#losing my mind over the soft sapphics

[butterflywingswrites]

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

revenge sex with caitlin part 1

“ugh i am so mad at him!” caitlin burst into your room

“was he jealous again?” you couldn’t hide the annoyance in your voice. connor was always getting jealous for no reason

“yes! i literally hugged a girl and he freaked out. so i broke up with him. i’m sick of this shit”

“yes cait i’m proud of you for standing up for yourself”

“he’s going to be at the party tonight and i really don’t want to see his dumb ass” caitlin sighed

“you should give him something to be jealous about. make out with a hot girl right in front of him” you suggested

“fuck yes i love that” caitlin paused for a second “so are you down?”

“me?!” you almost choked on air

“yeah, why not? you’re hot, you like girls, and he’s been jealous about you before. you’re perfect”

“he’s been jealous about me before?” connor had no reason to be jealous of you. you and caitlin were strictly friends

“he doesn’t like me being friends with hot sapphic girls” she once again called you hot

“well that sucks for him that you play basketball. almost everyone you’re friends with is a hot sapphic girl”

“he’s been jealous of you specifically because you’re really hot and we’re so close” your face heated up. not just hot, really hot

“well then i think i would be the perfect girl to piss him off with” you hoped you hid your excitement in your voice. making out with caitlin was something you always thought about but never dared to believe would happen. now you were excited for the party

***

“you look so hot. he’s going to lose his damn mind” caitlin giggled as she grabbed your hand. you walked into the party and almost immediately made eye contact with connor from across the room. you raised your eyebrows at him while caitlin gave him a wave. you both walked over to your friends who were sitting in the corner

as the night went on, your friends laughed at connor’s jealous reactions to caitlin’s flirting. caitlin was pulling out all the moves. she started by putting her arm around your shoulder and bringing you close. you had to bite your lip to hold back when she put her hand in your back pocket and squeezed your ass. but when she moved her hand from your back pocket to trace circles on your thigh, both you and connor lost your shit. caitlin’s long fingers on your thighs felt amazing

upon noticing connor’s bulging eyes and balled fists from the corner of her eye, caitlin suggested that you two dance. she grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. she turned you around, pulled you close to her, and put her hands on your hips. you danced like that for a bit until she put her head down close to your ear

“you like my hands on your hips babygirl?” you didn’t know where babygirl came from but you were too turned on to ask

“mhmm yes. feels nice” she peppered your neck with soft kisses and you let out a whimper. she brought her mouth back under your ear

“kiss me” she demanded. she turned you around and put her lips on yours. she moaned as she put her tongue inside of your mouth to deepen the kiss. you made out for a while, not caring if connor was watching or not. you were enjoying kissing caitlin-it was even better than you imagined-and you hoped she was enjoying it as much as you. if you were to guess based on how she was moaning into your mouth and grabbing your ass, you would guess she was

“come home with me” she breathed out as you finally broke the kiss. you nodded and she dragged you to out the door. as you were leaving, you turned around to smirk at connor

you and caitlin ran back to her apartment hand in hand. when you finally got to her door and she let you in, you panicked a little

“are you sure caitlin? you’re fresh from the break up and—“ she cut you off with a kiss. she moved you into the bedroom as you were kissing. you didn’t realize you moved that far until she broke the kiss to push you on the bed

“shut up and let me taste you” she straddled you and started making out with you again. you felt her hands on the buttons of your pants trying to get them off. she broke the kiss to undo your zipper and slide your pants off. she kissed the wet spot on your underwear before hooking her fingers in the sides of your underwear and pulling them down. she kissed and nipped on your thighs

“caitlin please” you grabbed her hair

“mhmm please what?” she breathed out against your thigh

“eat me out please” with that, caitlin got to work. she slowly licked your pussy, building up a slow and steady pace

“does this feel good?” she moved her hand to rub circles on your clit “do you like how i eat your pussy?”

“fuck cait so so good” she kept up her steady pace with her tongue and fingers, bringing you closer to your orgasm

“cum for me babygirl. cum on my tongue” your orgasm hit you hard and heavy as caitlin finished you off with her tongue. she moved back up your body to kiss you. you normally didn’t like how you tasted but you loved how you tasted on her tongue. you continued to make out until you felt her tugging on your hair. you smirked a bit

“do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, desperate to finally taste her

“yes babygirl please” caitlin basically begged for you. she flipped you over so you were on top “make me feel good”

[hrizantemy]

Because my inbox isn’t letting me respond to this message directly, I’ll be doing it here instead.

Here’s the message I received:

“You’re making a lesbian storyline about Clotho and girl? Why not make Clotho and a male be something instead? That would be better wouldn’t it? I would rather read about her getting sex like from Azriel or some Fae male she falls for than a human female. Do you not see where I am coming from on this post?

She is High Fae why give her someone human if it won’t last long or if she can’t be made.

She is High Fae why give someone who is naturally stunning and flawless in a beauty stand point to someone who Clotho will look better than.

She is High Fae and a high priestess, which means she needs to have children of her own, how do you know if she doesn’t want children.

If you’re going to make it a female story why not make it with someone who is on her level. Like Mor if it has to be a female?

I am not saying that Clotho looks down on humans at all. She does not give that type of vibe off her at all, nor does she look like she cares about those type of things, if anything I would say she does not look down on humans just because they are humans. She doesn’t seem like she thinks her kind and humans are unequal in any way or form, she does seem like the type who thinks very highly of humans! I just think she deserves better. Merrill her right hand could even be a choice a great one if we chose to make her a lesbian. At least someone of her kind can bring her to higher sexual relations.

This post is not to be rude I love your works and how you think, I just am asking questions that are on my mind from your stories and the things people request not just from you, yourself, but from Tumblr writers in general.

Who even asked for a story like this? Not everyone needs to be kissing females when one is a female!”

Thank you for being honest and for taking the time to write out your thoughts. I can tell this message wasn’t meant with outright hostility, but I do want to gently—and firmly—push back on the ideas you’ve shared, because there are several assumptions in your message that are not just hurtful, but rooted in a way of thinking that reinforces hierarchy, beauty standards, heteronormativity, and even a bit of fae supremacy in a fandom where we’re supposed to be imagining beyond those limits.

1. “Why not make Clotho and a male be something instead?”

“Wouldn’t that be better?”

No, it wouldn’t. Not inherently. There’s nothing “better” about a heterosexual romance over a sapphic one. Love between two women is not a downgrade. It is not an afterthought. It is not a placeholder for when a man shows up.

If your reaction to a female character finding love, safety, intimacy, and healing in another woman is disappointment because she “could’ve been with a male,” then that’s not a narrative flaw—that’s an internal bias that should be examined.

Clotho falling in love with a human girl named Thalia is not about rejecting male love. It’s about softness. It’s about safety. It’s about someone finally looking at her, and not flinching. That is a story worth telling.

2. “She’s High Fae. Why give her a human if it won’t last long?”

This is a classic fantasy genre argument, but it falls apart quickly—especially in ACOTAR, where humans get turned Fae all the time. Elain, Nesta, and Feyre are three examples off the top of our heads.

But more than that, this argument implies that human characters are less worthy of love, which is a dangerous assumption in any story—especially one that already flirts with fae elitism. If we write a world where humans and fae can live alongside one another, then we also write a world where love across those lines is not only possible—it’s meaningful.

Clotho falling for a mortal doesn’t mean she’s “settling.” It means she’s brave enough to love someone she could lose.

3. “She’s High Fae, stunning and flawless. Why give her someone she’ll look better than?”

Let’s be very clear here: this is body-shaming disguised as worldbuilding. And it’s cruel.

Thalia—this mortal girl—is not being written as less beautiful, less worthy, or less significant. You are making that assumption based on her being human. That’s not just unfair—it’s fundamentally at odds with how Clotho herself views the world.

Clotho, who was violated and disfigured, whose voice was taken from her, whose body bears scars no one dares to look at—that Clotho? She doesn’t want perfection. She doesn’t want beauty. She wants someone who sees her and does not flinch. And Thalia does that.

It’s not about who’s “hotter.” It’s about who’s kind. About who’s safe. About who treats her like she matters.

4. “She needs to have children. How do you know she doesn’t want children?”

This is a familiar but dangerous belief: that a woman’s value, especially in fantasy, is tied to her ability to reproduce.

Not all women want children. Not all priestesses want children. Not all relationships are built around children. And even if Clotho did want children, there are countless ways she could raise or adopt them. This comment equates queerness with a lack of future, as though queer relationships are inherently infertile, loveless, or incomplete.

That’s just not true. Sapphic relationships are not lesser just because they don’t conform to patriarchal expectations of lineage and birthright.

5. “If you’re going to make her queer, why not pair her with Mor?”

Why should every queer woman in the series be paired with the only canonically queer woman in the series?

This mindset:

• Reduces queer characters to a matchmaking system.

• Suggests that sapphic stories only matter if both people are fae, beautiful, and powerful.

• Ignores how class, trauma, and quietness shape who people love.

Clotho isn’t Mor. She doesn’t need a Mor. She needs someone who sits with her in silence and still understands her.

6. “This isn’t to be rude, I just think she deserves better.”

I genuinely believe you didn’t mean harm. But here’s the thing—“better” is subjective. You’re defining better as:

• Male

• Fae

• Powerful

• Physically ideal

But what if Clotho’s “better” is someone who sees past power and perfection?

That line—“Who even asked for a story like this? Not everyone needs to be kissing females when one is a female”—is where the intent of the message stops sounding like “just asking questions” and starts revealing the deeper problem:

You’re not actually asking who requested the story. You’re saying it shouldn’t exist. And that’s where I draw the line.

Because here’s the truth:

People did ask for stories like this.

Queer people. Survivors. Readers who are exhausted by every powerful woman being given to a man like a prize. People who saw themselves in Clotho’s silence, her scars, her quiet strength—and wanted to imagine a kind of love that didn’t look like domination or conquest or control.

We’ve read stories like Rhys/Feyre a thousand times. We’ve watched women be claimed, broken, mated, redeemed, and sexualized for centuries in fantasy. And for once, we’re asking:

What if the story was about softness?

What if it didn’t center power or gender roles or beauty?

What if love was chosen, not fated?

What if it was between two women?

So when you say “not everyone needs to be kissing females,” what you’re really saying is: I’m uncomfortable when queerness is treated as normal, central, or sacred.

But here’s the thing: queerness doesn’t exist to be palatable to you. Sapphic love doesn’t need justification. It doesn’t need to be “earned” by matching power levels or species or beauty standards.

Clotho and Thalia’s story isn’t taking something away from you.

It’s giving something to people who have rarely seen themselves loved without condition.

So if it’s not for you? That’s okay. No one’s forcing you to read it. But don’t ask why it exists. Because the answer is simple:

It exists because we do.

Because queer love is real.

Because softness matters.

Because we asked for it. And we will keep asking. And keep writing. And keep loving.

Whether you understand it or not.

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Daddy Agatha Harkness X Sapphic Reader

CW: Hypnosis,no awakener, dubcon

Agatha helps the reader relax after a hard day by taking away their thoughts and playing with their tits. No genital mentions. Reader is called girl a lot and pet as a title is used. Reader is also praised a lot and lightly degraded.

“This’ll feel good angel, I promise.” Agatha said to you as you laid together on the bed.

She wrapped herself arms around you from behind. Her touch was comforting as always.

“I want you to take a nice deep breath in for me. In. Hold it. And out.”

She felt some tension leave your body as you followed her instructions. “So good for me. Take another deep breath in. And out. Just keep breathing for me sweetheart. And as you breathe I’m just gonna keep talking to you gently. Just like this. And I’m gonna hold you close to me as you breathe in and out.”

She squeezed a little tighter. You kept breathing for her. But even as you tried to keep your focus on your breathing, the worries from your day kept popping up in your head.

“So much goes on in that pretty little head of yours, doesn’t it love? We’re gonna take that away today. All you need to do is listen to my voice and I’m going to guide you into mindlessness. It’s going to feel so good. You might find that your thoughts keep creeping back up, and that’s okay. It’s normal. But here’s what I want you to do.” She twirled her finger and whispered something you couldn’t make out. Suddenly a purple spiral swirled in front of your face.

