tiredandsapphic

[tiredandsapphic]

any thoughts on Lana Del Rey signing the  "No Hostage Left Behind" letter to Joe Biden ?

not really sure how to come about this tbh—but i don’t want my tumblr to be political/controversial therefore i do not want to share my opinions on certain topics. i just don’t feel comfortable and i have seen how insane the internet can be.

that being said my interests and hobbies do not always align with my own personal beliefs—therefore do not shape the person i am or what i fight for.

i am not being to go all “die on this hill” for any celebrities since i dont know them as a person. although lana has recently shown her support for palestine in the comments of her instagram post. i myself am pro-palestine. people’s views/opinions can always change as they educate themselves and it is also important to allow the space for them to learn and grow—rather than condemn.

to wrap things up—im a fanfic writer on tumblr, i do my silly little writings and go on with my day. i do not want politics or anything that may cause disputes on here. thank you.

[tiredandsapphic]

cnc kink??? anyone…???

im listening…. 👀👀👀

[tiredandsapphic]

OH MY FUCK WE’RE ACTUALLY SO SIMILAR LIKE HELLO??? I’M CUMMING CRYING CAN WE PLSSS BE MOOTS OH EM GEE (i’m not very active on tumblr but still omgii!! i love lawdy matthews and i’m a lana lesbian😛 plus you seem really cool and omgomgomg)

OH EM GEE!!! yes yes yes, of course!

omg i love lana lesbians so much, im so glad i found another... lawtie loving lana lesbians unite :))))

[tiredandsapphic]

FAKE NAMES & HANGOVER CURES

(adult) lottie matthews x fem!reader. 3.3k.

NSFW! you meet at a bar one night after her recent return from switzerland. based on this request with my own little twists. inexperienced and kind of mean sub!lottie agenda <3

The ceiling fan is old and creaky, and the sound of it is what wakes you. It’s been rousing you too early for a few days in a row now, the heat making it a necessity to have it turned on all night but the task proving too much for it, mechanisms aching and groaning in the early morning.

You turn to Lottie’s sleeping form beside you. She looks at home here, more at peace than you remember her last night. That, too, is different already — there was emotional gravity for her last night that hadn’t been there for you and that you never would have expected.

Your first one night stand wasn’t anything to celebrate. It was sex and that was it, and while it was fine, it didn’t alter the course of your life by any means. It didn’t give you any sort of long lasting joy, nor did it really excite you all that much afterwards. It didn’t feel daring like society always said it would, and it was too much of a chore for you to really be interested in that sort of thing again in the long run.

You want this to be different. Not for you but for her.

You stretch your neck as you sit there, sore and stiff as you imagine the limbs of the fan might feel if you let it rest for a night, if a fan could feel pain and massage the ache out of its muscles and remind itself to use that coupon it got for its birthday to the spa.

Lottie shifts beside you.

You look down at her and sigh.

She gave you a fake name when you met her at the bar, but you knew who she was. Her face has been plastered onto every news article, every piece delivering the new hot story about the rich plane crash survivor that just got out of a psych ward overseas. They drink up the opportunity to speculate about cannibalism and murder and the nature of the past eighteen years of the grand life of Charlotte Matthews.

You didn’t ask her about it last night, though, and you won’t ask today. If she needs to be a different person for a day or two, you will let her think she has deceived you.

It’s down to deciding what to do, then. Would breakfast be a nice gesture or would last night be best discarded? Would it be awkward to let it live too long into the morning?

No, breakfast is good. Breakfast will be good.

LAST NIGHT.

“There she is! I’m going to go get her!”

Just like that, you’re alone in the bar again while your friend goes to meet her recent shitty girlfriend at the door. She came late, just as she always does, and like always she’s being met with the whole welcoming committee as everyone in your group rushes over to meet her but you.

You don’t understand the appeal of asshole men or asshole women. You don’t understand the appeal of that woman in particular, who keeps breaking up with and getting back together with one of your closest friends who keeps coming over in the middle of the night to sleep on your couch after their arguments.

You don’t want to go along with the entourage. You want to go to the bar and remind yourself that Nora will need your couch again by this weekend. And you don’t want to say that the surprise appearance has ruined your evening, but to put it simply, you need some space.

The bar is packed tight, though, and it’s nearly too much of an effort to squeeze through to order your drink. You’re not sure the bartender even hears you when you do, and you stand there awkwardly for a little while hoping you don’t look like an idiot until finally he comes back with your drink and moves away just as quickly.

A glance over the crowd tells you that your friends are still with her. You’ll stay here a little longer.

Someone crashes into your side — a freshly made cocktail spills down the front of your clothes.

“Fuck,” a woman curses. She looks over you, someone bumps into her from behind and she’s forced closer until if you moved half an inch forward you’d be pressing against her. “Sorry, this place is a mess and I-”

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say. You try to sound convincing, but the drink is cold seeping through your clothes and the music is too loud and everything just feels wrong. “Fuck…”

“I don’t think it’ll stain,” she tries. “I’ll ask for some napkins…”

“You don’t have to, really. It’s okay.”

She doesn’t listen, just reaches over the bar and snatches some napkins from the bartender’s collection. Then she pulls you out of the crowd, and you let her lead you into the bathroom — single stall, private, away from the noise and the smell of booze taking up the entire place.

“Here,” she hands you some of the napkins, standing in front of you awkwardly when you take them.

You can see her clearly now under the restroom’s fluorescent lights. Her dark hair flows down in waves, and while she’s dressed simply there’s an air of authority in her stance that comes from something you can’t name — maybe it’s because she’s older, maybe it’s because the gold jewelry she wears screams money, maybe it’s something else entirely. But it makes your instant admiration feel almost intrusive.

“Again, I’m sorry for all of this,” she says. “I don’t ‘go out’ a lot.”

“I wish I didn’t ’go out’ as much,” you smile, patting your clothes with some of the napkins. “It loses its glamor after a while.”

“I see that.”

You throw the napkins away, but your clothes are still damp and you don’t really want to go back out into the bar.

“Thank you,” you gesture to yourself, “for helping.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

A small silence comes over the two of you, not awkward but wanting, the air between you craving something more than what’s given.

To fill the silence, you give her your name — and she gives you hers, but something about it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue and it takes her a little too long to consider her name in the first place before introducing herself.

Not only that, but you think you’ve seen her somewhere, you recognize her features somehow. Tonight’s meeting hasn’t been the only one.

It’s the necklace that really tells. It’s a gold chain that bears a heart-shaped charm that she lifts over the neckline of her dress and begins to fidget with: the very necklace you remember seeing in so many photos on the news of a certain survivor of a certain plane crash, a certain Charlotte Matthews.

Something strange passes over her expression as she seems to recognize something in yours — neither of you elaborate, but it seems to become a silent agreement that this is the only introduction you need of one another.

You can’t bring yourself to be startled, though. You have heard the rumors of cannibalism and murder and hunts but it doesn’t take you by surprise like it does the rest of the world. What would people expect from a group of people stranded in a harsh wilderness without food through icy winters? What would they do instead? All roads would lead to the same end.

“Let me buy you a drink,” you propose, “to replace the one you lost.”

Lottie — it’s what you might as well call her in your head, seeing as it’s who she really is — shakes her head in dismissal. “You don’t have to.”

You’re blunt with her. “I want to have a drink with you.”

“Then let me buy you a drink for spilling mine all over you.”

“I have a full glass.”

She has lost and she doesn’t look all too pleased with accepting it. Eventually, though, curiosity must win, that same curiosity that’s drawing you to her. “Alright. Buy me a drink, then.”

You lead her out of the bathroom and take a place at the bar again. It has cleared out a little, the rush of guests having subsided after getting their drinks while you were in the restroom.

“This city has changed,” she muses once she has another drink. She looks around the bar before turning her gaze back to you. “It’s always changing… I’ve been away for a while.”

“How far away?”

“Switzerland,” she says noncommittally. She takes a sip of her drink.

“Switzerland sounds nice.”

“Not where I was.”

You’re quiet for a second. Maybe you’ve pressed too much already. You circle back to her original phrasing. “It must be a big change, then, coming back.”

“It is,” she smiles softly. Her dark eyes run over you. “The people are better, I think.”

You give her a doubtful look, returning her smile. “Maybe your drink is just strong.”

You don’t know if it’s true for hers, but your drink is certainly strong, and it’s not long until your head has gone fuzzy from the alcohol and you’re not as careful about handling what words are coming out of your mouth, and soon enough she’s in the same position. If you both were sober, you might be mortified at the bluntness between you, but you’re not, so you’ve gone from strangers to old lovers in an hour.

You’d like to think she can’t notice the way you’re looking at her, imagining how she would look and feel under you in your bed, how she would taste, how she would sound – but you know she can see right through you. And she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I need to forget about that place,” she tells you as the night draws on and both of you are getting drunker. You don’t remember if she told you what that place was, and you don’t remember the fake name she gave you. “I need to forget about everything.”

“Let’s have another—”

“I need something stronger than a drink,” she says, and in part she looks at you like you’re a little stupid and in part you kind of like it. She keeps looking at you, examining you until she comes to a decision. “You want that, too.”

You do — you really, really do.

