#a handful! but which handful? we don't know!

[inotakumagf]

glorious evol-ultion!

✶ L&DS x gn! reader

word count ✺ 2.9K

summary ✺ you discover you can use your evol to make your own strap-on, & it lets you feel everything.

warning ✺ minors DNI! pegging, top! reader, bottom! LIs, misuse of evol lol, reader is gender neutral & afab. individual warnings for each blurb. based on this post. reblogs & comments are very appreciated <3 happy belated valentine’s day

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Xavier — cockwarming, bratty! Xavier, dom! reader, degradation, pet names (my moon, bunny), maybe hints at somnophilia, Xavier is so disobedient but he’s cute while doing it so…

You rest your head on Xavier's shoulder, nipping kisses into his skin. His skin is flushed all the way down his back and across his neck. You peer over at his unnaturally quiet form. You bite down on his skin harder, fishing for a reaction.

“What's on your mind, bunny?”

Finally, you get to him. His breath comes out ragged, and he thrusts imperceptibly backwards. You wouldn't have noticed if your focus wasn’t completely on him. You reach down, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him flush against you. He tries to grind against your strap again, but you're ready for his bratty behavior this time. You hold his hips still against your own, denying him the relief you know he’s craving. You’ve denied him over and over again, and you’ll keep denying him until he learns his lesson.

He lets out a long, low moan, tipping his head backwards. He peeks over at you with desperate eyes.

“My moon, please, please, please fuck me. Need you…hng– so bad.” His voice is sweet and patient, but you know it’s just a cover. You pull him closer, which makes your strap fit deeper in him.

You grit your teeth as you feel him clench desperately around you. Or, technically around your evol. But your evol is so strongly connected to your own senses that the energy you’ve poured into your phantom dick feels so real.

You drag your teeth over the soft cartilage of his ear. “Don't act so innocent now, Xavier. You were a fucking brat all day. What makes you think I'll give you what you want?”

He groans in frustration. His hand shoots out to wrap around his throbbing, aching dick, not caring about the consequences. It takes you a split second to realize, and when you do, you slap his hand away.

You tut, jerking his chin so that he has to look back at you. “Such an impatient fucking brat. That’s why I need to train you, bunny.”

He cries out desperately at the lack of attention to his cock and his prostate. He pleads, too far gone to care about how much he’s submitting to you. “Please, baby. I know you need it too.”

You squish his cheeks, watching as he pouts into your touch. “Do I? I can control myself, unlike you. You’re just a dumb bunny, desperate to get off without a care in the world. You get too desperate when you fuck a hole, or when you’re getting fucking. I need to teach you, or you’ll be too horny to think straight.”

Xavier cries out again, but he doesn’t make a move to get you to stimulate his prostate, so you reward him with a sweet kiss. He tries to deepen it, but you pull away with a smile. You snuggle into him, taking a deep breath into his hair. You run your hand back down his chest, resting it gently over his waist.

“Come on, Xav. If you’re a good boy and sleep like this, I’ll fuck you when we wake up, okay?”

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Sylus — belly bulge, missionary, service/sub top! reader, creampie, overstimulation, hints at multiple rounds, sylus is a size queen, little bit of dacryphilia, praise (r receiving), sylus talks you through fucking him

It’s hard to breathe with Sylus’s tight hole wrapped so beautifully around your strap. You get it now, why he gets so lost in pleasure when he fucks you. And now that you’re fucking him, you never want to stop. You feel like some kind of uncontrollable beast. Your kisses against his lips are spit-slicked and downright hungry. Your thrusts are fast and mean. Nothing on this Earth can pull either of you away from each other.

Sylus, to his credit, takes your pace like he was made for it. He’s laying with his back arching off the mattress, and his legs around your waist keep your strap deep inside him. Thank god for your dedicated hunter training, otherwise you wouldn't be able to hold yourself up above him this long. 

You feel like a desperate mess. Even your evol is out of control. It leaks essence against his hole, making your strokes wet and easy. You wonder if you can fuck him hard enough to draw an actual orgasm out of your evol strap. The thought makes you moan, and you fuck him harder and deeper, deserate to see yourself leaking out of him.

The pleasure is so overwhelming that you blink in surprise when his large hand comes up to brush your cheek, drying your tears. You hadn’t even realized that you were crying. 

Sylus gasps at a particularly deep thrust. “So good, sweetheart. You’re fucking me so good. Can feel you in my throat.” His words slur together because of the pleasure, and you take it as a motivator to keep going.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Fuck. Don’t say that. I won’t be able to hold on much longer.”

He grins. His next words are slow and tantalizing. “Who said you had to hold yourself back? Give it to me, sweetheart. I can take it.”

His words and his roaming touch send you spiraling. His legs hold you against him so tight that you can barely pull back, but you make up for it with how deep your thrusts are. You just want to fill him up as much as you can.

Sylus throws his head back against the pillow suddenly, and his hands claw desperately at your biceps. You wish you had your phone, so that you can record his loud, whorish moans. You stare down where you're being sucked into his desperate hole, and that's when you notice what made him lose his composure.

Your strap is girthier than it had been moments ago. And if you focus, you can feel how much deeper it's reaching. Your innate desire to fill him up has made you a perfect fit for him. 

You stare down at his stomach, mesmerized. As you continue fucking him, your hand reaches out shakily to press your hand against the bulge that has formed from your enlarged evol cock. You keep pressing, even as Sylus convulses around you. He releases all over his own chest, and you fuck him through his orgasm.

Your eyes roll back as you feel your evol spill into him, hot and thick. 

You gasp, trying to catch your breath from all the energy you'd exerted. When you come down from your high, you stare with wet, pleading eyes at Sylus, who looks dazed. You pat the bulge in his stomach lovingly, making him twitch at the overstimulation.

“Sy, can you give me just one more? Please, I promise this will be the last one.”

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Zayne — cowgirl, zayne is on top and in control, reader is desperate and drunk on zayne’s hole, finger sucking, oral mention (r receiving), zayne bounces on it like a professional

You thrust your hips upwards on instinct. You know you’ve made a mistake the moment you do, but you can’t help yourself. You curl your fingers into the duvet to control yourself better. It takes a few careful breaths to remember the instructions that your boyfriend had given you. 

It takes everything in you not to thrust your strap deeper into Zayne’s hole. How can anyone blame you, with the sight before you? Zayne is just sitting so prettily on your lap. His thick thighs press against your hips on either side, and his poor, neglected cock rests on your stomach. It spurts pre cum every now and then, but otherwise, Zayne is the epitome of control.

He stares down at you, and you can practically feel the scolding at the tip of his tongue. He moves to lift off your strap, and you reach your hands out to hold his hips down, keeping him in place.

You babble desperately, hoping you can convince your boyfriend to forgive you. “‘M sorry, Zayne. Didn’t mean to be bad. You just feel so good. Please, I wanna make you feel good!”

He tuts disapprovingly. His hands caress your skin gently, trailing up your hips and waist. Your eyes flutter shut as he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, his other fingers pressing against your cheek. You take his thumb into your mouth like you know he wants. You know your eyes are wide and wet and dumb as you stare up at him desperately, silently begging for more. He presses his thumb against your tongue, watching you drool all over the digit.

“Are you going to be good and let me use you, my love?” His voice is calm and grounding, and it brings you back to him. 

During any other circumstance, Zayne would loathe to use you for his own pleasure. He has spent many, many evenings unwinding with his face buried between your legs. But today is different. You want…no, you need this. You’re still not used to your evol-powered strap, but that's okay. That’s why Zayne is here, to help you think with your head instead of with the energy coursing between your legs.

You nod, hoping he can see how badly you need him to use you right now. And because it's Zayne and he always knows what you need, he lifts off your dick slowly before sinking back down. 

You gnaw on his thumb as he finds a rhythm, watching his face pinch in pleasure as he bounces on your strap. His heavy-lidded eyes peel open so that he can look down at you. You whine around his finger, pleading. For what you’re not entirely sure. Zayne pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a soft ‘pop’.

Before you can complain, he leans down, arching his chest into yours and capturing your lips against his in a sweet, soothing kiss. 

He pulls away slightly so that he can stare into your eyes, but a string of saliva keeps him connected to you. His smile is gentle.

“So good for me, my love. Do you think you can cum inside me like this?”

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Rafayel — backshots, rafayel is a good boy i promise, he’s also cockdrunk, marking & slapping (m receiving), creampie, mention of a threesome with a certain someone….., rafayel is glued to your strap 24/7

“You didn’t answer my question, Rafayel.”

Poor Rafayel doesn’t answer. How can he, with the way you’re pounding into him? The grip you have on his waist is intoxicating. With each thrust, you dig your nails into his skin, knowing it will leave crescent-shaped marks later. 

It will just add to the other marks you’ve painted across his body. You’re no artist of his talent, but there’s something about the way that you can use his body like your own private canvas that makes you want to leave as many marks as you can. 

Rafayel still doesn’t answer you, or even acknowledge you at all. He’s too busy drooling over the covers and moaning out incomprehensible praises. His arch is deep as he presses back against your mean pace, and you’re certain he’s too cockdrunk to realize that you’re even speaking.

You land a sharp slap against his round ass, which is already red with the impression of your palm. He cries out at the impact, so you caress him gently in apology, watching it jiggle with every slam of your hips against his.

You sing-song his name mockingly, “Raf-a-yel. Is my good boy still with me? Or is he too dumb to answer?”

He whimpers in response. “No, ah! I-I’m here! ‘M your good boy, I promise.”

You reward him with another deep thrust. “So answer me, where do you want me to cum on you?”

You and Rafayel have been experimenting with your evol, and you’ve made the wonderful discovery that your dick can cum at your will. You’ve been testing the evol strap in as many ways that you can, in every location and every position that comes to mind. And Rafayel is being so good, helping you discover your favorite ways to fuck him. So far, full nelson has made you cum the most, but something about doggy is making you feral. Something about seeing Rafayel so desperate, so pliant, so vulnerable to your touch…it’s exhilarating.

Rafayel seems to agree, if the way his cock leaks onto the bed is any indication. He would do anything you asked him to, in this state of mind. You don’t know what to do with that kind of power over him. 

“I-inside, please?”

You reach down, stroking his neglected cock mercifully. He fucks himself back against your cock, matching the rhythm of your hips and strokes. 

“Please,” he gasps out. “I’m so close!”

You smile down at his arching back. “Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Come on, I want to see you fall apart on my cock.”

His arch gets deeper the harder you pound into him. Your rhythm is so off now, it's a joke. He can’t match your thrusts anymore, so he just drops his upper body against the bed and lets you have your way with him. His whines get so loud and needy, and it encourages you to push you both over the edge, until your evol fills deep inside of him.

Rafayel’s hands scramble over his back, searching for your’s blindly. You soften, intertwining your fingers with his as he comes down from his high. He flops onto his back, legs all jelly-like. You lay beside him, massaging his legs comfortingly.

“I have an idea for next time. You know that friend you made in the N109 Zone? What if we—”

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Caleb — sub! caleb, mean! reader, oral sex (r receiving), boot humping, make up sex?, degradation, dacryphilia, reader & caleb match each other’s freaks, little bit of angst, little bit of s&m, caleb straight up worships reader

“I’m sorry.”

You deliver another slap to his face. There’s no strength behind it, but you need Caleb to know how upset he’s made you. You could never bring yourself to actually hurt him. But he left you, and you’re so angry.

Your voice is hoarse as you say, “I thought you were dead. You– you let me think you were dead. And now that I have you back, you think you can leave?”

He opens his mouth to explain again that he needs to go to Skyhaven for whatever stupid reason, but you don’t want to hear it. You grab his chin and force him to look up at you. You can only imagine how you look—tears of anger and grief streaming down your cheeks with your evol strap fisted in your other hand.

You stare down at him coldly, though your heart twinges at the tears falling down his own cheeks. You drag the leaking tip of your dick against his pouting lips, smearing your essence against them. Your evol mixes with his salty tears.

“How about you make it up to me?” You ask coyly. Truth be told, you’re not all that mad at him. You’re grateful that he’s alive. But if he’s offering himself to you like this, if he’s on his knees begging for your forgiveness, you’ll take, and take, and take.

You press your tip against his lips messily, watching him lick it gently. You know he doesn’t mean to tease you with his kitten licks, but you’re impatient. Your brows pinch in pleasure as you force him to take you deeper into his mouth. His cheeks hollow, and he grabs your hips for stability as he slides your dick in and out of his mouth. 

He pops off, letting your strap slap against his face gently. He nuzzles his face against it, staring up at you like nothing else exists but you and him. “You have the power to command me.”

You stare down at him. His eyes are large and desperate, and he looks up at you like you’re a divine being for him to worship. Your hand digs into his hair, tugging on it just because you can.

His voice is low and pleading as he whispers, “Use me. Use me, because I am yours. I will always crawl back to you. They can’t keep me away from you.”

His promise makes you smile. Because that's what his words are—a promise that he will never leave you again.

You have to reward his loyalty. You press the sole of your boot against his aching cock. You can feel how hard he is, even over his pants. When he lifts his hips, grinding up against your boot, you give him more. You’ll always give him what he wants.

As he finds relief in grinding and humping your leg, you press your strap back against his eager lips. Your fingers dig into the back of his head, and you fuck his mouth fast and hard. More than anything, you need to see your cum all over his face. To claim him.

You make your own promise to him, “If you ever try to leave me again, I will lock you up, and I’ll make sure no one takes you away from me.”

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[bytemee]

EVERYTHING I WANT — yu jimin.