“You’re gonna look into this pretty spiral, and you’re gonna let it pull those thoughts out of your brain. My magic will just hold them for you until I decide to give them back. So stare for me pet, lose yourself in it.”

Your eyes fluttered. The spiral was bright and purple and it really did draw you in. You leaned your head forward just a bit, wanting to drink it in.

“Good girl. Give into the spiral. Give into my magic. Give into me. I’ve got you, sweet thing.”

Agatha’s words were so gentle. You felt warm all over. Your head was starting to feel fuzzy. Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

“It’s perfectly natural to start to feel sleepy when you’re so enthralled by something. When it just takes up all your focus. Especially when it’s draining you of all those errant thoughts. You don’t need those with me. You don’t need to think at all with me. Let my words become your thoughts babydoll.”

You let out a sigh, and you let your mouth hang open. Still staring at the spiral. Nothing in your head but the spiral and Agatha’s words.

Agatha chuckled. “Aww look at you. Already blanked out huh? Nod your head.”

You mindlessly bobbed your head up and down.

“Oh what a good girl. I could do anything I wanted to you right now. You’d follow my every command. It feels so good to follow my instructions. To let me shut down your brain. To let me pull every thought out of that pretty little head of yours.”

As much as you wanted to keep staring, you were going totally limp, your head slumped down towards your chest.

“Awww, my little plaything’s getting sleepy. How cute. But…” She grabbed the back of your hair and pulled your head back up. “You’re gonna keep staring for me. I know there’s not much left in that head. But I also know it just feels so good to stare. So good to give in. You’re so good for me. So good at giving in to me.”

You let out a soft sound.

“Such a sweet thing. Let’s test your obedience hmm? For the rest of this trance, every time I ask you a question, you’re going to respond ‘Yes Daddy’. Got it?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Good girl. Such a pliable mind for me. Are you my good girl?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Yes you are, my good girl. Are you deeply hypnotized for me?”

“Yes Daddy.” You really were.

“Do you love being hypnotized?”

“Yes Daddy.” You really did. You had never felt so vulnerable, and yet so safe.

“What time is it?”

“Yes Daddy.” Some small part of you knew that didn’t make sense. But you couldn’t think about that, you just needed to do what Daddy had asked. She had taken your mind over completely.

Agatha chuckled. “Good girl. Such a good girl for Daddy. Want Daddy to make you feel even better honey?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“This will feel so good baby, I promise. Daddy’s got you. I’m just gonna take my hands and put them on your tits. Do you like having Daddy squeeze your tits?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Such a good girl. So helpless to whatever Daddy wants to do to you. Now I’m just gonna rub your nipples baby. Nice little circles as you keep staring at the spiral. No thinking for you, just feelings. Just pleasure.”

You let out a small moan as Agatha played with you. You were just a vessel for receiving pleasure.

“Just rubbing around and around and around. Just like how the spiral swirls around and around and around. And the more I rub your pretty nipples, the deeper you sink for me, and the deeper you sink for me, the more sensitive your nipples become.”

More pathetic sounds of pleasure left your mouth as the suggestion sank in. You felt your sensitivity increase with every move of Agatha’s fingers.

“Good girl. Let me hear you. Let Daddy know how good you feel. Daddy’s good slut. And the pleasure is just growing and growing as you sink deeper for me, as I keep playing with you. I can play with you however I want huh baby?”

“Mmphf. Yes Daddy.”

“Because you’re my good slut, aren’t you baby?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“And you love having Daddy’s hands on you. And you love feeling the pleasure build from just my hands on your nipples, isn’t that right,slut?”

“Yes Daddy.” You said breathlessly.

“Yes of course you do. It’s building and building. I bet you could cum from this. Do you want to cum for your Daddy, sweet girl?”

“Yes Daddy.” Despite only having been touched on your chest, you could feel spikes of pleasure between your legs.

“Hmm, I don’t know if you want it bad enough. Can you beg for me? Show me how badly you need it?”

“Please Daddy. Please you feel so good. Please I want to cum for you. Please please…” Your words mostly turned to babbling after that.

“Such a sweet girl. Cum for me.” Your Daddy instructed with a final pinch of your nipples.

Your eyes rolled back as your back arched. Pleasure jolted from your nipples and spread all over your body.

“Good girl, just feel good, just let go.”

Your breathing was ragged. Your focus was taken off the spiral as the orgasm took over you. You would’ve started to come back to yourself if it hadn’t completely exhausted you.

Agatha took down the spiral with a flick of her wrist and held you close.

“You did so good for me love. You can close your eyes and drift off to sleep. I’ve got you, I’ll be here when it’s time to get up.”

Agatha loved how far you dropped for her. Loved taking away your thoughts. It was fun turning you into a horny little toy, of course. But more than that, she liked taking away your stress, liked keeping you safe in her arms. It fulfilled something in her, in a way that even taking other’s magic didn’t.

[equalhealerr]

“ugh i am so mad at him!” caitlin burst into your room

“was he jealous again?” you couldn’t hide the annoyance in your voice. connor was always getting jealous for no reason

“yes! i literally hugged a girl and he freaked out. so i broke up with him. i’m sick of this shit”

“yes cait i’m proud of you for standing up for yourself”

“he’s going to be at the party tonight and i really don’t want to see his dumb ass” caitlin sighed

“you should give him something to be jealous about. make out with a hot girl right in front of him” you suggested

“fuck yes i love that” caitlin paused for a second “so are you down?”

“me?!” you almost choked on air

“yeah, why not? you’re hot, you like girls, and he’s been jealous about you before. you’re perfect”

“he’s been jealous about me before?” connor had no reason to be jealous of you. you and caitlin were strictly friends

“he doesn’t like me being friends with hot sapphic girls” she once again called you hot

“well that sucks for him that you play basketball. almost everyone you’re friends with is a hot sapphic girl”

“he’s been jealous of you specifically because you’re really hot and we’re so close” your face heated up. not just hot, really hot

“well then i think i would be the perfect girl to piss him off with” you hoped you hid your excitement in your voice. making out with caitlin was something you always thought about but never dared to believe would happen. now you were excited for the party

***

“you look so hot. he’s going to lose his damn mind” caitlin giggled as she grabbed your hand. you walked into the party and almost immediately made eye contact with connor from across the room. you raised your eyebrows at him while caitlin gave him a wave. you both walked over to your friends who were sitting in the corner

as the night went on, your friends laughed at connor’s jealous reactions to caitlin’s flirting. caitlin was pulling out all the moves. she started by putting her arm around your shoulder and bringing you close. you had to bite your lip to hold back when she put her hand in your back pocket and squeezed your ass. but when she moved her hand from your back pocket to trace circles on your thigh, both you and connor lost your shit. caitlin’s long fingers on your thighs felt amazing

upon noticing connor’s bulging eyes and balled fists from the corner of her eye, caitlin suggested that you two dance. she grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. she turned you around, pulled you close to her, and put her hands on your hips. you danced like that for a bit until she put her head down close to your ear

“you like my hands on your hips babygirl?” you didn’t know where babygirl came from but you were too turned on to ask

“mhmm yes. feels nice” she peppered your neck with soft kisses and you let out a whimper. she brought her mouth back under your ear

“kiss me” she demanded. she turned you around and put her lips on yours. she moaned as she put her tongue inside of your mouth to deepen the kiss. you made out for a while, not caring if connor was watching or not. you were enjoying kissing caitlin-it was even better than you imagined-and you hoped she was enjoying it as much as you. if you were to guess based on how she was moaning into your mouth and grabbing your ass, you would guess she was

“come home with me” she breathed out as you finally broke the kiss. you nodded and she dragged you to out the door. as you were leaving, you turned around to smirk at connor

you and caitlin ran back to her apartment hand in hand. when you finally got to her door and she let you in, you panicked a little

“are you sure caitlin? you’re fresh from the break up and—“ she cut you off with a kiss. she moved you into the bedroom as you were kissing. you didn’t realize you moved that far until she broke the kiss to push you on the bed

“shut up and let me taste you” she straddled you and started making out with you again. you felt her hands on the buttons of your pants trying to get them off. she broke the kiss to undo your zipper and slide your pants off. she kissed the wet spot on your underwear before hooking her fingers in the sides of your underwear and pulling them down. she kissed and nipped on your thighs

“caitlin please” you grabbed her hair

“mhmm please what?” she breathed out against your thigh

“eat me out please” with that, caitlin got to work. she slowly licked your pussy, building up a slow and steady pace

“does this feel good?” she moved her hand to rub circles on your clit “do you like how i eat your pussy?”

“fuck cait so so good” she kept up her steady pace with her tongue and fingers, bringing you closer to your orgasm

“cum for me babygirl. cum on my tongue” your orgasm hit you hard and heavy as caitlin finished you off with her tongue. she moved back up your body to kiss you. you normally didn’t like how you tasted but you loved how you tasted on her tongue. you continued to make out until you felt her tugging on your hair. you smirked a bit

“do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, desperate to finally taste her

“yes babygirl please” caitlin basically begged for you. she flipped you over so you were on top “make me feel good”

Thank you for your service to the community 🫡

[hihimissamericanbi]

Enemies to lovers AND only one bed? Babe, you're speaking my favorite language here. Tell me more.

well hello there, snitchy snitch!!

Okay, picture this. Sapphic enemies to lovers. Wedding trope. Our MCs are the sister of the groom and sister of the bride. They have disliked each other from the moment they met, back when their siblings first started dating. One is "Miss Priss," the other is "Surly Girlie." Our story takes place at the bachelorette party, a weekend away at the beach. Both our MCs arrive late (so they are grumpy AF already) to find they have to share the only room left. and there's only one bed.

NOW. IS THIS NOT THE PERFECT PANSMIONE. Harry and Draco are getting married. Hermione and Pansy never mended things after the war; they still despise (read: are obsessed with) one another. Now, they've had to work together (ew) to plan this stupid joint bachelor trip for the whole crew. To top it all off, Pansy's portkey got cancelled last minute, and Hermione got caught up in a work emergency at the ministry (at least what I was doing was important, parkinson; sorry if I don't feel bad your fancy first-class portkey got bumped). They spend the first night in their shared bedroom bitching each other out and sleeping as far away from each other as they can get, rolled over to each side and huffing in exasperation.

Honestly this works great for any HP ship pairing. Jily having to work together to plan Wolfstar's bachelor trip. Wolfstar exes-to-lovers planning Jily or Jegulus' trip. Drarry planning Ginsy's. You get the idea.

Below the cut for more stream-of-consciousness fic, incl NSFW art from @upthehillart :D

@hpsaffics you're getting a tag here too :)))

After much description of hot girls in bathing suits (hermione's ass) (pansy's legs) and both of them just absolutely losing their minds over each others' bodies, with lots of sniping back and forth to cover up how embarrassingly into each other they are, they end up last ones at the muggle bar the second night, too tipsy to try apparating. Fuck it, granger, dance with me. Oh boy, do they DANCE. It's so fucking hot, they can't get enough of each other, the feel of their bodies close, their flesh beneath each others' hands, that LOOK in pansy's eyes that says I'm going to eat you alive and you're going to say thank you. But just before something drastic happens, like hermione putting her lips to pansy's neck like she's been wanting to for honestly a very long time, longer than she cares to admit, Harry bursts onto the dancefloor "there you are!!! we've been looking everywhere for you get in the uber right now!"

The spell is broken, and, faces beet red, they let harry drag them back to the air bnb. they take turns showering, being sure to change into pj's in the bathroom (Pansy in a giant band tee shirt and booty shorts, Hermione in a lace pink matching set). Hermione is tying her hair up in a specially-charmed silk scarf and going over some notes from work that got delivered by owl while they were out, and pansy thinks she's the loveliest thing she's ever seen. Pansy's caught staring. "what?" "nothing, granger." there's a pause, like maybe they each want to say more, but instead, pansy just turns out her light with her wand. "night, granger," she whispers.

