#and most of these sound ridiculous even to me

[say-duhnelle]

The thing is... this sounds ridiculous when stated like this but it's unfortunately a lot more true than it seems like it ought to be. I took an antebellum Alabama history course in college and one of the things that we discussed was that the majority of white people in the South were not plantation owners with dozens of slaves - if they were middle class they may have had one or two but the working class whites generally had none, did not benefit from slavery, and also suffered significantly from the economic inequality that it enabled in most of the state. But in political matters and eventually during the war, they still overwhelmingly supported the practice... because keeping black people enslaved (and free blacks limited in their legal personhood) meant that they were guaranteed to never be at the bottom of the social totem pole.

The thing that doesn't click for me is, why would you prefer to stay that miserable one step above rock bottom for life rather than work toward a society where everyone's position improves other than a small number of people who were already lightyears beyond "comfortable" in the first place. Some people will probably credit it to an early incarnation of the "temporarily embarrassed millionaire" mindset, looking out for a hypothetical future version of themself who wins the lottery or whatever, but even in the modern context... I hope the average person is not so out of touch with reality?

Nonetheless one constant of political strategizing on the left since 2015 or earlier is that strategists really are abjectly failing to consider the outsized influence that racism has on the voting decisions of a significant portion of the population. They may not be willing to admit it out loud in a poll or a survey, but they feel it in their hearts and when they're alone in the ballot box they're not bound by their shame to make the "socially acceptable" choice. When the Democrats realize this and start developing their campaigns accordingly (I don't mean by catering to the racists, to be clear) they might FINALLY make the breakthrough to national efficacy rather than somehow constantly playing second fiddle to a GOP that is a literal dumpster fire in jurisdictions where their policies would be overwhelmingly more beneficial to the locals

*taps sign*

[tojisteddy]

i was thinking about

meanie!simon, daddy!kink (the most icky as possible, please, its a need !!) + piss!kink

am i weird ? 😞

cw: 18+ mdni, dead dove, smut, daddy kink (it’s icky), piss!kink, meanie!simon, kinda dd!lg.

a/n: I don’t usually write piss!kink (and I probably won’t in the future) but I will for you baby <33, you’re not weird!! lol this was fun to write.

There are a lot of things in this world that Simon hates.

First being, your shitty apartment. It’s too fucking small (his baby needs space instead of this stupid studio), and he’s hitting his head on something, the hot water only works after five minutes, the neighbors above you are too fuckin loud, and your refrigerator always breaks once a month and the repair man won’t come so who has to get down there, and fix whatever fucking broke the last time?

Simon, of course.

Why you were still living there? Simon doesn’t fucking know. But instead of bein at his place, fuckin you into the mattress like he usually does for your afternoon nap, you’re both in this cramped flat—

Resulting in the second thing he hated: you’re need to hide your moans. It was so bad when you first got together, he had to teach you out of the bad habit, your ex— the son of a bitch— didn’t like you loud and dumb when he fucked you.

Fucking stupid cunt.

But every time you were back in this damned flat, you’d revert. The walls are basically dry wall and you so desperately wanted your neighbors to like you since they’d been nice. Simon could give less of a fuck about what other people think, so he’s holding your wrists as he rams into your tight pussy, your pretty tits moving in perfect motion with every thrust, and you tried to bite your moan but Simons slapping your thigh.

“Let it out or you won’t cum.”

Simon presses into you, thrusting deeper, harsher, the sound of his balls against your sopping cunt— so damn lewd, you can’t help but let out a moan that hits all four of the walls of your apartment beautifully. Easy to correct, Simon praises you, shuddering when you pulse around him, mumbling a ‘good fucking girl’

Third: all those things bundled together, the thing to put the chairs on top to all the ridiculous shit— you looking up at with with those big, pretty, and stupid brown eyes, lashes fluttering, through a moan— “Pa, I-I have to pee.”

He ignored you the first time the words slip out your lips, fucks you right through your first orgasm but youre crawling up the sheets of your bed, “Hold it.”

“I can’t!” You keen, you wither around in the bed, half of Simons cock still sitting in you, your mixed cum dripping onto the sheets.

Simon groans, pulling out fully and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Slapping your ass harshly, one for every word, “You’re so. God. damn. annoying.”

“You’re god damn annoying.” You retort, slapping at his back. You don’t even realize he’s taken you to the bathroom. Siting you on the toilet and kicking your feet open. You try to squeeze your legs shut but Simon bends down this time, prying your legs open, looking right at your folds, “Go.” 

“Get out Simon.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you to watch!” You whine, shaking your head.

“Can’t always get what we want, can we swee’art?” He breaths through his nose, pressing on your abdomen, unflinching as your scratch at him.

“But Daddy!—“

Simon snatches your jaw in his hands tight, tilting your head down to look at him, “fuckin go.”

You feel the damn break within your abdomen, pee trickling down into the toilet. Your eyes well up with tears full of embarrassment. Incoherent babbles leaving you.

“See, wasn’t that hard, was it?” He has the damned smirk on his face. Simon chuckles, wiping you down with toilet paper, flushing and standing you up so you can both wash your hands. You’re a sobbing mess, stomping your feet and pouting while he’s still right behind you.

“You’re g-gross.”

“Sure am.”

“Daddy you shouldn’t— hicc- daddy’s shouldn’t d-do that.”

“What’d I say about comparing me to other men?”

Simon loved to see you in such a belligerent state, tears glistening those pretty cheeks, his sweet baby. He would be the only one who’d ever see you like this.

He’s plops you back on the bed, grabbing one of your stuffed animals and putting it in your arms. You’re a clutch onto it in both arms, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. gorgeous thing.

“Gonna fuck you nice ‘nd good, then you’re gonna shut up and sleep, alright?”

You sniff, “Yes, sir.”

most recent masterlist more meanie!simon

[huxhsz]

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ the most optimal way to hug

— synopsis: it's too hot, but you want to keep hugging caleb. luckily, you know the most optimal way to hug.

— note/s: literal na lutong-luto na ako. para akong nilagay sa kalan tapos tinakpan ng takip. di na nga air fryer to bro sunog-levels na. i JUST stepped outside for five minutes and i swear i felt my soul leaving my body. yung electric fan? useless. parang lang siyang sinampal ako ng mainit na hangin. "oh gusto mo ba ng hangin? o eto, lasang impyerno!!" braah ang init talaga gr LIKE BRO. I STEPPED on this innocent-looking banig sa sementeryo as in, "oh wow, ganda ng view, tahimik dito, imissyoulolo" TAPOS BIGLANG BLAZING CIRCLE OF PAIN. BAKIT PARANG I NAPAKO SA KRUS NG KALDERETA??? barefoot ako syempre respectfullll. tapos BOOM. pag-apak ko, kinuyog ako ng init. hindi ako nakiramay AKO 'yung nilibing. pinadala ako ni banig sa kabilang buhay. BRO I LOOKED AT THE SKY LIKE "lord, si lolo po yung dinalaw ko, bakit ako yung sinusundo?" and syempre, pinilit kong hindi mag-react in front of my fam like, "hmm yes, solemn moment, deep thoughts" rest in peace sa talampakan ko. kasama ka na kay lolo.

the room is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels deep and comfortable, like everything is perfectly in place. the air conditioning hums softly in the corner, providing a steady coolness that contrasts with the warmth of the blankets. you roll onto your side, eyes squinting at the ceiling as you try to get comfortable. the heat from the covers is way too much. you can feel your body starting to overheat, but you’re not quite ready to let go of the cocoon of warmth either.

caleb's already in his own little world next to you. his back is to you, his chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths. the dim glow from the nightlight illuminates his silhouette. his arm is thrown across his face, shielding his eyes from the soft light.

you lie there, thinking about it for a moment. you really do want to cuddle—just not the typical way. you need to be close, but you can’t handle the heat of your arms all tangled up with his. it’s like having a personal heater shoved right into your side.

so, without much thought, you turn to face him, adjusting the blanket and maneuvering to settle your legs around his body, one leg draping over his waist, the other over his thigh. it's a bit of a sideways hug, your legs winding around him like a gentle vine. you nestle your head into the pillow, satisfied with your makeshift solution.

you can’t help but feel a little pleased with yourself. this is perfect. cold, but still hugging.

you hear caleb shift, and you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes, watching as he slowly pulls his arm from his face, blinking sleepily at your creative, chilly embrace.