"i had finally figured out, you were just around the corner."

synopsis. you’re just the wedding planner for your brother’s wedding, trying to keep it all together. but karina, his fiancée, keeps slipping under your skin. she’s perfect—everything you’ve ever wanted—but she’s marrying your brother.

pairing. brothers!fiance!karina x wedding!planner!fem!reader

warning(s). angst w a mixture of fluff, love triangle, cheating (im sorry), angst with a happy ending.

words. 5.7k

authors note. i remember watching a gay movie like this.

navigation. main masterlist.

karina has a way of capturing the attention of everyone in a room, and her presence alone is enough to make the world pause. she walks in, all bright eyes and effortless grace, and somehow the entire room shifts to accommodate her. it’s almost like she belongs in a space much grander than this, but then, that’s karina—always radiant, always a little untouchable.

you’ve noticed it countless times before—it's part of the reason why your parents are so calm with the idea of your brother marrying her only months after they've met. karina—your brother’s fiancée, the one they think is perfect in every way. karina—the one who is everything they always hoped for in a partner for him. karina—the one who practically begged you to plan her wedding.

you have to admit, they make a beautiful couple. the way karina and your brother stand in the kitchen, laughing over something she said while she chops vegetables, her hands moving easily, like she’s done this a hundred times. your brother’s smiling at her like she’s the only person in the world. it’s all so natural, so effortless. you can’t deny that they love each other—it’s one of those things you just know. like the feeling of the ground beneath your feet or the wind against your skin. it’s just a fact.

it was the first time in a while you've been to their house, but your brother practically forced you into staying at his while you planned the wedding. they don't seem to mind, which is probably good considering you've taken over the living room as a workspace, with papers and decorations and fabric samples spread out across the coffee table and the couch.

but regardless, the two haven't decided on a venue yet, so the planning process is still in full swing. you had a list of about five venues you thought were promising, and you were hoping they'd settle on one soon so you could stop having to lug around your binder everywhere.

karina finishes up her task and sets the knife down, washing her hands off before she turns to you.

she walks over with that signature smile of hers, the one that makes everything seem like it’s shining just a little brighter. “hey, can we talk about the venue options for a sec?” she asks, her voice smooth like velvet, like it always is.

you glance up from the pile of papers in front of you, your gaze meeting hers for a second too long. the way she’s standing there, close enough to reach out and touch, makes it hard to focus. you blink, trying to get your head back in the game. “uh, yeah, sure. what’s on your mind?”

she leans against the back of the couch, her arms crossing lightly over her chest. “i know we’ve got some good options, but…” she hesitates for a moment, as if carefully considering her next words. “i’ve always wanted a wedding on the beach. you know, like those dreamy ones you see in magazines?”

you freeze for a moment, your fingers lingering over the corner of your binder. the beach. you can’t help the pang that hits you when she says it, because it's something you've always imagined for your own wedding one day, not anyone else’s. it’s silly, of course—you shouldn't have gotten so attached to a fantasy. but you can't help it. you'd always imagined a wedding on the beach, with the sun setting over the waves and sand beneath your feet.

she tilts her head a little, as if trying to figure out what's wrong. when you don't say anything, she speaks again, her tone more gentle. "are you okay?"

you try to shake it off, but karina always seems to notice everything. it's a little bit impressive, really. "oh, i'm fine. just a little tired." you quickly speak again before she can question you further. “you know, your fiancé’s pretty set on that greenhouse. it’s a pretty big deal for him.”

she nods, a small frown tugging at her lips. “i know,” she says softly. “i just can’t help but dream of the beach.” she pauses, then her eyes soften, and she adds with a little more playfulness, "i’ll let you handle the tough decisions. you’re the expert here, after all.”

you hate to let her down, but the odds of convincing your brother to change his mind are low. the greenhouse was his idea, and it means a lot to him, since your father married your mom there years ago. he had talked about wanting to recreate that day, the way the light filtered in through the glass, the flowers all around. his eyes had sparkled as he spoke, like he could imagine the entire scene unfolding before him. you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not when he had been so excited.

you give a small laugh. “i’m just the wedding planner. you’re the one who has to live with the choice.”

she grins at you before walking away.

but even though you tell yourself it won't be your fault if she doesn't get her dream wedding, the guilt doesn't go away. you just hope she won't hate you for not being able to deliver the perfect day she's been waiting for.

you watch as she heads back over to the kitchen, your gaze lingering on her a little longer than it should. her smile is bright as ever, the one you're not sure you've ever seen her without, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you swallow, then return to your work.

the venue. you can't get distracted. you're good at your job. you can do this.

the next few days pass in a flurry of phone calls and emails, and you're barely keeping track of which venue you're supposed to be going to see next. you've visited a handful, but it seems like they've all had the same issue—they don't have the space for the kind of wedding karina's dreaming of.

the pressure is starting to wear on you. you’ve been juggling so many details, from flowers to photographers to caterers, but every venue just feels off in one way or another. some are too big, some too small. others don’t have the kind of beachy vibe karina’s been dreaming of, and you can tell she’s starting to get a little discouraged.

you can see the way her shoulders slump when another place doesn’t meet her expectations, the way she tries to mask her disappointment with that perfect smile of hers. it’s hard to watch. but you also know this is her dream, her wedding. she deserves to have everything she’s envisioned for years.

“i swear, if i see one more ballroom…” you mutter under your breath, flipping through another round of emails, trying to see if any of the new suggestions could work.

karina, seated across from you in the café, lets out a small laugh. “you’re telling me. but we’ve got to keep looking, right?”

you look up, meeting her gaze for the first time in a while. she looks exhausted, her makeup a little faded from a long day of venue tours, but her smile is as warm as ever. it makes your heart ache.

you swallow, then turn back to your phone. "yeah. yeah, we do." you take a sip of your drink, not even removing your eyes from the screen. "i've been hearing a lot of good things about this one place, though."

karina leans forward, her elbows resting on the table. "which one?"

but before you can reply, a giggle leaves her lips, and she points to the side of your nose. "oh my god, you've got whipped cream on your nose. let me…"

her hand reaches out, and then she's touching you, her thumb brushing over the tip of your nose, sending shivers down your spine. she pulls her hand back, a little whipped cream on her thumb.

she smiles. "got it."

you blink, and your brain short-circuits for a second. her touch was so fleeting, but the warmth lingers.

she doesn't notice, already turned back to your phone ready to see the venue you were muttering about.

you exhale. the venue. right. focus.

and then, it happens.

when you get back home, an hour later you hear it from the other room—a loud argument, your brother's voice booming, and karina's pleading for him to just listen. your eyes widen. you'd never heard her raise her voice like that before.

they’ve always been so perfect together, but now, the disagreement over the wedding venue seems to be pushing things too far. you can’t make out the exact words, but you catch a few—the beach, the greenhouse, and your name a couple of times. the door slams shortly after, and everything falls silent.

you glance at the door leading to the hallway, torn between going to see what’s going on and staying out of it. the last thing you want is to get caught in the middle of their argument, but part of you can't help but feel concerned. this isn’t like them—karina, always the picture of composure, and your brother, usually so patient. it doesn’t add up.

you hear footsteps and then a quiet knock at the door. "are you awake?"

you take a deep breath. "yeah, come in."

the door opens, and karina walks in, looking as stunning as ever. her face is still flushed from the argument, but her hair is swept to the side, the light catching on her earrings. even in a moment like this, she's effortlessly beautiful.

"hey," you say softly, motioning toward the couch. "are you okay?"

she sits down beside you, her body relaxing a little, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. she nods, taking a deep breath before speaking. "i'm fine. we're fine."

you tilt your head, not fully believing her. you've been friends for years, after all. you can tell when she's holding something back. "are you sure? because i heard—"

"we're fine," she repeats, a little more firmly.

you nod, but you still feel unsure. it's clear they need some time to themselves, and you can't force her to tell you what's going on. “you know,” you say, shifting beside her, “if you need a break, we could do something completely different. a distraction. a moment just for you.”

she looks at you, eyes wide, clearly intrigued by the offer. “like what?”

a slow grin spreads across your face. “let’s get food for starters. and then…"

she cuts you off before you can finish. "as long as it involves wine, i'm in."

the smile is back, and your heart aches with it. you've missed seeing her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges, her whole body seeming lighter. it's a feeling you never want to let go of.

without missing a beat, you get up and grab your keys. “perfect. let's go!"

you hold your hand out, and her fingers are warm in yours as you lead her out the door.

the two of you end up parked in front of a small, neon-lit burger joint tucked away on a quiet street. it’s one of those old-school places with a bright red roof and a hand-painted menu board by the drive-thru. it looks like it hasn't changed much since it was built decades ago, but that's exactly why you love it.

karina’s sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat, the bottle of wine you impulsively grabbed resting between you. you’d managed to snag a couple of burgers and fries to go, and now the two of you are tucked away in the car, sharing fries like you’re the only people in the world.

“this is so random,” she says, laughing softly. she’s still got a bit of a flush from earlier—whether from the wine or the argument, you’re not sure. but for now, you try not to think about it. you don't want to ruin the moment.

“that’s what makes it perfect,” you reply, passing her a fry. she takes it with a smile, your fingers brushing briefly. your heart trips over itself at the contact, and you reach for the bottle of wine to take another sip. it’s not the fanciest vintage, but it’s doing the job.

karina takes the bottle next, swiping at the neck before drinking straight from it. when she lowers it, her eyes are sparkling with something mischievous. “i always liked the idea of writing my vows on something unconventional,” she says suddenly, resting her head against the seat. “like in the movies. you know, scribbled on the back of a napkin or a burger wrapper. something spontaneous and real.”

you can’t help but laugh. “we’ve got burger wrappers right here.”

her eyes light up. “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

she sets down the bottle and grabs the crumpled wrappers from the bag. “alright. let’s do it. right here, right now. our mock wedding.”

you raise an eyebrow. this was not how you thought the night was going to go, but then again, karina has always been full of surprises. she looks so excited at the idea; you can't bring yourself to say no. you're already in this deep, after all.

you grab a pen from the glove compartment, the tipsy energy between you growing contagious. you hand it over, and karina carefully smooths out one of the wrappers on her lap.

“alright,” she declares, biting back a grin. “i vow to always share my fries with you. even the crispy ones.”

you snort. “that’s a big promise.”

“and i vow to never judge you for eating burgers at midnight,” she adds, her grin widening.

“okay, my turn,” you say, leaning in. “i vow to always keep you stocked up on wine and burgers. and fries. all the good stuff. just in case of an emergency, of course. or for a spontaneous road trip. whichever comes first, i guess."

you're both giggling, and then her smile softens. she looks at you with those eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. then her expression shifts. she takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the pen. “one more,” she says, her voice quieter now. “i vow to always be someone you can turn to, no matter what. even when things get messy or complicated.”

her eyes are still on yours, and you can't bring yourself to break the contact. you feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, and it's almost too much, too fast.

you finally manage to get the words out, your voice coming out a little strained. "i promise too."

karina smiles softly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face. “let’s go somewhere,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“where?” you ask, still breathless.

she glances at the horizon, where the stars are just beginning to scatter across the night sky. “the beach.”

without another word, you put the car in drive and head toward the coast. the streets are quiet, the hum of the tires against the road the only sound as the town fades behind you. it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist—just you, karina, and the open road.

when you arrive, the beach is deserted, bathed in moonlight and the soft crashing of waves. you both kick off your shoes and walk toward the shoreline, the sand cool beneath your feet. karina stops just shy of the water, turning to face you.

“alright,” she says, holding out her hand. “let’s make this official.”

you laugh, taking her hand. “this is the most spontaneous fake wedding i’ve ever been a part of.”

her grin is wide, a little wild, like she’s already planning something outrageous. “just wait until our real wedding. then it’ll really be a show.”

the words hit you harder than expected—our real wedding. your mind flashes with an image: karina walking down the aisle, her dress swishing with every elegant step, her smile lighting up the whole room.

karina squeezes your hand gently, bringing you back to reality. "are you ready?"

you give her a tiny nod. “i’m ready.”

she turns to face you, her smile dimming just enough to make the moment feel serious. she takes a steadying breath before starting. “i vow to always share my fries with you—even the crispy ones.”

you grin. "i vow to not get jealous when you share your fries with someone else."

"that's a fair point." she pauses for a moment, glancing at the moon overhead. when she speaks again, her voice is softer. "i vow to not forget about all the nights we've stayed up talking, the sun just starting to rise, and how i could listen to your voice forever. and i vow to always be someone you can count on, no matter what."

her words make your heart ache. you swallow, trying to push down the feeling. "i vow to never give up, even when things get tough. even when everything's changing around us. and i vow to always be a place you can run to."

the words hang between you for a moment, and you feel like the whole world has stopped. everything feels surreal, like a dream, the kind you're afraid of waking up from. then she steps closer, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off her. her next words are softer, more serious, the playfulness stripped away. “do you vow to take me to the best burger joints at midnight?”

your voice is quieter now too. “i do.”

“do you vow to share your fries with me, even the crispy ones?”

“i do.”

she takes a small, shaky breath, her gaze locked on yours. “and do you vow to always be my friend? to stand by me, even when things get hard or messy?”

your throat tightens, but somehow you manage to speak. “i do.”

karina’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile fully. there's something vulnerable in her expression, like she's revealing a piece of herself she's never shown before. "do you promise to always remember tonight? how special this moment is?"

"i do."

she nods, her eyes shining. "good. because i do, too."

her gaze drops to your lips, and you realize what she's doing a second too late. before you can even process what's happening, her mouth is on yours, warm and soft and sweet. it's the kind of kiss you feel all the way down to your toes, the kind that makes the rest of the world disappear.

it's everything and nothing all at once.

then the moment passes, and she's pulling away, a little breathless. "i'm sorry. i just…"

you blink, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

she swallows, then steps back, her cheeks flushed. "i'm sorry, i don't know what came over me. that was stupid. we should go."

she turns and walks off, her footsteps echoing through the darkness. you watch her leave, not daring to say anything, because if you speak, you'll break the spell. you'll wake up from this dream, and it'll all be gone, and this moment will be lost forever.

karina speedwalks to your car, her ears hot and her head spinning. what the hell did i just do? she opens the car door and climbs in, her body feeling weightless. the kiss was an impulse, a split-second decision, and now she's left wondering why the hell she thought it was a good idea.

you get in the car a moment later, your expression unreadable. you're silent for a few beats, then you clear your throat. "here take my jacket," you say, reaching over to drape it around her shoulders. "you look cold."

her chest tightens. of course, you're being kind and sweet. god, why did she have to ruin the moment?

she takes the jacket, but it does nothing to warm the chill that's seeped into her bones. she's so confused. one minute, she's getting engaged, and the next, she's kissing you, the one person who's never given her a reason to doubt. she feels like she's falling apart, piece by piece.

"let's get you home," you say quietly, starting the car.

karina nods, her eyes focused on the window. the rest of the ride is silent, neither of you daring to say a word.

a month passed since that night—the kiss that left you spinning and karina’s unexpected confession. you’d both fallen into a strange rhythm after that. conversations were shorter, more careful, as if the words had to be handled with gloves. and though things seemed okay on the surface, there was a distance that neither of you knew how to bridge.

she was still okay with the greenhouse. you’d finalized every last detail together, but it felt like neither of you were talking about what really mattered. instead, you both threw yourselves into the wedding planning like it was the only way to keep moving forward.

it was just after midnight when you found yourself back in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. it had been a long day, and your mind was still racing. you stood there for a while, sipping slowly, mind wandering.

the front door creaked open. your brother stumbled in, his suit rumpled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. his eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of whiskey and something faintly floral—perfume. you could guess what had happened.

“company celebration,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “big news… big, big news.”

you wrapped an arm around him and helped him upstairs. he leaned on you heavily, his usually confident demeanor dulled by the alcohol. when you sat him down on the edge of your bed, you noticed it—lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, faint but undeniable.

your stomach twisted. you swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. it was none of your business. after all, she cheated as well...with you.

after he passed out, you quietly shut the door and went back downstairs. there was no sleep to be found, not when your thoughts were tangled in the events of what's happened over the past three months—the kiss, karina’s sudden agreement to the greenhouse wedding, the lipstick stains. it was too much.

you sat at the dining room table and pulled out your laptop. the wedding planning documents filled the screen, emails flooding in with suggestions and changes. you worked mindlessly, letting the repetition of it all keep your thoughts at bay.

the hours bled into one another, and before you knew it, pale sunlight was breaking through the windows. your eyes burned, your muscles ached, but you couldn’t stop.

footsteps behind you made you freeze.

karina.

her hair was a mess of loose waves, and she wore one of those oversized pajama shirts she loved. she had two mugs of coffee in hand, the familiar scent of hazelnut filling the room. without a word, she placed one in front of you.

“you’ve been up all night,” she said quietly.

“i had things to do,” you answered, not meeting her eyes.

karina sighed, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. “you’re burning yourself out.”

when you didn’t say anything, she walked around the table and stood behind you. her hands found your shoulders, fingers pressing gently into the knots there. she massaged in slow circles, her thumbs working out the tightness you hadn’t even noticed.

her voice was soft as she spoke, barely more than a whisper. "you should get some sleep. you can't keep doing this."

but you were too tired, too worn down, to respond. you couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of her hands on your shoulders, the warmth of her touch sinking into your skin.

she leaned down, her breath tickling your ear. "can we talk?"

"yeah," you managed.

karina let go and moved to the seat across from you. she looked like she was struggling with something, the same look from the night at the beach, when she had asked you to promise her to remember. her fingers tapped on the mug. you could tell she was stalling, trying to decide what to say, but eventually, the words came.

"i'm sorry."

you were sorry too. for so many things, but you didn't say them out loud. instead, you just nodded.