There in the dark, they both lay on their backs, listening to each other breathe. they end up having a tension-filled, intense exchange where they are truly vulnerable with each other for the first time. apologies are given and accepted in the softest whispers. tentatively, pansy reaches out a hand beneath the covers, drags the back of her fingers gently over the soft skin of hermione's arm. "i really am. sorry. i never meant any of it. you." deep breath. "you're the most incredible girl I've ever met. I've always thought so."

and then--

Hermione moves with that intense decisiveness of hers. She rolls over, straddles pansy, grips her face and kisses her long and deep. Pansy opens her mouth to her instantly, and a stupid little moan escapes and it's the most pathetic sound she's ever made but she will make it again and again if it's hermione who pulls it from her. "Want you," Hermione whispers into pansy's neck, finally latching on and sucking, biting, coaxing blooming bruises of violet and and blue to her pale skin. She shoves her hands up underneath pansy's tee shirt, not an ounce of hesitation, grips her tits hard. kneads them, dances fingers over her nipples, seeing which touches elicit the most gasps from the beauty beneath her. pansy is arching and writhing with pleasure, and hermione grins into her mouth, wicked and brutal. The witch who kept a woman in a jar for months for slandering her friends, the witch who destroyed horcruxes and single-handedly kept two boys alive for the better part of seven years, the 20-something witch ruthlessly bulldozing over all the old white bureaucratic wizards at the ministry, is now the witch taking pansy apart inch by inch and fuck if pansy isn't thrilled to be broken by those powerful hands, sucked dry by plush lips, devoured by sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as they sink into her skin over and over.

But Pansy has a few tricks up her own sleeve. She grips hermione with strong thighs and rolls them over, "Can I take off your scarf?" she breathes it her ear. "wanna pull your hair while i suck on your tits." Hermione whimpers and pulls her scarf off and pansy gathers those fucking curls into her fist and pulls, careful of course not to damage the curl pattern. Pansy licks a long stripe up her now-bared neck and over her ear, then whispers, "pull your top down. let me see." Hermione obeys, of course she obeys, pansy is commanding and relentless and if pansy wants to look hermione will let her. she fingers a strap of her camisole down off one shoulder, skims her fingertips over the top of her breast, just over the nipple still hidden beneath the fabric. Pansy's mouth is dry and her cunt throbs as she anticipates finally getting a glimpse of her nipple, already hard and poking through the silk and lace. "all the way," pansy murmurs. "take it out. show it to me." hermione whines and squirms and finally digs her hand all the way in and pulls out her breast, so fucking full and delicious with large brown nipples that beg to be kissed, so of course pansy does. Pansy looses her patience and pulls the camisole all the way down, exposing both breasts to her gaze and her wandering hands. she dives in, laving attention all across hermione's warm skin, nipping and licking and sucking and groping. her hips have started grinding down against hermione's pelvis, and hermione is arching up to meet her. "wanna make you come," pansy growls between hermione's tits. "how do you like it?" hermione stills, and pansy looks up. "um," hermione bites her lip. pansy kisses it out from behind her teeth. "yes, baby? what do you want? let me give it to you." Hermione take a deep breath. "i thought i was going to have my own room. i may have brought a few... toys." "oh, like what?" Hermione rolls over, digs around her her bag by the bed, and shyly pulls out an ENTIRE FUCKING STRAP. The magic kind that connects sensations from the strap to the wearer's clit. "I was hoping i might get lucky, going out and everything this weekend." Pansy's speechless. "Would you, um, let me fuck you with it?" hermione asks, big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Cut to, pansy on all fours, legs kicked wide, ass up, facing the mirror by the bed, watching hermione completely naked and fucking her with her cock, her curves bouncing and slapping with every thrust, the sounds wet and loud and crude, mixing with Pansy's gasps over and over and over. Pansy's tee is shoved up by hermione's demanding hand; she's gripping the skin of her shoulder, her other fist burying in Pansy's hip and pulling her back onto her dick even as she fucks into her, hard and deep and fast. Hermione is strong and her grip bruises and Pansy couldn't move if she wanted to. "M close," Hermione murmurs. "yes, yes, yes," pansy chants in reply, all other words fucked right out of her brain. "touch yourself for me, baby, wanna watch you come first." but when pansy collapses down to one shoulder so she can use her other hand to rub her clit, she gasps in shock. Hermione has wordlessly and wandlessly charmed her fingers to vibrate. pansy shouts when her charmed fingers makes contact with her aching clit, swollen and needy from what feels like a lifetime of getting handled by hermione fucking granger. just a few passes through her folds and over her clit has Pansy shaking and coming with a muffled scream, Hermione following right behind her, the force of her orgasm plunging her cock even harder into pansy's pulsing cunt. it kicks off a second orgasm for pansy, back to back, and she screams and screams until hermione finally pulls out and gather pansy into her arms, shushing her and smoothing her hair.

They clean each other up take turns in the bathroom, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

maybe this wedding won't be so bad after all.

ps: below is my headcanon depiction of pansmione from a fic i cannot recommend enough . Art and fic both by @upthehillart

watch out the girls are naked and hot

[mystic-headcanons]

tragically, there's not enough sapphic jaehee content. forgive me if this isn't quite in character for her-- i just wanted to write smth soft <3

you can't remember when your heart started fluttering around jaehee, or when just hearing her soft voice and even softer giggles was enough to have you blushing. and as time passed, it became harder to keep your feelings at bay. every time she entered a room, your eyes were drawn to her, and every time she popped into the chatroom, you immediately abandoned the conversation you were having just to talk to her.

you weren't the only one who noticed jaehee, though. plenty of men would ask her out; maybe they'd stop her on the street while the two of you were walking home, or maybe they'd slide their numbers to her once she'd made their coffees. and every time it happened, your heart would drop just a little more. these were attractive men, and you were terrified of the day she accepted one of their advances.

(one time, after a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you had opened up about romantic interests. she talked about the men she dated, about how they'd never actually satisfied her, about what she found attractive in a partner. when she had asked you about your romantic preferences, though, you lied. how could you tell her that men didn't interest you? that you found the glint of excitement in her eyes and the sound of her laughter much more interesting? about how you thought about soft skin and soft lips and soft voices much more than tough muscles and tougher emotions? you couldn't utter a word of that to her, and instead shoved the desire deep, deep down and locked it up.)

of course, nothing stays hidden forever. she found out about your hidden feelings on accident when she overheard a conversation between you and zen. mostly everyone- save for jumin and jaehee- knew about your feelings, and you'd taken to ranting to zen more than once. he was always willing to listen and offer advice if you wanted it, and this time was no different. you thought you were alone, but jaehee came home and heard you talking about her. "she's killing me, zen." you'd quietly admitted, letting out a quiet sigh. "i don't know how much longer i can pretend my feelings are platonic."

your quiet admission had jaehee weak at the knees. never before had someone spoken about her with such softness, with such love in their voice. you jumped when you saw her standing in the doorway and stuttered out a quick goodbye to zen as she made her way over to the sofa you had been sitting on. "you can pretend like you never heard that." you offered, voice barely above a whisper as you stared at your phone. fear was coursing through you and your mind was racing with all the ways she could react. would you lose her as a friend? would everything be awkward and stilted now?

you hadn't, however, counted on jaehee warmly smiling at you and moving to grasp your hand between hers. "i had hoped...of course, i didn't want to be selfish, but i had hoped you harbored feelings for me." jaehee spoke, her thumb lightly caressing the length of your palm. "i...i really like you." she admitted, glancing up through her lashes and chuckling at the way your head whipped up. "i just never thought i had a chance, so i...didn't want to say anything. didn't want to overstep any boundaries."

your free hand came up to lightly cup jaehee's cheek, an incredulous look on your face. "jaehee..." you breathed out, before leaning in and pressing your lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "i didn't...i would've told you if i thought i had a chance." you leaned your forehead against hers, smiling as she moved to kiss your forehead. "well. i'm all yours."

[dichromaticdyke]

realization of my own fucking characters that just hit me over the head (abigail’s not my own character but i fill in the gaps yk yk)—they both had to be “one of the guys” and weren’t really allowed to be girls until they were with each other. lemme explain.

devon always had an easier time making friends with boys rather than girls. not to say she didn’t get along with girls, she always could, but it was almost exclusively in a sexual or romantic manner. and even still the vast majority of those were hookups especially from straight/questioning girls. this is even before devon looked like what we see her as now, this was even when she just looked like a grungy punk tomboy. this was when she was traveling down the east coast and living in florida in a van with a bunch of metalheads, all dudes. then you get to the point devon is at now, often passing as a man and rarely bothering to correct anyone unless that correction was warranted (again, mostly in sexual situations). abigail was devon’s first serious relationship since samanta, and that ended 16 years before meeting abi, and that’s what comes from being one of the guys, casual hookups, mostly socializing in predominately masculine areas (bars, metal shows). and that’s all also not to say devon didn’t have a community with sapphics, there was absolutely a point where she did, namely working at a lesbian bar in florida. but after deserting klokateer initiation, she felt like she couldn’t really re-enter those spaces, it was too risky in her mind. and she liked sapphic culture, but if she had to choose between giving up that and giving up being around metal and music, unfortunately, she picked the former.

abigail was also similarly in a male-dominated field, the same one as devon, but with the caveat that she was in a position of power. she already knew the mostly all-men bands she’d be working with wouldn’t take her seriously, so she had to force it. she wasn’t going to be polite and demure to get what she wanted, any energy they throw at her, she’d throw back. that included toxic masculinity. regardless of your feelings of what happened between her and nate on the sub, her actions were essentially gender swapped of the expectation. and that’s tied also into her dress that, while of course still feminine, is more masculine-coded with the pantsuit. dethklok would act like she was gross or uncalled for when she’d talk about her own sexuality or clap back at their dismissive comments, but all that was was their own double standard—she was giving to them exactly what they gave to her. and of course she never interacts with another woman in the whole show, so we never see this battle axe persona fall.

which brings me back to devigail together. devon hadn’t been able to be the soft tender hearted romantic idiot she is in over a decade and a half, and she wasn’t even expecting it after so long of girls not wanting more than one or two nights of fun. and abigail similarly hadn’t allowed herself to take her own walls down, her fears of being dismissed off-hand by her gender (or her race!). And i often worry i’ve made devigail too safe and predictable and honestly bland in their interactions, but a big part of them in TFOM is their lack of communication. that’s not to say they’re both severely emotionally stunted, but devon knows what she wants but won’t say it out of fear of losing it, and abigail doesn’t know what she wants because she’s never allowed herself to think of that outside of her career. and now they’re at the point where they don’t have to be one of the guys all the time anymore.

[gealach-in-a-misty-world]

Her name was written in the pages of someone else's story: Lucy Westenra was one of Dracula's first victims. But her death was only the beginning. Lucy rose from the grave a vampire, and has spent her immortal life trying to escape from Dracula's clutches--and trying to discover who she really is and what she truly wants. Her undead life takes an unexpected turn when, in twenty-first-century London, she meets another woman who is also yearning to break free from her past. Iris’s family has built a health empire based on a sinister secret, and they’ll do anything to stay in power. Lucy has long believed she would never love again. But she finds herself compelled by the charming Iris, while Iris is mesmerized by the confident and glamorous Lucy. But their intense connection and blossoming love is threatened by forces from without. Iris's mother won't let go of her without a fight, and Lucy's past still has fangs: Dracula is on the prowl again. Lucy Westenra has been a tragically murdered teen, a lonesome adventurer, and a fearsome hunter, but happiness always eluded her. Can she find the strength to destroy Dracula once and for all, or will her heart once again be her undoing?

"We're mausoleums, holding the girls we were with tenderness, and love, and strength."

Kiersten White's Lucy Undying is a sapphic and feminist retelling of Dracula, told through the perspective of Lucy Westenra and spanning one hundred and fifty years. There are two timelines; one set in the present, where a young woman escaping a cult finds young Lucy's diary, detailing her version of the Dracula novel, and the other detailing the years after the end of the Dracula novel, with Lucy searching for meaning, for Dracula, and for herself. The two storylines converge into a soft sapphic romance and an explosive ending where a conspiracy is unearthed and dealt with.