“...are you wrestling me in your sleep?” his voice is rough with sleep, a little groggy but still playful.

you don’t answer at first, instead squirming closer, adjusting your legs to get even more comfortable. “nope. not wrestling. hugging. with my legs.”

caleb stares at you for a moment, the corner of his lips twitching. “that’s… not how hugging works.”

you giggle sleepily, the sound almost drowning in the softness of the room. “it does now. arms are too hot. legs are more efficient.”

he lifts his head a little more, watching you with amusement as he takes in your ridiculous but endearing position. “you’re strange, you know that?” he mutters, still with a smile in his voice.

“i’m cool.” you roll your eyes dramatically. “i’m hugging you with my legs because i’m too hot for a regular hug.”

he snorts, trying to hold back a laugh, but he can’t stop it. the warmth in his chest builds, but it’s the good kind. the kind that makes him reach out, fingers grazing over your leg where it’s draped across his body, a touch that’s casual but tender all the same.

“you’re cold enough that i might need a blanket for both of us,” he says, his voice low and teasing. his fingers slowly trace the outline of your leg, making small circles against your skin. it’s a simple gesture, but the affection behind it makes you feel like you’re floating.

you stretch your legs a little further, the coolness of your toes brushing against his side, and he shudders lightly. “see? optimal cold hug,” you say, snuggling in deeper, your head resting against his shoulder now. you don’t care about the position anymore; it’s the closeness that matters. “arms are overrated anyway. legs are the future.”

caleb can’t help but chuckle softly, the sound warm and lazy. “future of hugging, huh?” his voice carries that playful edge you’ve grown used to, but there’s an undertone to it—a softness, a quiet affection that he doesn't bother hiding. he pulls you closer with a slight tug of your leg, his chest now pressed to your back, and his arm wrapping around your waist as if it’s second nature.

you let out a contented sigh, your body relaxing under the weight of his arm and the warmth of his presence. there’s a certain magic in the way he always knows just how to make you feel safe—whether it’s through small gestures like this or the way he always seems to understand you without words.

for a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the soft rustle of the sheets, and the faint hum of the air conditioning. you can feel the heat of his body mingling with the coolness of yours, and despite the small, almost ridiculous hug you’ve devised, it feels perfect.

“you’re so weird,” caleb murmurs into the silence, but there’s no bite to it. it’s not a complaint; it’s more of a resigned observation, like he’s just come to accept it. “but you’re also the best, you know that?”

you smile, the kind of lazy smile that only comes after a long day of being with someone you care about. “yeah, i know. i’m awesome. you should be grateful you get to hug me with my superior leg-hugging technology.”

he laughs softly at that, the sound vibrating against your back. “i am. believe me, i am.”

there’s a comfortable silence again, the kind you only find when everything feels right. the kind where, even though you’re half-arguing over leg-hugging efficiency, there’s nothing you’d rather be doing than lying next to him.

caleb’s hand moves, absentmindedly rubbing up and down your leg, and you feel the warmth of his fingers sink into your skin, the slight pressure a reminder of how close you are. how much you mean to him.

eventually, his hand stills, and his breath evens out. you’re not sure if he’s asleep yet, but you can feel the rhythm of his heart slow, his body relaxing into the mattress beneath you.

“hey, caleb?” you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper.

“mhm?” he doesn’t open his eyes, but you can tell he’s listening.

“just so you know, i’m never letting you go.”

his lips brush your forehead, soft and brief, before he answers in that low, almost-dreamy tone of his. “good. i wouldn’t want you to.”

and with that, you both drift off, a tangled mess of limbs, warmth, and coldness, two halves of a whole.

[vacate-et-scire]

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

There’s a thin patter of rain against the windowpane and the dim, amber glow of the lamp casts soft shadows across the living room. You're tucked into the corner of the couch like a cat in a sunbeam, limbs loose beneath a shared fleece blanket, half-swallowed in one of Jason's old Gotham U hoodies that smells faintly like clean laundry and gunpowder.

Your legs brush his where he sits beside you, long and lazy, the hard lines of his body softened by comfort and the sheer peace of this rare moment. He’s got one hand curled around a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, thumb rubbing absentminded circles on the margin, and the other lazily resting across the back of the couch—fingers grazing your shoulder like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

He doesn’t even need to ask anymore. You don’t have to beg him to read. He just opens the book, clears his throat in that overly dramatic way he knows makes you smile, and begins.

“‘My dearest Lizzy, do not set yourself against me. I am not romantic, you know. I never was.’”

He does Mr. Collins with a ridiculous nasally whine, and you let out an undignified snort that makes his lips twitch.

“God, he sounds like a Muppet,” you murmur, burying your face into the blanket.

“Good,” Jason says smugly. “Because he acts like one.”

He reads on, voice dipping and rising as he navigates the Bennets and Bingleys with theatrical flair. But it’s his Mr. Darcy voice that gets you every time—low and solemn, like he’s narrating a tragic opera, or the end of a dramatic film noir.

“‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’”

Jason glances sideways at you, catching your expression with a crooked smirk.

“Smooth, huh?” he drawls. “Real swoon-worthy.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warm. “You make him sound like he’s reciting his vows at gunpoint.”

Jason chuckles—deep and genuine—and closes the book just long enough to rest it on your lap. He shifts to face you more fully, draping his arm behind you and brushing a knuckle gently down the side of your face.

“Hey,” he says, tone softening. “You tired?”

You shrug, half-melted into the couch. “A little. But I like listening to you read.”

He pauses, taking you in with that rare, steady gaze of his—the one that makes your stomach flip, the one that says he’s not just here for the soft moments, but for the vulnerable ones too.

“You don’t feel silly about it, right?” he asks. “Wanting this?”

There’s a knot in your throat that threatens to form, but you shake your head, quiet. “I used to, I guess. It’s just… I dunno. It makes me feel safe.”

Jason nods slowly, fingers brushing through your hair, over your temple. “Good. You should feel safe. Especially with me.”

And he means it. You can tell by the way he kisses your forehead like it's a promise.

He picks the book back up, flipping to the page you left off at without even looking. Muscle memory. He’s read this so many times now that he probably knows it better than his old weapons manuals.

His voice resumes—gentler now, like he’s telling you a bedtime story, like he’s speaking not to the room but to you.

“‘My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’”

You blink slowly, heart heavy in the best kind of way, and Jason just keeps reading, unfazed. Because he knows the words matter to you. Because he likes being the one to read them for you. Because despite the blood on his hands and the war in his bones, he still makes space for softness.

You don’t realize you’ve drifted until the book closes softly and he shifts beside you, tucking the blanket up around your shoulders like he’s afraid you’ll catch cold from a ghost draft. His voice is low as he whispers—like a secret just for you.

“Night, babe. Darcy says he loves you. So do I.”

And maybe the words blend into your dreams. Maybe you stir just enough to feel the weight of his hand curl around yours.

But either way, you sleep like you haven’t in years. Safe. Warm. Loved.

[etherealeowyn]

"Like Real People Do" - Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 770

Just because Joel and Y/n don't have the ranch they've been dreaming about, that doesn't mean they can't share sweet moments together like the world hasn't fallen into complete chaos.

Y/n’s fingers flipped through the stack of vinyl records, her eyes scanning every single one, trying to find the perfect one to slow dance to. The woman had never danced with anyone before, and when she told Joel that it had always been her dream to slow dance with someone in the kitchen, he ultimately agreed.

Y/n wasn’t sure at first if he would, but little did she know, a piece of Joel’s heart had been yearning to experience soft and sweet moments like that with the woman he loved.

Before falling asleep, they’d share their dream about the ranch they’d live on together, and the quiet life they’d spend with one another. Even though they didn’t have the ranch, Y/n would still come up with ideas about what she and Joel could do to experience a small part of their dream.

“I found the perfect song!” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing the record and hugging it against her chest excitedly.

“Which one did you pick?” Joel asked, getting up from the couch and following her into the kitchen.

“Like Real People Do by Hozier, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this song,” the woman giggled, as she took the record out of the sleeve and placed it delicately on the record player, placing the needle between the edge of the record and the first groove.