–

You look over at her next to you in the taxi, taking in how beautiful she is under the golden glow of the streetlights the car passes under, how she seems to glow alongside them. She’s beautiful in every sense of the word, but it’s more than that — like you want to delve into her thoughts, explore the recesses of her mind and find a home within them. You want to consume her but not to take, to give. You just want her.

You press your thighs together surreptitiously as the taxi pulls into the lot of your apartment building, and for a moment you’re ashamed of the simplicity of your place compared to the air of money Lottie gives off until you remember her telling you she’s staying in a hotel and you consider that maybe being somewhere more lived in might do her well. She was insistent that you go back to your place, not to her hotel. It’s another way to escape, maybe. Another way to live a life that isn’t hers, just for the night.

You barely remember to pay the driver before jumping out of the cab. And as soon as he pulls off into the distance Lottie’s nearly on top of you, kissing you and pulling you against her in a way more shameless than you’d expect from her, a way that screams of escapism that you’re all too willing to indulge.

It lasts through the building, the carelessness, the almost flamboyant desperation that has the two of you nearly fucking in the elevator on the way upstairs, you pressing her back against the slick wall of it and almost falling over when the elevator stops rising and you’re at your floor.

Maybe it’s the booze that makes you feel like you’re spinning, maybe you’re drunk on her — you beg the latter. But she’s tripping over you and laughing at God-knows-what as you lead her inside your apartment, so you aren’t alone in your intoxication.

She pulls you to her as soon as you’re both inside, pushing the door shut and pulling herself back against it and you with her until you’re pinning her there. She kisses you hard, tongue and teeth and drunken urgency, pulling one of your hands up to her chest in invitation.

You part from her lips, kissing down her neck and listening to the breathy sigh she gives, turning into a quiet moan when you slot your thigh between her legs and bring your lips back to hers. You let her pull at your clothes, helping her rid you of them as you back up from the door and feel your way through your apartment to the bedroom.

“Wait, wait,” she stops you just as you cross into the room.

You move away, lowering your hands and meeting her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’ve just never…” she can’t seem to find the words, looking at you as if she expects you to run.

You pause, trying to fill in the blanks — never had sex… with a stranger? With a woman? In general?

“Is that okay with you?” Lottie asks hesitantly.

A smile pulls at your lips, “Of course it’s okay with me. Do you still want this?”

She nods, kissing you again, more gently this time. It still holds the desperation of earlier, but she’s more tethered, both of you are. “I still want this. Just slowly.”

You keep insisting even as she guides you toward the bed, even when she turns you so that she’s now the one with her back to it. “Are you sure? Because we can stop and just—”

“Hey,” she stops you. One of her hands snakes up to your face, softly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Stop talking, okay? Shut up and fuck me.”

Okay.

You push her down onto the bed, climbing on top of her, kissing her and lowering the thin golden straps of her dress before lowering your mouth to the newly exposed skin. And though it’s difficult, you take things slow — you try to be sensual in the way you run your tongue over her skin, occasionally nipping at the muscles of her shoulders, sliding a hand across her waist and up to her back and sighing thankfully when she arches her back enough for you to undo the zipper of her dress and get rid of the rest of her clothes along with it.

You savor the moan she gifts you when your mouth meets her chest and you run your tongue over one of her nipples. Your other hand comes up to run over the other, and your head is spinning with how desperate you are just to make her cum, to hear her moan again because of you and feel the way she tenses and then relaxes beneath you with every move you make.

You kiss down the valley between her breasts before sliding your tongue back up it, gasping when her hand comes into your hair and pulls just enough to get your attention.

Her voice rings with something almost whining. “I didn’t tell you to be this slow.”

“You’re so demanding,” you murmur. “That’s not very polite considering we’ve just met.”

“But it’s not against your manners to fuck a stranger after a few drinks? Am I really the needy one?”

“It’s not a competition.”

She huffs out a laugh, pushing one of your hands down between her legs and frowning a little when you rest it at her hip instead. “Right, it’s not a competition, but—”

You slide a finger through her folds and she goes silent for a second before rewarding you with a soft whine, her acrylic nails digging into your scalp with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

“It’s not a competition,” you repeat, “but I think I’m winning.”

“Shut the fuck up…”

You watch her carefully when you start to circle her clit, trying to read her expression for anything other than the euphoria you find in it, anything that should tell you to stop.

“Please…”

“Please, what?”

“More,” she pleads, “I need more, I need…”

You tease a finger at her entrance, pushing it in all of the way after a second and savoring the sounds she grants you, the way she pulls you down again to kiss her, arching her back into you like it’s torturous how far away she feels even with two of your fingers now inside her.

“You’re doing so well,” you say between kisses, pumping your fingers in and out of her. “So beautiful like this for me.”

She nods, sucking in a sharp breath and screwing her eyes shut as you find the right spot in her to have her seeing stars.

“Do you still want me to shut the fuck up, or…”

You feel her tense around your fingers, you feel her legs shaking and her grip on you has gotten tighter.

“No, no, I need…”

“Cum for me,” you order. Her body responds immediately, your name spilling from her lips as you work her through her orgasm, kissing along her chest again lazily and smiling softly to yourself as you feel her coming down from it.

She lies there for a second, eyes closed and breathing heavily as she recovers. When she meets your eyes, she sighs.

“Was that okay?” You ask.

Lottie bears the smile that has faded from your lips. “More than okay.”

NOW.

Breakfast.

What the fuck do you make her for breakfast?

Before you can decide, she joins you in the kitchen area, clad in an old sweatshirt and shorts she must have scavenged from your dresser.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Good morning.”

A small silence comes between you. There’s nothing hostile in it, but still it’s begging to be filled.

You clear your throat, straighten your posture a little and are, inexcusably, awkward: “Do you like breakfast?”

Lottie smiles, coming over to sit at the kitchen island. “What are you making?”

You pause. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Got any special secret hangover cures?”

“I’m all out,” you shake your head. “I have lots of fruit, though, to start?”

“Fruit it is.”

You grab some cartons of fruit from the fridge, arranging a bit of everything into a bowl for her to pick through while you figure out what else to actually cook.

“We should see each other again,” Lottie says suddenly. She plucks a grape from the bowl and pops it into her mouth. “It doesn’t have to end like it did last night. And it might be best if it’s a more sober occasion.”

“Are you asking me on a real date?”

She considers it. Then she shrugs. “Yes.”

You smile. “Let’s go on a real date, then… You know what?”

“What?”

“Let’s go on a breakfast date.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Now?”

“Do you have any other plans?”

“No.”

“Then you can borrow something better than an old school sweatshirt from me and we can go somewhere with better chefs,” you propose.

Lottie nods. “Okay. But wait, before we go… I wasn’t honest with you. About my name.”

“I know your name. I know who you are,” you take a grape too, “Charlotte.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“You’re all over the news.”

“Oh. And you don’t mind that I lied to you?”

“You have your reasons,” you shrug. “And I think we’re on familiar terms now.”

“Yes,” she nods, “I suppose we are.”

You consider her for a moment, leaning forward against the counter. “Last night over drinks you told me that you have plans for a wellness center out in the woods. What is that going to be like?”

She stands up and reaches out a hand for you. “I’ll tell you over breakfast.”

sorry for not posting as much it has been a crazy month anyway random but I’m obsessing over the handmaids tale so if anyone wants to talk about the handmaids tale with me then send me an ask or something ok

click here for my masterlist!

sexy yellowjackets taglist: @webism @ahauandthesun @chaithetics @szczurkanalowy @marleymarleymarleymarley @aphrodyk3 @ludasgf @pnsteblnme @il0veb0ttomsthem0vie @neighbourhoodspidey @dorotheareid @jackiessnackie @soda-kidz

[tiredandsapphic]

hi! Do you mind writing bots based off of other peoples headcanons?

unfortunately i don’t write/make bots anymore!!!

[tiredandsapphic]

missing adult lottie matthews like a war wife rn—sigh plz come home, im literally on my KNEES

starving for some adult lottie requests… send em’

[tiredandsapphic]

Hey how do you create a masterlist? I'm new here and I'm currently starting a writing series and I think it would if I had a masterlist but I'm not sure how to make it

omg omg, i feel so honoured to be asked for help…ok i wanna start by saying i am not a pro!!! (still fairly new to tumblr)

but for a masterlist, at least for how i made mine cuz it’s not very big, i just put it on one post. id start by just organizing it by fandoms then characters… ofc to make it you have to link your post to the text (i usually link it to the title of my fic) and then just do that for the rest of ur fics

uhm…and if you’re like not sure for the layout or want inspo i defo recommend checking out other’s masterlists!! sum r so creative n cool. decorating them r always optional. then if u want you can pin your masterlist to ur profile or just hyperlink it in ur description/intro post.

i hope this helps sorta…definitely not a pro n i suck at explaining things 😬

[tiredandsapphic]

that was so sweet !!!