"i never meant for this to happen," she said. "but it's all getting a little too much."

you were exhausted. tired of everything—the wedding, the kiss, the feelings. tired of being the planner. tired of pretending everything was fine when it wasn't.

karina's gaze dropped to her hands, her voice small. "i didn't mean to make things weird between us. i just didn't know what to do."

"it's okay," you replied, because it was all you could say.

"it's not," she insisted. "you're my best friend. i don't want to lose that."

she was right. you were her best friend. she was supposed to be marrying your brother, not making out with you at midnight. the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"we'll get through this. together." you tried to sound convincing, but it fell flat.

"will we?" her voice was barely audible. "you've been pushing me away for weeks. i can tell."

you shook your head, but it was pointless. the truth was staring you in the face, and it wasn't pretty.

karina sighed, her gaze lifting from the table to meet yours. "i'm sorry. i don't want things to be awkward between us. i don't want this to change things."

her eyes were filled with such honesty and vulnerability, it made your chest ache. you wanted to reach out, hold her, and reassure her that everything was going to be okay, but you couldn't. you couldn't bring yourself to lie.

you rubbed your hands over your face, trying to ease the tension building behind your eyes. the words were stuck, clawing at your throat, desperate to escape. but what could you say?everything was so tangled.

“i’m not pushing you away,” you finally managed, though it felt hollow. “i just… don’t know how to handle all this.”

she gave you a weak smile, but her eyes were still sad.

the silence stretched between you, growing heavier with each passing moment. neither of you knew what to say.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling.

your stomach twisted, and you had to look away. “you’re not hurting me.”

it was a lie, and you both knew it. but what good would the truth do?

karina sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. she looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days. maybe she hadn’t. “i just want us to be okay. like before.”

“before,” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. before everything. before the kiss. before you saw your brother stumble in last night, lipstick stains betrayed his lies.

she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "yeah, before. like we promised in our vows."

you let out a breath. was she really bringing this up now? "our fake vows."

karina flinched, as if your words had physically struck her. she looked at you, her eyes pleading. "you promised to always remember that night. that's not nothing."

you closed your eyes, trying to block out the memory. it was a mistake. a stupid, impulsive decision. one you shouldn't have made. one you shouldn't be thinking about.

"look, it's fine. we'll just forget it ever happened. like we're supposed to."

"are we?"

you stared at her, your throat tightening. "yes. because that's what's best. for everyone."

she swallowed, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "okay. if that's what you want."

"it is." the words were heavy, weighing on your chest, crushing the air from your lungs.

"alright. then i guess we should go back to planning."

she forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. the conversation was over.

and that was it. you tried not to think about the kiss or the way her hand had felt in yours. but the memories lingered, refusing to let go.

the day of the wedding arrived. you stood at the back of the greenhouse, feeling out of place as the carefully chosen flowers, delicate white drapes, and twinkling fairy lights filled the space with a sense of serenity that felt foreign to you. everything about this moment was supposed to be beautiful, perfect, just as your brother had imagined. but you couldn’t shake the unease that knotted in your stomach.

the ceremony was supposed to feel like a celebration, a milestone in their lives. but it wasn’t. the sight of your brother, standing at the altar with the priest, waiting for karina, made something inside you tighten. he was smiling, his hands clasped together in anticipation. but the thought of him with her—knowing everything that had happened between the two of you—suddenly felt wrong. not to mention what he did himself.

and then, she appeared.

karina entered, her arm linked with your father’s, walking down the aisle with the grace of someone who belonged in a dream. the flowing ivory gown clung to her figure in a way that made your breath catch. the soft music playing in the background seemed to fade as you watched her approach, unable to tear your eyes away.

her gaze flickered to you for the briefest of moments. it was only a glance, but it held so much. the quiet acknowledgment that things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. that this wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

you could barely breathe. you had promised to be strong, to be there for her. but seeing her like this, walking down the aisle toward your brother, was impossible. all the promises you had made, all the words you had told her in the days leading up to this, suddenly felt so hollow. she wasn’t yours. she never had been, and yet, everything inside you screamed that she should be.

you couldn’t stay.

without thinking, you turned and quietly slipped out of the greenhouse, avoiding the curious glances of your family. the sounds of the ceremony, the murmurs of the guests, faded as you walked, faster and faster, until you were outside, out of the view of the guests, heading straight for the beach.

the water was cool, the sand soft beneath your feet, the gentle breeze soothing. but it wasn't enough. you could still feel the ache in your chest, the heaviness that had settled there the moment you saw karina walking down the aisle.

you had been so certain that you could do this, that you could keep your promise and be there for her, no matter what. but now, standing on the beach, the waves washing over your feet, you realize how foolish it had been to think that.

you sank to the sand, burying your face in your hands. how had things gotten this far? how had everything become so tangled, so complicated, so fast? and why did it feel like your heart was being torn in two?

you were torn in so many directions, your mind spinning with thoughts of karina, of the kiss, of your brother, and of everything that had led to this moment. you wanted to scream, to let the confusion and frustration pour out of you, but you couldn’t. you couldn’t make sense of it all.

everything felt like it was unraveling, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. the hurt, the guilt, the love that you couldn’t seem to let go of—it all washed over you, suffocating you. you loved her. you had always loved her, but it was wrong. she was marrying your brother. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to be the one to feel this way.

but the feeling was there, as real as the sand beneath your feet and the wind against your skin. you couldn't deny it, no matter how hard you tried.

"y/n."

your heart skipped a beat. you looked up, and there she was, standing at the edge of the sand. karina, still in her wedding dress, the fabric flowing around her as she stepped toward you, barefoot.

"y/n," she repeated, her voice soft, almost pleading.

you were frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. your throat tightened; the words stuck.

“what are you doing here?” you managed to ask, your voice wavering.

“i couldn’t let you go,” she said, her voice breathless. “i can’t let you walk away from me. not like this.”

you stood up, unsure of what to say, but before you could form any words, karina was running toward you, her wedding dress trailing behind her. she didn’t stop until she was right in front of you, her hands trembling as she reached for yours.

"i can’t marry him," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "not when i feel like this. not when it’s you i want."

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. your mind raced. "karina, this isn’t—"

"i don’t care," she interrupted. "i can’t pretend anymore. i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner. i should’ve never let you go, even when i knew how wrong it was. but i can’t marry him when i’m in love with you."

you blinked, staring at her. in love with you. she was in love with you. the words echoed in your head, and you couldn't find the strength to speak.

"y/n, please. say something."

karina’s face crumpled, and she stepped closer, her hands trembling as she cupped your face. “please,” she whispered, “don’t let me lose you. you're everything i want."

her touch was warm, and you couldn't help but lean into it. she was so close, and you could feel her heartbeat, her breathing, her warmth. it was intoxicating, and before you knew what you were doing, your lips met hers, gentle and tender, as if she was afraid of breaking you.

but you couldn't break. not when she was kissing you like this. not when her lips were so soft, and her arms were around your waist, pulling you closer. it felt like the world was shifting, the ground giving way beneath your feet. but she was there, holding onto you, her grip tight and desperate, like she was afraid of losing you.

the kiss deepened, and everything else fell away. all you could feel was her. all you could think about was how right it felt, how perfect it was, and how this was the moment you had been waiting for. you were home, in her arms, and nothing else mattered.

the kiss broke, and karina pulled back, her breathing ragged. her eyes were bright, full of emotion, and you knew yours were the same.

"i love you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "i love you, and i'm sorry i didn't realize it sooner."

the words washed over you, and for the first time, everything felt right.

"i love you too," you breathed, not caring that it was wrong or that you shouldn't be saying it. you couldn't stop yourself, and the feeling of finally letting the words out was overwhelming. "you're everything i want…and more."

her eyes widened, and then a smile tugged at her lips, wide and bright, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. she kissed you again, fierce and passionate, and you could feel her joy, her relief, her love. it was the kind of kiss that made your heart swell, that made you feel like you were floating, and nothing could ever come between you.

"i'm yours," she whispered against your lips, her voice breaking. "i'll always be yours."

[oldlight117]

Long post. Sorry (not sorry?)

My ex lives in a red county in California. My wife and I live in a BARELY blue county nearby. The kids go to school in the former.

I'm early to school pick up one Friday and I'm reading a book with my over-ear headphones, leaning up against the chain link fence waiting for the bell like I'm a kid again.

I smile at an older white woman holding an anxious, shaking chihuahua in a pink harness. I read her lips, "What's that you're reading?"

I slip my headphones off my ear and tell her I'm reading Tim Coulson's The Science of Why We Exist. I watch her conservative Christian head balloon slightly.

Good. I tell her I have a lot of basic science to catch up on since when I was their age, gesturing to the elementary school, books like this weren't allowed in the home.

We chat for a few minutes. She's waiting on her grandkids. Her name is Karen. Of course it is.

She laments the loss of some friends recently over political differences. I sympathize. I affirm the importance of not existing within an echo chamber.

I don't press her to justify her politics. I just listen. She goes in circles for a long time. Karen us quick to say that it has nothing to do with hating gay people, or anything like that.

Of course not, I answer. Is that what your friends were worried about? The ones that cut ties?

She tells me that it was a factor for some of them, yes. But that's not who she is.

Of course not. Have you thought about why the LGBTQ community is feeling threatened by the prospect of a Trump presidency? Oh, she says, I'm not really sure, I think they're being alarmist.

I let silence hang a moment between us, and she hurries to fill it.

She says she just doesn't have enough experience to run the country. We need Donald Trump's leadership in a time like this.

I tell her that I had my own doubts about Harris. She hadn't been my number one candidate in 2020, so I had to look at her eligibility with a fresh set of eyes this time around, but I found several of her policy perspectives rather compelling. I list a few qualifications off. Not a lot. Just a smattering. She admitted not being aware of a couple things I mentioned.

I tell her it feels like a matter of who's talking loudest and in front of the biggest audience. A lot of information on both candidates is getting lost along the way.

I tell her about a news aggregator I've been using lately to make sure I don't miss out on anything in my media blind spot.

I ask her which policies of the Trump campaign speak to her personally? What is she most optimistic about if we get a second Trump presidency?

Gas prices! Grocery prices are out of control. She tells me that the crime and the drugs in our state have gotten out of hand and that his immigration policy is going to be our state's salvation.

I tell her that I worry such a broad stroke approach to a very complex problem may have severe consequences on our own community. I fear how these policies might impact families at this very school. I fear the impact mass deportations might have on the very delicate ecosystem of farm labor in this very county, not to mention tariffs on countries like Mexico that supply a lot of our produce.

She brushes my concerns away, says he's only going after the bad ones.

I tell her that I'm afraid it's not that simple, but we'll have to just wait and see.

The election is decided a couple weeks later.

In January I see her at another pick-up, waiting for her grandkids. She is frustrated by the amount of people still gnashing their teeth and whining over the election results.

What do you think would be a healthy way for folks to process the election results if they're feeling scared or disappointed or angry?

She doesn't have an answer.

I give a little chuckle and say we'll have to wait and see if our Capitol building gets sacked again in a couple weeks. I think she knows as well as I do that it won't be.

Strange. She's been a lot slower to initiate conversation in the subsequent weeks. I smile at Karen and I wave. I hope she's enjoying the price of her eggs.

[wileys-russo]

In honor of foxys absolute banger today, could we maybe have a blurb of hyping her up and her trying to play it down while blushing? If not then that’s totally fine as well :)

like a rocket II e.fox

"-so wait those players are supposed to stop the goals?" mia questioned with narrowed eyes as you turned to face her. "mi we're nearly all the way through the game and you now have questions?" you laughed at your best friend who rolled her eyes.

"i asked before but you didn't answer! too busy staring at number 2 down there. at least i think she's number two, how can you even tell? they all look the same. blondes and brunettes!" mia scoffed tossing her hands up as two men in front of you turned around with strange looks as you smiled apologetically.

"you just know. or you mix them up and the announcer corrects it when they score!" you shrugged honestly as mia hummed, shoveling a mouthful of popcorn into her mouth. your best friend since childhood you'd enjoyed having her stay with you for the last week, due to fly to rome in the next few days to continue her euro travels.

all of sudden you were pulled back to the game as cries of shoot rang out around the stadium, squinting to make sure you weren't seeing things. "isn't that-" mia started as your eyes widened, the cries growing louder as you waited for your girlfriend to pass like she normally would.

"no em shoot! shoot!" you yelled out desperately, jumping to your feet and nearly smacking mia in the face who shot up to join you. you held your breath as the defenders leg wound up, and it felt like you blinked and time stilled, but the moment your eyes opened the ball was in the back of the net and the roars around you were deafening.

"was that emily? did she just score? i thought defenders didn't score! they're supposed to stop the goals!" mia yelled over the cheers with a laugh as you could only open and close your mouth in shock, pulling her into a hug as sure enough they announced your girlfriends name throughout the stadium as the crowd went crazy.

"they don't! or at least not normally? she never shoots!" you laughed in shock, both you and mia catching your girlfriends gaze as she looked upward with half the team hanging off of her, elated grin on her face as both you and your best friend waved like maniacs down at her, taking your seats again as the game continued.

you still hadn't quite let it sunk in when the final whistle went and once again the crowd errupted, both you and mia standing up and clapping as the girls did a victory lap.

as they paused to sign things and take some photos you pulled out your own phone, eyes wide as you replayed emilys goal over and over, replying to a few messages from family and friends about it, everyone over the moon for your footballer girlfriend.

"come on lover girl you can watch that later, i want as many freebies as i can get." your best friend grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the seats and back into the box, emily having gifted the pair of you with seats in the family and friends section.

by the time some of the girls began to filter in mia had sunk another two drinks, ignoring your teasing she only hung out with you for the perks and shooting back she was only friends with you because your mom paid her to be, which was a long running joke with the pair of you.

"here she is! the game changer herself!" mia cupped her hands over her mouth and whooped, your girlfriend blushing bright red as you joined in and she quickly shushed the pair of you with a smack to the arm.

"we won five nil i don't think the last goal of the game changed anything." emily chuckled, forever humble as always as the pair of you quickly pecked lips hello and mia gagged jokingly.

"but it was such a good goal em!" both you and mia gushed over it as your girlfriends cheeks flushed even more pink, not often able to take a compliment so easily. luckily it seemed you both weren't the only ones impressed with her finish, several of the other girls families and friends and partners coming over to congratulate her.

"hey is this mine?" emily questioned with a frown, poking at the brown leather jacket wrapped around mia. "hey she gave it to me! made me change before we left." your best friend immediately blamed you as your eyes rolled.

"yes because you cannot wear a white and blue hoodie to a north london derby mia, we went over this." you tutted with a shake of your head. "i was going to buy a uniform to wear over it! see?" the blonde beamed, shrugging off the jacket and turning around to flash the jersey which had fox plastered on the back.

"its not called a uniform mi." you sighed with a shake of your head as your girlfriend grinned, having helped you last night try to clue mia in on everything football before the game today with woefully little success.

"oh whatever! we still won and i didn't cheer for the wrong team. even if i still don't understand what an offside is." mia sighed as both you and your girlfriend smiled. "i'll stick to real football, with hot sweaty men in helmets and shoulder pads." mia grinned with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"hey remember what country you're in right now, watch it!" emily warned playfully as mia faked a yawn. "god i remember when the two of you used to be proudly american. now you're so...english." your best friend slung an arm over each of your shoulders with a shake of her head.

"come on little miss made in the usa." you chuckled pushing her off, you and emily heading for the exit after making your rounds saying bye to a few of her teammates.

"unfortunately you will have to have your victory party without me. but please! no tears." mia sighed as the three of you stepped into the elevator to head down to the car park, emily opting to come home with you and not in the bus.

"we're your only friends in this country, who else are you hanging out with?" your girlfriend smirked as mia scoffed in offence. "i happen to have a very hot very english date!" your best friend grinned waving her phone around as you groaned.