This is a novel about sapphic yearning, finding your true self, forgiving yourself, and the struggle against patriarchy. It's also a radical retelling of some core aspects of the original novel, and staunch fans of the book might not appreciate those changes, but they work in the context of this story, and make for an interesting perspective. The way these changes are tied to the present storyline works well enough, turning the book into a kind of thriller.

The final third of the book loses the balance of the first two thirds a little, as the cult storyline takes precedence and a new PoV is added in the form of short glimpses into the mind of a predator. Almost like in Dracula, the author plays a lot with different kinds of narrative styles, employing first person narration, second person, letters and texts, a third person section, and bits that read a little like Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire. This might feel chaotic at first, but it's handled deftly enough.

The book shines with the vividly painted vampires Dracula created over the years, especially three figures that return again and again in Lucy's tale, and gives justice and agency to Lucy, painting the tragedy of being a young woman trapped by societal rules. Her journey is really the focal point of the novel, while also portraying the trappings of modern day cult-like organizations.

Lucy Undying is a sumptuous retelling.

✨ 4 stars

[You can find more of my reviews about queer speculative fiction on my blog MISTY WORLD]

[headcanonsandmore]

'The Morning After'

Summary: Jo Grant wakes up after a particularly wild UNIT Christmas Party to find herself in bed with Liz Shaw. Not that either of them seem to be complaining.

(WARNING- this fic does contain scenes of a sexual nature, albeit not graphic)