“I like that one too,” Joel responded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, before the woman found a place between his arms.

Once the music began playing, her arms draped around the man’s neck, and his hands rested on the small of her back. Neither one of them said a word; rather, they just looked into each other’s eyes and studied all the emotions behind them.

Joel’s eyes were brighter than usual, and Y/n could tell that he was genuinely happy. It wasn’t the kind of fleeting happiness that came and passed with the blink of an eye, it was the kind of moment that would be forever etched in their memories. The one thing they’d always think about when they needed to cheer up or escape from the incessant tragedies of the infected world.

The soft yellow glow emitted from the light fixture in the kitchen fell upon Y/n’s features, and Joel couldn’t help but notice the way it made the whole situation feel like a dream. As if the woman he was holding on to was too good to be true.

She was one of the only people he knew who could see the good in every situation and make the most out of small moments of joy. Before her, he never would’ve pictured slow dancing in the dilapidated kitchen of his piece of shit apartment in the Boston QZ, it sounded ridiculous. But now, he would never be able to look at the small room without being reminded of Y/n and how it felt to hold her in his arms.

Almost every area that used to torture him to look at was revitalized by her presence, and he would never truly be able to express just how much he appreciates Y/n for changing his life for the better. Though that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t try.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life?” Joel spoke; his words were slightly louder than a whisper.

“Joel, my love, you tell me that every day,” Y/n replied with a bit of a laugh, causing him to smile down at the woman.

“Hey, I’m just making sure you know how special you are, especially to me,” he said, the edges of his eyes crinkling from the smile that spread across his whole face.

“Don’t worry, I already know,” she responded, blushing at his comment. “And I hope I do a good job making sure you know just how special you are to me.”

“You do a great job, honey,” Joel started, pausing for a second before saying, “In fact, you do such a great job that for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m worth something.”

“You’ve always been worth something, you might not have recognized it, but you were. You just needed someone to show you. Luckily, or unluckily for you, I’m the one you’re stuck with that’ll be the one to show you,” Y/n chuckled, tilting her head slightly as she did so.

“I’m lucky that it’s you,” he said, his body halting all movement as the music faded into nothing. “And I’ll always be lucky that you decided to take a chance on me.”

[bennyboyfics]

Ben being drunk and yapping about how pretty reader is 🙏

Drunk in love || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

A/n: didn’t mean to make it this long oops

Wc: 1,685

Warnings: none just fluff

MASTERLIST

-

You weren’t even supposed to be out tonight. The off-season party was meant to be “casual”—low-key, close friends, a few drinks, just a good time. But somewhere between the tequila shots and the booming bass, it spiralled into something a little messier. You didn’t mind it though. You were used to it by now.

After all, dating Ben came with its fair share of chaotic, charming energy. Speaking of… “Baaaabe,” Ben slurred, slumping down beside you on the velvet couch like a man possessed. His curls were messy from running his hands through them too many times, and his cheeks had that familiar flushed glow—the dead giveaway he was deep in his cups.

“Have I told you how freaking hot you are?” You turned to him slowly, sipping your drink as you raised a brow. “Only three times in the last ten minutes.” “Just three?” His jaw dropped, scandalised. “No. That’s unacceptable. You deserve to be reminded every five seconds. Minimum.”

You laughed, watching as he leaned into you, his eyes glossy with affection and tequila. His arm slung around your shoulders, hand playfully tugging at the strap of your dress. “This dress,” he said, his voice low and dramatic like he was unveiling some great secret, “should be illegal. Like actually illegal.”

“You walked outta the bathroom earlier and I forgot how to speak for a full ten seconds. Ask Frances. I choked on my drink.” “That’s what that was?” you teased. “I thought you were trying to whistle at me.” “I was, but I forgot how,” he grinned. “You broke my brain.” God, he was so gone.

He buried his face in your neck for a moment, nose brushing your skin, and mumbled, “You smell so good. Like vanilla and… hotness. Is that a thing? It should be a thing.” You snorted, trying to hold it together. “You’re so drunk.” “I’m drunk on you,” he replied, totally serious, eyes wide as he pulled back to look at you.

“No like, seriously, you’re unreal. You’ve got this face? That’s like, perfect. And these eyes? Jesus. And your lips? Don’t even get me started. Actually, no, get me started—your lips are so pretty I wanna frame them.” “Frame them?” you asked, biting back a smile. “Yeah. Like put them in a museum,” he nodded with exaggerated conviction.

“Right next to the Mona Lisa. Except you’re way hotter than the Mona Lisa. She wishes.” You were full-on laughing now, and his face lit up at the sound. He adored your laugh. Told you all the time that it was his favourite sound in the world. Even when he was sober. He leaned back a little, slouching against the couch like he was at home, one arm still around your shoulders.

“You know what else is hot? Your brain. Like you’re smart and hot. That’s unfair to the rest of us.” You smirked. “Wow, the alcohol is really making you generous with the compliments tonight.” “Alcohol just amplifies the truth,” he argued, his finger poking your cheek gently. “S’just facts. You’re stupid pretty. Like it actually stresses me out sometimes. I’ll just be walking with you and see guys looking at you and I’m like, ‘Back off, she’s mine, losers.’”

You could feel his jealousy peeking through the drunken haze, but it was more endearing than anything. Protective and adorable, even in this ridiculous state. “I should make you wear a ‘Property of Ben Shelton’ shirt,” he added, squinting like he was genuinely considering it. “Or like, a neon sign. Something loud. So people know. So they get it.”

“Subtle,” you said, laughing again. “I’m subtle as a brick, baby,” he declared proudly, then blinked slowly. “But you love it.” You took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “I do.” Ben’s whole expression softened. For a moment, the drunk silliness ebbed and something real shimmered in his gaze.

“I mean it,” he said, a little more quietly now. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Like, in my whole life. And I get to date you? That’s crazy. That’s like… that’s like winning Wimbledon without lifting a racquet.” “Ben,” you said softly, touched in spite of yourself. “I love you, you know?” he said, completely unguarded. “So much. Like it actually scares me sometimes. You could destroy me.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his lips—soft and warm and a little tequila-flavoured. “I won’t.” He melted into you, sighing like that promise alone had settled something deep inside him. A few minutes later, his head drooped onto your shoulder. He mumbled something about how your collarbone was the perfect pillow and how you should do modelling “like for perfume ads or something,” before finally dozing off.

You smiled to yourself, brushing a curl from his forehead.

-

The air was still, warm, laced with the lingering scent of cologne, tequila, and your coconut shampoo. Your phone buzzed once on the nightstand, but you ignored it, choosing instead to stare at the mess of curls buried in the pillow beside you.

Ben was still fast asleep, face half-squished into the mattress, one arm tossed haphazardly over your waist like a dead weight. His lips were slightly parted, breath slow and deep—completely knocked out from the night before. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, tracing the curve of his shoulder with your fingertips, remembering all too clearly the things he’d said hours ago.

You broke my brain… You’re stupid pretty… I should put your lips in a museum… You grinned to yourself. It had been a full-blown monologue. The kind of praise only tequila could unlock. And the wildest part? He meant every single word. Eventually, he stirred, groaning softly as he blinked against the light. His arm tightened around you instinctively.

“Ugh,” he muttered, voice rough and gravelly. “Why does my skull feel like it’s been stepped on?”You brushed your fingers through his hair. “Because you had four tequila shots in less than twenty minutes.” Ben groaned again. “Right.” There was a pause, then—“…Did I embarrass myself last night?”You bit your lip. “Define ‘embarrass.’”

His head lifted a little, eyes peeking at you through messy lashes. “I didn’t, like… dance on a table or throw up on Francis, right?” “No,” you said with a soft laugh. “But you did go on a ten-minute rant about how hot I am. In very dramatic detail.” Ben’s face immediately went red. He flopped back into the pillow, groaning loudly. “Noooo.”

“Oh yeah.” You leaned in close, whispering in his ear, “You said you wanted to frame my lips and hang them next to the Mona Lisa.” He buried his face in his hands. “God. That’s not even clever. That’s just dumb.” “It was sweet.” “It was drunk,” he muttered, voice muffled through his palms.