"mi not tinder again! we talked about this-" you began to lecture as your best friend waved off your concerns. "i will share my location with you the whole time, i'll call you if anything gets weird and if i don't let you know i'm not coming home tonight. call the police and organise a search party for my body!" the girl teased as you shot her a look and your girlfriend grabbed your hand, squeezing softly as you shared a look.

"ew you're doing it again." mia pulled a face. "doing what?" "the silent conversation thing!" "we do not do-" "you do. trust me!"

"well we both worry about you meeting strange boys in a new country." emily chimed in as again mia waved off the concern. "where are you going? the cars this way." you jerked your head in the opposite direction to where your best friend began to walk.

"oh mia you didn't!" you groaned recognizing the look on her face right away. "i'll be safe! i promise, and i'll update you on my every move mom!" mia promised, crossing her fingers over her heart as you sighed.

"do you not remember anything we were taught about stranger danger?" "technically a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet!" "i'll remember you fondly when i'm giving interviews in the lifetime documentary about the serial killer you're going to meet."

"ow! she knows im joking." you shot your girlfriend a look who pinched you for the last comment. "be safe, and you better not lose my jacket!" emily called after mia, the girl giving the pair of you a salute and a wave before she disappeared from view.

~

"no baby i'm being serious! it was such a banger. a rocket. a-" you rambled on and on, your girlfriends face turning closer and closer to the colour of a beetroot the more you did, having been singing her praises all afternoon.

"okay! now are watching this movie or not?" emily interrupted you with a small smile, nodding to the tv and opening her arms expectantly where she sat on the sofa.

"why can you not just admit it was a great goal em? like you just-locked in, wound up, and boom!" you clapped causing your girlfriend to jump and once again the blush in her cheeks deepened and you raced around the living room celebrating.

"fine, it was a good goal babe. now can you come and sit down please? you're making me dizzy spinning round and round." the defender chuckled with a roll of her eyes as her words fell on deaf ears.

"but like how did you manage to just know where to kick it? like top corner? a perfect angle? the goalie didn't stand a chance of stopping it!" you shook your head in disbelief as emily sighed and dropped her arms to her side again.

"baby i just kicked it! no big plan. no strategy. just leah and about thirty thousand other people yelling at me to shoot, so i shot!" emily chuckled with a shake of her head, still downplaying it far too much for your liking.

"and in the final minute of the game too? imagine for next time-" you disappeared for a second as your girlfriend sighed tiredly, ears still flushed pink but too tired to try and argue with you to come lay down as you reappeared, a tiny football in hand that your girlfriend kept handy for when the pair of you babysat the kids who lived next door.

"its the world cup final-" you started, emily clearing her throat as you glanced at her and winced remembering that was quite a sore spot. "its the she believes final." you corrected as emily cracked a smile, watching you over the back of the sofa as you placed down the football.

"the score is locked one to one, we're in the final few minutes of extra time. next comes the penalty shoot out, which no one wants!" you recounted as emily sighed again, far too used to your dramatics you'd been together for long enough now.

"you get the ball, you go left, go right, dodging defenders and midfielders like they're nothing!" you feigned left and right, dribbling the ball as your girlfriend chuckled.

"the time ticks down, the ref is ready to blow the whistle and there's time for one last play. the home crowd is going crazy! you're ready to pass but the cries of 'shoot foxy, shoot!' echo around the stadium." you continued, taking a few steps back.

"so with time gone and no other option, you shoot!" you launched forward and booted the ball which went sailing into your bedroom, followed shortly by the sound of something smashing as both you and emily cringed.

"you score the winning goal and the crowd goes wild?" you smiled sheepishly at your girlfriend who closed her eyes and shook her head.

"i don't think it was the window?" you tried, rounding the corner of the lounge and arriving in front of the defender who hummed skeptically, interrupted by the chime of your phone.

"see this, baby this is why your mom didn't encourage you playing ball sports growing up." your girlfriend reminded as you pulled a face at her and picked your phone up off the coffee table.

"well that and the fact you cried anytime you lost-" "emily!"

with an amused smile your girlfriend tried to pull you down on the sofa with her, mumbling about the movie as your eyes scanned your phone screen.

"well mia isn't coming home tonight." you recounted with a snicker and a roll of your eyes, emily humming as you placed your phone down, catching her off guard as you sat yourself down on her lap with an all too familiar look in your eyes as your hands slipped up her shirt feeling her stomach tense beneath your touch.

"so, how about i really reward you for that goal?"

[yailtsv]

Reader/Paige where Paige is a Secret admirer and leaves notes and little gifts to the reader(like from the 1st to the 14th) eventually leading up to a Valentines Day Date where Paige is waiting all nervous hoping the reader shows and they both can admit feelings towards each other. Very fluffy

Secret Admirer - p.b

💌 Syn: you have a secret admirer that just so happens to be your best friend

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i’m really proud of this one 🙃 i’ve also never watched the notebook i just know it’s considered a romance movie so i went with it 🤷‍♀️

»»— word count: 2.7k

»»— pair: Paige x Gf!reader

the last 13 days have been weird for you as one could say. it started with a bouquet of roses outside your dorm room with a note that just said "from: your secret admirer" and that was on the first of february.

the 2nd day was a gaint stuffed bear  outside your dorm room - like the gaint ones you would get at costco but not exactly those bears as this one is a stuffed panda bear. there was no note for this one.

the third day was a assortment of valentines balloons and a box of iced cookies and chocolate dipped strawberries with a note that said "to the most beautiful girl - your secret admirer"

the next 10 days got even freakier. you got multiple different jewelry options on different days, you got your favorite things in a basket one day, you got a build a bear one day with it already named and everything, you got at least 3 more bouquets all different colors and all different flowers, and on the 13th you received a box full of letters - like actually hand written love letters

you were going absolutely crazy. you couldn't figure out who it was but you knew it had to of been someone you were close to because they knew all of your preferences and likes/dislikes or i guess maybe you we're getting stalked right now

you're picky with your jewelry and they knew that somehow. all of the jewelry was picked and created the way you like all of your jewelry to be. not to mention you literally received a basket full of your favorite snacks,foods, smell good things, and clothing brands.

since the first day of february you have been going around asking all of your friends if it was them with all of them looking at you confused and saying no. someone had to of been lying, there was absolutely no way not one of them knew what was going on.

the letters you received on the 13th were your 13th reason - this was probably your biggest crash out

you were honestly starting to believe all your friends - that they had no idea what was going on, and you we're starting to panic

what if i have a stalker?

what if i am being watched right now?

do i need to call the cops?

those were only some of the thoughts running around in your head. your friends weren't helping either, they were only calling you dramatic and to live a little.

"you're getting expensive jewelry and gifts for free, just take it" one of your friends had told you after you told her you we're starting to get concerned

that did not ease any of your concerns. after you got back to the dorms from class you decided to study the letters and see what you could find out about your "secret admirer" - which was absolutely nothing other than they're down right in love with you.

while reading one of the letters there was a knock at your door making you look up towards that door and eventually stand up to open said door - only to see nobody there...like at all

you were about to close the door when a box on the ground caught your attention, making your breath hitch but slowly and hesitantly grab the box anyway and make your way back into the safety of your dorm - behind the closed and locked door obviously

when opening the box you come face to face with a beautiful white dress with puffy see-through sleeves, a pair of white red bottom high heels, and a note

come to the park tomorrow night @ 6:30 and wear this.

don't be scared, you know me.

- your secret admirer

you don't know wether to be relieved or more terrified. "don't be scared, you know me" could mean that you do actually know this person and they are your friend or it could mean that someone's been watching you enough to know that you're starting to get creeped out and want to make sure that you show up to the park.

you pull out the dress and the heels setting them on your desk when you see another note in the box

you once accidentally in high school spilt your drink all over your math teachers white pants and he gave you detention for a week.

-your secret admirer that's not a creepy stalker

you laughed at the signed name before remembering the other part of the note - there are only a few people that know that secret as you were really embarrassed about the whole situation, and those people are your immediate family ....and paige your best friend since high school

wait is paige my secret admirer? no she can't be. but she's the only other person that knows that. but there is absolutely no way paige is my secret admirer right?

you didn't sleep much that night. you were going back and forth with your brain wether paige was your secret admirer or not but your decided you were gonna go to the park that night

you couldn't keep questioning everything without getting answers and now? the answers are gonna be directly handed to you tonight, - obviously with your location on and sent to your mom and 9-1-1 on speed dial

it's finally time to leave. for the last few hours you've paced, showered, did your hair and makeup, paced some more, got dressed, paced, added jewelry and other accessories, talked your self out of going, talked your self back into going and left the house before you could change your mind again

you took your time in walking to the park, as one you were obviously wearing heels right now, and two your anxiety is skyrocketing right now

you spent the walk to the park thinking of everything. all the gifts, all the words in the letters, the note with your secret, your friends reactions, all of it, trying to figure out if maybe your secret admirer was paige.

it would make sense as she knows you better than anyone. she knows how you prefer your jewelry - which not a lot of people do, she knows ALL of your favorite foods and snacks, she knows all your favorite brands - not just your favorite type of clothes, the actual clothing brand, she knows how much you love stuffed animals, and how much you appreciate hand written letters

she knows everything about you, so her being your secret admirer would be a reasonable thought.

but you still can't wrap your head around that thought. you've been in love with paige since sophomore year of high school, you've just never said anything because you were scared of ruining the friendship + you didn't think she liked you back. you've been dating trashy men this whole time to hide your feelings for paige, but know it might not have been necessary?

you've snuck glances at her while she wasn't looking for years.

you've been her own personal cheerleader for years.

you've watched her in awe for years.

you've worn her jersey to games as a way to support her for years - but really you were also doing it for you, wearing her jersey or clothes in general felt safe to you, unlike wearing your then boyfriends clothes. they gave you a sense of comfort that you were scared to ask of her. you could be having a bad day and put on one of her hoodies and it feels like a soft bear hug from her - without actually getting the hug. the clothes are always a little oversized on you and no matter if she wore it last week or a month ago, it still has the faint smell of her. you could ask to borrow her clothes but you were scared to ask for a hug or comfort from her in general.

you've been her number 1 fan for  everything she does for years. she does no wrong in your eyes. if she's the reason the ball didn't go in during a game your not gonna admit that. your gonna say it was the other girls fault even if you and her both know that's not true, because that's your way of comforting her. she knows your never gonna blame her for stuff including the small meaningless things like wether she's the reason the ball went in or not.

so after years of yearning for her love, her comfort, her attention,  having her be your secret admirer feels like a dream you need to wake up from.

walking into the park you see an area lit up with fairy lights and candles nearby and start heading towards that

when you get closer you see a giant pink and white blanket on the ground with a picnic basket in the middle. wine glasses and wine on a small tray, a big wooden basket filled with what appears to be gifts, and a car parked just a few steps away with the trunk door open with fairy lights and a heart banner hanging from the door. the backseats were down and multiple blankets covering the seats with a few pillows

there also seemed to be a pile of clothes folded on top on the blanket made bed. "hey" you hear from the left making you turn your head to see paige walking out from behind a large tree with a bouquet of pink and purple flowers

"hey" you say back in a kinda relived tone "i know you probably have some questions so i'm just gonna start talking, first these are for you" she says nervously before walking closer to you and handing the flowers over to you, with you taking them "they're beautiful, thank you" you say after sniffing the flowers

"of course. um ok so i'm just gonna be straight up and say it. i love you. i'm in love with you. i have been ever since high school i was just scared to say it. i feel like now that we are both adults we're running out of time with our time together and i don't want that. i mean i'm entering the draft this year and am moving to texas, your going wherever your career takes you. we are both growing up and going down somewhat different paths. which is why i can't be scared to admit my feelings anymore. i'm definitely scared of you rejecting me but i can't be high school me anymore. that's not gonna get me anywhere other than losing you. i might still lose you after this but at least i won't be living in question wether you like me back or not."

"paig-" you try to say but get cut off "i'm not done. for years i've watched you get played,hurt, cheated on, mistreated, by guys that have no idea how much of an amazing person you are. they didn't know that they were losing a person that would drop everything for them, they didn't know that they were losing someone that would do anything for them, and every time you came to my room crying about the pain they caused you, i just wanted to wrap you in my arms and protect you from the world. show you how your supposed to be treated, buy you the flowers that they didn't think you deserved, buy you the gifts that they didn't want to spend their money on, give you all the attention,love, comfort, that they refused to give you. i don't want to watch you go through that again, i want to be to the one to buy you flowers, to buy you expensive things, to show you love because what they were showing you definitely wasn't love. i want to wake up beside you and be able to kiss you whenever and tell you i love you everyday-"

you set down the bouquet and run over to paige, immediately bringing her lips to yours in a rough passionate kiss

you pulled away for air first with paige chasing your lips before you put your hand on her chest "i love you so much. i've been in love with you since sophomore year of high school"

paige giggles at that confession "if only we communicated in high school right?" she says with an amused tone before pulling you back into her but this time the kiss was soft and gentle, saying the remaining words paige didn't get to say.

after the love confessions you and paige ate the food she packed and talked for awhile before paige saw you starting to shiver

"cmon" she says standing up and holding her hands out for you "what? where we going?" you asked while she pulled you up

she didn't answer and instead just pulled you to the car and handed you one of the stacks of clothes and grabbed a blanket holding it up

"get dressed in those, i'm gonna hold the blanket up and look away" you don't question her and do as she says, getting dressed in the way to long sweatpants and oversized hoodie that still smells like paige

"alright i'm done" you say making paige put down the blanket "get in the trunk and get comfy, im gonna go pick up our stuff" she says setting the blanket down "i can help?" you say watching her as she turned back around from walking towards the picnic area "nope, get comfy in the trunk, i'll be back." paige says before walking away

you just shake your head with an amused smile on your face but listen to her anyway and get in the trunk and under one of the blankets. you can see her grabbing all the stuff and then eventually made her way back to the car - putting all the stuff in the drivers seat before moving back to the trunk area, taking off the lights and heart banner on the outside of the car as there was some lights she hooked up around the inside of the car too - so you guys still had light

she then gets in the trunk herself, shutting the trunk door and handing you her ipad "find a movie or something for us to watch" you take the ipad from her and put the password in going to netflix

from the corner of your eye you can see her take off her open button up shirt and crop top leaving her in her bra before she puts on a team usa hoodie then also changing from her jeans to a matching pair of sweatpants

you look back towards the ipad before she sees you were definitely checking her out - deciding on the notebook

she takes her outfit she just took off and shoes putting them in the passenger seat before grabbing your dress and heels and doing the same

"did the heels fit good?" she asks while also going under the blanket and getting comfortable "yeah, but if you're gonna buy me stuff i'm putting you on a budget. today, plus the outfit, plus all the gifts leading up to today must've cost you a fortune." you say as she went onto her side, and grabbed the ipad putting it on the side of the car door in front of you

"how about i worry what i spend my money on and you enjoy being spoiled? cause i ain't gonna stop spoiling you." she says while wrapping her arm around your waist and turning you so your also on your side - with your back to her chest

you just shake your head amused before she reaches over and starts the movie. during the intro you and her both moved a little bit to get more comfortable before cuddling into each other more

halfway during the movie you could basically feel paige's nerves - for what reason? you have no idea so you just reach up and hold her hand that's above your head - as her arm is acting as a pillow right now

paige leans her head closer to your ear "will you be my girlfriend?" you turn your head before turning your whole body to face her and look into her eyes

you lean up and gently cradle her face in your hands and bringing her face to yours and giving her another passionate kiss

"yes i'll be your girlfriend"

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common cultural touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[bleuberries-and-video-games]

I can tell you this first hand, even the people who are fighting, they're doing it running ragged. Double that for anyone who's like a marginalized identity targeted explicitly by him, I know trans people who are burning the candle at both ends, myself included, to create support groups, networks of aid, any kind of shit just to keep going and to maintain any sort of equilibrium and even make ends meet. I'm very fortunate to have the job I have, I don't know if I will have it forever, as my job does kind of require or rely upon Federal and local government grants and the state of Missouri is not exactly a very kind place right now to trans people.

