of your throat before taking a bite of his own. Delicious; he'll certainly make this again.

"Ah, right... I love you too, dear."

Trey spoke softly, his lips curved up into a gentle smile as he spoke.

Suddenly, he let out a squeak of surprise as he felt you nip at his neck; dropping the pastry he was eating in surprise. His face flushed a deep strawberry pink as he reflexively brought up his hand to cover the area. Whipping his head back to your face contorted in embarrassment as he gave you a look of confusion.

"A punishment for not answering me sooner, what a cruel wife you are... Now gimme another bite, you're food is too good to have just one."

You mumble into his clothed neck, hands resting on his soft hips and giving them a gentle squeeze every so often.

You were always like this, what did he expect?

♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️•♡•♣️

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Congrats on 100 followers!!!! and since ur taking requests to celebrate, maybe something with a sub!viktor x afab!reader? u usually write him more dom coded so i'd love to see your take on that!!

bless you for requesting this. i had the nicest little writing session working on it. i should write more sub!viktor for sure. cw: viktor is finally getting punished for being a fucking tease. unbeliavable. word count: 600~

He sharply exhales into the curve of your neck, eyes two sad watercolor spots devouring you from under their half-lidded cover. The angle is rather inconvenient for one small pleasure you still didn’t rid him of — for the past few days Viktor has been surviving purely on staring, and by now he’d become absolutely miserable — you turned the man into a shamefully perverted suitor, stealing glances at your cleavage whenever it appeared in his visual field. He’s rarely that touchy at work — which means that your once-sweet gentleman is now at the peak of his desperation; arms wrapped around your waist, lips a warm tender pout against your shoulder, kisses hot enough to be palpable through the fabric of your blouse. Has you gasping, hands gripping the edge of his desk for support. 

“Are you feeling merciful today, by any chance?” he quietly inquires into your ear, eager to deliver a sloppy stroke on that one spot with his nimble tongue. Poor thing hasn’t been taken care of in days — cock a painful swell in his unbearably tight pants. He tries not to act too invasive, but it presses into your hip nonetheless — heavy, hot, and asking for your touch.

“That depends,” you huff out a laugh, effortlessly escaping the cage of his embrace. He swallows a groan of frustration, fingers squeeze the cane so hard he might as well just bend its sturdy handle. 

“Why must you persecute me with those vague answers?” he sighs, bright head pleadingly tilted to the side. It’s a refreshing turnover — once a tease and a smartmouth now pitifully obedient. Oh just what a few cruel sexless days do to charming brats. 

“Plainly because you haven’t earned a clear one yet,” you’re all but laughing into his face, but he doesn’t protest your mockery — oh the things he’d sacrifice to sprawl you out on his desk, tongue an agile little swirl inside your cunt — use me, fuck me, let me please you. But he prefers to address this in his own way. 

He responds by setting his cane aside, limping leg a trembling unstable thing without its support. You arch a confused eyebrow, but he doesn’t let you stay puzzled for much longer, blessing you with a pleasure of watching him sink down to his knees — a little clumsy and rather uncoordinated, yet still beautiful, and you gawk at the devotion of copper eyes looking into yours with promising yielding. 

“Viktor, what are you doing?” you hiss, evidently worried about the not exactly private setting of his workshop. But it doesn’t bother him in the slightest — the possibility of getting caught with his face buried under your skirt is certainly not something he’s fearful of. Cold hand directs the back of your palm closer to his lips, and he lingers there — mouth hovered about your knuckles before a kiss.

“I’ve grown so desperate for you,” he whispers — oh the mouthy bastard — and a chaste peck caresses your hand, forcing your breath to hitch. 

“I understand, but-“

“I’m begging you to reconsider the punishment,” he utters, meaning every word — and you’d gladly ride his face until he’s a breathless mess for the pure way he’s staring up, seeking your pity. “The lines I’d cross for your touch — if only you would have me. Please.”