❤️❤️❤️ thank youuu

[tiredandsapphic]

I read the real thing and it made me feel things🤭 what about reader taking g!p Lottie’s virginity? I imagine them making out on Reader’s bed and Lottie gets boner, Lottie is embarrassed at first but reader just sits on her lap and grinds down on her. Both of them taking their clothes off quickly, reader sitting on Lottie’s lap again as Lottie looks nervous. Reader just says “it’s okay, I’ll take the lead, just enjoy yourself” and yes Lottie does enjoy herself🤭 as reader rides her

oh how i adore reqs like these 😋😋 thanks for the request!!! it’s been posted

[tiredandsapphic]

୨ৎ JUST ENJOY YOURSELF

pairing ꩜ lottie matthews x femreader

summary ꩜ lottie deciding she’s ready to go all the way, even if a bit nervous

an ꩜ nsfw, g!p can this be counted as fluff too? who even knows...

lottie is sitting on your bed, half lost in the sheets with you sat comfortably on her lap. your mouth moves against hers, both completely lost in each other.

lottie had come over after practice like she promised. it was your friday ritual, end of the week gift. she was still fresh from her earlier shower, smelling of her floral shampoo and lavender perfume that made your head reel. to make it even better, she wore those grey sweats with a baggy shirt, lethal combo.

a soothing mix of mazzy star and portish head played low enough in the back, one of your favourite cd mixes. but you could only focus on the girl underneath you. lottie’s breathing uneven, her hands warm on your thighs, gripping them like you might float away.

you roll your hips without even meaning to, and she gasps into your mouth. she’s kissing you like she wants more—knowing what might come next. amongst your heavy kissing and touching, beneath you lottie grows painfully hard. and so obviously as well. with her evident erection pressing against your thigh you break away. just enough to look her in the face, to catch your breath. her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, chest rising fast.

suddenly this little act has become much heavier than the usual makeout. you can see the embarrassment creeping onto her face, brown eyes wide. 

“shit—i didn’t mean to—oh god,” she breaks, a soft whine to her voice.

you bite your lip to try and not laugh, not at her, but just her reaction.

“lottie,” you whisper gently, watching as she looks away, avoiding your gaze.

you let out a soft breath. lottie and you hadn't gone further than just a heavy make out, you knew she was nervous and inexperienced. although you really did not care that she is a virgin. if anything, the fact that she hadn't experienced it yet excited you, you'd be more than happy to be her first.

"lottie," you say again, arms snaking around her shoulders, "baby, it's okay. that's... well, actually a good sign."

she shifts a little, finally turning her head back toward you, "i'm so embarrassed... you just—you moved—and—"

"yeah," you murmur, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth. "that's kind of the point."

she whines, slightly mortified. "you're not mad?" she mumbles.

you smile, shaking your head, "why would i be mad that you're turned on?"

she pauses, clearly in her head, "i guess i just—i don't know...sorry." her brows furrow in that pensive way before she speaks again, quieter, "are we... are we actually gonna—?"

"if you want," you hum, eyes flicking between hers, "i don't want to rush you, i want it to be on your terms."

she thinks for a moment, cheeks flushing a deeper colour. her deep eyes look directly into yours when she speaks, "i want to, i—i trust you, a lot." she smiles weakly.

your heart flutters at her words, so honest and real.

"we'll go slow, alright? you just tell me if it gets too much," you pull back just enough to pull your shirt off, tossing it aside.

her eyes lock on you. her hands slowly move from your thighs and up to your bra. her fingers trace the straps, moving to the clasp. she gives you an unsure look to which you give her a nod of encouragement. her hands fumble with the clasp before undoing it, letting it slide off your body.

her breath hitches, if she wasn't already hard enough, she definitely was now. you smile then lean back in, capturing her lips in another deep kiss.

your own hands move to her shirt, pulling away to work it up her body, revealing her to you. once tossed aside you kiss her jaw, down to her neck. "this okay?" your voice hushed, fingers now tugging at her waistband.

"please," she breathes out simply, shuddering underneath you.

with her help, you both manage to shed what clothes were left, leaving you both bare against each other. the feeling of her warm skin against yours was heaven.

breathing heavier and under you— she's really hard and the feel of it making you dizzy with heat. her dick already leaking precum, throbbing at the light contact.

lottie's face is burning, still so evidently—possibly more nervous now. 

"hey, lott, we don't have to keep going. i can stop, i promise i won't be disappointed," you assure, cupping her warm cheek.

"no, please don't," she says quickly, "i just don't want to, i don't know... mess it up? be awful?"

you smile gently, giving her a small look of pity. "we'll go slow. i'll take the lead," you kiss her jaw, her neck, "just enjoy yourself."

lottie nods, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard, her hands shaky on your waist. 

you sit up on your knees above her, already soaked—because you're so ready for her it hurts. watching as she looks up at you, pupils blown in want—half awe, half panic but all love. you guide her slowly, so slowly, pressing the tip of her dick to your entrance. you feel her tense beneath you, bracing herself. "relax," you murmur against her ear, letting yourself lower completely on her.

when she's fully inside you your whole body arches with a soft gasp, loving how full she makes you. lottie's mouth drops open, a deep moan leaving her.

"holy shit," she chokes, hands shooting to your hips like she needs to anchor herself.

you give her a moment—and yourself—forehead resting against hers.

"you okay?" you breathe out.

she nods fast, "yeah. my god, yeah."

you smile then kiss her, soft and slow, as she adjusts. her breath shuddering at every feel of your walls fluttering around her.

once her tight grasp on your hips loosen a little, you start to move. just a small roll of your hips.

lottie moans, loud and unfiltered. music to your ears. her nails dig into your hips, your mouth swallowing all her noises. 

god was she ever vocal.

"fuck, you feel—" she cuts herself off with a whimper, her head falling back against your plush pillows. "you feel amazing."

you bite back a smile, breath catching as you move again. you keep it slow, for now, grinding down in lazy, perfect circles, watching her completely fall apart underneath you.

"is this okay?" you ask, again, breathless as you press more kisses to her jaw. "want me to stop?"

"don't you dare." she gasps, an attempt at a stern face is made but quickly melts away due to her overwhelming pleasure.

you moan softly, rolling your hips again. you work her a little deeper. her dick hitting all the right places, her own hips moving instinctively as she's desperate for more. you can feel your body shake gently with pleasure, "lottie... fuck, you feel so good. you're doing so good." you praise.

your praise makes her whimper, dick twitching inside you. "i'm not—not even doing anything." she breathes, completely overwhelmed.

"you're letting me have you," you whisper against her ear, "that's more than enough."

you ride her slow and deep, guiding her hands to your tits when she gets too lost in her own head. her hands squeeze you gently as you meet her hips, her pelvic bone adding friction against your clit with each sloppy thrust.

you can tell she won't last much longer, her body trembling harder, this time with pure want. her moans keep growing louder, her needy begging under her breath and the way she keeps repeating your name is perfect. you're not even sure you'll last long either.

"oh my god, i can't—fuck. i'm gonna..." she rasps, her head going back.

you silence her with your lips, "good. you're doing so good. let go for me." you whisper against her lips.

you ride her harder, feeling your walls tighten against her dick as both your movements become more frantic, chasing the high. her grip moves back to your hips, almost bruising as she slams you down, deep onto her dick.

when she comes, she comes hard. her moans are loud and broken. her whole body jerks up against yours, filling you completely. ropes of cum spill from her, overwhelming your own senses as you come with her, walls milking her dick. your moans fall against her lips, a mess of desperation. nails dragging down her shoulders as you fall apart.

you ride her through it in sloppy circles, prolonging her orgasm as long as you can. you stop your movements once she stops shaking, airy oversensitive breaths shuddering from her mouth. you collapse against her chest as she catches her breath, completely blissed out and dazed. your heart hammers against hers, sticky skin against yours. you move slow, gently pulling back, careful not to move too fast. a weak whine leaves her when she slips out, chest rising and falling like she just ran a mile.

"you okay?" you say, barely audible, running your fingers through her hair. some sticking to her forehead with a sheen of sweat.

she nods, a lazy smile on her blissed out face. "you ruined me," voice hoarse and low.

you grin, curling up against her more. "i did not."

"you did. i can't feel my legs. i think i even forgot my name for a full 30 seconds." she breathes out.

you laugh, "you're so dramatic.' you nudge her.

her eyes soften, "i'm serious—that was everything." 

"good, that's what i wanted for you," you plant a kiss on her collarbone.

she shifts, long arms wrapping you securely, the pads of her fingers drawing soft circles on your side. once you finally settle again, blankets tangled around your legs, she murmurs against you, "...when can we do it again?"

you immediately smile into her skin, "maybe once you let your legs recover first."

"fine, but i'm counting down."

you laugh, settling back against her warmth, both of you blissfully wrecked.