Not only that, but also like, I would like to explain to anyone from outside of the United States what the United States is like, because I don't think any of you understand what it's like. I think you see New York and la and maybe Austin Texas and maybe Portland oregon, or God forbid any one of the places where there's like a Disney theme park that some of y'all go to, but like those are really big economically beautiful and thriving places. That means they look picturesque, that means they look like America is fine and thriving, but I can assure you that is not the case for a number of different groups and people and places. Hell even in those places I've listed, there are issues you can see on a day-to-day basis that you wouldn't normally see just touring.

The vast majority of the United States, for the vast part of its history, has been some kind of police state with some kind of hyper regulatory body enforcing some kind of morally tied laws. From cross-dressing laws, to race mixing laws, to laws disparaging and maintaining women's oppression, to the very fact that if you didn't own land for a large part of this country's history, you didn't have any sort of power. At all. This means that you are beholden to a capitalistic class that has grown more and more powerful as time has gone on. America is not a shining City on hill and has never been a shining City on a hill, it has always been this place that has been propped up by capitalism, and always had a bunch of people that are sitting in the periphery and which makes the majority of the capital but doesn't see a dime of it. If you think that this is suddenly abnormal, that we went from voting for Obama to voting for the orange dweeb, you're a fucking idiot. You're not paying attention. You're so wrapped up in economic and social nationalism for your countries, thinking about how much better your Society is in contrast and trying desperately to figure out what went wrong™ in America that you forget fascism starts when you start drawing heavy borders and when you start thinking about us versus them. Everyone in the entire world is beholden and capable of doing fascism. I mean it fucking started in Europe for God's sake, Europe is not this enlightened Center of cultural good, for a long time it was very regressive and stifling, and it is only a recent part of History in which that has not been the case. And didn't even more recent history, you have benefited off of economic booms and trade Partnerships that have basically dissolved orders that once caused decades-long escalating conflicts that almost entirely destroyed the world. This is not an accident, this happens because of the economic powers that be, this is because of capitalism, and this is specifically because we have still not addressed the issues that plague the world.

We are trying our very best to do what we can to fight what we can and protect what we can. But when the majority of the country has been getting increasingly economically disparate, when police get more funding than schools, when the military is all over the world working with allies and toppling Nations or propping up proxy states, when all of our money goes to defense contractors or contracted Federal businesses run or cut to Pieces by private Equity firms, there's not a whole lot many people can do, and the more marginalized you are, the more Afflicted and affected by different issues in the world you are, the harder it is for you to do something. And yet I know some people who do stuff, who do fight, who fucking have to walk with a cane or crutches, who struggle to breathe or struggle to go anywhere, who don't have cars, and they still manage to go to meetings, work with organizations, and they're trying, they're God damn trying.

You see the problem is for the last 40 fucking years, the media apparatus that the United States runs, CNN and fox news, have accelerated the concept of propaganda in America from something that is a lot more decentralized and region specific, into this National Force that basically tells the world what America thinks. The issue is? Neither CNN nor Fox news, nor HLN, the Oprah Winfrey channel, cbs, abc, nbc, or Comedy Central really represent the American people and their opinions. A number of these nationally syndicated television shows and news programs have to water down a lot of perspectives, and they often dehumanize, Rob The Voice of, or just genuinely ignore very necessary issues. This is also because of the fairness doctrine, a standard that guaranteed the news would be a certain way, was abolished around the time that CNN and Fox News started taking off.

So not only were you getting watered down, oftentimes nationalized opinions, there was no alternative perspectives and there was no way to tell who thought what and why. And so pretty much the entire world and anyone who watches CNN and Fox News has just assumed that's what Americans think, when in reality we are very much skeptical and very much frustrated with what either program says, and by extension a lot of other media companies. We have watched and tried very actively to stop the monopolization of our media, but we are pretty much helpless to stop it because there's not a lot of avenues we can take especially the worse and worse things get.

You have to stop thinking of America in terms of the prosperity that is projected on television and by a bunch of places for touristic means, you have to start thinking about it in terms of the places that you don't see, you have to start thinking about it as a sort of oligarchic dictatorship that has traded hands over and over again for the last several decades to financially benefit a bunch of dick heads at the top of the hierarchy. Those same Financial dick heads go and explore the world, prop up and collaborate with different financially powerful individuals, and maintain the conflicts and oppression that run the world. Ever since the fall of the Berlin wall, and even since before that point, America has had pretty much free reign with little opposition to do a bunch of bullshit like that.

All the while a lot of it citizens suffer, a lot of them are compulsory forced to serve in the military in order to get the bare minimum amount of college, medical care, and so on, which creates a massive benefit to the military industrial complex, and by extension ships are troops all over the world to help our allies supposedly defend themselves, when in actuality all it's doing is just legitimizing and continuing the cycle of financial destruction.

What I'm trying to say is you have to stop thinking of America in terms of what you see in the media and start looking at America in terms of what you hear from people around here, and more importantly you have to talk to people who are not kissing the ass of government or posting rampant conspiracism. You have to talk to regular citizens and actually get a gauge on what it's like living in both middle and wider range America. I would love for California and New York to be the emblematic representation of america, I would love for the media and ideas you see and engage with to be true, but it's not and it can't be.

America has never been this prosperous giant, it has been a testing ground for the extent of which capitalism can be abusive and get away with it. It is always been that way. You can ask however it got to this point, and I will point to the Civil War and say it was always this way.

It was always about maintaining indentured servitude, always about maintaining disparity and destruction and oppression, and basically from the beginning America has constantly been founded by and sustained by consistent and perfect PR spins. Liberty and justice for all? Or for a bunch of guys who own land? Yes you can change it, but you don't change it by simple votes. All of the Amendments that have giving us rights and changes that have made the country supposedly better have been paid for in blood, and almost all of them have been subverted by a bunch of movements antithetical to their existence simply because a group of people didn't like being told what to do. We are trying our very goddamn best. Please know that the media lies to you, please know that our government lies to you, please know that everything you hear about us is likely some kind of fabrication meant to maintain some kind of facade to get you to believe bullshit. To make you think that we're complaining with this. To make you think that we wanted this. We didn't. Those of us who did? I guarantee you are in the minority. I know they are in the minority.

For those outside of America going "why don't you fight back" or "don't you guys know what's going on?" let me explain something to you.

We know.

There is nothing a lot of us can do right now.

We are either minorities surrounded by Trump supporters or struggling to make ends meet or (most likely) both.

These first few days are designed to exhaust us. It's the same tactic he used during his first administration. Overwhelm the media and the masses so that the more sinister things he does gets swept under the rug.

And honestly, a lot of us are checked out because we spent the last four years warning people about a second term because our lives were on the line and those we thought cared about us proved they didn't.

And now we're just trying to find some sort of semblance of happiness in this joyless world we're now living in. We fight when we can, we bring attention to what we can, but a lot of us are just fucking exhausted.

So please, cut us some slack. We've been fighting for the last eight years, we still have to fight for the next four.

Right now, survival is the only rebellion we have.

[squishygirl46]

Hi everyone, this is a story about my deepest fantasies and dreams. It will be written about me Let me know if you like it. Part one: the beginning.

God, I don't know where I am, some man left a camera in the room and said I had to speak my mind on it or I would be killed. The last thing I remember is leaving the house to go to the store. Now I'm here and I don't know what's going on, I'm so scared….. There's only one dim lamp in this room, a big bed, a toilet, a speaker on the wall and a door. I'm probably going to be killed or raped, I don't know, I'm so scared. Suddenly a masked man came into the room, carrying a scale and a camera.

- Hi said: Get on the scale and take off your clothes. I obediently did everything he ordered. Completely naked I stood on the scale which said 45 kilograms(99 pounds). -You're skinny, now stand against the wall and turn sideways. I went to the wall and turned around, then he told me to stand in front of him and he was taking pictures. What a shame… But I can't help it, I'm so scared. After this strange photo shoot and weighing, the man left. I don't know how much time had passed, but I was very hungry. Luckily the man came back soon and brought a huge tray of food on a gurney. Fried chicken, potatoes, meat pies, pancakes, brownies and cake. There were also several bottles of soda and some pills.

-Whoa, why so much food, I can't eat that much. -No one's asking you. He told me to take two pills and a soda. After I drank them he left and closed the door behind him. I started eating and as usual I got full very quickly, literally after a couple wings my little tummy was full and I laid down to rest and fell asleep, I don't know how long I slept but after I woke up the food was still there and I was very very very hungry…. I started eating again. A few wings, then a brownie, washed it all down with soda, then wings again, then potatoes and then soda again… I could feel my stomach filling up, but the hunger didn't go away, and only after 30 minutes of eating and stopped for breath…. -Oh, God, what was that just now? -Ufff. I mumbled. I looked at the tray, it was covered in leftovers. I put my head down and saw that my stomach was protruding very much, as if I had been inflated like a car tire…. And it was so hard. I was very thin and this protuberance really stood out. I laid back on the bed and dozed off….. When I woke up, the tray was gone, but on the wall were my pictures and a graph with my weight written on it. God, what does that mean, am I being fattened up? I've always worked hard on my figure, I don't want to be fat, I need to exercise to burn off the calories from that gluttony. I got out of bed and started doing exercises, 50 squats, 10 push-ups and 50 abs, then I rested and did them again.

-Fuuuuh, now we can have a little snack, as long as we don't eat too much. Right after these words, this man came in again with a tray, this time there were mountains of fast food, 5 big burgers, a bucket of fries, wings, nuggets, and 2 bottles of coke. -Oh my god, I'm not allowed to eat that, I've always avoided fast food in my life-. But the man silently handed me two pills. -No, I won't take them, they make me unable to stop eating! In response to these words, he just took them and put them in my mouth, then clamped my nose and poured cola into my mouth, I had to swallow them…. -Good appetite- he said and left. I decided that a little fast food wouldn't hurt my figure, especially if I kept doing exercises, or even more exercises, yes, it wouldn't hurt. I took the smallest burger I could find and took a bite. -God, this is so good,” I said with my mouth full. And a wave of warmth spread through my body. -Yeah, one burger wouldn't hurt me. -Yeah. But I couldn't stop at one, as soon as I finished it I took a Coke to drink, I thought I'd just drink a little bit, but I started gulping it down greedily, like I hadn't had a drink in a year. I only stopped when I had half a bottle. Right after that, I went on a food binge. A burger, another one, fries, nuggets, all dipped in sauce and swallowed before I could chew. After 30 minutes of such piggishness, I felt nauseous and almost threw up. I decided to lie down and rest.

-I ate a ton of food again, my God, what am I turning into, but ok, I'll exercise some more and everything will be fine. I put my hand on my warm, bloated tummy and fell asleep. When I woke up I thought it would be a good idea to exercise. Like last time I got up and started squatting, but I stopped at 30 reps and sat on the bed…. The leftovers were beckoning me… -Okay, I've done enough, I can have a snack. I finished everything on the tray and went back to sleep… It went on like that for about two weeks

[gold-onthe-inside]

swallows and ravens

n. def: operatives who use sex as a tool; to engage in sexual activity with the targeted person and gather the intelligence either through pillow talk or blackmail.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: after getting caught in the rain after a bookstore date, you and spencer have the perfect moment to take things to the next level. content warnings: smut, oral (f recieving), penetrative sex, softdom!spencer, brat/brat-tamer dynamics if you squint, no use of contraceptives (please use protection people), no use of y/n, NSFW MDNI 18+ ONLY word count: 4k (no judging) a/n: based on the prompt "you look good on your knees like this", written for my 1k event

The only protection you have from the rain is a pair of newspapers, clutching your bags of books as you and Spencer run from the subway exit to his building, before you end up having to spend the night in the tunnels waiting for the rain to stop. You’re shivering beside him, watching him fumble with his keys to open the door to get you both inside. He lets out a triumphant noise as the lock clicks and he hurries you inside and out of the rain.

Once the pair of you are safely inside and out of the rain, Spencer takes the soggy newspapers from you, folding them neatly and leaving them to dry out, then pulls his bag off his shoulder, dumping it in the floor, toeing off his sneakers beside it, and peeling off his mismatched socks.

You tugged off your coat, teeth chattering as you hung it on a chair, looking down at your long black dress, soaked and clinging to your skin. You shake out your wet arms, sweeping damp hair back and out of your face as you look at your boyfriend. God, that was still so new to you. Spencer Reid, your roommate's team member, the guy you used to tolerate, now your boyfriend. You don't know how to get used to that idea.

“I really didn’t think we’d get caught in the rain,” he was saying, grabbing the throw off the couch and walking over to wrap you up in it. “I knew I should’ve gotten us to leave earlier, but that classics section was like a wormhole. A-and to be fair, I was only looking for Moliere because I thought you’d like his work—”

“Spencer, breathe,” you reminded him, trying not to laugh as he zealously rubbed your arms to warm you up. “It’s rainwater, not acid.”

Spencer pouted but did as he was told. He did have a tendency to ramble, he’d been trying to tone it down for a while now. He settled for running his hands over your arms and then pulling you just a little closer in the hopes that his body heat might just help to warm you up a bit faster. “You’re shivering,” he muttered.

"I think I'll survive," you said, voice muffled against his chest.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you as close as humanly possible, letting you bury your face in his chest. “We should probably get you out of those wet clothes,” he said.

"Bet you say that to all the girls," you said into his chest.

“Ha ha,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. “You’re hilarious,” he said, although he couldn’t help the smirk that was spreading over his face, and the way his arms just held you that little bit tighter at your comment. You raised your head, tipping your chin up so he could kiss you.

He obliged, tilting your chin up even farther until he met your lips in a soft kiss. His arms wrapped even further around your waist, his palms splaying out across your lower back, holding you to him as his lips slowly moved over yours.

Spencer gently backed you up until your the backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch, at which point he used that as leverage to push you down onto the couch. He ended up on his knees, breaking away from your lips to pull your boots off.

"You think of everything, don't you?" you asked softly, letting the throw fall away and smiling at him.

"I’d like to think so." He smirked at you, arranging your shoes on the floor beside his bag. His knuckles brushed over your skin as he lifted your bare foot into his lap, fingers working to slowly peel your stockings down your leg from your thighs.

"Or maybe this whole thing was planned," you continued, grinning at him. "Wine and dine your girlfriend, buy her books, get her caught in the rain and then have your way with her."

Spencer was in the middle of tugging your other stocking down your leg, the smooth fabric gliding under his fingers, and he paused, looking up to meet your gaze, an unamused but still playful look on his face. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

"I'm just saying, I'd be impressed," you said, shrugging before reaching out to smooth back damp curls from his forehead.

Spencer chuckled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the side of your knee, his hands sliding up your leg, pushing the now discarded stocking out of the way. “Can’t a guy just be sweet sometimes?”

"Sure. But you're sweet all the time, which is suspicious," you replied, watching him.

“So, what? I have ulterior motives now?” His hands slid higher up your thighs, now completely discarding the stockings and moving to push up the hem of your dress, up your calf.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't think about it at all," you said, your voice dipping lower as his hands drifted higher, still on his knees in front of you.

“Never said I didn’t think about it at all,” he said, fingers tracing over your skin, his gaze now lingering over your thighs. It was subtle, but he could feel his jeans getting a little tighter as he slowly pushed your skirt up further. “I’m only human, after all.”