He doesn’t dare to snake his other hand up your legs — he’s waiting for permission, and it might just be the death of you — your sweet, sweet man, who is definitely going to deservedly cum tonight. 

But that's your entertainment for later. 

Your fingers caress the line of his chin, and he leans into your little clemency with a thankful whimper. 

“And you promise not to get us caught?”

“Consider this whim fulfilled. As well as whatever other whims you might have in store for me.” 

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

2. If you had to write a book involving disability, what kind of book would you write?

19. What's something you learned from other disabled people that you really value?

2. write book

answered here >:)

but if expand book to all form writing. want publish research on nonverbal people talk about what it like be nonverbal, what every day experience, what make you frustrate, what make joy, what wish caregiver know what wish world know, etc. — with what be call “feminist methodology” or something similar, like researcher positionality (experience n identities of researcher affect research we do even if we try be unbiased bc we people n people never fully remove self. n instead ignore it we need recognize it embrace it), like let participants participate in research let them have say (like if talk “not grammar right” if they want be corrected in transcript or leave as is, let them review theme n see if represent what they say, etc). it be blend gender studies papers n psych research paper with speech language topic. do adaptive interview and/or focus group. code it into themes. n analyze it.

want do in publish research paper form because. a lot academic n research people only cite eachother, that non academic paper n personal anecdotal stuff not good enough, so want beat them at their own game because AM GOOD AT IT

19. what learn from other disabled people

oh so so much! feel so lucky meet disabled people with different disability n different experiences than me here. n similar disability different experiences. n similar disability similar experiences

dive into facial difference. limb difference. visible differences. hear what people w ID talk about what it like actually live with it. those nonverbal from birth n those early diagnosed n those in special education talk own experiences. those with terminal illnesses processing what it like. those with neuromuscular disorders. those with more severe disability than me. Deafness. sensory disabled. list go on n on.

n learn so much from people that come before me, community “ancestors” n “generation before me”—it not about their biological age but those who start do this work before me. n often stop do them before me too. advocacy exhausting n turnover high. there so many even just on tumblr. not going name them because they gone or stopped or change accounts n focus, but remember them all. we community built on top of eachother’s work.

so much of what am do what am say now is own stuff from own experience, but same time. learned everything from them.

thankful for disabled people who introduce me to everything am know everything foundation to my advocacy now. we built from people that came before us n we make up people who will come after us.

ask game

[abroadlifeactually]

The Soft Life or Slightly Cushioned?

I find myself contemplating what the “soft life” really means? During a conversation with one of my good friends from back home she said “girl, just embrace the soft life”. I was stunned for a minute, because nothing about my life at the moment felt soft. Is this the soft life!?!?Because it didn’t feel very soft. It hadn’t even occurred to me that it could be labeled that way.  I was a full-time housewife who’s free time was spent cleaning. I started looking into what exactly constituted a “soft life”. Quickly I realized, that label was being used very generally for vastly different ways of life. For example, there are stay at home moms (SAHM), and there are stay at home moms with nannies and/or housekeepers, and those two moms are living very different lives. At the time I was living the former.

When we first moved into our apartment, I was the main caregiver of Sunbeam, with help from my husband who is a very active dad. I was also solely responsible for all of the house upkeep, luckily my husband likes to cook and grocery shop so I had help with that part. This was the most grueling work I’ve ever done, and I worked in PR in NYC, and at a non-profit with what felt like 60% turnover. There were no breaks, no downtime, and you are plugged in 24 hours a day. The only time to myself was in the bathroom, which had to be quick because the Sunbeam is very active, and eventually that became similar to an open floor plan. I was exhausted and would crash immediately after Sunbeam went down. Nothing about that felt soft to me. There are people out in the world who would love this life, but being a housewife was never my dream. As a former professional woman, I found it much more challenging than any office job I’ve ever had.