You gently pulled his hands away and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “It was also honest.” Ben blinked. His eyes were still a little hazy, still heavy with sleep, but he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him. “You remember it all?” “Every word.” “And you’re not… weirded out?”

“Ben,” you said with a soft smile, “you told me I smell like vanilla and hotness. I can’t not love that.”He groaned again, this time with a crooked, sheepish smile cracking through. “I was serious, though. I mean—I know I sounded like a clown, but everything I said was real. You really do make my brain short-circuit sometimes.”

You rested your forehead against his. “I know.” “And I meant what I said at the end,” he added, quieter now. “That I love you.” Your heart skipped. “I wasn’t planning on saying it while completely hammered,” he added quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but it’s true. I love you, and you terrify me in the best way.”

You were quiet for a second, staring at him, watching the vulnerability crack through the usually unshakeable, confident version of him. “I love you too,” you whispered. “Drunk or sober. Frame-worthy lips and all.” That made him smile—boyish and warm. “Still can’t believe I said that.” “Oh, you said more,” you teased.

“Something about making me wear a neon ‘Property of Ben Shelton’ sign…” “Okay, now I’m dying.” He flopped back again, pulling a pillow over his face as you laughed and tugged it away. “Too late,” you said, kissing his cheek. “You opened the floodgates.” “Fine,” he mumbled, still blushing. “If I’m gonna be that guy, I might as well go all in.”

You arched a brow. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” He pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re mine. Everyone should know it.” You rolled your eyes, smiling into his skin. “I think they already do, Ben.” “Good,” he muttered, sleep starting to tug at him again. “But just in case… I’m getting the sign.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

First Lines of My Fics

Thanks @thebibutterflyao3 , @where-is-vivian , @shoopsthereitis , and @courfee for tagging!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

note- I'm skipping the really smutty ones because I don't want to link them on here....

No Socks - Rated M (Rosekiller)

“So?” Regulus demanded as soon as Barty stumbled into their shared flat, last night’s outfit still on his thin frame. “So, what?” Barty asked, throwing his keys onto the counter, not bothering to pick them up when they skittered across the marble surface and landed on the floor.  “So, what?” Regulus repeated dubiously.

James Potter, Reluctant Cat Dad - Rated G (Jegulus)

James sighed and looked into beautiful gray eyes, trying not to let them pull on his heartstrings. But he was weak, and gave up far too easily, his heart melting. “How the fuck did we get here, love?” he murmured, truly dumbfounded about how they had ended up in this predicament.

Infuriating - Rated T (Dorlene)

“Black, you absolute tosser!” Marlene McKinnon’s laughter-filled voice filled the small, echoing Potions Classroom, and Dorcas Meadowes didn’t even bother holding back an eye roll and a little scoff. Instead, she just gave herself credit for not telling the other girl to shut up in front of the entire class.

That's Alarming - Rated G (Jegulus)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest. Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Mint and Sunshine and Hope - Rated T (Jegulus)

It was a coincidence that they had  arrived at Sirius and Remus’s flat at the same time. An annoying coincidence, to be sure, but Regulus couldn’t fault James for it. He’d learned, as he’d grown, that there wasn’t much he could fault James for, really. 

In My Head - Rated T (Jegulus)

The realization comes to Regulus in the middle of the day. He is sitting with Barty, listening to his best friend complain about some stupid thing that happened at his ridiculous job taste testing at the pet food plant, and suddenly his whole body goes cold. Because as Barty is talking, his brain is completely obsessed with something– some one else. And it makes him realize… “Oh fuck,” he mumbles incoherently, unable to even feel his lips properly. “Right?” Barty asks loudly, clearly under the impression that Regulus has agreed with him in some way. “It was a huge problem! And then I told that arse in corporate to suck my-” “No,” Regulus says, thoughts a million miles away. “No, I-” Because this is not about Melanie from Corporate, who clearly has it out for Barty, at least according to him. This is about James Potter.

I love you. I'm (not) sorry. - Rated T (Jegulus)

James took a deep breath, fiddling with his suit jacket and trying to power through the sinking, sickening feeling that had somehow taken up residence inside his chest. His heart thundered against his ribcage like it was determined to escape the very bounds of his body and he felt almost faint. He looked around the large room, taking in the beautiful decorations, the stunning white flowers, the luxurious aisle already scattered with petals, the twinkling lights strung from the ceiling. It looked like heaven. It felt like his own personal hell.

Any Ideas? - Rated T (Jegulus)

“I still think the fake arrest idea is the best one,” Sirius mumbled, laying spread-eagle on the floor and staring at the ceiling. He waved his wand, a pair of plastic handcuffs spinning around the tip as he moved his hand lazily. “Moony, you’d like to see me in these, eh?” A snort sounded from somewhere in the room.

Burn - Rated T (Jegulus)

The Cruciatus Curse– incantation: Crucio– is one of the Unforgivable Curses. It is known by many as the ‘Torturing Curse,’ as it subjects the affected to excruciating pain. Long-term exposure to this curse can cause lasting mental and physical effects, including but not limited to fatigue, confusion, coldness and chills, nightmares, and even insanity.

Thinking - Rated T (Wolfstar)

“Do you feel any different?” Sirius blinked at the circle of people staring at him with bated breath, tilting his head from side to side as he thought about the question. “No,” he said honestly, pursing his lips. “Damn,” James frowned, sighing. “That would’ve been hilarious.” And the game continued.

NPT (I'm not sure who's already been tagged so if you have, I'm sorry!): @microdamage @wolfpadx @arviyya @deepseagre3n @whoopsiesnodaisies @locomotiveodyssey

[xoxorory]

Your wounded spider !

POV:fem!Reader Pairing: Spiderman!Percy Jackson x You (reader) Genre: Romance, humor, tension, flirting, +18 (suggestive)

tags 🏷️: @simpingmyassoff

2:47 a.m. The sound was barely a brush against the living room window. Not a loud knock, not even enough to startle. Just… a whisper. But you, who had been awake for hours, heard it.

And when you turned your head from the couch, there he was. Stuck to the glass like it wasn’t ridiculous for someone to be hanging from a fourth-floor window at this hour. The blue suit was torn at the side, and his hand trembled slightly when he knocked again, this time a little harder.

“Percy?” you whispered, rushing to open it.

He fell inside like a soaked rag, rolling across the carpet with a low groan.

“Hey, babe,” he said, flashing a smile that clearly took effort. There was dried blood on his cheek, and his chest rose and fell with difficulty. “I took the liberty of… stopping by.”

“You’re bleeding!” you exclaimed, closing the window as you crouched beside him.

“Nothing serious. Just… a bar fight. Supervillain edition. Waaay more drama and ugly costumes.”

You frowned as you helped him sit up. His suit was shredded, but beyond the wound on his side, what worried you most was how pale he looked. Sweat clung to his forehead.

“You could’ve gone home. Your home, Percy.”

“What if I passed out on the way?” he murmured, lifting his gaze to you with those ocean-green eyes that always seemed to ask for more than they said. “I’d rather pass out on my sexy girlfriend’s couch.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. Even if his voice sounded playful, you knew him too well. He was more hurt than he let on.

“Take off the top part,” you said gently, and his eyebrows lifted.

“Shouldn’t you offer me to dinner first?” he teased, though his laugh caught in his throat when pain shot through his side.

“Idiot.” You helped him raise his arms, peeling the upper part of his suit off carefully. The wound on his side was deep, but it had already started to close. “This needs cleaning.”

“Are you gonna heal me with love and kisses? Because I’m down for that,” he said, wincing but trying to look seductive.

“Percy.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up or I’ll pour alcohol on it without warning.”

“Yes ma'am”

You worked in silence for a few minutes. Cleaning the wound, placing bandages, steadying the tremble of his muscles. Even though his body was trained, agile, resistant… right now, he was just a hurt boy in your living room, trusting you completely. And that broke something in you.

“You could’ve died,” you murmured.

Percy lowered his gaze.

“I know.”

“I don’t like this part of the deal, Jackson.”

“I know,” he repeated, and his trembling hand searched for yours. “But when you see someone who needs help… you can’t just look away.”

“And when you need help, who saves you?”

His eyes found yours, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. Then, with an unexpected gentleness, he brushed your cheek.

“You do. Always.”

The silence turned thick. Your hearts spoke in that space where words no longer reached.