[tiredandsapphic]

ascended while reading this btw

hii! for your summer fic collection, could you do smth about lottie throwing a pool party at her house, and you two are seemingly sitting in her hot tub, but no one knows that she’s fingering you under the jets of the hot tub😋

— YELLOWJACKETS POOL PARTY with lottie matthews

warnings: nsfw content. mdni. fem!reader. vaginal!fingering (r!receiving). semi-public sex. this is also very fratboy!lottie coded.

lottie’s house is buzzing, packed with people from the living room, down to the patio, the crowd spilling out into the matthews’ large backyard. there are guests everywhere, and someone’s speaker has been hooked up in the yard, blasting music over the constant splash of water from the pool & the sizzle of grilling on the deck.

a few of your teammates are sprawled across lounge chairs, beer bottles dangling from their fingers. shauna sits in a hammock near the fire pit, sipping a drink from a red solo cup, while van is submerged in the pool, tossing a soaked ping pong ball between her hands with taissa watching from the edge, legs dipped into the water to the knees. nat, beside her, takes a drag from the joint they’re passing back and forth, tapping the ashes into a tray lottie had rushed to grab the moment she saw her fish out the lighter, making sure none of it ended up on her parents’ freshly cut lawn.

meanwhile, you’re in lottie’s lap in the hot tub, tucked between her thighs with jets bubbling around your intertwined bodies. what only the two of you know, and what goes unnoticed by the other party goers, is that she’s in you already. that she has been for a while now.

it started with some playful touches, her hands wandering up and down your sides. jackie had been sitting with the two of you then, drink in hand, her shoulders pink from too much sun, leaning back against the far wall of the tub while lottie pulled you to sit in her lap.

after a few minutes, jackie offered to grab more drinks, climbing out with a slosh of water. “be right back!” she called. that was twenty minutes ago, and she still hasn’t returned. you swear you saw her with mari not too long ago, passing by while they were caught up in conversation, so you’re not sure she’ll come back at all.

the minute she had disappeared, though, lottie’s touch instantly changed: the pass of her palm across your stomach turned increasingly more suggestive, trailing down your thigh under the guise of “adjusting your bikini bottoms”.

you didn’t stop her, your legs spreading on their own accord when she cupped your cunt and her mouth ghosted over the base of your neck.

lottie’s hand dipped lower, teasingly rolling your clit between her index and middle finger. you weren’t sure exactly when they slipped inside, only that by the time you realized she was stuffing you full, it was too late to stop.

now, lottie is moving those same two fingers with the smallest curls, never risking stirring the tub water too much. your soaked bottoms are tugged to the side, barely clinging to your hip at all as her knuckles graze your inner thigh, the jets disguising how your hips rock up into lottie’s palm.

from the outside, it looks innocent: only a couple, sitting in the corner of the tub, your head resting against your girlfriend’s shoulder, your eyes the tiniest bit heavy. it could be the heat, they’d think, the humidity & the haze of summer, not the fact that you’re currently getting fucked in a very public setting, even if the tub sits secluded, tucked away on the edge of the deck, overlooking the garden without being at the center of anyone’s attention.

you shift, trying to keep still, and lottie presses her mouth to your ear. “you’re doing so good,” she praises, hooking her fingers deeper and sending a wave of pleasure curling up your spine as their pads hit your g-spot. “so good for me”

to stop yourself from crying out, you bite the inside of your cheek, a strangled gasp slipping free as you feel your walls clench around her.

for a second, your eyelids flutter shut, surrendering to the sensation. it’s almost too easy to get lost in it, but just as quickly, you force them open again. you can’t afford to sink too deep, even if, thankfully, no one seems to be watching.

everyone is either drunk or on a mission to be, some sunk into conversations, others too distracted to notice how your breathing has changed and how you’re holding onto lottie’s knee. the jets help as well, masking the gushing sounds of her fingers working inside you.

lottie presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, tender affection to anyone who might glance over, and her hand readjusts so that her thumb presses to your clit. “you’re shaking,” she whispers. “that’s so sweet, baby. are you gonna come like this? out here?”

you would sob if your jaw wasn’t so tight. you can’t even move without drawing attention, so all you manage is a nod, the closest thing to movement you’ll get, and lottie’s fingers, her long, merciless fingers, push deeper, her thumb pressing harder simultaneously.

“that’s my girl,” she says proudly, rocking you against her by bouncing her thigh. it’s hardly noticeable, the hot tub’s surface alive with bubbles, but you can feel it. you feel everything, your body tightening and clenching around her, nails digging into the meat of her thigh.

“you’re gonna be so good for me,” she purrs, the barest scrape of her teeth against your shoulder. “come for me. right now.”

only the command would be enough to send you over the edge, and yet, combined with sudden pressure to your clit, you have no choice but to let go: your legs tense, and your breath is stuttering in your chest as your head falls back against her, arching into the touch.

you don’t dare to make a sound when it hits, your mouth falling open with a silent cry, eyes rolling back behind closed lids. lottie has to tighten her grip on your middle to keep you from floating forward as you shudder and tense, the orgasm washing over you.

the heat that coils in your stomach spreads out everywhere, drowning out the music & the clink of bottles against patio tile, and the water, disturbed by your attempt to ride out the pleasure on her fingers, rocks as lottie’s breath caresses the shell of your ear, guiding you through it.

she doesn’t stop until she’s sure you’re done and wholly wrung out. only then, when you melt back into her chest, does lottie slow and remove her fingers from between your legs.

“well,” she says conversationally, as if she hadn’t just fingered you in the middle of her backyard party. “maybe we should go upstairs next time.” when you turn your head to look at her, dizzy with it, lottie extends a hand to you. “are you coming?” she asks. “or…?”

[tiredandsapphic]

Yeah I have been so spoiled by your fluff and smut fics that this angst one snuck up on me and smacked me in the head 😭🤚🏼 so so good but at what cost💔

LOLLL i am so sorry... sigh, it had to be done, the duality of writing 💔

sniffle, my apology will come in the form of a non-angst fic hehe

[tiredandsapphic]

imagine, instead of mari the reader was the one who drew the queen card. what makes it even more painful is that lottie had just confessed her feelings to them but with lottie's undying devotion to the wilderness, she did what she did during that scene😞

i forgot how much i LOVE writing angst, so thank u for this req— here it is!!

[tiredandsapphic]

୨ৎ LOVE WILL TEAR US APART

pairing ꩜ lottie matthews x femreader

summary ꩜ you end up drawing the queen of hearts—will lottie choose her first love or her devotion?

an ꩜ angst, warning for darker themes. not really but sorta kinda-ish based off last ep of season 3 but i also changed a lot...

the tension was unbearable. your heart hammered and that familiar sense of despair trickled over you as you stood in the circle amongst the others. it never got any easier. the cards, the odds, the hunt.

an eerie silence surrounded you, shifting uncomfortably as van shuffled the deck. everyone had their heads down or looked around nervously—aside from shauna and her. lottie. your eyes shifted towards her, she looked excited if anything. it made your heart ache, thoughts of the previous night flooding your already racing mind.

she had confessed—sorta—in her own lottie way. she told you she felt something different with you, that you were a sense of home in the wild, false security but still security. it had frightened you. not because you didn't feel the same, the brown eyed girl has always had a place in your heart. it was the pure emotion and entire devotion she had put into it, already fed by her delusions. she wasn't the same girl you shared music recommendations with or helped stretch for practices. she was some messiah, and you had become her martyr.

watching her tall, cloaked figure bounce in gleeful anticipation made you sick. however, a part of you still yearned to save her, to see her as she truly is. van started to let people draw their cards, your eyes on the deck, a sick selfish wish of yours that hopes someone other than yourself would draw the card. hunting another person was never in your nature, but when it came down to yourself or another, you'll hold that knife.

eventually van stops in front of you. your hand shook as you reached for the deck, fingers slowly glided against the card. tension crackles before you even draw a card.

and when you flip the card, the queen of hearts stares back. cruel, unmoving and elegant. it lands like a punch to the gut, feeling all the blood run from your face. 

it's like looking down at your own blood and not recognizing it.

you stare at it in disbelief. waiting for someone to laugh, for the rules to change, to wake up in your bed again back in new jersey. you flip it with a trembling hand, slowly craning your head back up to the group. showing it off although you were anything but proud.

"shit," van murmurs, sounding so far away in your head as your vision barely settled.

you suck in a harsh breath, forgetting how to breathe, looking around the group more frantically now. you shook your head, "no, i—no, that’s not fair," your voice breaks. 

shauna just scoffs. it was fair. it was the way things were out here, unforgiving but fair.

instinctively you turn to lottie, just a few steps from you. "lottie," your voice brittle. she was the apparent voice of reason.

she doesn't move.

"lottie." you try again, louder, scared now.

she looks at you, not with pity, but cold, radiant faith. she shakes her head, "it chose." she says like a line she rehearsed.

it hurts. your heart drops through your chest. all those things she told you, how she said she loved you, how she claimed she wanted you. now completely an after thought, you being second place to the wilderness, something you didn't want or give a shit about.

"no. no, fuck that. don't act like we don't have a choice, like you don't have a choice." your entire body is humming, "i—i thought you—"

you stop, shauna approaching you with a smug expression. she enjoyed this. necklace in hand as she settled behind you, hands working to secure it around you.

lottie watches, mixed emotions, an impossible face to read. she flinches briefly, especially when you cuss shauna out. like something in her remembers, a flicker of guilt rippling through her... but she buries it fast.

you stumble back, eyes all on you, yours only on lottie's. shauna's voice humming in the back as she begins to count.