After a few months of living in a haze, we finally sought help. A friend advised us to tear numbers off flyers on the grocery store bulletin board to find a nanny/help, which sounded crazy to me. Turns out it’s a legitimate way to find help here, so we did. We also joined facebook groups and put up help wanted posts. Eventually we found our nanny/housekeeper who changed my life. She works part-time so I’m still with Sunbeam most of the time, but now I have someone to help with the upkeep of the house, and allows me to go to appts, run errands, etc without having to pack a bag and drag my stroller onto trains and busses.

I will admit this is definitely a “softer” life, and affords me the flexibility in my life to do more self-care and things such as blogging, and working out, which is nice and necessary. However, my life does not look like what Tik Tok demonstrates as the soft life. There are no trips to chanel, or champagne brunches. My cupboard is not neatly laid out with monochromatic jars, and no matter how much we clean the apartment is always covered in toys, crushed cheerios, and whatever Sunbeam gets into. I’m still not convinced that I am living the soft life, certainly not as shown on social media. So maybe I’m living a slightly cushioned life??

I am grateful for the life that I have now, and I realize that flexibility is very privileged and that I live a life that some may desire. I love being home with Sunbeam and I wouldn’t change that for the world, but there are always challenges. Being a SAHM doesn’t feel like less work or soft work, but different work. And it’s very easy to lose your identity and feel bored and lonely, especially when living abroad. Daily meal planning (three healthy meals and two snacks) and creating an educational environment for a toddler all day with no attention span is not easy. The closet that I passionately curated over the course of several years now sits still, and is quickly being replaced by shirts with built-in bras, birkenstocks, and jogging pants. You dress for comfort and stains, which leads to fewer excuses to indulge in shopping like I would have previously. I can only speak for my experience, which might be different since I live abroad and my nanny only works part-time. But when I check-in with the fellow expat housewives in my little cohort, they all express similar sentiments so it’s not just me.

I understand the desire and the benefits to living this way, so my words aren’t meant to dissuade, but to just give perspective. From what I can see, unless you have unlimited amounts of money and a partner who doesn’t mind how you spend it, then if I am living what is considered a soft life, then it doesn’t look the way it’s shown on social media. At least if you have kids.

[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

Hello everyone! This blog will create polls for everyone to decide if [character] would become a servant to or otherwise aligned with [one of the Fears from The Magnus Archives podcast].

*See explanations of Avatars and different Fears here.

Submission rules:

(by "submit" we mean "send an ask"; submissions are turned off)

1. Please submit a character with 1) their source and 2) one Fear you hypothetically assign them to. If the source is eponymous with the character, please still specify it! We don't like to doubt ourselves. If you don't do the second thing, we will not assign them myself and will, therefore, not make a poll.

2. You can submit OCs if you link a resource with information about them.

3. You can submit real people based on a media/stage persona, but must include a reason for submission. No billionaires or politicians please.

4. Your ask can include one or two sentences of propoganda. If you include more, it will be posted as a comment on the poll instead.

5. You can submit a character that already appeared, but with a different Fear.

6. Please limit yourself to 1-2 asks at a time (as in, wait until they get their polls then request more). This way the turnover time for each person will be smaller, and we'll have more fun!

7. You can now also submit a character, place or object to be polled as a manifestation! These can be real or fictional and pretty much the same rules apply as for avatars.

The wonderful inspirations and the blogs I will humbly ask to promote me: @bracketsoffear @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula @sexiestpodcastcharacter @couldtheycatchkira @wouldtheybecomekira @couldtheydestroythering @can-they-beat-goku

You can check what polls have already run or look at the data in this spreadsheet:

Options that will appear on polls are under the cut!

The polls will assume that a character will by default have a relevant experience or otherwise be exposed to the Entities' existence. "No, there would be no reason for it to begin happening" will not be an option - what's the point and the fun of this blog then?

Yes, willingly: the character would embrace the possibility of getting some sick nightmare powers.

Yes, by coercion: they would go through with it, but only if threatened with a loved one's life or something along those lines.