You tutted playfully. "And here I thought you were a robot."

He let out a huff, shaking his head. “You’re so mean to me,” Spencer said with a small pout that you know is an invitation for you to kiss away. His lips are soft, if a little chapped, and cool against yours, your hands sliding over his jaw.

“Would it help if I told you that you look very good on your knees like this?” you asked softly and he hummed a little in response.

“Doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, kissing you again, hands firmly placed on your soft thighs, grunting a little against your lips as your hand threaded into his damp hair. His hands cupped the back of your knees, pulling you closer and your legs apart. His tongue broached your bottom lip, seeking permission for entry, and when you part your lips for him, his tongue sweeps over the roof of your mouth. The hand holding your knee comes up to cup your jaw, kissing you until his lungs ached for air. Even then, he can’t stop himself from pressing a few more soft brief kisses to your reddened lips. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a charged moment, as if debating internally whether it was too soon to take this inside.

He looked at you, his thumb tracing softly over your cheek. His breathing was a little ragged, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away just yet, his grip on your thighs still keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you. His gaze was half-lidded, almost lost in you, but he snapped out of it when a shiver shot through your body, only realising that you were still in soaked clothes. He cleared his throat. “Jokes aside, you need to get out of those clothes.”

"Yeah," you murmured, still slightly dazed, either by the intensity of the kiss or by the lack of air to your brain, but you need a moment to come back to yourself. "Um... clothes?"

He chuckled again, the sound soft and low in his throat. “Yes, those.” He moved to help you up off of the couch, taking your hand in his. “I’ll lend you some of my clothes for now, and you can worry about yours later.” He pulled you along with him toward the bedroom.

You smiled, unable to help the playful tone in your voice, “I knew it, this was all just a ploy to get me alone.”

“You caught me.” His arm looped around your waist, his lips finding the juncture between your neck and shoulder to place a kiss there. “I’m just an evil mastermind, really.”

“Truly the worst,” you murmured, your hand running over his neck and cupping the back of it as he unzipped your dress, pressing soft kisses to your jaw and cheek. He can never seem to stop himself when it comes to you, years of repressed yearning from afar rushing out. But it’s new, this thing between you, and he never wants to push you too far, worried that the bleeding heart on his sleeve would scare you off.

“Want me to stop?” he asked softly, begging in his head for you to say no, relief settling in his chest when you shake your head and he can kiss you again, peeling off the wet fabric and Christ, you take his breath away, in more ways than one. He’s intimately aware that he’s wearing too many layers, rectifying the matter as quickly as he could while also guiding you to the bed and you have to stifle a giggle as his hand gets caught in his shirt trying to tug it off.

“Don’t laugh,” he whined, pouting a little.

“I’m trying,” you reply, defensive as you chase his lips, hands helping him work off the drenched shirt. He sighed into your mouth as he freed himself, hands returning to cup your face as he kissed you, slow and languid, taking his time. You shifted, sliding your hand over his side, shivering as his hand drifted down your neck as you lay back against the pillows. His thumb traced your clavicle, trailing his lips down your jaw again, warm and open-mouthed.

His touch is gentle, reverent, as his lips and tongue move over your skin. His hand on your side begins to trace over the smooth skin there, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast. His lips continue to move in a slow, torturous path down your neck and over your collarbone. As his fingers skim the underside of your breast, he feels you shiver beneath him and he pauses, pulling back just enough to look at you.

Your skin is flushed as you shift beneath him, your pupils slightly dilated. He watches your breath hitch as his gaze lingers over your face, and he feels his heart flutter as your lips part softly. He feels a little heady as he takes you in, the way your hair is splayed over the pillow behind your head, the way your hands cling to his forearms, the way your body is so perfectly molded to his, and he has to swallow before he speaks. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, voice soft and barely above a whisper.

"So are you," you murmured back, smiling at him. He returned the smile, his cheeks flushing a bit at the compliment. His hand moved in time with his mouth, skimming across the curve of your breast and down your stomach. He could feel your breath quickening, your body arching up into his touch, the way your eyes fluttered briefly and it sent a shiver down his spine. His fingers broached the border of your underwear, dipping under the lace, torturously slow.

His touch is slow and careful as his fingers trace over the lace of your underwear, the pads of his fingers grazing over the sensitive skin of your hip. He watches the way your body reacts to his touch, the gooseflesh that pricks up on your skin, the way your breathing becomes uneven, the way your hips shift up just the smallest amount as if asking for more. His fingers linger at the waistband of your underwear, hovering for a moment before tugging them down past your hips.

You shift your hips to help, swallowing as he settled between your legs, his hands pushing your thighs apart a little more. "Please," you murmured quietly, none of the prior teasing on your tongue. It's slightly embarrassing how badly you want him.

He was a little taken aback by the pleading note in your voice, but his hands gripped your legs and tugged you closer. “Christ,” he mumbled, his brain to mouth filter taking a backseat. “Begging already?”

"I take it back, you're awful," you said, but he cut your words off as he pressed his lips to your stomach. He laughed softly against your skin before he continued his path down your body, placing soft kisses over your stomach and thighs, drawing out every touch until you were squirming beneath him. He peppered kisses higher, higher, higher until he was finally right where he wanted to be. He looked up at you for a moment, taking in your ragged breathing, your flushed skin, the way your eyes were darkened and your lips were slightly parted, all because of him.

He lowered his head, lips grazing over your hip, and it felt like you might combust as his mouth traced your skin, closer, closer to where you want him. A small noise escaped you as your body writhed from anticipation, and he chuckled against your skin. “Impatient.”

“Tease,” you retorted, receiving a soft squeeze under your thigh before he dragged his tongue over your folds, guiding one leg over his shoulder, warm, wet pressure taking away any ability you had to form words. He flattens his tongue against you, lapping in long, slow strokes that make you squirm for more, his hands drifting from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place. He flicks his tongue over your clit, taking his time, wanting to hear the noises you make, the way your body moves against his face, desperate for release, and God, he could do this for hours. He can feel his own arousal building, hard against the mattress.

You can feel the way he grinds against the mattress, desperate for some friction, but he doesn’t break his rhythm, tongue still sliding over you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, and he could feel how close you were, the way you were trembling beneath him, the way your hands clenched at his hair, and he knew that you were right there, just needing a little more, and he wanted to hear you say his name in that breathless tone, but he was also worried that it would make him combust right then and there.

“Spencer.” The name falls from your lips in a breathless, wanton moan, and it’s all he has to hear. He redoubles his efforts, his grip on you tighter than before, and it’s too much, too much, and finally, your body comes apart, your vision going white and blank, your chest heaving as you ride it out, his name still on your lips and if he wasn’t completely gone for you before, he is now.

You lay there, boneless and panting. He pulls away, shifting up and crawling over you, body hovering above yours as he stares down at you. His mouth and chin glistened with you, and if you weren’t already spent, the sight would have done it. His pupils are dilated, his hair a mess, the flush on his cheeks obvious as his breathing becomes a bit uneven. You can't help yourself, reaching up to wipe his chin away and pull him closer to kiss.

He went easily, leaning down to meet your lips in a brief but passionate kiss, groaning into your mouth as he settled his body over yous. One of his hands moved up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as his hips rocked against you, desperate for any kind of friction as his jeans grew even tighter. Your hands drift to his jeans, popping the button and unzipping the rain-soaked denim for him, hand slipping underneath to palm his arousal.

He cursed into your mouth as your hand wrapped around him, and he has to break the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing becomes ragged and he rocks into your hand. He’s trying his best to hold back, but it’s hard when you feel so good, when he feels like he’s gonna explode the moment he touches you. His gaze locks onto yours as he tries to hold himself together. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, I need you.”

You did your best to tug his jeans down, Spencer doing the rest of the work. He kicked off his jeans, leaving him free to press his now bare body against yours, both of you groaning as the skin-to-skin contact sent sparks through your nerves. He’s pressed fully against you, his body flush against every inch of you, and it’s overwhelming in the best way, even more so when you shift beneath him, the contact making him swear. "I don't think I've ever heard you swear," you murmured, one hand caressing his side.

“Are you really gonna pick on me right now?” he mumbled huskily, his hands gripping your thighs and lifting them to wrap around his waist. The contact is too good and he can’t help the way his body rolls against yours, letting out a ragged gasp.

"Pretty much," you mutter.

His head dropped to the crook of your neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin there as he grumbled a little. He took a moment to compose himself before he lifted his head to glare down at you. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

"Yet, here you are, suffering," you retort, smiling at him in satisfaction.

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance in the gesture. He was too distracted by the way your body felt against his, the way your legs were wrapped around his waist, the way your hands were roaming over his sides, and he knew he was done for when you smirked up at him in smug satisfaction. “Yeah, whatever. Shut up.”

Despite his words, he shifted, lining himself up with your entrance, his gaze locked on your face to make sure you were still okay with this. He was so close to losing the last of his control, but he was willing to wait if you weren’t ready, but then you were nodding, and then he was pressing into you, and it was all at once intense and hot and overwhelming and he had to shut his eyes and drop his head onto your shoulder.

It took him a moment to adjust, every feeling heightened and overwhelming, and he had to take a deep breath before he could move, carefully pulling out and rolling his hips forward, slow and measured until he found a rhythm that made your head fall back against the pillow, a soft sigh escaping your lips. He leaned down to press a kiss to your jaw, your neck, any skin he could reach, wanting to memorize the way you sound and move and feel beneath him, wanting to brand the image into his mind, needing this to last for as long as possible.

He picked up the pace, his hands moving to grip your hips, pulling you even closer. His head is lowered, lips against your neck, your shoulder, his ragged breaths against your skin sending little chills through your body. You feel like you can’t catch your breath, like you’re drowning in the feel of him, the sounds he’s making, the way he surrounds you, and you desperately cling to him like a lifeline, anchoring yourself to him so you don’t drown.

His name is the only thing you can manage to moan and he is so gone, his heart pounding like a drum, breath ragged, and he feels like he’s gonna shatter into a million pieces, and it’s you, it's you, he needs you, and he can feel the way you’re clenching around him, close, so close. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place so he can give a hard thrust, and you cry out in pleasure, your hands clenching in the sheets, his name pouring from your lips like a prayer, and he’s right there.

He loses what bit of control he had left after that, a strangled moan escaping him as his rhythm falters, his body moving harder, faster, and he can’t think, can’t form words, he can’t do anything except feel. It’s too much in the best way, and he’s right on the edge, about to fall. “I’m so close,” he mutters, his voice ragged and breathless. “I just, I just need, god, I need you, so bad.”

"I’m right here, let go, angel," you murmured, clutching at him, one hand on his side, the other at his neck. He let out a ragged groan at the feeling of your hands on him, your touch on his skin and your voice in his ear, it’s the last straw, and suddenly, he’s tipping over the edge. His body clenches, his brain shutting everything off but you, all of his focus and attention on you as the orgasm rocks through him. He presses himself as close to you as he can, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his face buried in your neck as he trembles through the aftershocks.

He was shaking, breath ragged, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, he just held you close, his grip still tight as he tried to re-remember how to breathe, how to think. He stayed like that for a moment, before he finally lifted his head, looking down at you with an expression that was a mixture of awe and love and exhaustion, his hair mussed, sweat on his brow, and damn if he wasn’t beautiful.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," you breathed out, running a hand back through his hair.

His cheeks flushed, and he leaned into your touch, letting his eyes close for a moment before he looked at you. “Pot calling the kettle black,” he muttered lowly, his hand moving up to cup your face, thumb tracing your skin with a gentle touch. “That was… god, that was something else.”

You hummed in agreement, kissing him briefly. "You're something else." He returned the kiss, lingering for a moment before he settled beside you, tugging you close and nestling you against him. He was still catching his breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and he let out a deep exhale, his body finally starting to relax.

“I don’t think I can move,” he mumbled against your skin.

A chuckle rumbled through your chest, leaning on your elbow to look at him. "No?"

He gave you a tired look, eyes still a little glazed over. “No,” he affirmed, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you down into laying with him, not willing to release you just yet. “You’ve broken me. I have no motor functions.”

"Poor baby," you mocked.

“Hey now,” he grumbled, his tone more playful than annoyed. He pulled you a little closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I just did a lot of work. I deserve a break.”

"Yeah, you did," you murmured, sincerely this time. "Seriously, I would have asked you out a lot sooner if I'd known you were this good."

His cheeks flushed at your comment, a mix of pride and embarrassment on his face. “Don’t say that,” he protested weakly, trying to feign nonchalance, but your praise made him feel a little giddy. “I haven’t, y’know, done it in a while. I might be a little rusty.”

"Liar," you claimed. "No way you haven't practiced that."

He scowled at you, the expression falling flat due to his flushed cheeks. “I’m serious,” he insisted, his arms tightening around you. “And I wasn’t ‘practicing,’ that’s a weird term.”

"What would you call it?" you asked, raising a brow.

His brain sputtered for a moment, caught off guard by the question. What was the right answer to that? “Well… I just had… needs…” His explanation sounded stupid in his head, and his cheeks only grew hotter. “God, why do you make me say this stuff?” he muttered.

You can't help but laugh into his shoulder, your body shuddering against his. "You're so cute."

He let out a scoff, half-offended and half-embarrassed, but your giggles made the feeling vanish. He couldn’t stay annoyed when you laughed like that. “Just… stop teasing me,” he grumbled, even as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

"Never," you replied, looking at him again, bright eyes and fond features.

He feigned a look of annoyance, but couldn’t keep up the expression when faced with your gaze, and his irritation quickly softened. He let out a sigh, but a small smile was starting to form at the edges of his mouth. “You’re a menace,” he said, voice low and affectionate.

"M your menace," you murmured, kissing him gently.

His heart skipped a beat at that, and he felt warmth flood his chest as he returned the kiss, soft and tender this time. He held you close, his hand sliding up to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb tracing little patterns over your skin. “Yeah,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re mine.”

[ihaznoclue]

Just recently came across your blog and saw requests were open again! I especially love the Sonic fics in the movieverse.

I’ve seen scenarios where there was a teen!Wachowski and is essentially a sibling to them. I thought it would be cute for something like Sonic, Knuckles, and maybe even Shadow (he’d have joined the family, obviously) acting protective brothers over their human sibling since they’re not nearly as strong or durable. Any scenario would do, though I can’t help but think of if it involved dating someone and they would react like: are they cool enough? Are they strong enough? Are they working for G.U.N.???

Anywho, if you get to this, I would like to see how you write it out. Thanks!

Omg yes I was thinking about something like this and I'm all for it!

Pairings -> Sonic the Hedgehog, Kunckles the Echidna, Shadow the hedgehog x Sibling Reader (platonic)

Warnings -> None

Note -> Them being protective over their human older sibling

Genre -> Fluff

Sonic The Hedgehog

I feel like he will be the less protective one out of the three of them

He would probably ask a lot of questions though to get some information about them if you were dating someone

But in all seriousness I feel like he would help you

Since he thinks he's the most romantic guy out there

Sonics just a goof, a dork

"You have a what!?" Sonic screamed out which made you quickly cover his mouth as you shushed him

"Be quiet Sonic, Mum and Dad doesn't know yet, dad would probably freak out if I told him now" You spoke out

Sonic moved you hand as he was awe "Aww you told me before anyone else?" Sonic was so happy that you told him

"But in all seriousness, what are they like?" Sonic asked "Are they cool? Sporty? Popular?"