I've been busy with a lot of IRL stuff so I haven't been able to focus much time of my fic-in-progress (the highwayman!AU fic for Nyssa/Tegan). However, I hate not being able to write, so I thought I'd write some sapphic fluff with characters I haven't really written about before; it made for a nice change. With a bit of luck, it's spicy and not male-gazey.

~~~~~~~~~~

Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo Grant stirred. She was aware, firstly, that she was in her bed, despite not having remembered getting home the previous night. Her brain then confirmed that the material of her duvet felt surprisingly soft and… close against her skin. Was she wearing her sheer nightie? She didn’t think so. Hmm. Strange.

She gave a yawn, and turned over onto her side. Her hair hung loosely against her skin, although she could have sworn that she had worn her hair up the previous evening for… was it the UNIT Christmas party? Yes, she remembered putting on her favourite black baby-blue minidress. Oh, had she forgotten to remove her make-up? Drat. She hated when she did that.

Blearily, she opened her eyes.

And realised that she wasn’t alone.

Liz Shaw was lying flat on her back next to Jo. She was staring up at the ceiling, red hair dishevelled and bed-rumpled, locks dangling over the pale skin of her shoulders. She had the duvet pulled up to her chest.

With a startle, Jo came to the realisation that Liz wasn’t wearing anything. And, with another startle, realised that she herself wasn’t either. No nightie. No pyjamas. Not a single stitch.

Oh.

‘Er… hello,’ she said, a little nervously. ‘Good morning, Liz.’

‘Good morning, Jo,’ came the reply, and Liz blinked quickly, still staring up at the ceiling. Her hands clenched slightly against the material of the duvet. Jo found her eyes momentarily dart down to what that duvet were covering, and felt a happy shiver go through her centre.

‘Er… are you also-’

‘Completely arse naked? Yes.’

Jo let out a giggle. She had to admit, the feeling of the duvet against her bare skin was rather nice. Her stomach fizzed slightly as she took in the situation.

‘How are you laughing?’ Liz exclaimed, her cheeks flushing pink.

‘Oh, come on,’ Jo laughed, nudging Liz gently in the side, causing a small squeal from the older woman. ‘I’ve never woken up like this before.’

‘What? With a naked woman in your bed?’

‘A naked anyone, to be honest.’

Liz’s eyes widened as she turned her face to look at Jo.

‘You… you’ve never…’

‘Not until now, apparently.’

‘Oh.’

There was a pause, and Jo let out another giggle.

‘If my memory’s correct, you were rather wonderful. Very tender and-’

‘Jo!’

Jo giggled again, and snuggled up against the older woman’s side, slipping one of her legs around one of Liz’s. A delicious shiver went through the redheads body, but she did not recoil.

With the warmth of Liz’s skin pressed up against her own, Jo’s mind was filled with memories of the previous night. Of dancing in semi-darkness, of hands wandering down Jo’s back, of gentle kisses in a dark cupboard, of pushing open the front door of Jo’s cottage and Liz closing it with a swing of her hips, of the discarding of their clothes in Jo’s living room as their passion took overtook all other concerns, of the two of them falling into Jo’s bed and Liz losing herself in desire inbetween Jo’s-

Jo felt warmth spark between her legs, and pressed her thighs together. Good grief, Liz Shaw definitely had a raunchy side…

Jo stared at the older woman. While Jo herself had something of a petite and gamine figure, Liz was a few inches taller and with considerably more curves. In the physiognomic sense, Liz reminded Jo of the members of her private school’s hockey team; those confident, strong older girls who seemed so confident.

And yet Liz was -to Jo’s quiet surprise- apparently very flustered. And, Jo had to admit, she rather liked the thought that she was the cause of such flusteredness from the otherwise-cool scientist.

‘So…’ Liz said, slowly. ‘The whole woman-with-a-woman thing…’

‘Oh, stop worrying,’ Jo said, with a chuckle. ‘I’m not completely innocent about these things, you know; I’ve been on nights out with Captain Yates. After the amazing clubs he’s taken me to, the concept of two women together isn’t that much of a shock.’

‘I did wonder. Didn’t he spend most of the evening trying to flirt with Sergeant Benton?’

‘He’s barking up the wrong tree with the sergeant, unfortunately. I don’t think Benton likes anyone like that.’

‘Hmm,’ Liz said. ‘I did wonder.’

‘Quick question?’

‘Hm?’

‘Liz… why are you covering yourself?’

‘I… I thought you wouldn’t want to…’

‘To see? Liz, I saw way more than them last night, if I remember correctly-’

‘Ssshhh!’ Liz spluttered, giggling. Her hands slipped on the covers, which promptly slid gently off her chest.

Jo gave an appreciative whistle, and grinned, dimples showing in her cheeks.

‘Jo Grant, you are incorrigible.’

‘Says the woman who spent half of last night with my legs around her-’

Liz cut her off with a kiss. Jo giggled, and kissed back. The two women spent a few moments like that, hands gently wandering. The warmth between Jo’s legs began to begin in earnest, sending delicious shivers up her spine and causing gooseflesh to erupt along her arms. Liz -with her longer arms- held Jo close to her, one of her hands gently sinking into the flesh of Jo’s rear end. Not that Jo was complaining.

‘You know,’ Liz said, pulling away slightly. ‘For someone who’s never been with a woman, you’re rather good at this.’

‘I’m a quick study,’ Jo purred, against Liz’s lips. ‘I take it you have no complaints, Doctor Shaw?’

‘Definitely not,’ Liz said, with a giggle. ‘But more evidence would help me form a suitably strong thesis on the subject-’

The telephone of the bedside table rang. The two women startled. Jo sat up, the duvet falling off her, and reached over to pick up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Miss Grant?’ came the voice at the other end of the line.

‘Er…’ Jo said. ‘Yes, Sergeant?’

‘The Brigadier has called an emergency meeting for a hours’ time,’ Benton said, voice cheerful and matter-of-fact. If Jo remembered correctly, the sergeant had been on duty the previous evening, and so had refrained from drinking. ‘Thought you ought to know.’

‘Oh, thank you, Sergeant Benton.’

‘No problem at all, Miss Grant,’ Benton said. ‘Oh, and… is Doctor Shaw there?’

With a giggle, Jo passed the receiver over and Liz -face steadily turning pink- reached out and took it.

‘Good morning, Doctor Shaw,’ -Benton now insisted on referring to Liz with her academic title, after having discovered the existence of her multiple doctorates- ‘Your car is still outside where you parked it. But the roof’s down and you may need to get to it before it starts raining.’

What Jo could see of Liz’s forehead under her bed-rumpled hair turned burgundy.

‘T-thank you, Sergeant.’

‘No problem. Bye, then, Doctor Shaw; it was lovely to see you again.’

‘Likewise. Goodbye.’

Liz handed the receiver back to Jo, who hung the phone up.

As Jo turned back, she promptly burst into laughter.

‘Oh, stop it!’ Liz groaned, putting her hands over her face.

‘I’m sorry; it is rather funny,’ Jo said, giggling as she nestled down beside Liz again. ‘I’m certain Benton won’t say a word to anyone. Although -given where your hands were going when we were dancing last night-’

‘You little minx!’

Jo let out a happy squeal as Liz turned over and wrapped her arms around the younger woman, pressing kisses to her neck. The scientist continued her ministrations, dipping further down Jo’s torso until-

‘Oooh.’

 ‘Sorry; cold mouth?’

‘No complaints here.’

More kisses followed, and Jo felt several delicious shivers go up her spine as Liz’s tongue and lips worked their magic. Liz’s hands began to wander further down Jo’s torso, causing some delighted exclamations from the younger woman. Jo, for her part, began to slip her hands further down Liz’s back, her hands sinking gently into the gentle flesh of the scientists arse. Liz’s thighs trembled, and she momentarily paused her explorations of Jo’s chest, before continuing in renewed eagerness. 

And so it continued, their bodies becoming slick with perspiration and flushed with desire. Hips bucked, lips perused and hands clenched into the bedsheets. Exclamations echoed softly through the room, along with sweet nothings and certain enthusiastic expletives that Jo hadn’t previously thought Liz was capable of. Thighs trembled, breasts heaved, and mouths met, again and again. It was glorious, heady abandon, in the throes of passion and ecstasy.

Eventually, the two women lay, quietly, in each other’s arms, panting gently to themselves as they caught their breaths. Jo’s head was resting on Liz’s shoulder, and the redhead had her arm draped softly down Jo’s side, fingers gently stroking the glistening sweat on the blonde’s thigh.

‘So…’ Jo gasped. ‘W-what now?’

‘Er….’ Liz said, mopping her brow with one hand. She was no longer hiding under the duvet, which -in any case- was discarded haphazardly over the side of the mattress. The bedsheets under their bodies was caked with sweat, but neither woman had any attempt to move. ‘Not sure. To be honest, I’ve never really… done this sort of thing before.’

‘Oh,’ Jo replied. ‘Well, we can just… figure it out, I suppose.’

‘That sounds nice.’

Jo nodded.

‘You live in Oxford now, don’t you?’

‘Yes; why?’

‘Well…’ Jo said, and Liz was delighted to see a slight blush appear on the blonde woman’s cheeks. Jo’s large dropped slightly, before looking up at the redhead through her long lashes. ‘If I’m ever in the area during my next holiday off, we could… go out for a meal?’

‘I’d like that a lot, Jo,’ Liz said, unable to keep the grin off her face. ‘I like you a lot.’

The smile that blossomed on Jo’s face was like the sunrise.

‘I like you a lot too, Liz.’

She pressed a happy kiss to the scientists cheek.

‘Well, we best get up,’ Jo said, before promptly extricating herself of Liz’s arms and climbing out of bed. She stretched her hands above her head, and shook herself. The air of the winter morning was crisp against her skin, and she enjoyed the feeling of freedom that came with standing like this, especially with a wonderful woman watching her from her bed.

Speaking of which…

Jo smiled to herself. She could practically feel Liz’s gaze on her naked back. With a giggle, she felt the warmth begin to spread between her legs. Hmmm.

‘R-right,’ Liz stammered, from the bed. ‘I’ll wait for you to-’

‘It’s due to rain later this morning,’ Jo said, with a grin over her shoulder at the auburn-haired woman. She saw Liz’s eyes widen, and heat appear on her cheeks and neck. The warmth between her thighs was spreading like a glorious fire once again. ‘You’re in a hurry, aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Then you best share a shower with me… don’t you think?’

With a chuckle, Jo headed to her ensuite, and opened the door, curling a hand through her long blonde hair and flicking it over her shoulder. She stood in the doorway for a moment, gave a cheeky wiggle of her bum, and headed into the bathroom.

Immediately after turning the shower on and climbing into the bath, Jo heard the the sound of bedsprings creaking and of Liz’s feet hitting the floor. With a giddy laugh, the redhead hurried into the bathroom after Jo, closing the door with a swing of her hips.

A few moments later, there was a very happy squeal.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! This is my first time writing for both Jo and Liz in any significant capacity, so hopefully the characterisation of them is okay.

[verdantlady]

Table of Contents

Green Witch and the Banshee

"If you leave them in the woods long enough, they'll become witches."

Charlotte hasn't been home in years. Its... complicated. But when her grandmother falls ill, she knows she has to return home and finally deal with the parts of her life she left to grow stale.

Parts of a story about abandonment, generational trauma, sapphic love, and finding your place in the world.

Lavender Girl

The Change

You're My Special Girl

Flirt

Apple and Tree

Stay

Do-over

You Left, I Stayed

My First Love was the Moon

Summer's End

After the Change

Small Town, Small Town pt. 2

Sunday pt.1, pt. 2 , pt. 3

The Day the Sun Met the Moon

My Angel

My Monster

Come With Me

It’s Not That Simple

Meddling Witches

What Lies Between

Plagued by dreams of a dark forest, Magdalena fears that she will never escape the Red Chapel. When a well known man offers to pay for the cost of her freedom if she will come live with him and his family as a governess, she is too desperate to turn him down. Now living deep in the woods with no one around for miles but the people living in the odd Lanthys estate, Magdalena's dreams take a surreal turn. Between the dreams, prophecies, and a family with more secrets than sense, she might be slowly losing her mind.

Prologue

First Born

The Green Lady

To Have Loved and Lost

Show Me Your Pretty Face

Destiny is a Fool

The Red Chapel

From One to Another

Writing prompts:

Prompt: You are a ghost or demon who is about to be exorcized. How will you avoid this horrid fate?

Prompt: Write a scene in which a banshee arrives to wail

Prompt: Reverse Romance Tropes (Too Much Communication)

Prompt: Chicken, Pineapple, Coffee, Monopoly, Hesitant, Raincheck

Letter to You and Drabbles

Since You Left

I Saw a Picture of You Today

Would You Even Remember?

The Voice in My Head

Nothing

Can You Blame Her?

Miss Kitty

Hot, Wet, Swelteringly Humid

Reckless Attack

Too Soft, Too Sweet

[reblog4myfics]

BRITNEY SPEARS TURNED QUEER?!

It was peak 1999, and Jackass had somehow convinced Britney Spears to guest star on a special segment—less than a week after the pop world exploded over that scandalous on-stage kiss with Madonna and Christina.

The internet was still in its chunky modem era, but the tabloids were losing their minds. Parents were in outrage. Teens were obsessed. And Eli? Eli was pissed—because there was no way in hell anyone but her was doing the skit with Britney.

“She’s my southern blonde soulmate,” Eli declared, slamming her script onto the table in a white spaghetti strap that read “MILF IN TRAINING”. “I was dry humping the concept of chaos before people knew what a bisexual was.”

Ryan, sipping a beer, smirked. “Pretty sure they still don’t.”

“Exactly.”

The segment was a mock “pop star survival training” bit—ridiculous, over-the-top, and full of fake hazards. Britney showed up in rhinestoned low-rise jeans and a white cropped tee that said “Y���ALL NEED JESUS”, grinning ear to ear.

“I love your show,” she gushed to Eli, hugging her. “You’re, like, my dream stunt wife.”

Elz blinked. “I think I’m gonna die,” she whispered. “Or hump a camera. Whichever comes first.”

Cut to the two of them crawling through a fake jungle obstacle course, giggling as Britney struggled to keep her extensions from getting tangled in plastic vines while Elz screamed fake orders in a drill sergeant voice.

Then—final bit.

They stood side by side in front of a smoke machine, music blaring, glitter in the air. The lights turned soft. The camera zoomed in slowly.

“You know what the fans are expecting us to do, right?” Elz asked, panting, wild-eyed, glancing at the camera.

Britney blinked innocently. “Sing?”

Elz shook her head.

“Dance?”

Another shake.

Britney tilted her head, then her eyes widened with a laugh just as Elz grabbed her by the waist, pulled her close, and leaned in—

—and the camera CUTS to black, followed by boing sound effects and Steve-O screaming in the background.

The credits rolled over the boys in the van losing their absolute minds, Bam throwing popcorn at the screen and Pontius rolling around yelling, “WE’VE BEEN ROBBED!”

The internet blew up.

So did teen hearts.

And Eli? She printed out a fan tweet that said “ELI + BRITNEY = BI PANIC 4EVER” and taped it to the back of her hot pink flip phone.

1999 was in full throttle: crop tops, frosted lip gloss, and a whole lot of media pearl-clutching.

The Jackass x Britney skit had aired just three nights earlier. While Teen Scream magazine dubbed it “The Funniest Trainwreck on Basic Cable,” The Daily Shocker splashed the headline:

“Britney’s Dangerous Liaison? MTV’s Wild Girl Turns America’s Pop Princess Queer?”

Every talk show host was milking the moment. Fan letters poured into MTV’s headquarters. Most were hilarious, some scandalized, and a few iconic:

> “If being gay means getting kissed by Eliana, sign me the hell up.” – Vanessa, 15, Miami

“Elz is the reason I learned what bisexual even was. Also I think I’m bi now. Thanks??” – A.J., 17, New York

“Eli makes being hot and disgusting an art form. Protect her.” – Max, 19, Oklahoma