Yes, by unawareness or conditioning: they wouldn't realize until it's too late or would be raised to be an avatar, unaware their way of existence is not normal.

No, they would decline/resist from the start: they have enough fortitude to not act on any of their changes and/or decline any offers of such changes.

No, they would go along but stop before the transformation: willingly or not, they would be on the right track but would stop before the point of no return.

Introduced on 07.02.24:

No, they would already be an avatar for another Fear: they would display another alignment long before the one discussed, with the choice between them unlikely to occur in one of the above ways or at all.

I don't know this character/See results: self-explanatory.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mark Sumner at Daily Kos:

The large red fingerprints of the Heritage Foundation seem to be everywhere in the news. The group authored Project 2025, which would empty the federal government, populate it with MAGA loyalists, and, in its own words, “deconstruct the administrative state.” As The New Republic puts it, Project 2025 is “a remarkably detailed guide to turning the United States into a fascist’s paradise.” They’re thrilled by the Supreme Court’s recent immunity ruling, deeply involved in attacks on diversity and equity initiatives, and obsessed over strange things like Prince Harry’s visa.  And they promise not to kill all leftists—as long as we sit quietly and acquiesce to their dominion over the nation.

The Heritage Foundation so kindly offering to let us have our lives in exchange for our freedom is a malignancy that has festered in the group for decades. Though it benefits from a name and a network of donors stretching back five decades, today’s Heritage Foundation is a much more dangerous beast.  It has wealth. It has connections. And it has democracy in its sights. The Heritage Foundation was founded in 1973 by the founder of Coors Brewing and conservative strategists Paul Weyrich and Ed Feulner. They thought that President Richard Nixon had moved too far to the left and that other Republican organizations were too timid. They promoted a strong anti-communist message and a social conservatism that didn’t recognize a wall between church and state, and pushed for a smaller government.  The group quickly gained power under President Ronald Reagan, who embraced its “Mandate for Leadership”—a 1,100-page document of policies—and distributed it among his staff. Much of what came to be known as “the Reagan doctrine,” both domestically and internationally, was a repackaging of this product from the Heritage Foundation.

[...] Like many organizations, Heritage has seen turnovers in leadership, staff purges, shifts in philosophy, and difficulties in maintaining its place in a changing political environment. But the Heritage Foundation that exists today is practically a toddler. With a razor blade. This iteration of the Heritage Foundation dates to the pandemic, when the group's previous leader, Kay Coles James, made the mistake of trying to follow safety guidelines, including closing the group’s offices for an extended period and putting up signs that encouraged masking. That led to her replacement by conspiracy theorist Kevin Roberts, who had been on Texas Gov. Greg Abbott's COVID-19 task force and immediately pushed Heritage into suing to stop any vaccine mandate.

The architect of the radical right-wing policy guide Project 2025 is The Heritage Foundation. The organization’s hard MAGA turn began under the leadership of Kevin Roberts.

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Say Goodbye To Acne Scars And Unlock Clear Skin

Acne scars can be a frustrating reminder of past breakouts, but fear not! With the proper skincare routine and the power of niacinamide, retinol, azelaic acid, and AHA/BHA, you can fade those scars and achieve the clear skin you've always desired. In this article, we'll explore how these incredible ingredients work their magic and provide you with an easy-to-follow routine for achieving optimal results.

Niacinamide: The Skin's Best Friend

Niacinamide, also known as vitamin B3, is a superstar ingredient when it comes to fading acne scars. This potent antioxidant helps reduce inflammation, regulate sebum production, and improve skin texture. Incorporate a niacinamide serum into your routine to reap its benefits. Apply a few drops after cleansing and before moisturizing for maximum effectiveness.