"Woah calm down, I will tell you everything, just don't tell the other though, I'll tell them myself soon"

"Tell me the details Sib"

Knuckles The Echidna

He would be the protective one besides Shadow

Like he doesn't want your heart to be broken by a weakling

But you reassure him that this person was really sweet and wouldn't do anything to hurt you

"A what now?" Knuckles asked, Knuckles wasn't quite familiar with the term partner so you explained it to him in a simple way

"A partner is where me and that people are together in a relationship where we love each other" You explained to him hoping he would get it

Knuckle just nodded, his face still in a frown while his arms was crossed against his chest

"Are they strong enough to protect you, If not then they are not worthy of your kindness" Knuckles huffed

You just rolled your eyes "I hope they are, but please Knuckles they are really sweet and wouldn't let anything happen to me I promise"

"Have you told the others" Knuckles asked

"I did tell Sonic, but later I will tell Shadow and hope that goes well"

"You should tell him now"

Shadow The Hedgehog

Oh boy

This was going be a long conversation with you and Shadow

Shadow was quite the grumpy and protective type

You knew he was gonna ask questions about them anyway

"Hey Shads" You greeted him while he was sitting down the comfy couch

"Hey" He gruff, as he watched the TV in front of him, "I need to tell you something"

Shadow the turned off the TV then looked at you

"Are you hurt?"

"No! no I'm not I just need to speak to you about something"

"That is?"

"I have a partner"

His ear flicked at that word, he was then processing what you just said than it finally clicked

"You mean that you are in a relationship with someone?"

You nodded "Yep" Nervously sweating

"Are they secretly working for G.U.N? Are they strong enough to protect you? What if they hurt you later in the future?"

"Woah slow down Shadow, No they don't work for G.U.N if they did then I wouldn't be with them"

Shadow stared at you then sighed

"I will be fine Shads, If anything happens I know you and the others will protect me"

-A<3

[curmemini]

People hate you because you're a moron, lol.

Personally I don't remember any democrat of all my years threatening Canada like this. Or allowing corrupt billionaires to rub their dirty hands over everyone's federally protected data. Or ignoring every part of checks-and-balances we have to instill their leader as a god-king. Or up-ending the lives of thousands of career civil servants. Or openly and willfully called every person who isnt a white straight male a dei hire (read here, because you know what they mean: unqualified). I distinctly remember various attempts by the democrats to open new pathways for immigration (some of which are now closed by the fascist in chief) and alleviating debt. In my state, dems have tried to close the gap with the housing crisis by allowing renters first offer when their building goes up for sale, have tried to raise the state minimum wage multiple times, create renewable energy - all shot down by republican majority. Hey, remember how Trump cut the FAA and now we've had plane crashes every other day? You think their work to support trans people is new, you haven't been paying attention to what state- and local-level dems are doing.

I don't think dems do enough. But I also think if you truly believe they are the same, that the above differences are minor, you genuinely do not have a clue and have only been passively consuming ragebait political news from social media for the last decade.

Go back to civics class.

People really don’t understand the amount of things that the American government does that is just smoke and mirrors like you have a two party nation where the two parties are almost identical fascists with different ways of going about things and their minor discrepancies are enough to distract from the fact that almost the entire nation is in or nearing poverty and is one health scare away from literally being homeless

[multiversediaries]

at last

bucky barnes x reader

summary: after months apart, bucky finally came home.

warnings: soft!!!!!! soft buck!

masterlist

“y/n? i’m back." you heard someone say loudly. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. you lived alone, well, sometimes. you were james barnes' wife. you had met him a long time ago, you were always there for him, and he was deadly in love with you. he cared so deeply about you. if something were to happen to you, he'd lose his mind. which is why he decided to hide your marriage, to keep you out of danger's way. you walked towards your front door, wondering who it was. your eyes light up as you saw your husband standing in front of you.

"hey, doll." bucky said smiling, genuinely smiling, as he took you into his strong arms. behind him, were the avengers, all of them. they were currently in a mission, that was supposed to take a while, which was the reason you were so surprised to see your husband back at your shared house.

"what's happening?" you heard tony say, confused at the sight of you two. you giggled a bit, pulling away from your hug. bucky smiled at you, taking in how gorgeous you looked. he wrapped his hand around your waist.

"i'm sorry i didn't let you know in advance, but we needed a place where we couldn't be tracked." bucky said, his voice as soft as always. you noticed the confused faces whilst your husband spoke to you as he has always done, soft and incredibly sweetly. you nodded, softly humming in response, a big smile planted on your lips, understanding him.

"alright, robocop, spill. where are we and who's the lovely woman?" tony asked, making your cheeks flush softly. you heard bucky sigh. you rubbed his back gently.

"she's bucky's wife, tony." steve said, gaining your attention. you smiled at him, he chuckled at you. "it's nice to see you again, y/n." he said, leaning over to hug you. you instantly hugged him back, squeezing him gently. steve was present at your wedding. you couldn't help but smile at tony's reaction. everyone always reacted the same way about your marriage to james. it sometimes made your heart ache. because how could so many people think that he's unloveable?

"wife?" natasha spoke in surprise, as you looked at her. you knew nat. you were a widow. you escaped a few years after she did. you gave her a hug as well, glad to see she was doing well. "you didn't tell me you got married. i must admit, my feelings are hurt." she sad, pouting, you laughed.

"it was my idea. i just- i didn't want her in any danger." bucky said, as you looked back up at your husband. you smiled at him, his hand tracing circles on your skin. natasha nodded.

"well, come inside." you said softly, walking into your living room, everyone following behind you. they all took seats around your couch. you walked up to your bathroom, grabbing your first aid kit, as you saw some of them were injured.

"everything alright?" you said gently, as you sat across from tony, who had a few cuts on his face. bucky stood by the door frame, as he watched you.

"it just got complicated." steve said, sighing. you nodded, not wanting to intrude. you began cleaning tony's wounds, earning a few hisses from him. you tried to be as gentle as possible.

"i'm sorry, i just don't get it." tony said, breaking the silence, looking at you. you tilted your head in confusion, as you applied a band aid on his small cut. "how can someone like you be married to him?" he asked cockily. you laughed a bit at his words. you knew tony and bucky were not in a good place, after all, the winter soldier was responsible for his parents' deaths. but that wasn't bucky's fault.

"because you only know the winter soldier, but i know james barnes." you simply said, moving onto clint's injuries. bucky couldn't help but smile at your words. that was something he loved about you, how unashamed you were to love him. even after everything he had done, you wouldn't leave his side. he felt so undeserving of you.

after cleaning all of their wounds, you prepared some food for them. you wanted to help as much as you could, and it just felt so nice to have people around. you didn't have many friends apart from bucky, steve and natasha. you smiled as you watched the avengers dine, talking over their mission as you cleaned the dishes. you felt someone's hand wrap around you. you smiled, almost instantly.

"i missed you, darling." bucky said, planting a sweet kiss to your neck. you smiled widely, turning around to face him. you wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging his body close to yours.

"i missed you even more, barnes. have you been doing alright?" you asked softly, your hands now laying in his cheeks, caressing his gorgeous features. you had spent so much time apart from him. almost three months apart. you felt empty without your other half. he nodded, kissing your forehead.

"i'm okay. i just want to be here with you." he said softly. your hands ran to now caress his back, as you looked up at bucky.

"i know, baby. but they need you. and honestly, you need them too." you said, leaning up to kiss his jaw. he nodded, before planting a sweet peck to your lips. he walked back towards your dining table, and continued the conversation about their mission.

it was very late at night already. all of the guys were resting. you had a lot of empty rooms, so you were able to offer a room to every single one of them. you wanted them to be comfortable, after everything they had gone through lately. you yawned softly as you waited for bucky on your shared bed. he walked out of the bathroom, drying his wet hair on a towel. you smiled at him, you couldn't believe he was back. he sat by the end on the bed and just looked at you. you smiled at him, before standing up, to help him off his prosthetic arm.

"it's alright, doll. maybe i should keep it on." he said, staring up at you as you stood right in front of him. you placed both your hands on his face.

"you're home, buck. you're safe." you said lightly, earning a shaky breath to leave his mouth. he wrapped his arms around your hips, hugging you. your hands ran to his soft hair, before planting a sweet kiss on his head.

"for the first time in a while, i was scared, y/n." you heard bucky say, you listened to his every word, as you played with his hair. "i was terrified of not coming back to you." he said, his arms tightening around you, earning a frown from you.

"james.." you said softly, trying your hardest to find his eyes. he was scared, you could tell. you wonder what had happened to have him this shaken up.

"it's just so much worse than we thought.. i'm not sure we'll be able to do something about it." he said, now looking up to meet your gorgeous eyes. you sighed softly.

"you'll be okay, my love. you will all be okay." you said, as you felt his hands pulling you even closer to him, as if he needed to feel you close. "i don't know the extent of what's happening, but i do know one thing. you guys are the earth's mightest heroes. it's alright to have doubts, but don't let them control you. you may not know what to do right now, but you will soon enough." you said, one of your hands running to his check to caress his beautiful face. "we all need a break sometimes. take this time to rest, and reflect. and a solution will come to you. but for now, rest, baby." you finished. he sighed and nodded. you always knew what to say.

"gosh, doll. i have missed you so much. being apart from you is torture." he said, now letting go of your waist. you smiled widely, kissing him lovingly, before helping him take off his arm. you placed it on the case and walked back to him, you placed a kiss to his shoulder, climbing back to bed once again.

bucky followed you to bed, laying his head on your chest. your hand ran to his hair, your fingers getting lost into his brown hair. bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you as close as he possible could. you placed small kisses to his head and forehead, as your gentle giant fell asleep peacefully in your arms.

at last. he was home.

[brattyspence]

white noise | s.r

a/n: don't look at me i'm nervous for this

summary: spencer x reader -- a situationship defined by white noise; a metaphor for how we pacify ourselves and make stupid decisions to experience comfort, even when it hurts

word count: 1.2k (shut up okay)

masterlist

As you roll over in his bed, the soft white noise of feathers settling in down pillows and sheets crumpling up under your body echoes through your head. This white noise, his white noise, the sound of jersey sheets and an old ceiling fan and his heartbeat under your ear and him, which you've learned to fall asleep to more often than not.

It's cold in his room, but the still bed radiates warmth. There's a domestic quality to the way his fingertips trail up and down your arm, tracing lines over your shoulder absentmindedly. It's possessive somehow, in a way that says I’ve been here before, I’ll be here again. 

There's a trait to Spencer that you can't quite put your finger on. It's familiar. It's falling asleep with your back against his stomach, his breathing pattern long engraved in your physiology. Its the thrum of the engine in his shitty old Volvo when he picks you up from work when you're too tired to walk. It's forehead kisses and whispered things that replay in your mind when you're struggling to put together all of the pieces.

Spencer is white noise. 

You could be upset about it. You should, in fact. Spencer’s commitment to non-commitment haunts you more often than not. The domesticity of your situation sneaks up on you sometimes, in the form of remembered coffee orders, the lingering touch of his hand on your hip when you go out together. He’s perfected all the things to make you feel like you belong to him, but he just can’t find the words to make it true. Still, you’ve become so used to him that you’re not sure you can quit despite your feelings.

Sunlight just barely makes its way through his blinds by the time he’s awake. It's morning, earlier than you'd like it to be, but you always wake up with him when you're here. 

Your eyes flutter open and closed a few times before they focus, the room filled with the warm light emanating from the sconces. Light that hardens edges and raises new questions and drives a wedge between you, literally. This time of day has long become the bane of your existence. 

“Morning,” he murmurs. He brushes the hair out of your eyes with the softest touch you've ever felt. You instinctively scrunch your face, too close to sleep to process, and you don't realize what he's doing until he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your only response is an inaudible mumble. He doesn't need words to know what you're saying. It's come back to bed, it's I'm so tired, and it's too early,

“Coffee’s on,” he says. 

“Hm,” you hum. 

And so it goes as it does every day. A mug–your mug–, filled with coffee made to your liking left on the kitchen counter for you. A toothbrush left in the holder in your favorite color. You both get ready in silence, a practiced ritual, making space for each other with lingering touches where needed. 

“Lock the door when you leave?” He asks. You can hear the sound of his bag being shucked over his shoulder, and in an instant he’s behind you, warm hands on your hips and a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

You spend the day waiting, as you always do, for him to invite you back in. You know its pathetic, that you should be better than this. You think of all the advice you’ve ever received about love and relationships and what not to do. How not to be desperate. The second his message crosses your screen, any semblance of logic fades. it doesn’t matter. 

When you finally stumble through the entryway to his apartment, the day drops to your feet like shattered glass, shoes and bags and jackets left on the floor, discarded, forgotten, because you’re here. You can go back to pretending for just a little bit longer. 

Its 11pm when you find yourself right back where you started. In his bed, wearing clothes that live in his drawers, the ceiling fan set to your preferred speed. You’re half asleep on the side of the bed that you’ve claimed as your own, at least for 5 nights a week, your cheek pressed into his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart continuing to etch itself into your memory. 

The day weighs heavy on you as it always does. Almost as heavy as the weight of all the things left unspoken, which you’ve been carrying around as long as you’ve known him.

“Spencer?” You murmur, fingertips idlying toying at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Hm?”

You pause to listen to the sound of your fingers running over the fabric of his shirt. Theres the gentle hum of the heater, the flickering of a TV left on somewhere. There’s comfort to how things are. Asking the question in your mind could disrupt that. 

“Do you think,” you swallow, adjusting your head against him to look up at him. “That you’ll change your mind?”

“About us?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, and your head bobs with the rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t know. Maybe one day.”

Silence lingers between you for a moment. It swells within every corner of your being.

“One day.”

“Maybe,” he corrects. It’s not biting or mean, but it's a deflection. “I don’t know, baby.”

It takes a lot to avoid the temptation to press him. He’s a hypocrite, at minimum. You could tell him all sorts of things about how he’s wrong, and how he doesn’t get it. That it’s not fair that he gets you in every form; asleep, awake, happy, sad, in bed, at work, and you get nothing to show for it. You could give him shit for being exactly how he is, but you don’t. Instead you choose to hold on to maybe. Maybe – an empty promise, but one you’ll accept in exchange for whatever time he will give you.

Instead you sigh, scooting closer. He tucks your head right into position, the same way you sleep every night, with practiced ease. His hands find their home against your skin, leaving warm spots on your back that lull you halfway to sleep before you try again. 

“I’m waiting for you,” you mumble. The words slip out before you can think about the weight of them. It’s an admission, a request, a plea. It’s stupid. It makes you feel sick in more ways than one, but it’s the truth.

“Go to sleep,” he replies.

It’s an open ended question. Its a chance to pick a fight, to force him to make up his mind. Its an opportunity to tell him off. Tonight, though, you don’t bother thinking about how his words lack substance. How he dances around every question. You don’t have time to notice just how upset you really are before he presses another kiss to your forehead. 

Tonight, you choose this. White noise; the illusion of belonging, his heartbeat under your cheek, hands running across bare skin, the quiet comfort of him –  his home, his space. Him. 

You choose white noise, static, empty promises, the comfort of being here as compared to anywhere else. Maybe tomorrow it will all matter. But not tonight.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I fully will never understand the problem some people have with touching (or rather, not touching) black people's hair, like I might've done that as a kid (honestly don't remember), but then I also did stuff like trying to run into traffic and bringing worms into the house, because two-year-old me didn't know any better!

If you're old enough to have learned about things like 'we don't touch what isn't ours' then you're old enough to apply that to other people's bodies as well as their possessions and I have no sympathy for you if you get slapped for violating someone's boundaries like that!