"okay," you say quietly, "okay, then." utter defeat.

and you bolt, leaving your heart behind with her as you let your legs take you far, far away.

its absolute chaos. screaming. someone yelling your name, sharp and high pitched laughs. its quick that the woods around you become a hunting zone. you feel a sudden great remorse for any animal you had to hunt out here, knowing exactly how being prey feels.

the cold tears through your lungs as you run through trees. body already chilled due to the climate, not yet used to the fresh snow that had fallen during the night. you run for god knows how long, just to get away from the primal bloodthirsty people you had once known as your teammates.

the mask of snow makes everything too quiet. every sound feels like a threat. you're crying now—not because you're scared, because she let it happen. she let them gather weapons. she let them hunt you.

you haven't a clue how long you've been running. you shed a layer, your jacket, hoping to throw them off your trail awhile back. it worked—you think. though your bare skin was nothing against the grazing branches, having caught onto your skin, blood running down your legs. it's harsh oxidized red, a stark difference in the pure white snow.

you don't know where you are anymore. doesn't matter. you're going to die out here. you know it, the cold's settling into your bones. at least it won't be by their hands.

too caught up in adrenaline you don't even notice you're not alone until you run full speed into another body. it doesn't take much to knock you to the cold ground, body too weak. you cry out in a low shudder, pawing at the ground to try and sit up fast.

you turn around, chest heaving. you look up and there she is. lottie.

it's not even fear you feel. it's relief. because it's her. your lesser evil.

no animal mask. no visible weapon. just her. the one who treats you like you are holy and hers. she looks ethereal above you, tall, framed with that fur cloak adorned in feathers. she looks down at you with a gentle smile, something that brings warmth back.

you fist the snow and scramble to get up, "please, no—no." you choke out pathetically.

to your surprise she drops into the snow with you, kneeling before you. you freeze, just watching her. 

"i found you," she whispers, as if you were merely playing a game of hide and seek.

its like she's glad. like its just the two go you again. she reaches for your hand and you recoil back, glaring at her with loathing eyes.

you watch as a her face expression falls and it hurts you a little. but it was easier to be angry than scared right now. "fuck you, lottie." you growl.

"it chose you, don't you see how important you are to it. to me." she pleads, her face disgustingly soft.

you scoff, shaking your head. "there is no ‘it’! there is just us. you let them come for me, lottie." you're crying again, hot tears against cool skin.

"i didn't want this," she adds fast.

"you let it happen." 

silence. wind. both of your breath fogging in the air between you.

"i thought—i thought out of them all you'd do something about...this," you gesture in front of yourself, "god, i'm such a fool," you laugh bitterly. it's ugly and wet with tears and betrayal.

she looks like she's going to cry. you wish she would. you want her to. you want her to break apart the way she let you. but she doesn't. instead she pushes forward, crawling closer.

"i love you," she whispers.

you close your eyes, because fuck her for saying it now. and worse—you still believe it.

you're far too weak to fight or flee. you don't even try at this point. "i won't let them touch you," she says, coming forward, her hands finding your face.

she's so warm, you instinctively lean into her touch. reminding you how she used to—before things weren't so broken. her thumbs brush your skin and you break a little more.

"i'm so scared," you sob, "so fucking scared, lottie."

she lets out a breath, pressing her forehead to yours. "i know," even her voice breaks, "i'm here."

you feel her lips at your temple, then your brow, and finally your mouth.

she kisses you, slow and deep, achingly desperate. like she's trying to memorize the taste of you. you kiss her back because it feels so comforting, to be loved in such deep horror. she kisses you like its the last kiss she'll ever give.

because it is, because while one hand cups your face so soothingly the other brings the knife to your chest.

you don't feel the blade at first, it's too gentle. you just feel the moment her body tenses, the hand that cups your face tightening, and then—the knife slides between your ribs.

your breath catches, eyes wide, pull back just enough to see her face.

she's crying now, finally. big brown doe-eyes wide, swelling with tears that trickle down her cheeks.

a choked sob leaves you, the warmth that filled your stomach from the kiss is now the warmth of your blood soaking your dress. you cannot possibly think, or talk, or move. not in panic. just... shock.

"i had to," she whispers, still holding the knife and cradling your face. "you were chosen. its what the wilderness wanted." she says, as if she's convincing herself.

you look at her like she's a stranger. perhaps she always was. you knew you lost, all that struggle and fight for this ending. to be a second choice to some imaginary higher power. the wilderness prevailing all.

your body runs awfully cold and your vision blurs, lottie's dejected face blurring. you sag forward. she catches you, holds you close, presses her lips to your hair like she's comforting you.

like she hadn't just slid the knife into your chest mid-kiss. she whispers apologies while cradling your fading body.

death wasn't scary. it hurt but not physically. it was unfair and cruel, but gentle and accepting. lottie's warmth is the last you'll know, and that was okay, it's all you had left out here to begin with.

she stays with your body long after it's still, hands and body soaked in red. her mouth pressed to your skin like she can undo what she did if she just loves you enough.

she doesn't stop whispering broken apologies, "you were scared," she hums against your cool skin.

and the wilderness says nothing back.

[tiredandsapphic]

Superglue

Superman!Lottie Matthews x Reporter!Reader

Summary: Superwoman has taken the world by storm. And everyone is desperate to know who is this hero who has claimed to be the protector of earth. And well you just want to know why shy socially awkward Charlotte Matthews of all people got the exclusive of a lifetime with Superwoman herself.

A/N: Yeah I just saw superman 😔 go figure something about an awkward wholesome dorky giant made me think of lottie. If this gets a lot of love I’ll make a part two🤞🏼

If you had a super power, this would be it. You were persistent as hell. Stubborn, maybe even a little too much for people. But to be a journalist—you had to be.

And you were one of the best this city had to offer. Well at least thats what your mom says, and on occasion when you arent raising his blood pressure Chief Perry.

The very fabric of the world seemed to tilt on it’s axis with this new hero entering the world. Superwoman. She showed up all red and blue, giant, tan, brown eyes, brown hair, perfect. Saved the city from a insane alien dictator and called herself the protector of Earth and then poof.

Vanished.

Well that’s what everyone thought. Until Charlotte Matthews came around…with an exclusive interview with Superwoman herself. You scoffed at the memory, you placed the very article down in front of you. Mocking you in full glossy print. It was ridiculous. How shy, awkward, dorky, clumsy ass Charlotte got the exclusive of the century was beyond you.

She couldn’t even keep eye contact with you for longer than 2 minutes. How she managed to befriend Superwoman, arguably the most powerful being in the universe? It got under your skin how confusing it was.

You pick up your coffee and gulp it, too hot, because maybe you’re punishing yourself. Your pen clicks restlessly in your hand, the way it always does when your thoughts start to knot together.

You had a hard time believing it. Not just the story. Not just Superwoman’s sudden reappearance. But Charlotte. You watch her sometimes, too closely. Trying to spot the tells.

The shift in her body language when she talks about Superwoman. The slight smile that curls up like she knows more than she’s saying. Like she’s remembering something you weren’t there for.

It drives you insane.

But maybe there’s a way in. Maybe you don’t need Charlotte. You’ve been going through every quote, every photo, every hint like it’s a puzzle only you can solve. And maybe… just maybe… you’ve figured out where Superwoman will show up next.

You were pacing your apartment as you looked up at the whiteboard. A slice of pizza in one hand and a red sharpie in the other. The whiteboard in your apartment looked like a scene from a conspiracy thriller, red string, maps, blurred-out classified photos you’d maybe-sorta-illegally acquired. All your notes circled around one idea: Superwoman.

The locations where she appeared? They weren’t just high-profile disasters. They were military-adjacent. Buried in each article Charlotte wrote, between the wide-eyed quotes and naïve awe, there were patterns. You just needed confirmation.

You sat down taking a big bite of the greasy fuel. Your head swimming. You could poke around a lot of sources. You knew that Ben was high up within the government at this point. That could be a string you could pull on. Or even Simone. Congresswoman’s wife, foriegn affairs diplomat. It could be worth exploring but then your eyes widened.

Jackie owes you BIG.

You text Jackie, your fingers hovering over the old picture of her in your phone.

Need to cash in a favor. You owe me.

She replies almost immediately.

Fine. Two coffees, one with oat milk. Meet me in twenty.

You smile. You and Jackie go back. Same college program, used to date. Didn’t work out mainly because in her words, ‘You suck at balancing work and a relationship’. You still were great friends. You mobile ordered her drink, and scarfed down the rest of your pizza.

Jackie was waiting next to your desk, sunglasses on despite being indoors. You offered her your coffee with a wide grin. She took the coffee like it was owed to her, which, to be fair, it kinda was. You once killed a story that could’ve ended her whole career over a mishandled source. She hadn’t forgotten.

“Alright. Y/L/N. You are pulling on a very interesting thread. Which makes sense for…well you.” Jackie starts a hint of annoyance in her voice.

You roll your eyes. “Nothing is too impossible for you princess.” The old nickname purred off your lips.

Causing Jackie to frown, she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. Her cheeks flushed a bit, like you interrupted her beach day. “I’ll have you know it was hard to get these. But yeah also you did come to the right girl. I’ve heard whispers,” she said, going straight into it. “Outskirts of the city. Old munitions site. Supposed to be decommissioned, but trucks come in and out every few nights. Tight security. Blacksite vibes.”

You raised a brow. “Military?”

Jackie shrugged. “Could be. Or aliens. Who knows anymore.”