Retinol: The Holy Grail Of Skincare

Retinol, derived from vitamin A, is a game-changer for acne scars and overall skin health. This ingredient boosts collagen production, speeds up cell turnover, and reduces hyperpigmentation. Start with a low-concentration retinol product and gradually increase usage to avoid irritation. Apply it at night, after cleansing, and before moisturizing, and always wear sunscreen during the day, as retinol can increase sun sensitivity.

Azelaic Acid: The Brightening Warrior

Azelaic acid is a multitasking ingredient that not only fades acne scars but also helps with redness, hyperpigmentation, and acne itself. This gentle exfoliant unclogs pores, reduces inflammation, and brightens the skin. Look for a 10-20% concentration product and apply it after cleansing, followed by moisturizer. Remember to patch test first to ensure compatibility with your skin.

AHA/BHA: The Dynamic Duo

Alpha hydroxy acids (AHAs) and beta hydroxy acids (BHAs) are exfoliating powerhouses that work wonders on acne scars. AHAs, such as glycolic acid, help fade scars by gently removing dead skin cells and promoting cell turnover. BHAs, like salicylic acid, penetrate deeper into the pores, reducing inflammation and preventing future breakouts. Incorporate these acids into your routine 2-3 times a week, starting with a lower concentration and gradually increasing as your skin adjusts.

In Conclusion

Achieving clear skin and fading acne scars is within your reach with the help of niacinamide, retinol, azelaic acid, and AHA/BHA. Remember to introduce these ingredients gradually into your routine and always patch-test new products. Consistency is vital, so be patient and give your skin time to adjust. Embrace this powerful skincare routine, and soon enough, you'll be saying goodbye to acne scars and hello to a radiant, flawless complexion!

Note: For personalized skincare advice, consult with us for a tailored skincare routine

[probablyasocialecologist]

The rationalisation of space under capitalism is one facet of the ideology of progress which has had a profound impact on the spatial organisation of society in nature. Marxist geographer David Harvey writes that ‘capital accumulation and the production of urbanisation go hand in hand’. For Harvey, urbanisation is a physical manifestation of the drive to produce a ‘rational landscape’ in which barriers to the turnover time of capital accumulation are removed. In this sense then, letting space lie fallow introduced unacceptable friction into the capitalist system. Highlighting this shift, urban and environmental geographer Matthew Gandy notes that ‘the very idea of rest, and of resting space in particular – letting the earth sleep – counters the accelerative and all-encompassing momentum of late modernity’. The incongruity, however, isn’t just a question of an anxious space of late modernity. The instrumentalisation of space is already apparent in the mid-19th century, when Ildefons Cerdà’s opening statement for urbanisation sought to ‘fill the earth’. And by the early 20th century, this programmatic vision for design was fully institutionalised when Ebenezer Howard’s seminal Garden Cities project ‘sought to maximise functionality through territory saturated with activity’.

Time is also rationalised and subsumed under the growth imperative, which legitimates practices used to force people into reconfigured social relations. As critical urban theorist Alvaro Sevilla-Buitrago remarks, for example, ‘improvers couldn’t stand idleness, regardless of whether it referred to a quality of land or to poor commoners “wasting” productive time by contemplating their grazing livestock instead of embracing wage discipline as day labourers’. It was the capitalist project to proletarianise the population that transformed social relations connected more with ecological rhythms into the realm of the abstract rhythms of capitalism. Put another way, wresting productivity from humans – and non-humans – through labour discipline has always been a central feature of the project of capitalism, from the Enclosure Acts in England until today. Capturing ‘wasted time’ also had another social dimension: the production of new forms of citizenship meant to underpin the bourgeois vision of the modern metropolis. In New York City, for example, Sevilla-Buitrago interprets the construction of Central Park as a ‘special kind of enclosure … [that was meant to] shift behaviors from one regime of publicity to another’ in a battle that pitted the elite against the commoning practices of the New York City streetscape by recently arrived immigrants. While geographer Tony Weis has shown that the slow rhythms and periodic pauses of fallowing can influence social organisation in potentially progressive ways, we see above that the devaluation of idleness has instead promoted a capitalist subject synchronised to the rhythms of capitalist time.