(also genuinely what is the appeal? Is it just that it...looks different to white people's hair? I actually don't understand /gen)

if the history of the world has taught us one thing it's that white people have a difficult time keeping our hands off of things that don't belong to us

in terms of a serious answer while it varies from person to person I've noticed that this is especially likely to manifest in white women who find themselves in social or professional spaces with Black people, especially Black women, after not previously having had much contact with anyone Black. among white women I think there's this kind of vague awareness that Black hair is different than ours in terms of how it's cared for, maintained, and styled (which, you know, fair enough! that's true!) that manifests as. just fucking grabbing for it like a child at a petting zoo and acting like that's a compliment when they would never in a million years pull that shit on another white woman. whether we acknowledge it or not, it very much comes from a mindset where white hair is the default and people who have afro-textured hair and protective hairstyles should just expect to be treated like oddities.

additionally I think a lot of my fellow white women use their like half-formed understanding that many Black women art sporting "fake" hair - wigs, extensions, sewn-in braids, etc - and come to the conclusion that it's totally fine to get grabby, as if that's not still?? getting all up in someone's face touching them without their permission?

I also want to note that this is a form of anti-Blackness that's definitely not exclusive to white people; I once had a Vietnamese coworker who was an absolute fiend for trying to pet our Black coworkers no matter how many times they told her to cut it out.

[adriellej]

See I'm not per se disabled, but I have taken two nasty falls from a horse back in 2023, I have since then had chronic lower back pains for 1,5 years... Still have them, but on January 5th, the beginning of a new year of properly coming back to my riding, I caused my chronic back pain to become acute pain instead... Which means I can barely walk now, I can walk 600 meters on a good day, I can't sit on a chair, I can't bend over to pick things up from the floor, I can't drive my own car, I'm not allowed to carry anything heavy, which means I can't actually carry my 5 and 6 months nephew and niece, I also can't do my job as a NICU nurse... I can only sleep on my back and I have to take so much medicine all the damn freaking time... I don't just have the pain in my back, I now also have some problems with my nerves that cause pain to radiate from my back and into my legs, feet, arms and hands... I have pain breakthroughs where I cry for an hour because the pain won't stop, when these happen, from a scale of 1-10, it's 20. I have sensory disturbances, where my left foot suddenly burns up from the inside but my foot is cold. I had new MRI taken in hopes they could find the reason to it, hopefully it won't be anything bad, but we don't know. I'm 26 years old, and I can't do anything at all, but lay on my couch and play videogames or watch series or movies, but that's almost it. I sometimes get taken out to the horse I ride, but I can't really do anything but maybe groom him, but that's it. I've had people say, oh just wait, it'll be worse when you're 40... And I honestly can't imagine being in more pain than I already am, this is excruciating as it is. Sorry for my rambles, I just really get this, because I'm terrified I might not get back to working as a nurse, or maybe I won't ever ride again, and riding, that's my whole life, it's always been my whole life... And I just can't handle that I might not get to ever sit on a horse again. Or get back to work...

If you're a disabled young person, you've most likely been hit with the "pfft you think you're in pain now? Just wait til you're my age" bullshit from older people at least once. Everyone talks about how invalidating it is

But I haven't seen anybody mention how it's terrifying, too. Yes, I know health deteriorates with age. I know that old age is a disability unto itself. I know that the healthiest person alive will start getting aches and pains past the age of 40 and may even need mobility aids

I know all this stuff. And it always makes me think "yeah, if I can't walk without joint pain even while using mobility aids AT AGE 21, how painful will life be for me at the age where it gets painful for everyone?"

And it's hard not to feel like I'm doomed, y'know? Where most people get a period of health that they wish they appreciated more when they start to lose it, my starting point was a body that doesn't work properly and it's only gonna get worse from there. It's worse every fucking year.

TLDR stop telling disabled young people that their pain will only get worse to the point of being unimaginable as they age, WE FUCKING KNOW

[jo-harrington]

Antiquing v. Thrifting (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: You have a little booth at the local antique market and the owner of the neighboring booth tends to get on your nerves.

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Slight enemies to lovers, meet cute, misunderstandings, fluff, banter

Note: This is a late birthday gift to one of my fandom loves who has become an amazing friend IRL too. @bettyfrommars. Betty thank you for being one of my weirdo soulmates, loving old gameshows, wishing we could live in a mid century modern house with all of the original fun appliances. You are one of my favorite people and since I can't send you my bowling ball (one day) I've written this for you. Love you.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

--

There was not much to drive you to want to murder someone. In fact, you would say that you were probably one of the most easygoing people you knew. And you knew plenty of people.

But the person at the receiving end of your ire, and the target of your bloodlust, was one of the most inconsiderate assholes you knew.

Actually, you didn’t even know who it was.

You’d been one of the vendors at The Little Traveler's Antique Market for years. You had a booth along the back wall, acquired when you realized your love of vintage Pyrex was getting a little too overzealous for your shoebox-cum-condo. Besides, the thrill of the hunt was the real thing that you enjoyed: estate sales and rummage sales and thrift stores were filled with treasures just waiting for you to find.

So a few shelves of Gooseberry and Butterprint went up, and eventually it turned into a haven for all sorts of vintage pieces. It was a shrine to your whims, rather than any real desire to find monetary value. Of course, people seemed to flock to it, so the cash you made from it was nice..but that was neither here nor there.

It was something you were good at, and something you loved. You'd met some very interesting people--and some of your closest friends--because of it. Heard the best stories.

Unfortunately, you'd also met some of the most insufferable people because of it too. Or rather, in this case, one insufferable person you pointedly had not met.

It had started when a bunch of Royal Doulton character mugs showed up in your space. And they weren't terrible, but they just weren't yours. Your hand-picked selection of Hazel Atlas glasses had been carelessly shoved to the side on a vintage mahogany sideboard you'd painstakingly hauled in, and in their place were Paddy and Toby and George Fucking Washington, all staring goofily up at you.

Ok, so maybe the Anne Boleyn one wasn't bad.

It was the principle of it. There were unspoken rules in an Antique Market. You just didn't encroach on someone else's space.

You painted the kindest smile you could manage--which, in all honesty, probably looked more like you were baring your teeth--and headed up to the front to confront the manager of the market.

"Margie," you began with a saccharine tone. You set the Anne Boelyn mug down on the counter. "May I kindly ask who Seller 86 is?"

"Oh, that's our new guy," she laughed, oblivious. "Ed. Great guy. He's got some fun stuff."

"Yeah, real fun."

"We did a little shuffle over the weekend," she continued, diving into one of her rambling midwest-isms. "Jim wanted to downsize, which opened a bigger space for Michelle to move into. One thing led to another, and I put Ed in Chelle's old space, next to yours. Hope you don't mind."

What could you say except a cordial of course not? Even as you were left to grumble and mope back to your booth to move all of the Royal Doulton back to Ed's new space. You set them out on a folding table he had in the corner, very nice and neat, which was your standard.

You might have also left a little, tiny, friendly, scathing note.

No big deal.

And you wouldn't lie, you snooped a little.

Come on, everyone else would, too. It was just...shopping. Not snooping.

You couldn't judge the wild array of things he had for sale; much like you, it seemed that everything in Ed's booth was suited to his tastes, because there was just a vibe of "who in their right mind would put some of this shit together." Little taxidermy animals playing poker, postcards from the most random places, vintage beer and coffee cans that, though empty, looked as new as the day they were bought. Garfield and Snoopy memorabilia. And mugs...so many mugs, as far as the eye could see.

It was charming, you could admit that, as long as it all stayed on his side of the vaguely-defined boundary between your booths.

Unfortunately, it did not.

It was never anything major but it was enough to annoy you. Books left out on a table, vinyl records in a crate in a corner, gaudy biker costume jewelry thrown in one of your mixing bowls. Each time you went to restock your booth, you'd have to find whatever treasures he left behind and return them, along with another note.

It was like finding the secret little corner where your cat pissed because they were mad at you. Admittedly, this might've been worse because you were proud. So very proud of your booth. It was a snapshot of you, after all. But that was sullied by little pieces of Ed, a guy you didn't even know, who seemed to enjoy pissing strangers off.

Every week, he metaphorically photobombed your snapshot at the last second and your perfect polaroid had bunny ears.

Or a crude gesture.

Or sometimes even his whole, bare ass.

And you were simply not vindictive enough to do anything about it.

It just wasn't worth the trouble to actually return the favor to him, or better yet, get him kicked from the market altogether. What if his little booth was his livelihood? What if this was how he made ends meet? Your pride wasn't worth ruining something for someone else.

Yes. You were a pushover.

You, surprisingly, got a reprieve for a few weeks.

Each time you'd gone to restock your booth with fun new treasures, there were no hidden trinkets waiting for you. Actually, Ed's booth didn't even look like it had been restocked or touched at all. There were holes in his displays where his wares had been purchased but not replenished. Was he on vacation? Maybe he was under the weather.

You took it upon yourself to spend a few minutes shuffling his mugs like a good neighbor would.

It was a disappointment relief.

Why wouldn't it be a relief? It wasn't like you'd started looking forward to what and where you'd find Ed's little surprises. It wasn't the thrill you'd get when the adrenaline spiked with your anger.

No, not at all.

"What's got you so pouty?" Margie asked as you trudged through the doors about three weeks after Ed's initial disappearance. "Did Dunkin get your coffee wrong again? That's how I know my morning is gonna be shitty."

"Must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed," you gave a weak excuse and headed towards your booth.

You were juggling an armful of tote bags and your coat, so you didn't notice the stranger standing in your space as you approached, until they turned around and spotted you.

"Oh, hey, lemme help you with that," came the rasp of a friendly voice as you rounded the corner. You looked up, surprised, as a set of hands hoisted the heaviest of your tote bags from your grasp.

He was like a relic, frozen in time. In a good way, though, like a well-kept polaroid from the 80s. Faded band tee, bootcut blue jeans, leather jacket that looked butter-soft from eons of wear. His hair was on the longer side and tied back; salt-and-pepper streaks proudly confirmed his personal antique status, along with the crows feet surrounding his deep, warm brown eyes.

He was a gentleman...and he was cute.

You felt like an idiot as your eyes slid down to his left hand on instinct. But there was no ring, so that self-loathing feeling disappeared. Well, no wedding ring, actually. He had a gunmetal band on his pointer finger, and a silver signet ring on his pinky.

Time returned to its appropriate speed as he hauled the tote onto your folding table just a few feet away.

"Jesus, what've you got in here? Bricks?" he laughed. "Are you trying to put Home Depot out of business?"

"Uh..." You floundered for words. "P-pewter tea pots. One of my regulars is getting married. Asked me to keep an eye out for them for her centerpieces."

"Never seen that at a wedding before."

"How many weddings have you been to?" You questioned.

"Well, my buddy Gareth alone has gotten married 3 times." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against your sideboard. "So I think I've got a pretty good chance that I've seen it all.

"Is there anything I can help you find today?" you asked, laying your best customer service voice on thickly. You busied yourself with unpacking your bags so you wouldn't have to look at the charming, crooked smile that settled on his mouth. "Was there anything that caught your eye before my hopeless self stumbled over here?"

"Ah," he pushed off the sideboard and tilted his head up so he could scratch along the length of his neck. "I, uh, was looking at your cookie jars, actually."

"Oh yeah?" You looked up at that and glanced over to the hutch in the corner that held an array of Pillsbury doughboys in various, charming poses. "Can I tell you a secret? I used to hate watching commercials with Poppin' Fresh. That claymation was frightening. I think he's pretty cute now, though."

You abandoned your unpacking and approached the hutch to try and figure which cookie jar he'd been intrigued by. You picked up a jar that had its lid askew and were about to ask if he wanted you to bring it up to the counter for him, when you lifted the lid and looked inside.

And found a rubber-banded stack of Metallica cassettes carefully nestled inside.

You felt your face get hot as you stared at the track listing and colorful cover art of Ride the Lightning. Coincidentally the same album that was on this newcomer's t-shirt.

"So," you huffed and slammed the lid on the cookie jar, careless of any damage it might cause. "You're Ed, huh?"

He chuckled behind you, "Eddie, actually. I prefer to go by Eddie. But yeah, that's me." You pivoted on your heel and glared at him; he faltered under your burning gaze. "Nice to, uh, meet you. Neighbor."

And with that, you let him have it.

You might've blacked out at some point during the absolute barrage of a verbal dressing down you gave him. How dare he not respect the etiquette of the market and stay within the confines of his allotted space, how dare he waste your time week after week as simply minded your own business and sold your trinkets, and how dare he ignore every single note that you left behind.

The fucker had the audacity to look amused with every word that fell from your lips.

In the end, you stood there, huffing and puffing as you caught your breath and felt several months of anger finally extinguish.

"You done there, killer?" Eddie asked with a smirk. "You feel better?"

"Yeah," you shouted one last time, then lowered your voice. "Yes I do."

"Alright, good." He nodded. "Gotta get it out sometimes, otherwise you might get an ulcer. Or develop alcoholism."

"Might be close to both, to be honest," you muttered.

"Shit, then I'm extra, extra sorry that I put you through all of that, sweetheart." He laid a hand over his heart. "This is my first rodeo selling in a place like this, I didn't realize that everyone was so...territorial."

"Yeah, well. Most of the time I'm not." Lies. You were a liar. "I think the thing that pissed me off more is that I kept leaving notes for you and you kept ignoring them and messing with my shit."

Eddie looked bashful all of a sudden. "Oh shit. See I thought you were just flirting with me."

Talk about a record-scratch moment; what...what had he just said?

"Flirting?" you asked.

"I mean, yeah, not to sound cocky either because I was definitely flirting right back at you. What do they call it in the movies? A...meet cute moment? I thought it was fun. You leave me a sarcastic, threatening note, and I leave you a little treasure hunt to solve. Like a...fucked up version of You've Got Mail."

"That's nothing like You've Got Mail," you pointed out.

There was a beat.

"I think this is a really good time to mention that I fell asleep halfway through You've Got Mail," he explained with a laugh. "Regardless, I read things wrong. That's on me. But I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

He held his hand out to you and his brows shifted upwards and behind his dated bangs.

You worried at your bottom lip for a moment and tried to claw at the vestiges of your anger for a second, but this guy...he looked like such a kicked puppy...and you suppose that it was a cute way to flirt with someone you'd never met.

God, you really needed to work on that pushover thing.

"It's alright," you told him as you slid your hand into his and accepted his apology. "As long as you don't do it again."

"Cross my heart," he nodded enthusiastically.

You introduced yourself, formally, and offered your help in the future if he needed it. He introduced himself and told you that he would appreciate any pointers that you had to give.

"I'm pretty new to this whole...thrift thing," he shrugged. "I've had a bunch of this stuff in storage for a while. I used to move around a lot, you accumulate a lot of junk. And then my uncle...some of this stuff is his. Was his. He passed away last year. Finally decided I couldn't keep hoarding it all anymore. Turns out, I had a lot more shit than I thought I did."

"Story of my life," you laughed and offered your condolences. "It's hard, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of."

"Tell me about it."

"But, I do have one main lesson for you," you offered.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked. "Already? Just when I thought I couldn't fuck it up any more."

"It's an Antique Market," you told him. "Not a Thrift Store."

"There's a difference?" Eddie asked sarcastically, although a blush bloomed on his cheeks. "Guess the learning curve is much steeper than I thought."

"It's alright. You'll get it sooner or later." You smiled at him, trying to be as friendly and supportive as you could.

He stared at you for maybe a few seconds too long, then shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked forwards on his heels.

"Maybe you could explain it to me, in-depth?" he questioned. "Antiquing, thrifting, whatever."

"Of course," you agreed, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

"Over lunch?" He asked with a nervous smile. "There's a great diner up the road. And I figure I owe you one for all the anguish I put you through anyway."

You stared at him in shock for a second, wondering how to respond. First there was the comment about the flirting...and now this. What if he was a creep? But he didn't seem like as much of a jackass as you thought he was...and he was cute.

Oh, what the hell.

"You know what? Why not? I'm a girl who loves a free patty melt," you winked at him bravely. "It's a date!"