She sipped her coffee, then added, “If you get killed or abducted, I’m not writing the tribute article. Too much pressure.”

“Touching,” you said dryly.

“Yeah but also…don’t die.” Jackie mumbles, jumping off your desk. “I mean it, I still like our drunk kisses at the holiday work parties.” She yells loudly throwing a wink, walking to her desk.

You roll your eyes and huff out a laugh. Sitting at your own desk and grabbing a pen and paper. You were halfway through writing the new intel to your on going file when the knock came. Three light taps on the edge of your desk. You didn’t even look up.

“Busy,” you called.

“Hi!” came the voice. Cheerful. Too cheerful.

You sighed, letting your head fall forward onto your desk for just a second before sitting up.

“Charlotte.”

She hovered just inside your space, gripping a folder like it was a life raft. Her hair was doing that frizzy halo thing again and her blazer was buttoned crooked. Classic Matthews.

“I, um… I brought you something?” she said, holding out the folder like a peace offering. “It’s, um, just the draft for my next piece. About the relief efforts after the tsunami? I thought maybe you could… look at it? If you want?”

You stared at her.

Charlotte Matthews…bane of your existence, somehow-golden-girl of journalism, and apparently, besties with the most powerful being on Earth.

“I don’t edit your stuff,” you said.

“I know!” she said quickly. “I just thought—well, you’re really good. And maybe I could get your… perspective?”

There it was again. That shy hopefulness that always made you feel like a monster for being annoyed. You didn’t want to be annoyed.

But you also didn’t want to like her smile, or how she kept adjusting her glasses when she was nervous. You took the folder. Just to get her to stop looking at you like that.

“Thanks,” you said, clipped. Charlotte lingered. You narrowed your eyes. “Something else?” She looked like she was about to step forward, then seemed to think better of it. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?”

“I just…” she fidgeted. “I don’t know. Lately you seem… different.”

You exhaled sharply. “I’ve been working.”

“Okay,” she said softly, a little hurt. “That’s… okay.”

The silence stretched. Then she smiled, small, sweet, disarming. “Well, I guess I’ll go. Good luck with your board of secrets,” she added with a tiny wink.

You blinked, shaking your head confused. “Wait—how do you know about—?”

But she was already slipping out of your line of sight. You stared after her. Then at the folder. Then at the red marked file on your desk. Then at the opened document on your laptop.

Focus. You had bigger things to deal with than dorky reporters with hidden depths. You grabbed your camera bag and your phone. If Jackie was right, there’d be movement near the edge of the city tonight.

And maybe…fucking hopefully you’d get the story of your life.

The outskirts of town was dead quiet. Too quiet for a site supposedly “decommissioned.” You crouched behind a ridge of gravel and wild grass, camera lens extended just enough to capture the compound in the distance. Floodlights cut through the night in slow, methodical sweeps. Every now and then, a truck rolled in, unmarked, blacked-out windows, clearly not here to deliver pizza.

You snapped a few shots. Grainy, but it was enough to prove something was going on. Enough to make someone sweat. Just as you were about to reposition for a closer shot, the camera in your hands flickered. Static. Your vision blurred. Your ears rang—And then, boom.

A sonic crack split the night, like a thunderclap in your chest. You were suddenly… airborne. No time to scream. Arms around you. Firm. Controlled. The ground a blur below. Wind howling past your ears.

You looked up, and nearly forgot how to breathe. Superwoman. Up close, she was even more unreal. Wind-swept hair, sharp jawline, steady hands holding you like you weighed nothing. Her eyes were locked ahead, focused, burning. She was beautiful. Almost angelic.

“Are you insane?” she snapped, not unkindly. “That was a restricted zone. You were a half-step from getting vaped by a drone strike.”

“I—I wasn’t that close—”

“You were too close.”

Her voice softened slightly, but her grip didn’t. She wasn’t just holding you, she was protecting you. Your heart was doing cartwheels. Not because you were falling. Because you were flying. Because it was her.

“I had a right to be there,” you said, even as the city lights whipped below. “I’m press. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. Why you’re back.”

She didn’t respond. Just angled downward, toward a rooftop. The world stilled as she landed with impossible grace, setting you down gently, as if you might shatter.

You stumbled. Flushed. Cold from the night. And embarrassingly aware of how strong her arms had been.

“Why are you so invested in this?” she asked, arms crossed now. She tilted her head. “You’re not like Charlotte.”

You blinked, your face scrunching up in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“She’s curious,” Superwoman said. “But she knows when to stop tugging on threads.”

You bristled, a scoff escaping your lips. “Charlotte Matthews? The girl who trips over her own feet and probably apologizes to pigeons? That Charlotte?”

Something changed in Superwoman’s face. Her mouth twitched, like she was holding back a smile. Like that image of Charlotte amused her.

“She’s… braver than you think,” Superwoman said softly. “Kind. Sharp. She listens. She doesn’t just want a scoop. She wants to understand.”

And that was unexpected. You crossed your arms. “You’re… really hyping her up.”

“I should,” Superwoman said. “She sees the best in people. Even when they don’t deserve it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. There was something reverent in her voice. Something fond. Like she knew Charlotte in ways you hadn’t even considered. Suddenly, everything felt off-kilter.

You were used to power plays. Getting stonewalled. You weren’t used to being gently, thoroughly disarmed. Superwoman stepped closer. The city wind catching the edge of her cape.

“I know you’re trying to protect the people,” you said. “So am I. I just want to tell the truth.”

“I respect that,” she said. “But sometimes the truth bites back.”

Then she looked at you, really looked at you. Her gaze softened again, just for a beat. “Stop tugging on that thread,” she said gently. “Or you’ll unravel something you’re not ready for.”

Before you could ask what she meant, she rose into the air. And just like that, she was gone. You stood there, heart hammering, camera still in hand.

Somewhere in your mind, Charlotte’s smile flickered. That awkward little wave. That folder she left you. You’d read it now. Every word.

Because clearly, there was a lot more to Charlotte Matthews than you’d ever noticed.

As your eyes held at the spot superwoman flew away. Your eyes narrowed. You knew this view of the city. You looked around and your eyes widened. “How the FUCK did she know where I live??” You choke out in surprise.

You didn’t sleep.

Not really.

You reread Charlotte’s article three times, then the draft she’d handed you. It was good. Frustratingly good. Buried beneath her soft edges and stuttered compliments was a mind that had been tracking the same patterns as you.

The relief efforts, the alien tech cleanup zones, the deployment timings… it was all there. Hidden in her flowery prose, but sharp as hell.

You were still tired, still buzzing with last night’s adrenaline, when you stormed into the bullpen the next morning. Charlotte was at her desk, poking at her keyboard like it owed her money, glasses slipping down her nose. She looked up as you approached, startled but smiling.

“Oh—hey!”

You dropped your bag onto the corner of her desk. Leaning in. Leveling her with a look.

“How long have you been hooking up with Superwoman?”

Charlotte blinked. Then laughed, a hard belly laugh. “What?”

You didn’t flinch. “Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not—wait, what?” Her voice pitched up in genuine confusion. Her cheeks were already going pink. “Hooking up with—why would you—oh my God.”

You folded your arms. “I saw the way she talked about you. She carried me halfway across the city and still managed to sound like she was in the middle of writing your LinkedIn recommendation.”

“I—she what?”

“You’re in deep with her,” you said flatly. “Just tell me the truth.”

Charlotte stood up suddenly, flustered but bold, something sparking in her eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“Okay, hold on. One—I am not hooking up with Superwoman. Two—thank you, I guess? For assuming I could land someone that hot and powerful. But three—why do you care so much?”

You stared at her.

And maybe it hit you then—how close you were standing. How Charlotte’s hands were curled into little fists like she was daring herself to hold her ground. How you’d misjudged her. A lot.

“I care,” you said slowly, “because this case is serious. Because you’ve clearly been three steps ahead of me, and I was too arrogant to notice.”

Charlotte eyes were wide behind her glasses. You reached into your bag and pulled out the folder—the one she gave you, and tapped it on her desk.

“This,” you said, “is good. It’s really good. You’re seeing things I missed. And whatever Superwoman sees in you—whether it’s a crush or a mind-meld or some top-secret vigilante pen-pal situation—I trust her judgment.”

Charlotte’s jaw dropped slightly.

“I want to work with you,” you said. “You’ve earned it.”

Silence. Then, slowly, brightly, Charlotte beamed. Like the sun punching through a stormcloud.

“You—you do?”

You couldn’t help it. You smiled, just a little. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Charlotte giggled. “Okay. Yeah. Yes. I—I’d love that. I mean, obviously, yes. I’m in.”

You moved to leave, but paused. “Oh. And Charlotte?”

She looked up.

“You might want to get better at lying,” you said with a smirk. “You almost fainted when I mentioned the hook-up.”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide. “I did not—!” You raised a brow. “Okay. Maybe a little,” she muttered. And as you walked away, her grin followed you the whole way down the hall.

Your shared workspace was an organized disaster. Printouts, circled coordinates, post-it theories, half-drunk coffee cups, and a dry erase board covered in increasingly erratic scribbles. You’d commandeered a side office in the back of the building—technically off-limits, but you’d been told once to leave and never again.