But the mainstream media? Not so kind. The conservative papers were melting down, accusing Jackass of “corrupting youth” and Eliana of “brainwashing impressionable girls into sapphic lifestyles.” It was laughable. Elz thrived on it.

So when paparazzi swarmed outside The Viper Room, flashing cameras as Elz, Bam, and Ryan stumbled out sometime past 2 a.m., what was she wearing?

A white baby tee, tight as sin, with “I MADE BRITNEY GAY?!” emblazoned across the chest in bold black marker. Just over the heart was Britney’s actual signature—signed backstage the night of the sketch in smudgy pink Sharpie.

“Did ya hear I have magic lesbian powers now?” she yelled at the paparazzi, grinning wildly. “Line up, bitches, I’m building an army!”

Ryan barked out a laugh, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

Bam added, “I’ve been trying to get her to turn me gay for years. No luck.”

The headlines the next day screamed:

“ELZ STRIKES AGAIN: MTV’S WILD CHILD LEANS INTO THE BRITNEY BACKLASH”

“‘MAGIC LESBIAN POWERS’: What Even Is Elz Wearing?”

MTV refused to comment. Elz doubled down.

And somewhere in a quiet suburb, another girl in a flannel and Docs realized she might not be as straight as she thought.

Summer, 1999. MTV Studios, L.A.

After the infamous kiss-skit aired, Britney and Elz were inseparable in the public eye. Not by design—but because Britney kept showing up.

She was “checking out the studio.”

She was “just passing through.”

She was “curious about the stunts.”

No one bought it.

Especially not Elz, who met every excuse with a knowing smirk and a sarcastic, “Yeah, you just happened to be walking by in stilettos and Juicy Couture at 11 p.m.”

Britney grinned back. “Shut up, I brought you peanut M&M’s.”

And just like that—they were besties.

...Okay, maybe more than besties.

---

At one point, Tiger Beat published a spread called:

"Inside the Wildest Friendship on TV: America's Sweetheart & MTV's Bad Girl"

There was a very cozy picture of Elz sitting in Britney's lap, flipping off the camera, wearing a sparkly tube top with the words “I’D RATHER BE GAY” written across her chest in lipstick. Britney was laughing behind her, clearly drunk, clearly happy.

MTV pretended they didn’t see it.

TRL fans mailed in thousands of letters.

---

When Britney performed at the VMAs later that year, Elz was backstage, sprawled on a couch in ripped fishnets and a tiny pink “F k Me Barbie” tee.

Britney walked by in her glittery two-piece and elbowed her playfully.

“You watching?”

Elz looked her up and down. “I'm gay, not blind.”

Britney winked. “Good. I’m dedicating ‘Oops’ to you.”

After the show, they were seen in the parking lot—smoking, giggling, and definitely kissing behind a truck while photographers pretended not to notice.

---

One week later, a fan letter in J-14 read:

> “I don’t know if Elz and Britney are dating, but if they are, that’s like… the hottest thing to happen to my eyeballs. Ever.” – Blake, 16, San Diego

Another one from PopSpin Weekly included:

> “Britney Spears x Elz = cultural reset. I don’t care what my mom says.” – Tasha, 14, Ohio

---

Meanwhile, Britney’s team panicked behind the scenes.

“Stop hanging out with the Jackass girl,” they said.

Britney didn’t listen.

She invited Elz to her birthday party.

Elz showed up in a red velour tracksuit and handed her a joint in a Tiffany box.

“Here,” she said. “For your image.”

Britney whispered back, “You are my image.”

And the flashbulbs never stopped.

[writebethany]

❤️🧡🤍🩷💜A WLW ASK MEME❤️🧡🤍🩷💜 List the top 10 ladies you’ve been obsessed with Ever Of All Time! Then send this on to 5 sapphic mutuals 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Mentally listing these off I have a type and I'm not sorry about this in the slightest ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so in no particular order:

Astra In-Ze. (Supergirl) General badass who wants to do the right thing in the completely wrong way? There was never a universe in which I did not love her. It was inevitable. I watched the first season of supergirl for Cat Grant, and ended up loving Astra more. It's the enemies to lovers of it all. It's the Laura Benanti. It's the being a twin on a world where that was an aberration. It's the ability to take the framework and run to create a whole lot of backstories for fun and profit. *chef's kiss* Really had everything I needed to sink into a character and think about them for all time.

Kommissar (Pitch Perfect 2) Condescending European tall hot lady? By god the movie gave us nothing and yet I kept digging. I literally had to pick out a name to write about her, but I was out here giving her the full random side dude character treatment because she had the trifecta of 'qualities I'm obsessed with.' I followed the actress and watched Danish TV for her. I started learning Danish. That is how obsessed I was with this character. The OT3 fic I wrote with Kommissar/Becca/Pieter is still one of my favorite things I've ever written. It's just so soft while Kommissar doesn't manage to lose the sass or edge. Mmm.

Miranda Priestly (The Devil Wears Prada) It's Miranda Priestly. I'm a millennial sapphic. Need I say more. Never mind that she fits with the overall theme so far of 'mean and pretty (and usually older with a backstory with just a *touch* of softness). I watched the movie as a baby gay who didn't know(tm) yet and zeroed the fuck in on Miranda and then watched it in college and YEP. There we were. Several hundred thousand words of fic later.

Regina Mills. (Once Upon a Time) Mean. ✅ Tragic backstory ✅ Secretly Wants to be good ✅ *GOD* the brain rot I had over Regina Mills. Still love her, but I burned so brightly and that fandom was so. Well. We all know what OUAT was like if you were there Gandalf. She's still such a baby girl, but not *the* baby girl, you understand. She led me to Lana's other works and Swingtown most importantly which also lives in my head rent free, but Regina. Regina will always be that original GOAT from my first *big* foray into fandom and only just got passed with fics from another fandom recently, that's how much I wrote about her.

Narcissa Malfoy. Sometimes when you're a baby gay and the teacher you just realized you have a crush on and finally admit you're gay to yourself writes HP fanfic and writes a version of Narcissa Malfoy that haunts you for fifteen straight years to the point where it becomes your pandemic fic pairing of choice and here you are four years past that with *gestures* yeah. Alas.

H.G. Wells. (Warehouse 13) HOOOOO BOY baby's first fandom. This was another case of me watching the first couple seasons before I knew(tm) but also buying them on DVD because you see I needed them. Mmm complicated villain backstories. I can redeem her, etc, etc. But just the sheer fucking chemistry of HG and Myka and the perfection of HG being this didactic woman who didn't let time define her and then going absolutely ape to avenge her daughter? Yes. Just yes. Love her. Also Jaime Murray. Mhm.

Eve Baird. (The Librarians) Oh Eve. The newest addition to the list. She just wants to protect her people, for all of them to live and be happy. Will forever have a part of my mind rotating her, Jenkins, and Cassandra together like a snowglobe. It just makes sense and I am a sucker for poly.

Rebecca Welton. (Ted Lasso) *screams in we could have had it all* listen. Listen. Listen. I loved the first two season of Ted Lasso. I loved the arc that Rebecca had in them of being a conniving bitch because she was hurt and wanted everyone else to hurt with her. I loved the switch from that to finding family with the team. What the fuck was the third season. What was that ending. Some random fucking dude with a kid? Forever will be angry about it and how it just...took everything that she had with Ted and went 'surely this other random dude will do'. They should have just left her alone if the ultimate goal was for Ted to go. I would have loved that for her, to stand on her two feet. Just. AGH. Anyway seasons 1 and 2 live rent free in my head and we don't talk about bruno after that.

Cat Grant. (Supergirl) While I ended up liking Astra more than Cat Grant. Cat Grant. The parallels between Cat and Miranda are *paralleling* and I still fucking love her to this day. The check boxes are checked. The plucky assistant to fall in love with is right there. Honestly if the show had aired any other time than when I was in grad school, and if Cat had been a main for more than a season I would have been even more obsessed.

Rita Repulsa. (Power Rangers) Listen. Listen. Listen. Six year old me loved Power Rangers. Six year old me also thought Rita Repulsa was the prettiest woman ever to exist. Dear god if you have only seen the Elizabeth Banks Rita, google the original. 0 idea what my six year old self was thinking. Like without the crazy costume yeah, but the crazy costume was there. So. I mean I still think about her on occasion, but usually in the context of HOO BOY I'VE ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS about villains. So. She counts. Also the Elizabeth Banks version is certifiably hot so like. Was six year old me wrong?

[coffeebanana]

Sorry not sorry to all the people who subscribe to my Ao3 purely for love square content because July is not for you.

[mistydear]

soften me now, let me take as is given (xvi)

billie dean howard x reader

summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together.

w/c: 4k

taglist: @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @strawberryshorttcakkee (talulahmae??) @max-the-d0g @mistysswampmud @angelxsarahp @billiedeanspearls @madamevirgo @cordithatgurl @mayfair-fleur @saucy-sapphic @whatfutureiamdead

chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen

notes: hiiii. sorry about the break, my mental health took a nosedive. it's peak season at work and i might be losing my mind a little bit. hoping to get back into the swing of it though. still have big things planned for this story. would love feedback!! warnings!! smut in this ch. it's pretty tame tbh, purposefully not as emotional as i would usually do

When Billie goes to brunch a few days later with Matthew and Holly, she tells them everything. And in the back of her mind she can still feel the weight of you holding her, the smell of your perfume, and the blush in your cheeks when you tripped over her—when she caught you and held you close. Your hands are so warm and soft when hers are cold, and she could still feel them on her now, the brush of your thumb across her skin. 

“You kissed her?” Holly drawls, low and hushed as she leans over the table. Matthew nearly rolls his eyes. 

“She kissed her cheek,” he corrects, feeling less monumentally shaken than Holly. 

“You kissed her,” she repeats, waving Matthew off. Billie feels her face heating and quickly grabs a drink of ice water, glancing around to make sure no one heard. She can’t quite believe it herself, not sure what had come over her. 

“That isn’t out of character for Billie, Holl,” Matthew argues, stabbing his fork into an egg, resting his elbows on the table. 

“With me or you, yeah. Or when her southern hospitality comes out. Not like this,” Holly enunciates, her accent coming out thicker the more emotion that creeps into her voice. Matthew pauses, his eyes drifting to Billie who has a knot in the pit of her stomach that’s tangling itself a little tighter each day. She swallows, twisting a ring around her finger. 

“I pushed her too far,” she says, and there’s a heaviness behind her eyes, but her voice is cool and even. “I shouldn’t have told her.” 

“You shouldn’ta done it,” Holly presses, and Billie gives her a slow, hard look. It’s one she’s perfected over the years. Giving the least amount away while maintaining the potency of her anger. 

“It’s too much and still not enough,” Matthew jumps in, hoping to break Billie’s rumination. “You can’t manage Y/N’s grief for her. And you can’t keep holding onto your feelings so tightly. Eventually you’re gonna break, and based on everything you’ve said, we are gonna have a level three biohazard on our hands when you fall apart.” 

He motions between himself and Holly, and Billie’s reminded of what happened the last time she visited her mother. When she came home to LA, she couldn’t stop crying. Matthew and Holly had never seen her so emotional and untethered and raw. He told her one day he needed a hazmat suit just to bring her coffee. A laugh bubbled from her between sobs, and Holly practically jumped on it, kissing her cheek and saying there’s my Billie. There’s a reason she holds herself so tightly and at such a distance from everyone else. She never learned how to heal, never learned how to guard herself without shutting the world out. She’ll never admit it, but Matthew and Holly know that she’s fragile, know that her heart is always either caged or bleeding. 

“Not enough, my ass,” Holly says then turns to Billie, a hand on her arm. “This is the most strung out I’ve seen you since Olivia. You do realize this is flirting.” 

Billie hasn’t seriously dated anyone in a long time, and the mention of Olivia stings a little. They ended on bad terms. Billie wasn’t willing to come out, and Olivia was always very outspoken and proud, and eventually it became a point of contention. She never once called Billie cowardly, but she didn’t have to. Billie thought it enough times to do the damage herself. 

“She got you to dance? In public?” Holly points out, and Billie’s heart twists uncomfortably. You were so welcoming, so soft, and there was never any pressure. It was easy in a way Billie hasn’t experienced in a long time. She was relaxed, which is not a word she uses lightly. And the reality of that thought hits her harder than she expected. She’d spent the last few months dancing around the idea, not quite letting it sink in, not letting herself fully grasp the feeling. But now it’s here. It’s right here, and Holly’s right. 

“I think I’m in trouble,” Billie says, feeling weightless. 

“Honey, you’re way past trouble,” Matthew smirks. 

. . . 

“You’re stewing. I can see you stewing,” Norah says between bites of her takeout. It’s Monday night, and you’re watching a dumb movie you can’t even recall the plot of. 

“I’m angry.” 

“No you’re not,” Norah shoots back, and you pause before you can even start your tenth rant of the week. Norah sighs and shifts on her couch so she can face you directly. “If you were as angry as you say you are with Billie then you’d be done with her. And if you were done with her you wouldn’t be stewing so loudly. You’re not angry. You’re frustrated because you know Billie’s right even if what she did was wrong. And you’re confused because Billie kissed you right before she gave you the most weirdly devotional gift anyone’s ever given you.” 

You go red, not sure how to process those words, but your chest is tightening at a rapid speed, and you suddenly feel like someone pulled down your pants in the middle of a crowded hallway. You open your mouth, but Norah holds up a finger to stop you. 

“Yes, kissed. On the cheek, maybe, but the intention was clear. Gift, yes, because you and I both know you needed that kind of closure. Billie gave you something so precious, Y/N, and I don’t want you to ever forget that. And devotional, extremely yes. Billie Dean Howard is busy and famous and does this for a living, and she chose to devote time, energy, and care into you. She’s a strange woman who shows her emotions in strange ways, but I promise you they’re right there on her sleeve.” 

You sit quietly for a long moment, shoulders slumping down into the couch, needing some kind of support to carry you right now. 

“You think Billie has feelings for me?” you ask, dumbstruck. Norah just stares at you, mouth open. You’re feeling more lost with each moment that passes until Norah grabs her food and faces the TV in a huff. 

“You’re such an idiot.” 

You frown, slumping down further into the couch as silence lapses between you, the movie playing in the background. Billie Dean Howard has feelings for you? For the person who was nothing but cruel to her, who played hot and cold with her for weeks, who used her as a crutch for your grief, who’s still grieving, who’s trying to find a new normal among ghosts and Andy and Billie. Billie. 

Billie with the deep brown eyes and long nails and string of pearls. TV personality Billie Dean Howard. Medium to the Stars and woman who choked you on her bedroom floor. There was a moment sometime after that, right after you fell asleep on her couch, when you realized that this is real. She’s real. It wasn’t as earth shattering as you expected but much more unfathomable than you knew how to process. You’re sort of numb about it in the wake of Kate. In the wake of everything. And you’d never felt selfish about it until this moment. There were times you wondered how much of a burden it must be, how frightening it might get, but now you can’t help but ask yourself if you’d used her. Is she the one being taken advantage of? By the show and her fans and her abilities. 