“Can I stay the night?” he whispered. “Not for sex… though if you insist…”

“Percy.”

“Okay, okay. No jokes. Just… with you I feel safe. And I need that tonight.”

You nodded, saying nothing more, and helped him lie down on the couch, covering him with your favorite blanket. You sat beside him, running your fingers through his damp hair.

Just before he fell asleep, he mumbled half in a dream:

“I like you more than swinging through New York…”

You smiled, eyes burning with tenderness. “And I like you more than getting eight hours of sleep.”

[httpsdana]

Can you make something with Marc Bernal and reader as roommates?

💙💙💙

Lights Out~Marc Bernal

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: this was so cute i loved writing it sm. I hope you enjoy <3

It wasn’t usual for boys and girls to share rooms at La Masia. But their situation had been…unique.

Last-minute paperwork mix-up? Not enough available space in the girls' wing? A very persistent manager who said “It’s just temporary, you’ll manage.”

And now she was here, in a room with twin beds and one bathroom, sharing her space with Marc Bernal.

At first, it had been awkward. Some rules were unsaid but formed between the two of them. No walking around shirtless (him), no leaving bras hanging off the door handle (her), headphones in after 10 p.m., and absolutely no crossing the invisible line between their sides of the room.

But after a few weeks, it became easier.

Marc wasn’t loud or annoying like she expected. He was neat and surprisingly thoughtful. He always kept her favorite protein bars stocked because apparently “they were on sale.” He also somehow managed to look stupidly good even in the hideous pjs he wears.

Like most nights, she laid in her bed after lights out, staring at the ceiling while Marc scrolled through his phone across the room.From two feet next to her, she heard him shift.

“You can’t sleep again?” he asked, voice soft in the dark.

“Not really,” she muttered. “My brain won’t shut off.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Want me to tell you a story?”

She smiled to herself. “What are you five?”

“I mean you’re the one who can’t sleep, not me.”

She laughed, the sound barely a breath.

“Fine. Story time, Bernal.”

She heard the rustle of his sheets as he turned on his side to face her. She did the same, the distance between their beds suddenly feeling... small.

“So,” he began, voice hushed, “there’s this girl. She’s at La Masia. Really smart, really competitive, really talented too. A bit of a pain in the ass at first.”

She narrowed her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. “Rude.”

“But she was kind of brilliant, too,” he continued, ignoring her. “And this guy…he ends up as her roommate by some random scheduling screw-up. At first they didn’t talk much. She thought he was weird. He thought she was intimidating. But then she laughed at one of his dumb jokes one night. And suddenly it wasn’t so awkward anymore.”

She didn’t say anything, just listened with a small smile he probably couldn't see.

“She started leaving him notes on his mirror before his games. He started buying her favorite snacks. They started talking before bed like this every night. And the guy…” He paused. “He realized he’s in trouble.”

Her breath hitched for a second.

“He’s got this ridiculous crush on her,” Marc said quietly. “Like, heart-racing-when-she-laughs, can’t-focus-when-she’s-in-his-hoodie type of crush.”

Her heart stopped at his little confession.

His voice lowered slightly, like he was suddenly nervous. “He tried to stop it. It wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to focus on football. Keep it casual. But he couldn’t help it.”

Silence took over, before she opened her mouth to speak. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened next?”

He hesitated before talking again. “He didn’t know if she felt the same. He was scared she’d freak out. Or worse…stop talking to him.”

She pushed her blanket down and sat up, heart racing.

“Maybe…” she said, eyes locked onto his shadowy outline, “she had a crush on him too. But she didn’t want to mess things up either.”

Marc’s breath hitched and she could feel a smile form on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He shifted, one foot touching down like he was about to stand, but then he stopped.

“Can I…?”

She slid to the edge of her bed and moved her hand into the space between. “We’re literally two feet apart. You don’t have to ask.”

He laughed under his breath nervously then crossed the small space between them.

When he sat beside her, they both stayed still for a moment, thighs brushing barely. Then, quietly, he leaned in. His head resting on her shoulder, then her head above his.

“I’ve liked you since the week you beat me in shuttle runs and told everyone I was ‘pathetically slow.’ ”

She laughed into his hair. “That was a nice day.”

He tilted his chin up gently before reaching up to cup her jaw gently, his hand a little shaky. “Can I kiss you?” his voice was low, almost desperate.

She nodded without hesitation and when he sat up and kissed her, it wasn’t rushed or wild. It was familiar, soft, sweet. Like something that had been meant to happen.

When they pulled away, both of them smiling like lovestruck idiots, Marc couldn’t help kiss the corner of her mouth again, which made her giggle silently.

“So…do we tell anyone? Or just keep it between these walls for now?”

She looked around their overstuffed and slightly-too-warm room, then smiled.

“For now…” she said, brushing her nose against his, “let’s just stay right here.”

And just like that, the invisible line didn’t exist anymore. Or maybe it didn’t even exist since day one, but neither of them had the guts to admit it.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[ashyblondwaves]

i just read "bloom" and pleaseeee 😭 you need to make it a longer fic it was too good and also short

Aww, I'm so glad you liked it! Thanks for stopping by to request more. I decided to strike while the iron was hot and got another 1100 words for ya! Enjoy :)

Part 1: Bloom

Blossom

She settles at the kitchen table, legs tucked underneath her like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible, which is ridiculous considering she’s all I have eyes for right now. 

I follow behind her with the tea. Hers is honey and chamomile, and mine, well, whatever was left in the tin. I think it’s peppermint. I set her cup down in front of her, careful not to spill, and try to ignore how my hands are still a little shaky. 

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just tears off another piece of bread and chews. I sit across from her, and for a moment it’s quiet in a way that feels deliberate, not accidental. I’m not worried that she’s retreating back into her shell. I’m simply waiting for the next quip that I know is coming. 

“This is good,” she says finally, gesturing toward the loaf like it’s responsible for everything unfolding between us.

“Making it helps me think,” I saw with a nod. 

“About what?” she asks, staring into my soul. 

You.

 But I don’t say that. Not yet.

“Things,” I hedge. “Dreams. What’s real and what isn’t.”

She hums. Her eyes drop to the cup between her hands. “Sometimes I still think I imagined you saying you wanted me to try harder.”

My chest tightens in that familiar way. The mix of tenderness and grief and awe that always shows up when she gives me even the smallest piece of her.

“Sometimes? How often have you thought about it since I said it five minutes ago?” I chuckle. 

She takes another bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully. “A lot.” 

“Well, you didn’t imagine it,” I say. “And I meant it.” 

She nods, just once, like she’s locking that truth away somewhere safe. Then she glances up, expression unreadable.

“So if I keep showing up like this, being present,” she says slowly, “Will you let me?”

I smile. I can’t help it. It’s like something finally unclenches in my ribs.

“Yeah,” I say. “Every time.

She doesn't smile back, not exactly. But she takes another bite of bread, and her foot nudges mine under the table. It’s light, like a dare.

And I swear the world tilts just slightly toward the good.

Later, when the sun has sunk low enough to stain the windows gold, she stands. Her mug is empty. The bread is mostly gone. I expect her to murmur a quick goodbye, maybe head back to her room in that quiet way she does. 

But instead, she glances toward the door.

“Want to take a walk?”

“With you?” I blink. 

“No, with the bread,” she says, raising an eyebrow. 

We don’t say much as we head out. The path is familiar, worn down by footsteps, memories, and ghosts. She doesn’t reach for my hand, and I don’t reach for hers, but we stay close. Closer than we have in a long time. Our shoulders nearly touch with every step.

Everything has regrown in strange ways, wild and unruly. Nature doesn’t care what burned. It comes back anyway.

Katniss walks ahead a few steps, then drops into the grass like she belongs to it.

I follow, slowly folding myself down next to her. The breeze carries the scent of nature and sun-warmed earth.

“I used to come here,” she says, her voice barely above the wind. “During the war. In my head, I mean. I’d try to remember how the light looked on the grass. How it felt to lie down without anyone watching.”

I look at her, but she’s staring up at the sky like it might tell her something important.

“I used to dream about this,” I admit. “Us. Just being able to take a walk like this. After everything.”

Her eyes flick to mine. “Were your dreams anything like this?”