Charlotte sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of incident reports with a highlighter clenched between her teeth and an expression of deep concentration. Her glasses had slid halfway down her nose. You watched her for half a second too long, caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

“You color-code your chaos,” you said, smirking. “How very Charlotte of you.”

She jumped. “I—I do not!”

You pointed to the folder. “Red for confirmed sightings, yellow for inconsistencies, blue for unexplained anomalies. It’s a rainbow of repressed control.”

She turned scarlet and looked down. “It’s just easier to keep track of…”

“You’re adorable.”

Charlotte blinked up at you. You didn’t notice the way she stared. You were already hunched back over the maps, drawing a line between the old munitions base and the supposed power plant outside city limits.

“There’s a pattern here,” you said. “Every site has some kind of abandoned infrastructure—decommissioned military, state-funded labs, even that old satellite tower. They’re hiding something. I want to get inside the facility tomorrow night. Low traffic window. We can bring your camera—”

Charlotte’s hand shot out, landing on the edge of your page. “Wait,” she said quickly. “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s—well—it could be dangerous.”

You grinned. “That’s kind of the job, Matthews.”

“But what if it’s not just… military? What if something else is involved? You could get hurt.”

“I’ve done worse.”

“I don’t think you get it,” Charlotte said, her voice a little firmer now. She sat up straighter, highlighter forgotten. “Some threads aren’t just hard to pull—they snap back.”

You turned to her, serious now. “Okay. If this is more than just nerves, then tell me.”

Charlotte’s eyes searched yours. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Panic flickered in her gaze. “I just… I know it’s dangerous,” she said finally. “You have to trust me.”

You squinted. Something about the way she said it. Like she knew more than she was supposed to.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“I—well—”

“Charlotte,” you interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Does it make sense?? Because to me, it doesn’t. So unless you give me one good reason—one—I’m walking into that building tomorrow night.”

Charlotte’s mouth opened—words half-formed on her lips, panic rising in her chest. “Because I—!” she blurted.

You tilted your head. She froze. Her hands clenched into the hem of her sweater. “Because I… heard… a source,” she stammered. “From—uh—the National Guard hotline. They said the site's being used for something high-security. Like… very. Very. Classified.”

You stared at her, your eyebrows raised up. You wondered if she was messing with you. “That’s your big source? A hotline?”

“I mean, technically it was a blog about the hotline.”

You narrowed your eyes. She gave you a sheepish little smile and a shrug, as if that explained everything. Somehow, it almost did. You exhaled and flopped back into your chair.

“Well,” you said, “if I’m going to risk getting classified into oblivion, I need fuel.”

Charlotte blinked. “Wait, are you still—?”

“I’m ordering from the Greek place across the street,” you announced. “I know you like the lemon potatoes.”

Charlotte’s cheeks lit up. “You—you remembered that?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “You wrote a whole review about it. Four paragraphs on the tzatziki alone.”

Her jaw clicked shut. The corners of her mouth curled like she was trying not to melt into the carpet.

“I’ll get us two orders,” you added. “But if I go to federal prison tomorrow, I’m keeping the good pita.”

Charlotte laughed. soft and bright and just slightly exasperated. Outside, the city moved on, unaware that Superwoman herself was sitting on the floor of a dusty office, wearing a cardigan and a hopeless crush.

You waited three days. And then you decided you would go yourself. You didn’t tell Charlotte. Because if you did, she would’ve smiled that soft, worried smile and gently talked you out of it.

And you were this close to cracking something wide open. The facility’s perimeter was quieter than expected. Just two patrolling guards and a flickering motion sensor near the east gate. You were crouched in the shadow of a half-collapsed fence, night-vision lens on your camera, hands steady.

You’d never felt more alive.

Twenty more feet and you’d be under the blind spot you’d mapped out. You went for it. And then, a blinding white light. A sound like a turbine screaming. And the next second—You were off the ground again.

“Goddamnit,” you hissed, struggling midair.

“Do you have a death wish?!” came the furious voice in your ear.

There she was the woman of the hour…Superwoman. Descending out of the sky like divine fury. Hair tousled, cape snapping behind her, and fuming. She landed on a rooftop with you clutched in her arms again—none of the gentle grace of last time. She all but dropped you onto the rooftop.

You stumbled, breath knocked out of you. “I told you this was dangerous!” she snapped, pacing now, hands in her hair like she couldn’t believe she was doing this again. “I told you to stop pulling at threads! But no, you couldn’t just listen,could you?”

You stared, trying to catch up. “Okay, I get it, I was being—”

“No! No, you don’t get it!” Superwoman whirled on you, face flushed with anger. “You were thirty seconds away from stepping on a seismic tripwire that would’ve buried you under two tons of steel. Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten there in time?”

You blinked. “How do you know that?”

She froze. You tilted your head. “How did you know exactly where I was?”

Superwoman didn’t move. You stepped closer. “How did you even know I went tonight?”

A beat, an awkward beat. She held your gaze and then she frowned, “Charlotte told me,” Superwoman said stiffly.

You narrowed your eyes. “Charlotte told you… that I might break into a blacksite tonight?”

“She said she warned you not to go. She thought you might be reckless enough to ignore her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Because I didn’t tell Charlotte. At all.”

That landed. Superwoman’s jaw tensed. Just slightly. But enough.

You stepped forward again. “So how exactly would she have known where I’d be, unless you knew where I’d be? Unless you are—”

“Last time I checked,” Superwoman cut in sharply, straightening to her full height, “I didn’t agree to an interview, miss.”

You froze. Then frowned, a bitter chuckle tumbling out. “Real original.”

Her eyes flickered. You didn’t say anything else. The night wind tugged at your coat. Somewhere in the distance, a spotlight panned lazily across the compound. But neither of you moved.

“You lied to me,” you said finally. Not accusing. Just… realizing.

Superwoman’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted into something else—regret, maybe. “I protected you,” she said softly.

The next morning, you were… composed. At least on the outside. Inside? You hadn’t stopped replaying last night’s rooftop standoff. The anger. The slip. The tone Superwoman had used when she said Charlotte’s name.

So, naturally, you walked into the office like a woman with a plan… well and a trap. Charlotte was already at her desk, nervously flipping through the same three pages of notes like they might rearrange themselves out of anxiety. Her hair was a little frizzier than usual. Her sweater was inside-out. Adorable.

You set your coffee down next to her with a little too much force. She flinched startled. “H-hi.”

“Morning,” you said smoothly, sipping your drink like nothing was off. “Sleep okay?”

Her mouth opened. Closed. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Great.”

You gave her a long look. “Because I didn’t see you online last night.”

Charlotte blinked. “Oh. No. Yeah. I unplugged. Self-care.”

“Right. Not flying around or anything.”

She dropped her pen. “What?”

“Hmm?”

You leaned closer, voice casual. “Just saying you seem like the type to be very busy at night. With… extracurriculars.”

Charlotte’s eyes were practically ping-pong balls. Before she could respond, Jackie strolled by and whistled low. “Damn, Matthews. What’d you do, steal her stapler? She’s got that ‘grudge and a legal pad’ look in her eye.”

Charlotte looked like she might vaporize on the spot. Jackie, being Jackie, just grinned, leaned in, and threw an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t stay mad too long, yeah? It’s too early in the morning for bloodshed.”

Charlotte’s expression shifted just slightly. Jaw tight. Smile thinner. Eyes very focused on Jackie’s arm around you.

Interesting.

You just shrugged. “I’ll try. No promises.” Jackie wandered off, still chuckling. You turned back to Charlotte, who was now very pointedly typing absolute gibberish into a Word doc.

You leaned on her desk, leaning into nonchalance. “Oh,” you said. “Before I forget—I found something weird this morning. In the southeast grid near Dock 14. You know, where that decommissioned water plant is? Readings were off. Might be worth checking out. If you’re not busy tonight.”

Charlotte’s fingers paused on the keyboard. “Dock 14? That’s—kind of out of the way, isn’t it?”

You smiled. “So’s danger.”

She looked up at you. Suspicious. Flustered. Concerned. Adorably all of the above. You grabbed your coffee again and headed off. As you turned the corner, you didn’t look back, but you felt her watching you.

And that little voice in your head? The one that had been tugging at the thread since last night? It whispered one word like a secret you weren’t ready to admit.

Charlotte.

You waited across from Dock 14, hidden behind a pile of rusted shipping containers, coffee in hand. You weren’t expecting anything to actually go down here, this was a test.

A fake lead. A breadcrumb to see if Charlotte would take the bait. And if Superwoman showed up?

Well.

You’d have your answer. You leaned against the metal siding and checked your watch again. 11:07 p.m. The docks were quiet. Still. The only sound was the hum of a nearby streetlight, flickering like it was struggling to stay awake.

And surprise surprise—whoosh. The wind shifted hard and fast. Your coffee nearly flew from your hand. She landed. Superwoman.

Flushed. Breathless. Furious. Her boots slammed into the concrete like thunder. Eyes glowing just faintly in the dark.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, striding toward you. “Are you actually trying to get yourself killed?”

You sipped your coffee. “Good evening to you too.”

“You said there was a threat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did I?” She was practically seething. “You—you lied?”