And why you? Out of everyone’s grief, everyone’s hurt, everyone’s cruelty, why does she want to endure yours? 

“I have to make a phone call,” you mumble, standing up.

“Finally,” Norah grumbles as you step out onto her balcony and close the sliding glass door behind you. 

Your phone rings and rings, and your heart starts beating faster. Right when you think it might go to voicemail, the line connects. 

“Hello,” she says on the other end. It’s not a question. It’s softer than that. 

“Billie, I’m sorry,” you rush, and there’s a heavy beat of silence before you hear her breathe again. 

“What?” 

“For everything. But especially for how I reacted at the bar.” 

“You had every right to—”

“I wish I would have listened to you sooner,” you interrupt, needing to get it out there in the open. “I’m sorry.” There’s silence on the other end, and you’re afraid to break it. So, you listen to the static in the line, almost forgetting to breathe. 

“So am I,” comes the mournful response, and you swallow, looking out over the LA skyline at night. You don’t know how to ask her why, the words stuck in your throat, don’t know how to erase the hurt you both feel. 

“I need you to stop being my medium now.” You hear a little huff on the other end, something that could have been a laugh, and you allow yourself a small smile. 

“Where does that leave us?” she asks, and your heart twists and jumps. Us. You wonder what that means to her. 

“Do you wanna go to Insomnia tomorrow?” Billie does laugh this time, light and relieved. 

“I wish I could,” she sighs, and you lean against Norah’s balcony, chewing your lip. “I have more press to do.” 

“Still?”

“Still.” She sounds just as weary about it as you do. “I can do Thursday night.” You tell her that works, and she tells you okay, and then there’s more silence. 

“Billie?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” You squirm at how she says your name, low and slow. 

“Can you not…get rid of my house yet?” You’re embarrassed for even asking, and it makes you feel so small and childlike, desperate. 

“It hadn’t even crossed my mind,” she says, and a knot you didn’t know was there unraveled. 

. . . 

On Wednesday night, you’re at Andy’s apartment. And up until about thirty minutes ago you had been watching a movie after a nice evening out. Now, Andy’s laying naked underneath you on her bed. Two of your fingers are buried inside her to the knuckle, and your mouth is on hers as she whines. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this with her, and it won’t be the last. Her hips buck into you, your palm is soaked with her, and she’s gasping so desperately. When she cums, it’s sweet and heady and her back arches with a high moan. And as she rides it out on your hand, you kiss her, deep and slow. 

Gradually, you pull your fingers from her and slip them between your mouths and into hers. She doesn’t blink, her eyes devouring you as she sucks your fingers clean. When Andy kisses you next it’s harder and faster, and you let her flip you over so she’s on top of you, straddling your still clothed thigh. 

“Andy,” you sigh as she kisses your neck. She hums, hand sliding up your bare stomach, gripping your ribcage. “Hey, you know I’m not…” she bites your throat and all rational thought falls away. “Oh god.” 

“Not ready?” she asks, pulling back to check in. You haven’t let her touch you yet. You haven’t let anyone touch you since Kate. It always felt too much like a violation, like you were breaking your vows or her trust or her respect or just her. You feel like Kate might shatter if you were to let someone else touch you the way Kate always touched you. You swallow, watching her chest rise and fall, her curls fall into her face, her bruised lips part for you. 

“Kiss me,” you say, breathless and nervous, and Andy needs no further prompting before she’s spreading your legs and settling her hips between them. She grinds into you, slow and tentative, holding your face in one hand, her mouth sucking marks on your neck. Your heart pounds and you sigh, letting your eyes close. Before you realize it, you're rolling your hips hard up into her, your legs around her, pulling her into you. 

“Baby,” Andy whispers, kissing your neck sweetly. You don’t respond, deciding instead to kiss her. She matches your pace, and when she slides a hand across your chest, still in a bra, you break. This is going to happen or it isn’t, and you’ve just reached the point of no return. 

“Fuck, just—” you struggle to articulate, warmth spreading between your legs. Andy hums, teasing, but she takes the hint. Slowly, she sits back on her heels, hands sliding down your body. You tense, nerves prickling. When her thumbs dig under the waistband of your sweatpants, your breathing quickens, and she pauses. 

“We don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” you respond quickly. And you do. You want to get past this barrier. So she slides them off, tossing them to the floor. You’re left in your underwear and bra, and Andy quickly comes back down to kiss you, one hand gripping your hip, the other your cheek. You’re thankful for the distraction, pulling her down harder. She smiles into you, digging her hips into yours. When her hand finally slides under the elastic of your underwear, you both sigh. You’re wetter than you thought you were, and Andy smiles into your mouth. As her fingers circle, she kisses your neck, sucking and nipping, and you close your eyes, trying to focus on the feeling. 

Without warning, a hollowness builds in your chest that you can’t shake. Your mind drifts and worries. Something isn’t right. You can feel Andy’s fingers slowing, and when she lifts them to your mouth, you take them obediently. The warmth between your thighs cools, but you let Andy touch you with saliva soaked fingers, and that helps, but something’s missing. Why don’t you feel more? 

“Let me taste you,” Andy breathes, and you nod, unable to form coherent thoughts. You squirm out of your underwear, and she tosses them aside, settling down between your thighs. Her hands are soft across your hip bones, and her breath is warm on the hair between your legs, and at the first stroke of her tongue, your head falls back against the pillow. 

Your eyes close, and it feels good, but you know it’s not good enough to make you cum. And it’s not Andy. Fuck, you know it’s not Andy. So you let yourself drift, and a memory surfaces. 

It’s a Sunday morning, and the blinds are half open, sheets crumpled at the end of the bed. You’re naked, and Kate’s mouth is buried between your trembling thighs. She’s already made you cum twice, and there’s a wet toy laying near your hip. 

“Kate, please,” you moan, breath stuttering. 

“Please, what, sunshine?” she asks, breath hot against you. You roll your hips into it, gripping the sheets with one hand. The other is tangled in her hair, pulling her gently back down. “So needy this morning,” she mumbles with a grin, and you groan, head hitting the pillow again. 

“Fuck you,” you grit, but it turns into a loud moan when she sucks on your clit. You break into a sweat, her tongue dipping inside you. “That feels so good,” you whine, bucking your hips up into her mouth. 

You thought that thinking of Kate during sex would hurt. Instead, it makes you so incredibly wet you can hear yourself on Andy’s mouth. Fuck.

Kate hums into you, and it sends a shock wave of pleasure through you. She knows exactly which buttons to press and how often and how hard, and you can’t get enough of it. 

“You wanna cum, baby?” Kate asks, never taking her lips off you. And those words would have sent you tumbling over the edge right there if Kate weren’t actively looking for an answer, looking for you to wait. 

“Yes. God, Kate, please,” you moan, pulling at her hair. You feel desperate, needy, and you’re throbbing, sweating, trembling. Kate kisses you between your legs, drags her tongue up your center, then tells you to cum for her. And you do. 

You do. 

Riding out waves of pleasure on Andy’s mouth, you moan, gripping her hair. As she slows, your mind races, heart pounding. Fuck. 

. . . 

Billie’s there when you get to Insomnia the next night, one leg folded over the other, a book in her hand. She looks up when the bell chimes and stands as you approach, sitting only as you sit. It’s chivalrous and affectionate in a way unique to Billie, the way she holds your gaze as you move. You know she’s calculating and precise in everything she does, but when she looks at you there’s always something deeper, something softer and more careful. 

“Hey,” you breathe, already feeling underdressed and needing some way to break the tension that crackles between you. “I really wish you would just wear normal people clothes every once and a while.” She raises an eyebrow, a smile already creeping onto her lips. 

“I assure you these are normal clothes.” She’s in slacks and a blouse and heels you’d break your ankle in, and her makeup is flawless for 9pm. In response, you look down at your long sleeved shirt and corduroy pants and motion between you helplessly. “You look lovely,” she says, voice softening. 

“You make me look less lovely,” you argue, and she cocks her head down skeptically at you. 

“I promise you it’s the opposite,” Billie responds, and you can tell immediately that she’s serious and wonder if she’s suffered a concussion recently. So, you take a deep breath and shrug your shoulders. 

“I guess we’re both just really ugly and unfashionable then.” Something sparkles in Billie’s eyes, and she chews her lip as if considering whether to let your ridiculous compliments sink in. Your lip quirks up at her, and then you stand. “Come on, let’s order.” She follows you to the counter, and when you pay for her desert, she gives you a withering, embarrassed look but doesn’t put up much of a fight otherwise. Vivian is there, and though she doesn’t smile, you’ve learned that a head nod is essentially equivalent, so you give her one back and stuff a couple dollars in the tip jar. You feel like she’s seen you at some of your worst moments in the same way that Billie has. 

“So how are you?” Billie asks as you dip your spoon into your sundae. You consider the question. You didn’t end up sleeping over at Andy’s last night. Instead, you squirmed in bed with her for an hour before making up an excuse to leave. Then you cried in your car for twenty minutes because you can’t cum without thinking about your dead wife, and you’re not sure what that means. But you think that may be too much to talk about with Billie right after you had a fight about said dead wife. 

“I’m…okay. You?” Billie raises one shoulder. 

“The same.” 

“Scintillating,” you nod, and Billie rolls her eyes. “Tell me about the press stuff.” 

“Really?” Billie winces, digging her fork into her slice of apple pie. You nod, wondering when she’s gonna start believing that you care about her stuff. She tells you that season two’s been officially confirmed with Lifetime, and you congratulate her earnestly and enthusiastically. You think she might even believe it. She also tells you that she’s heard rumors of an Emmy nomination. It’s dismissive and a little sheepish, so you reach over and squeeze her hand. 

“That’s amazing, Billie. Really.” The smile that tugs faintly at Billie’s lips is embarrassed but proud, and that’s enough for you. When you let go of her hand there’s a moment when you miss the coolness of her skin on yours, and you swallow, letting the silence hang for a second between you. 

“Can I tell you something?” You nod, and she looks up at you, her eyes more guarded than before. “After you left, and I didn’t hear from you for a week, I started to think you didn’t want to speak to me again. And I was going to respect that. I’m just…confused. You confuse me.” She shakes her head, looking at you like you’re a puzzle she’s determined to solve, and you’re not sure whether that’s a compliment or not. So, you decide to be honest with her. 

“I’m upset that you went behind my back. I’m angry, actually. Because you lied to me for months,” you say, voice even and strong. “But I also know that you gave me…a precious, invaluable gift. And I don’t know how to even begin to thank you for it.” Billie presses her lips together, an emotion you can’t place swelling behind her eyes. Embarrassment, maybe. “And I’m sorry I gave you whiplash. I just…I don’t think it’s worth it, really, to be angry at you. I’ve already wasted enough months being angry at you. I want…” you sigh, faltering, because what do you want? What is all of this coming to? “I want to keep doing this. Me and you. At Insomnia. Or at a jazz club, stepping on your toes. Or at your wrap party arguing with your coworkers,” you smile, shrugging, and it pulls one from Billie too. Her hands are in her lap. She’s holding herself tightly, as if too much emotion will make her crumble. 

“I want that too,” she admits, voice hoarse, and you watch her eyes deepen, something inside her swell against her will. Before you can prod at it, she pushes it down. “And I understand you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry. I wish it were different.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, your chest tightening. She presses her lips together, gathering her thoughts. 

“If we’d met under different circumstances, there’d be less hurt between us,” she explains, fingers digging into her chest at the word hurt, as if it were a physical pain. And maybe for her it is. 

“Billie,” you sigh, leaning over the table and grabbing her hand from her chest to hold it in both of your own. You didn’t realize she had such a profound guilt complex. Though you suppose in her line of work it becomes inevitable. “If the circumstances were different we wouldn’t have met at all,” you remind her, searching her eyes, thumb swiping across the back of her hand. She gives you a tight, watery smile, and you realize that what she’s feeling is insecure. Your stomach sinks, and you frown, squeezing her hand. “I would have been fine without you. But I’m glad I don’t have to be.” 

She laughs, abrupt and gasping, and you smile, searching her eyes, hoping you conveyed the message you wanted to. There doesn’t seem to be enough words in the English language to express to Billie how you feel. That if you’d met her at Insomnia and she didn’t have the gifts she does, you’d still be glad to know her. Though she seems to understand because she squeezes your hand back. Still, you stand up and round the table, bending down to wrap Billie in a hug. She’s stiff for a moment, but when her arms eventually slide around you, they’re careful and delicate. Briefly, you spread a hand across the back of Billie’s head, holding her against you, leaning your cheek into her hair. 

“We’re good, okay?” you whisper. She doesn’t answer, but you feel her hold you a little more purposefully. When you pull away, there’s a rare vulnerability in her eyes, an openness you savor. You think this might be one of the first times you’re seeing Billie without a mask. 

“Finally?” she asks, brow quirking up, and now it’s your turn to laugh. 

“Yes,” you enunciate playfully. And before you go to sit back down, you steal a bite of Billie’s pie. Her smile is soft and willing and easy as she watches your lips close over her fork. There’s something else in her eyes too, something just a shade darker. And as you stand over her and she looks up, you think maybe Kate used to look at you like that. 

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

Howdy, everyone! According to our ever-beloved Jo’s Blog, Jo Harvelle’s birthday is April 7th. That joyous day is just around the corner, so I thought it would be a wonderful chance for us all to honour the freak with a knife collection.

So on April 7th, celebrate by posting poetry, art, fic, amvs, edits, gifs - any content you fancy - just make sure it’s Jo-centric!

Although the celebration is only one day, I thought a few prompts would be nice to get everyone feeling inspired, but there's no pressure to follow them and ALL Jo-centric content is welcome!

💗Prompts

pink

not like other girls

hard and/or soft

I personally encourage sapphic/queer Jo content but go nuts with whatever you fancy <3

💗Some quick Roadhouse-keeping:

No homophobia or hate towards queer Jo and queer Jo posts. If you're not on board with that then this isn't the place for you

Misogyny will NOT be tolerated. Please be mindful of what you're posting!

I don't know why there'd be any but absolutely no *ncest content of any kind

NSFW content is cool but minors please do not create/engage with it!

Please tag any NSFW/applicable content warnings so everyone can party it up while staying safe