“No,” I say honestly. “They were quieter. Idealistic stuff. But you? You were just as sharp as ever.”

She snorts, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. 

“You liked that about me.”

“I still do.” The words escape before I can stop them.

She doesn’t flinch. Just turns her head toward me, and something about the way the sun kisses her cheekbones makes me dizzy.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she says.

“Me either,” I say softly. “But we’re here. That’s something.”

A beat passes. Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, until her head is resting lightly on my shoulder. Her hair brushes my neck. My heart starts hammering again, but I don’t move. I don’t breathe too deeply. I just exist.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

Soon, the sun sinks behind the trees and shadows stretch across the meadow like they’re exhaling. Katniss hasn’t moved from my shoulder, and I haven’t asked her to. I’m not sure I could, even if I wanted to. 

There’s something steadying about the weight of her, the quiet rhythm of her breath against my shirt.

Crickets start their slow, sleepy chorus. The stars blink awake overhead.

She shifts eventually, just enough to tilt her face up toward mine. Her eyes catch the last of the light, all storm cloud gray and impossible to look away from.

“I keep thinking I should be better at this,” she murmurs.

“At what?”

“This,” she says, gesturing between us. “Being with someone. Saying what I mean. Letting someone stay.”

“You don’t have to be good at it,” I whisper. “You just have to want to try.”

She studies me like she’s memorizing my face. Like she wants to carve this moment into her mind in case it disappears.

And then, careful and unsure, she reaches for my hand in the grass. Her fingers graze mine, tentative at first, like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.

I don’t. I won’t. 

I lace our fingers together slowly, and she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for years.

Her palm is warm. Her grip, a little shaky.

I let myself look down at where we’re joined, and for the first time since everything shattered, I feel whole.

When I glance back up, she’s watching me.

And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, she leans in and presses her lips to the corner of my mouth. Not quite a kiss. Not yet. But a promise. A beginning.

When she pulls back, she doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t have to.

The stars stretch wide above us. The world keeps turning.

And she’s still holding my hand.

[godza]

TELL ME BOUT KIM SOLEUM 🗣️🗣️

YAYYY MY LITTLE GUY!!!

first impression: loser. normal guy. just like me fr

current impression: what the fuck is wrong with him. deeply strange individual. my little freak

fave moment: when he cut his arm off <3 i love how soleum rationalizes his decisions to the reader and they make somewhat sense in the moment but then he does something fucking crazy that makes you go hold on. what? i love when hes a sneaky little freak bastard. also the entirety of the amusement park arc that was peak soleum blurring the lines of himself. also when he was breaking up with braun but it was all through chief lizard. made me giggle. also his cult leader and serial killer arcs. i love everything hes ever done hes so freaky

story idea: him not realizing other peoples opinioms of him but that happens in canon anyway. hes a little miffed by the monster rookie titles but i want him to start turning into a darkness (which he kind of already is) based on his reputation alone. return of the cat when. or something about his arm bc he glossed over that way too fast. why are you just okay with that!

unpopular opinion: man idk. most people are right about soleum its other characters i dont agree with people about. if i had to think about one i feel like ppl make him seem way too inferior to braun. they need each other i dont think its some poor sad bottom top dynamic i think they both get things from each other. not an equal power dynamic but not as bad as people make it seem. also i think saheon and soleum is a ridiculous ship why would you do that to soleum thats just mean

fave relationship: him and braun ofc <3 i love that funky little rabbit. i got so happy in 189ish when he came back for reals. im not fully up to date im on 190 ive heard brauns doing some shit but who am i to judge. to me braun feels like 'my wife is mad at me hope i die'. i love him so much idk why. tvhead yaoi. toxic terrible yaoi.

fave headcanon: ill mak these all up on the spot i havent seen these anywhere else. that his eyes now glow bc of contamination. a nice red bc of the cover. that he shows animal tendencies now. he needs a lot of salt bc hes a deer lol. i feel like even without the silver heart hes incredibly persuasive and can make most ppl do whatever. he started doing weird shit to creep saheon out but they became habits so now soleum does mildly weird shit like eating dinner foods for breakfast even when by himself. also that sometimes hes talking to braun and muttering out loud. made me giggle when he was holding braun to the whiteboard and had to explain. silly little guy. but braun appreciates the extra attention he likes to see soleum squirm a little. i still wanna know how braun was able to know what soleum was up to on the radio. it was probably the contamination fragment. i want soleum to accidentally use random fragments in wromg situations itd be funny. accidentally stops talking and just gestures bc hes in deer mode. you can make this guy do anything if you can make it sound logical

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

Free Falling

Chapter Five

3k/ (eventual) husband!joel x f!reader /minors dni ‘I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel’

Summary: you take the leap to leave your stagnant relationship, and end up falling into the arms of a man who will give you the life you always dreamed of. 

Content: age gap (reader is mid-late 20s, Joel is late 30s-mid 40s), angst,smut, fluff, oc(reader’s ex-boyfriend and friends/family), mention of reader grieving loss of her dad, swearing, smoking, alcohol consumption, lovely lovely baby boy Joel, reader is a sweetheart, lil time hop, planning Joel’s birthday bash

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

‘I just don’t get it, what is the catch?’ Jessie asked with a mouthful of bagel.

‘Girl I don’t know he’s literally perfect. Keep your eyes peeled for red flags tonight.’

‘Aww you deserve to be happy. I might make up some red flags so I can him for my self’ Jessie giggled.

You cackled at her, and you both sipped in unison on your vanilla lattes.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

After about 10 different shops had wiped your bank account, you dropped Jessie home and got Joel’s presents, decorations and party food and drink in the house in only four trips to the car. 

How was it possible to take 5 hours out shopping for one person? Well, you were extremely last minute, and also extremely extra.

It was only 3pm, so you put the food and drink out in the fridge in the summerhouse and applied a dissolvable sheet mask whilst you took a quick cat nap.

The girls were arriving at 5:30pm to help you set up, so you could take the pressure off yourself and enjoy getting ready.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You started to stir as your phone buzzed.

Incoming Call:

Joel😻😻

‘Morning baby’ you chuckled.

‘Someone sounds busy’ he tutted.

‘You don’t even know the half of it, asshole’ you sighed.

‘Naw I appreciate you my gorgeous girl. I was just gonna ask, it’s limes with tequila ain’t it and strawberries with champagne?’ He almost seemed too shy to ask.

‘Now I knew you had learned a useful thing or two from me.’

‘You’re not entirely useless. I’ll let you get ready pretty, I’m so excited to see you.’

‘I love you’ you told each other, and you hung up the phone to start your makeup.

You opted for a matte lip with the liner a slightly darker shade of brown, your favourite baby pink blush and the lashes Tommy always said would carry you away if you got caught in strong winds.The rollers were out, and your hair bounced with every step- it was well worth the ridicule Joel gave for stepping out in public with them in.

For the special birthday boy, you opted for a black mini skirt, thigh high boots and a plain white tee body suit. Very Rachel Green of you.  A lace matching set was underneath, and you were saturated in cocoa butter and Prada Paradoxe.

The girls arrived perfectly on time and you greeted them through the door with the sounds of Lauryn Hill and plied them with cocktails straight away.

The first port of call was dressing up the summer house. There was no particular theme so you decided on black and gold. A ballon arch adorned the worn French Doors, and the fairy lights fitted by Joel perfectly complement them. A table was put out with food that Lottie had kindly arranged following your flustered mother dropping hundreds of dollars worth of Costco food and drink round, and Rhea had brought ice buckets for the insane amount of alcohol that you had gathered. 

Bunches of balloons were tied to the front door, and you had decided to make a photo wall, filled with photos of you and Joel, Joel as a child with his brother and then some gems of Joel with your Auntie and Uncle from years ago. 

The time had flown by, and people had started to arrive slightly early, eagerly waiting to see your brilliant hosting skills in person, and to also make the most of the free bar and buffet.

Your twin sisters arrived, they were only young but were always at every family function, even if it was meant to be adults only. ‘Where’s Mom?’ You asked, so confused as to how they just materialised down the garden path, like that scene from the Shining.

‘Talking to the taxi driver’ they giggled in unison.