Taken as a whole, the move to valuing progress over fallowing signalled a regime change that rationalised space and time, which, in turn, produced radical social, ecological and continuous urban transformations that, today, are felt on a planetary scale. Viewing the planet as a kind of perpetual growth machine with a core purpose of chasing profits, an ever-growing metabolism, is churning the earth in successive waves of creative destruction. This results in both acute and chronic pathologies of devalued human social relations, diminished diversity of the biosphere and a continually transformed urban fabric at ever larger scales. What impact has the growth imperative had on the design professions? Embedded in, and arguably a tool of, capital, the design professions have been criticised as largely geared towards solving the problems of wasted space to restore class relations and processes of accumulation. Can a design culture that sees itself as inextricably linked to growth retrain its analytical lens on social and ecological value production that exists outside capitalist sociospatial relations, rather than viewing moments of inactivity merely as opportunities to promote the next growth cycle?

[ofdoycnnes]

— closed starter for @heroexxs ( based on this ! )

" hey, hey ! " sadie exclaimed as she felt his arms surrounding her, flour falling around them like clouds of snow. he'd only meant to be stopping by under the guise of keeping her company over her lunch break. though one o'clock had already passed and the pull of his embrace proved too intoxicating to ignore as she reached for anything on his person that would keep her tethered to the moment. pressed flush against the counter, her cheeks burning the brightest red they could muster, kissing every inch of his vast body felt like a near impossible task yet she tried her best to fight every instinct to unfurl herself. still as much she enjoyed their little break in proceedings, there were still orders to prepare and a bakery to run, no distraction ( however handsome and taut it was ) was worth getting bashed on social media for not meeting some influencer's lofty demands. " you need to be-have ! these apple turnovers won't bake themselves ".

[sundaywithoutgod]

16 & 6 !

16. Favorite movie

Shit man….where to fucking begin?!

Goodfellas. Fight Club. Django: Unchained. Kill Bill VOL. 1 & 2. Inglorious Basterds. The Departed. Frontier(s). Just Friends. Road Trip. Grind. Halloween (Season of the Witch lost me…so did the newest ones… but I, II, IV, & V are my favs). Tears of the Sun. Lethal Weapon I-V. Rush Hour I-III. Friday. Next Friday. Friday After Next. Inside. REC I-II. Tobe Hooper’s original “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”. Martyrs. Midori: The Girl in the Freakshow. Men Behind the Sun. George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead. Zack Snyder’s remake of Dawn of the Dead. Cape Fear (both versions). Fatal Attraction. Primal Fear. Come and See. The Strangers. Shawshank Redemption. Fritz the Cat. Happiness. I Saw the Devil. Oldboy. Ichi the Killer. Battle Royale. Jisatsu Circle (or Suicide Circle). Shaun of the Dead. Hot Fuzz. Terminator I-II. Out for Justice. Big Trouble in Little China. Lone Survivor. All of the Bourne films (Identity, Supremacy, Ultimatum, & Legacy). Wolf Creek I-II. Eden Lake. Tumbling Doll of Flesh. Brokeback Mountain (I mean…C’MON).

6. Favorite Band

Black My Heart. Mindforce. Drain. Twitching Tongues. Bulldoze. Dying Wish. Boundaries. Power Trip. Superheaven. No Pressure. Regulate. Turnover. Citizen. Cannibal Corpse. PeelingFlesh. Jesus Piece. CKY. Foundation. Blistered. Leeway. TV On The Radio. Godsmack. Slipknot. Vatican (their old shit is better). Volumes. Knocked Loose. Vicious Embrace. Foreign Hands. On Broken Wings. Incendiary. Chamber. Pain Of Truth. Big Boy. Seether. Buried Alive. Fury Of Five. Twist Of Cain. Creed. Cast In Blood. Life's Question. Sanction. Jukai. Inclination.