And that’s it! Be sure to tag to your creations with #josjoyousbday and @ me directly too, if you like, 'cos I'll be reblogging everyone's posts all day! I can't wait to lose my mind over everyone's content and celebrate Jo with you!!!

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena let out an undignified squeak as she grabbed hold of the bookshelf beside her in an effort to not land on her face.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Lena turned, wiggling her foot back into her heels properly, before freezing, eyes widening at the caped figure now scrambling to her feet.

An array of books and magazines were spread out on the floor, presumably the culprit of her latest near death experience. It was as though National City’s newly revealed superhero had been sitting in between the bookshelves on the library floor… studying?

Lena clutched the cheesy romance novel she had been too busy reading to her chest as Supergirl looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

Lena’s brain finally restarted and she cleared her throat, straightening her blazer. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Supergirl was wringing the edge of her cape in her fingers, looking far too nervous for someone who was suspected to be the strongest being on Earth by several sapphic blogs that Lena most definitely did not read.

“I’m fine.” She reached out to put a hand on Supergirl’s forearm in an impulse comfort gesture. “I promise.”

Supergirl seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. She held out a hand. “I’m Kara.”

Any tension that had left her immediately returned tenfold, eyes widening in panic as she froze.

Lena bit back a smile and took Kara’s hand, shaking it despite Kara’s lack of movement. “Lena. And don’t worry - your secret’s safe with me.”

Kara deflated, running a hand through her hair. “Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena laughed and patted Kara’s bicep (definitely the strongest being on Earth). “Maybe you should stop saying names now.”

Kara grimaced. “Oops.” She looked like she was about to say something else but stopped and looked at Lena again. “Wait… are you Lena Luthor?”

Lena straightened up, careful mask falling into place to try to hide the way her heart sped up and her throat constricted. “Yes.”

But before she could launch into her speech about how she was different from the rest of her family and only wanted to help, Kara lit up, crouching down to shuffle through her piles of literature until she came up with an issue of a science magazine from a few years ago.

“I just read your article about sustainable building and how we can introduce cost-effective eco-friendly measures to construction to reduce the damage done to the environment and promote a symbiotic relationship with nature.”

Lena blinked.

Kara almost poked herself in the eye before redirecting the movement to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I just thought it was really interesting. You’re probably tired of people asking you about your work.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “No I… I don’t mind.”

Kara smiled and Lena found her heart racing for an entirely different reason. She redirected her attention to the books scattered on the floor.

“So what’s National City’s resident superhero doing studying civil engineering, first aid and… veterinary science on the floor of the library?”

Kara blushed and knelt down to start scooping up all her things. “Sorry - I know I should have been at a desk I just got carried away.”

The pile of books was up to Kara’s eyebrows when she stood up and Lena laughed, taking the top third of them from her. “And I shouldn’t have been reading and walking. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Supergirl shrugged, toeing at the worn carpet with her red boots. “I’m new at the whole superhero thing. I don’t know where to freeze breath a building to hold it up or how to save someone who’s got water in their lungs from almost drowning. The other day I rescued a snake from a tree and tried to wrap it up in my cape to keep it warm and the owner told me ‘thanks, but reptiles are cold-blooded so they don’t warm up like that.’” She pouted at Lena. “The owner was a ten year old.”

Lena bit back a smile. “So you’re trying to learn how to be a better superhero?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Lena considered her for a moment. “You know, I happen to have degrees in a few different kinds of engineering. And I made everyone at L-corp, including myself, take a first aid course when I took over.”

Kara looked as though she was trying to contain her hopeful expression. It wasn’t working very well, although that probably wasn’t surprising since her motto was ‘hope, help, and compassion for all.’

Kara bounced on her toes excitedly. “Would you help?”

Lena grinned and gestured to the left with her head. “Come on, I know which desk is the best in the library.”

———

It became somewhat of a routine after that. Every Saturday, Lena would go to the library as normal, pick out a new cheesy romance novel for the week and some kind of thick science book to hide it underneath, and then meet Supergirl in the back corner of the library, at the desk hidden behind the spare computers from the 90s where no one would find them.

Kara would normally already be there, pouring over texts and making notes in coloured pens and highlighters. Lena had bought her a rainbow of folders and dividers for each of the aspects of superheroing she was trying to improve in, and they had spent one very unproductive but fun day labelling and decorating them. They were now covered in random doodles, squiggly multicoloured patterns, and stickers that Kara had found in a rotating rack by the front desk, immediately claiming were essential for her learning.

During the week, Lena would keep an eye on any news of Supergirl, getting some strange looks from Jess when she walked into her office to see Lena cheering as Kara did something they’d worked on together. At the weekend she would listen to Kara excitedly retell those same events until the librarian came over to shush them. She seemed to be the only person in National city that wasn’t completely charmed by Supergirl, and it always led to half an hour of Kara pouting and asking Lena why the librarian didn’t like her.

It was a few weeks before Lena got there first. She frowned, checking the surrounding isles of books for any caped figures but they were all empty as usual.

She sat at their desk and opened up the book she had randomly grabbed off a shelf, putting her latest romance novel inside it to covertly read. It was called ‘Lost and Found: A Love Story’, the back of it claiming it was about a woman who ‘drops her scarf at a train station but ends up finding something much more meaningful in the woman she bumps into at the lost and found.’ It was exactly as awful as it sounded.

Kara bounded up to the table about 20 minutes later, a coffee cup in each hand and a satchel slung over her shoulder that made her cape bunch up awkwardly. She beamed at Lena and set a coffee down in front of her.

“Guess what I just did.”

Lena slammed the books shut inside each other, scrambling to put her arms over them and rest her chin in her hand casually. “What?”

Kara either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rounding the desk and putting her bag down on it with a grin. “I laservisioned the supports of a broken crane back together using some metal from a billboard and now it’s totally fine for use again.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the crane in the first place?”

Kara’s cheeks heated and she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck as she mumbled, “I may have flown into it a little bit.”

She scowled at Lena as Lena started laughing but it was undermined by the way her lips tugged up.

“Oh!” Kara lit up and started rifling through her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a book with a bright smile. Lena’s eyes widened as she looked down at the cover of what was very clearly another cheesy romance.

“It’s my favourite love story. It’s a bit like the one you’re reading at the moment but better, in my opinion. I thought you might like it.”

“What?” Lena scoffed. “I wasn’t reading a romance. I was reading…” she glanced over to check what book she had picked up, internally filling with regret as she read the title, but she had already committed to the facade. “The rhyming dictionary.”

Kara was very clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok. Well I’ll just leave this one here. And in case you didn’t know,” she leaned closer to Lena’s ear as she climbed into her seat, and whispered, “I have x-ray vision.”

Lena blushed, refusing to look at Kara’s smug grin. She cleared her throat and moved her books off to the side, along with the one Kara had put down, as casually as possible, and attempted to change the subject.

“So you remembered about weight distribution in support structures?”

Kara paused in taking folders and notes out her bag to turn to Lena excitedly, rambling on about her save, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Lena picked up her coffee as she listened with a soft smile, absentmindedly taking a sip.

She frowned down at the cup. “Is this my usual?”

Kara paused in her rambling. “Yeah. Does it not taste right?”

Lena shook her head, staring back down at her perfect coffee, cheeks heating at the heart drawn in latte art that Kara probably didn’t even have anything to do with. “No I just… I didn’t know you knew my order.”

Kara grinned, raising an eyebrow (Lena should never have taught her how to do that). “Perhaps you’re not as elusive as you think, Lena Luthor.”

———

Lena arrived at the library one Saturday to find Supergirl staring at the front doors like she might set light to them any moment.

“What’s wrong Supergirl? Lose a fight with a door handle?”

Kara turned to her with a pout, pointing at a sign hanging on the other side of the glass. It read ‘Library closed until 23rd due to water damage. Apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lena sighed.

“Where am I going to get my books for this week, Lena? I’m never going to understand civil engineering without them.”

Lena bit the inside of her cheek, the rational part of her brain at war with the part that was helpless to the superhero’s pout. It had to be one of her superpowers because Lena would never admit she was actually soft.

She tore her gaze away, trying to seem casual. “I actually have some engineering textbooks at my apartment. I guess you could borrow them if you wanted.”

Lena squeaked as Supergirl crushed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Lena laughed, trying to turn it inconspicuously into a cough when a passerby gave a slightly shocked and confused look at the sight of a Luthor and a Super laughing on the library steps. Kara dropped her back to her feet, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. She turned to go but as she went to gesture for Kara to follow, her hand caught against Kara’s. Her brain misfired and decided in the split second where her index finger hooked onto Kara’s pinkie that the best course of action was to commit to it and simply hold hands. In an attempt to make it seem less affectionate and more practical, she walked off quickly, dragging Kara along in the direction of her apartment.

She could feel Kara’s smile like rays of sun behind her. At least her hair was down to cover up the heat that was creeping up the back of her neck.

Her apartment was only a few minutes from the library. She had to slap Kara’s hand away from the elevator buttons before she pressed them all, marveling at how many floors there were.

“So this is where you live?” Kara looked around the hallway, panicking when she snapped a leaf off of a decorative plant, while Lena unlocked the penthouse door.

Lena pretended not to see her discreetly dropping the leaf into the plant pot but raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Supergirl. I just decided we should come and stare at this random person’s door.”

Kara ignored her, walking past into her apartment and looking down at the city below through the large floor to ceiling windows. “Nice view. I should take you flying sometime - it’s even better from up in the clouds, especially at night.”

Lena closed the front door, trying not to think about romantic flights and being cradled in strong arms. “I’ll go get the textbooks.”

She moved towards her home office, Kara trailing behind in interest. The engineering textbooks were over in the left corner and she scanned the alphabetised section for the ones she wanted.

Kara ran her fingers over the spines of books until Lena was done. She smirked at Lena, letting her hand trail teasingly down the bookshelf before she left. Lena blushed as she realised why. Kara had found her fiction section, over half the books in which were very clearly a certain genre.

Lena groaned and followed her out.

They spent the entire afternoon on the floor around Lena’s coffee table, going through the textbooks, laughing over Kara’s constant puns, and eating the seemingly endless supply of snacks Kara produced from her bag. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that Lena realised how long they’d spent simply telling jokes and stories.

It was alarmingly easy to just be around Kara. Strangely, Lena didn’t think she minded.

———

Lena frowned as someone knocked on her door. It was a Saturday morning and she was just about to leave to meet Supergirl at the library.

She only grew more confused as she opened the door to see a fluffy white cloud panting happily at her and squirming in her direction. A head poked out from behind it, looking just as happy.

“Lena, hi! Sorry to just turn up but the mean librarian lady threw me out because apparently you aren’t allowed to play fetch in the library.”

Lena stared at the woman currently holding a large puppy in front of her, familiar blonde curls pinned back and glasses slipping down her nose. “…Kara?”

Kara blinked at her for a moment before she seemed to realise. “Oh! Right. Sorry - this is what I look like normally. When I’m not being Supergirl I mean. Alex said I wasn’t allowed to wear the suit all the time because it had to be washed.”

Lena nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the image of this Kara with Supergirl and to not think too hard about the implications of Kara being comfortable enough around her to show her her civilian identity. “Right. Why do you have a dog?”

Kara lit up. “I saved an animal shelter from a fire and they let me adopt this guy. Isn’t he adorable?”

Lena looked at the matching faces of excitement. “Very cute. But why is he here?”

Kara shrugged. “Well I couldn’t leave him after I’d just adopted him so I thought he could join us for our study session?”

Lena crossed her arms and Kara pouted. It was somewhat undermined by the puppy licking her face and making her giggle but Lena was still helpless to resist.

“Ok but he better not mess up any of my stuff.”

“Yes!” Kara grinned, wiggling the puppy excitedly, his ears flopping about.

Kara kissed her cheek on her way into the apartment and Lena’s heart skipped a beat. The puppy licked her in an attempt to join in but even that didn’t stop the way her heart raced.

They settled on the couch, facing each other as Lena quizzed Kara with flashcards. The puppy alternated between curling up in Kara’s lap and zooming around Lena’s living room, falling over his own paws.

“Ok, last one. How do you treat a sprain?”

“Ice it with my freezebreath, wrap it so it’s compressed but not cutting off circulation, keep it elevated.”

Lena grinned proudly. “That’s it! Done.”

Kara threw her hands in the air in delight, squealing as she propelled herself forwards to tackle Lena to the couch. She pulled back just as quickly, pushing up to brace herself over Lena.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

All the breath had deserted Lena’s lungs and she stared up at Kara. A light flush rose on Kara’s cheeks, pale pink against the deep blue of her eyes, bringing out the freckles that dusted her skin.

The flashcards slipped from Lena’s grasp as she surged up to meet Kara’s lips. Kara’s arms almost buckled but she caught herself. And then she was kissing back.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s back, practically pulling Kara down on top of her.

They were both breathing hard when they pulled apart, eyes closed and foreheads rested together.

Kara was smiling softly down at her when she finally opened her eyes. She had shifted to hold herself up on one hand and one elbow, her free hand gently stroking back Lena’s hair.

She looked like she was about to say something when she did a double take over the armrest of the couch behind Lena and her soft look turned into a wince. “What was it you said about the puppy not messing up any of your stuff?”