‘You’ve got to get it where you can I guess’ Jessie laughed as she appeared next to you. This was swiftly met by an elbow to the ribs and an ‘ignore her’ to your sisters.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

A familiar sound of soft rock and Joel’s laughter floated through the air. You felt giddy and nervous and ran into Joel’s arms as him and Tommy came through the garden gate. 

‘Happy Birthday  Baby’ you whispered into his neck. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he lifted you and spun you around. He made sure you were facing your family and your back was out of sight, and he slipped a hand up your skirt and held a handful of your ass. He grunted softly, and kissed your neck.

‘I love it. I love the fact I have a birthday weekend when my birthday isn’t until Tuesday.And I love you. You are perfect.’

You felt flustered and the butterflies doubled. You tried to steady yourself, and gave him the look to say, I can’t wait to get you alone. 

Tommy gave you a cuddle and brought you a refilled glass of champagne whilst giving a toast to all you had done.

‘Here’s our guest of honour’ Uncle Rufus appeared and said hello to you both. Clara kissed your cheek and gave you a tight squeeze as always.

‘Well look at the gorgeous couple, gosh you make me sick!’ She teased. Joel pulled you in tight and kissed your head. 

‘Not bad going right? Imagine the babies we’d make’ Joel sipped his beer.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Scared but excited, wishing you could stay in this moment forever but also fast forward ten years to turn these dreams into life. 

‘They’d be pretty cute, I have to admit’ you felt yourself blushing and broke the awkwardness by going to get everyone a drink.

‘Secret shot?’ Rhea asked.

‘He mentioned babies’ you whispered.

Rhea stopped dead in the middle of cutting a lime wedge, before bursting into a fit of giggles and squeals.

You invited Jessie and Lottie over for a three part tequila shot, and noticed Joel staring in adoration out the corner of your eye. He never let you too far out of his gaze, and never let that gaze drop when you were in his sights. 

The night passed with good music, good company, plenty of questions about Joel and how he’s treating you. The heels had been swapped for slippers or sliders, and the alcohol had diminished somewhat, although not from everyone’s blood streams. 

It was almost midnight and your mom had to leave to get the girls back to bed. She kissed Joel goodbye and asked if you’d need help tomorrow cleaning up. The playlist had changed to a playlist made of Joel and your favourite songs,  gentle and slow, and everyone had seemed to settle down, nursing their last drinks and having deep conversations with each other.

Joel held your hand and you slow-danced in a corner. Your head rested on his chest, and he rested his head on top of yours. A rough, workman’s hand held a tiny hand within his, and his fingers caressed every outline of yours. You swayed softly, praying this moment never ended.

‘And then I looked up at the sun and I could see

Oh, the way that gravity pulls on you and me’

He ran his fingers up your back and wrapped your curls up and around in his fist. He gently pulled your head away to look at him and kissed you.

Tommy abruptly brought you both back to Earth with a party popper and a change of song from meaningful and delicate, to the sound of whatever cheesy 80s song he switched to.

‘Lovetime’s over Mr and Mrs’ Tommy slurred. ‘Time for the Millers to show you ladies how we move.’

The girls cuddled up to you as you all took a seat on the garden swing, watching Joel, Tommy, Uncle Rufus and their dorky friends all take a shot of tequila and take to the dancefloor. Everyone was in fits of laughter and you and the girls joined the men in their cringe-fest.

This was bliss. The girls couldn’t resist Tommy’s charm, as he draped his arms over all three of your bestfriends. You threw fake evils at Tommy and he raised his glass to you, which you met with a wink. Your glass was empty, so you stumbled over to the bar and topped your glass up with a triple measure of Malibu and lemonade.

‘I love you but you disgust me’ Joel grabbed your hips and mocked you again for your drink choice. 

‘It tastes like cream soda, asshole.’ You laughed at him through a kiss, lips pressed to one another.

‘Classless.’ Joel smacked your ass and lit a cigarette. You swatted him off and drank your drink a bit too quickly. Somehow, everyone had hit a peak again and the party showed no signs of stopping. Until, you caught sight of Jess hunched over a plant pot, spewing up her mixed drinks.

You and Joel exchanged looks and he knew that was his sign to start herding the drunk and disorderly while you get the girls guest room sorted.

‘Come on babygirl, let’s get you sobered up’ you stroked Jess’ back and supported her on the venture upstairs. 

Joel said his goodbyes on your behalf, while you helped Jess take her makeup off and let her, Lottie and Rhea get snuggled up in bed and sleep off the alcohol.

You swept Leo up in your arms, and Joel locked up downstairs and joined you both in bed.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The cool breeze left a spray of goosebumps over your bare leg which was exposed from the duvet. You searched to snuggle up to Joel, who was nowhere to be found.

You braced yourself to get up out of bed, before being struck down by the nausea and pounding headache. You laid back down, then sprinted to the bathroom.

Rhea slowly opened the guest bedroom door and you locked eyes, giving eachother the same ‘I’m never drinking again’ look. 

She came and sat on the cold bathroom floor with you, and you rested your head on her shoulder and fake sobbed.

‘Have you seen Joel?’ You asked.

‘Girl I don’t know what planet I’m on, let alone know what planet everyone else is on’

You nodded in acknowledgement then went and sprawled out on the bedroom floor, where you and your friends sat in silence.

‘Uhhh ladies’ Joel knocked on the door and smirked.

You all turned in unison to face him.

‘Downstairs is clean and tidy’ Joel winked at you and smiled. The girls cooed and you laughed and hopped up to kiss him. 

‘Starbucks?’ You asked the girls. 

You went and put on a Juicy tracksuit, Uggs and a pair of oversized sunglasses before standing in the bedroom doorway and nodding to the girls without saying a word. They nodded back and wished you luck.

‘And a Geek Bar please’ shouted Lottie.

‘You’re unhinged, but I’ll join you’ you shouted back.

Joel rolled his eyes and laughed at the hungover state of you. ‘Pathetic,’ he winked, and kissed you goodbye. 

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Your friends had gone and it was just you and Joel enjoying your morning. 

‘What’s the plan today, baby?’ Joel kissed your forehead as you melted into his chest.

‘Sunday Date Day?’ 

‘You’re a trooper, hangovers write me off for next four business days’ Joel whistled, surprised at your tenacity through the haze of next day tequila.

‘Let me shower and put some laundry on and we’ll do something cute. You wanna do something fun? Wanna go Taco Bell?’ You winked at Joel.

‘God Karen you’re so stupid’ Joel put on his best feminine accent and popped his hip with a palm to your face.

You squawked in his face, laughing at how well you had trained him. One thing Joel loved about you was your bursts of energy, and how when you were excited, you would just hop around like a puppy and run aimlessly in effort to be productive.

‘I’ll run you a bath, get the washer going and meet me there.’

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You bounced around for fifteen minutes putting laundry on and running the hoover round the house. Joel called your name and you met him in the bathroom. He had lit a candle and almost overflowed the bathtub with bubbles. He was perched on the side with a towel round his waist, and you slowly undressed and got in the tub with him.

He just about fit, he was so broad and tall. You layed back on his chest, and he drew circles on your stomach and placed kisses on your collarbone. 

‘Relaxed?’ Joel whispered.

The vanilla scented bubbles lapped at your chin, and you turned to face Joel, laying awkwardly on your stomach. You kissed him deeply as his hands explored your back. 

He grew hard beneath your stomach, and he readjusted himself, as you slithered up towards him, and propped your knees either side of his hips. The bathroom was almost silent, except for the drips of condensation falling from the mirror to the sink, and the splashes of water that echoed rhythmically with Joel’s soft moans. Your reached under yourself and positioned Joel’s cock so you could slowly slide down onto it and take in every inch of him. He placed his hands either side, and behind of, your neck to support you while you leaned your head back in pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, and he pressed his palms into the nape of your neck, trying to find a way to cope with the overwhelming feeling of your body grinding against him. His fingers circled the spot on your clit and he watched you with his mouth open in awe, as your skin glistened with sweat and body oil when you writhed and orgasmed. 

Your  pace quickened, as he pulled your hair back with one hand, firmer and forcefully. He held your wrists behind your back with his other hand as he finished inside you.

‘Worth the bad back tomorrow?’ You winked.

‘Always’ he exhaled into your neck and kissed you. You pulled the plug and both stood up, rinsing off under the shower head. 