You grinned. “No, I was… testing a theory.”

“Testing a—” She let out a sound halfway between a groan and a growl. “Unbelievable.”

“You’re here,” you said, stepping closer, “because Charlotte was worried, right?”

Superwoman froze. Just for a second. “Yes. She’s worried. She—she cares about you, even when you act like a reckless idiot.”

“Funny,” you murmured. “She never said anything.”

“She doesn’t have to.”

You tilted your head. “And you know her so well, huh?”

Superwoman stepped back slightly. “Last time I checked,” she said, voice colder now, “I still haven’t agreed to an interview.”

You rolled your eyes. “Real original.”

Before either of you could say anything else, a sharp mechanical screech split the air. Both of you snapped around. Something moved in the shadows beyond the loading bay. A low, grinding hum. A red sensor light blinking to life.

“Wait,” you whispered, “that—wasn’t me.”

Superwoman’s expression changed instantly. Her body went still. From the edge of the dock, a panel slid open. Something heavy shifted. Metal legs clanked onto the pavement. Not human.

A patrol bot. Armed. Superwoman’s eyes flared. “Get down—”

You hit the ground a half-second before the first bolt of plasma sizzled through the air where your chest had been. She launched into the air, cape slashing through the dark, fists glowing. Her entire demeanor shifted, elegant fury in motion, moving faster than thought.

The bot tried to rotate, but it didn’t stand a chance. One blow shattered the barrel arm. Another crushed the core. Sparks exploded like fireworks. The thing collapsed with a whine of dying tech.

Silence.

Then she landed in front of you again, panting. “You okay?” You were still on the ground, blinking. “Y-yeah.”

“Stay low. There might be more.”

You sat up slowly, dazed. “That was real. That wasn’t part of my plan.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

You stared at her. The worry on her face. The way she hovered a little closer. The burn marks on her sleeve. And suddenly, everything that had just happened fell away for a second.

“Charlotte…” you said quietly.

She looked down. Didn’t answer. Just extended a hand. You took it. You paced, Superwoman’s cape over your shoulders. Superwoman stands at the open window, watching the horizon like something might come crawling out of it.

Silence stretches long and taut between them.

"You didn’t have to bring me here," you say finally.

“You got shot at,” Superwoman replies, sharper than she means to. “By military-grade tech. Forgive me for taking that seriously.”

“You're mad.”

“I’m furious.”

"Because I lied?"

"Because you scared me."

You stop pacing. Superwoman swallows hard. You turn to face her, your eyes hard. Determined. “You say that like Charlotte said it,” you say slowly. “Like… you feel the same things she does.”

Superwoman turns to you, eyes wary. “She cares about you. I already told you that.”

"You act like you know her better than anyone."

“Maybe I do.”

"You act like you are her."

Superwoman stiffens. “Don’t.”

“You don’t deny it.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

Superwoman falters, voice softer now. “I can’t be. I’m… I’m not who you think. I’m not—” She gestures to the suit like it’s borrowed, like it’s burning her skin. “I’m not as good. Not as strong. Not all the time.”

"You ramble when you're nervous."

“I—what?”

“Charlotte rambles when she’s nervous.”

Superwoman goes quiet. Her jaw tenses.

“God Matthews, stop it. I know it’s you,” you say gently. “I’ve known. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it, but I felt it.”

“No,” Superwoman says, but there’s no power behind it. Her voice trembles.

“You came for me. Even when I tricked you. You were afraid for me. Not as some abstract protector. But you. You were afraid because you care.”

Superwoman opens her mouth, to deflect, maybe, or deny again, but it’s too late.

You step closer. "You wear the suit like a shield," you whisper. “But you're still you. I see you.”

Superwoman’s lips part, the words never make it out. Because you kisses her. Soft at first, searching, gentle, then deeper when Charlotte melts into it, arms tentative before rising, holding you like you might disappear. When they pull apart, they’re both breathing hard.

“You kissed Superwoman,” Charlotte murmurs, dazed.

You grin, and roll your eyes. “No. I kissed Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s face breaks into a stunned, radiant smile. “...Oh.”

You brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was right.”

Charlotte nods slowly. “Damn I knew you were good. But…wow. That was impressive.”

You chuckle, “Yeah…that’s my superpower.”

[tiredandsapphic]

the absolute whiplash i'm getting while going from writing angst to just down right filthy smut is insane... is this what girlhood is all about?

[tiredandsapphic]

lottie　𑜩　𑅞 comfort after the first eat. 𑅕

lottie tries provides tranquility to you after eating jackie the night before ཊ mentions of cannibalism, season two, lottie tries to normalize eating human, comfort, blurb. ཉ

you hadn’t talked all morning, there were very few conversations filtering through the cabin throughout the morning.

everything felt frozen, solemn, trapped glances from everyone, guilty confession. then there were the eyes of coach ben; filled with terror, disgust, upset of what they turned to. you? not a word, not a glance. upset with yourself for what you decided to do, and lottie—she noticed that. like she practically noticed everything, so far first, she tried to send you reassuraning glances which where ignored.

you were to busy spiraling doing a very fast hill.

last night forever cauterized into your brain, how could it not? you killed— well ate jackie. jackie taylor, the captain of the soccer tea, the one who held everyone together, even throughout the thick and thin patches. she was the teams saving grace, to say the least, the one who had control when people where talking negatively, and now? she couldn’t even rest in piece. no, and it’s all your fault. it’s everyone’s fault.

you still tasted the raw, juicy meat in your throat, when the iron-rich meat had a slimy texture that had filled your mouth with pleasure. your nails still felt her skin under them. the worst of all? you hated how your had thought it tasted good in the moment, or the fact you practically blacked out as you were eating her, the only one acting remotely fine? lottie. which was a given, y’know, someone had to keep their shit together throughout all of this, and lottie seemed to have more knowledge about it. moreso theories, but it’s something atleast.

you had picked at your fingers raw, the guilt of being a terrible friend had taken place on your shoulders. everyone had been deadly quiet, coach ben terrified. of course he was. his girls turned to eating their captain. what does that mean for him? except the one thing was at least they were finally fed. even if that meant a quick black out, imagining you were having a feast, on an animal. rather than desecrating a body. taissa had already had her freak out, ‘cos she saw the picked-dry body, the crazy thing? she ate her face!

it only made you wonder, if only her and shauna hadn’t gotten into that argument, she still be here. because she wouldn’t have been outside during the first snow of winter. natalie was out, taking jackie’s body to the crash. the cold air made you shiver, but that’s how jackie felt when she died, so what entitled you to feeling warm? when you let her stay outside alone, jackie died thinking you all hated her. then you ate her. the taste of blood made your throat dry, a rock in your throat as you held tears in.

you couldn’t cry, not when you were a willing participant in all of it. you were hunched, your palms resting in your cheeks. a soft soothing voice filled the quiet surrounding, “it’s okay to feel guilty.” the girl (lottie) said, taking on a motherly tone, her eyebrows were scrunched in worry, you’d been sitting outside for at least twenty minutes, with nothing but a filmsy scarf, “we did what we had to do. it’s winter, i think we all knew it was going to come down to this, right?” lottie whispered to you, solemn taking shape beside the motherliness ..

you cut a glance at her as she took a seat beside you. “she died alone, and scared, lottie.” you said harshly. harsher than you wanted, but it was the truth. jackie didn’t have any comfort beside the filmsy blanket and jacket she had on. “and we let her, be scared. terrified, not knowing what was going to happen to her.” lottie’s gaze fall a cast to the side. “i know. but . . . these things happen—” “yeah, like eating people just so happens to be normal!” you exclaimed. annoyance boomed through your voice, “that’s not normal.” you stated blatantly. it wasn’t. and you didn’t understand how she could act so carelessly about eating her friend. like this was apart of the circle of life, it wasn’t, nor could it ever be.

lottie sighed softly, “i know. but,” seemingly, she was at a lost for words, like she couldn’t find a sense in justifying the fact she ate a friend, even if she wanted to make it justified, in a weird, sick sorta way, “this could be the only way we survive. winter’s coming, and . . .” given the circumstances with the animals, it was the next best thing. it was inhumane, but at least you hadn’t been starving like before.” right? anything was better than nothing. “just look, it’s werid, i know, but it’s better than starving!”

you couldn’t say it wasn’t, because it was. but you just couldn’t wrap around how it seemed so easy to eat, to quickly fall into cannibalistic behavior without any second thought, that’s what wasn’t right. “yeah—but how do you not feel guilty? that was our friend!”

“i never said i didn’t not feel guilty.” lottie stated pensively. if she had a façade, it wasn’t cracking. not anytime soon anyways. you fell silent— at a lost for words. your head was reeling with thoughts of uncertainty, not feeling safe around the girls. or yourself for that matter. even if you tried to feel okay with what you did last night, contrition always seemed back in. a beating reminder that you were a terrible, a horrible person at that. “but i’m not gonna beat myself up over something that was the inevitable.” she countered quickly.

there was truth to lottie’s words. you knew that good and well, but on the latter? you didn’t want it to be true. you didn’t want the inescapable to be eating people. it’s happened before in history, that’s just common knowledge, but why did it have to be your group that went through it? why you? it just wasn’t fair, not to you.