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

1pm rolled around, and you both decided to walk down to the farmer’s market and spend your Sunday eating and drinking before a cinema date tonight. 

You picked a bench in the back corner, in the autumn sun, wrapped up in a hoodie, leggings and a Lakers cap. Joel made a stupid joke and you both giggled like school children. Joel cleared his throat and stopped laughing as you carried on adding to the joke. You looked up at him as he stopped, and the noticed a figure imposing a shadow over your table, and blocking your sunlight.

The waft of Sauvage turned your stomach, and your throat went dry as James and a 5ft8 copper haired girl stood opposite you and Joel.

‘Joel, this is James.’ You croaked.

He looked at you confused, and you widened your eyes and gestured as if to say, how obvious can I make it?

He shook his head to snap back to reality. 

‘Broken wall guy?’ Joel stood up to shake his hand and James unwillingly accepted. You noticed Joel’s knuckles go white, clearly proving a point, or getting a kick out of making James squirm.

‘I’m Lexi’ the girl chirped, stepping around the bench to give you a cuddle. You took a step up and kissed her on the cheek instead.

James looked to the floor, and you stared him down.

‘Cute. Special occassion?’ You asked.

‘6 month anniversary’ Lexi giggled and pulled James close.

‘Now, if my maths is correct..’ Joel trailed off and sat back down. You elbowed him in the ribs, and James went red. The smile dropped off Lexi’s face, and her and James walked off mid sentence. 

You couldn’t help but look at Joel and you both erupted into laughter. This was closure for you, if it hadn’t already been 100%. Piece of shit. You kissed Joel, and he took your hand in his and rested on your thigh. 

He ordered another beer and you sipped a red wine. ‘God, I love you.’ He said, ‘I just want to love you and look after you for the rest of my life.’ 

‘That can be arranged’ you winked, and gestured to your empty ring finger.

He swiped his finger across your manicured finger, ‘Before or after babies?’ 

‘We can have all the babies’ you winked, eyes twinkling as your heart skipped a beat. 

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

‘Remind me never to take you to the cinema again’ Joel huffed as you turned the key in the lock and walked through the door.

‘Yeah I’m not having it. Half an hour of trailers then over two hours of film. A girl simply cannot hold in almost a litre of soda for that long’ you justified. 

‘Self control. You’re toilet trained by now, no?’ Joel quipped.

‘Rude. So rude.’ You kicked your leg back, and threatened to shut the door in his face.

He grabbed a handful of your ass as you turned away.

‘Dinner?’ You asked.

‘No thanks, I’m trying to quit.’ 

‘You can’t say that to everything someone offers you. The bit isn’t working anymore’ you rolled your eyes.

‘Jeez not even a fake laugh for the birthday boy’ Joel kicked back in the sofa and rested Leo over his shoulder.

‘Don’t guilt trip me. I find the joke endearing, let me correct myself.’ 

‘Apology accepted.’

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t poison your food.’ 

You had your back to him, stood at the sink washing vegetables for dinner. He took his chance to jump and run through the doors that connected your living room and kitchen. He grabbed your hips and performed an obscene gesture, that you secretly loved. 

‘That is why’ Joel pulled you in and kissed your neck. 

‘You’re a menace’ you reached over your shoulder and flicked him with water, although a cold shower would be more appropriate. The man was insatiable.

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[nightlockrebel]

He stays.

The thought catches in her throat. Through the fear, through the silence, through the parts of her she didn’t even like to look at. Maybe that’s what scared her most—how natural it felt to let him stay. How some secret part of her didn’t want him to leave. How unusually normal it felt to have him bring over dinner, how she almost felt shy at Prim's widening smile when she saw him next to her.

She glanced over at him then, carrying the pot like it was just another offering, like his place at her side was already settled. She bumped his shoulder gently with her own. “I think you know the answer” she quipped at his tease, trying to sound casual, like her heart wasn’t doing wild things in her chest. But she couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. Fire might’ve been her armor, but maybe—just maybe—he was the reason she didn’t feel the need to burn everything down.

Dinner with Peeta and her family felt like something out of a memory she hadn't lived yet. The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of stew and fresh bread, and the sound of Prim’s soft laughter as Peeta told some ridiculous story. Her mother hummed her approval at the meal, her tired eyes brighter than Katniss had seen in weeks. And Peeta—Peeta fit like he’d always belonged there, slipping into conversation so easily, smiling at Katniss like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. She watched him help Prim with her spoon, tease her gently about Buttercup scowling from the corner, and her chest ached in the strangest, most beautiful way. It felt like breathing after years of holding her breath.

She tried not to be scared by how full her heart felt, how desperately she wanted to preserve this moment in amber. Every smile from Peeta, every glance across the table, every fleeting brush of his hand near hers—it all felt fragile, like the kind of happiness you only got once before the world demanded it back. She wasn't used to this softness, this ease. It was dangerous, letting herself want it, need it. But no matter how hard she tried to guard herself, the truth settled in her bones: she was happy. Terrifyingly, overwhelmingly happy. And even if she didn’t have the words to say it, she thought maybe Peeta could see it anyway—in the way she lingered beside him while they did the dishes, in the quiet smile she offered him.

Katniss felt her breath catch—not from the gentle tug of his hands at her hips, or again finding her hands against his chest, though both sent a warm flush up her spine—but from his words. So simple. So heartfelt. She didn't know what to say to that. Her eyes dropped to his chest, tracing the spot where she'd pressed a poultice against his wound, where his skin had burned and his breath had rattled in his throat and she'd thought—gods, I can’t lose him. But she never said that out loud. Not then. Not now. It was easier to dodge it with sarcasm or silence. But now, with the house quiet, the fire low, and his gratitude laid bare between them, she couldn’t pretend not to feel the weight of it.

Her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt, as if searching for an anchor. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said finally, her voice low, rougher than she intended. “You would’ve done the same for me.” She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze, steady and sure. He would have. She knew it like she knew the path through the woods or the feel of her bow in her hand. Still, there was something reverent in the way he held her now—gentle, careful, as though she was a secret he was afraid to lose. And maybe that’s what she was. A secret part of him, something soft in a world that had asked him to be hard.

Her voice came again, quieter. “You always say things like that,” she murmured, eyes flicking to his lips, “and then I wonder if I’m supposed to say something back. Or just… kiss you.” She tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smirk ghosting her lips. Maybe she could steal a little more of his time, of this. She liked this, and while she might even have another word for it—Katniss wasn't in any place to use it. Instead, she fell back on something easy for them right now. It wasn't the answer he sought, but it was something like a breadcrumb for him. Moments that no one else saw. Katniss tipped onto her toes, her nose against his “So tell me, Mellark. Is that a question or a demand?”

Cinna was right to put her in flames. That's what she was. A force of nature. Something that people thought they could control, tuck away in a box, but that's not what one does with fire. You have to coax it, treat it right, add fuel and kindling to it, tend to it, otherwise it could burn the entire forest down. It wasn't lost on Peeta the way she set something aflame in him. Her symbols weren't entirely who she was, no, at the end of the day, she was just a girl wanting to live her life just as any of them wanted, but Peeta would be amiss to ignore how utterly captivating she was.

Haymitch said he'd made her desirable in the games. He had shown her off to the Capitol in a way that fit into their delicate palate, but really all he did was show them pieces of someone he'd been watching since they were five. Someone the rest of the districts could see clear as day. She wasn't just special to him.

So to spend an entire day with her, hand in hand, before crashing into kisses, he felt like he'd been dreaming. He hoped, whatever this attraction, whatever this spark between them, it was more than just being bonded from the arena. But they had time to figure it out, they had time before the cameras returned and they had to put on their stage play to determine how much this was real and how much was just teenage addled infatuation.

Usually he'd make the trip back into town to have dinner with his family, but after the conversation with his mother this morning, spending time with the Everdeens felt more welcoming. He grabbed the pot with both hands, letting her lead them out the door and down the road.

"Is that a question or a demand?" Peeta asked with a laugh, poking a bit of fun at her. Not that she need demand anything of him, everything was fair game. "I did just spend all afternoon making this, it'd be a shame not to have some for myself." he said logically, as if he'd ever need an excuse to spend time with her.

Really, he just wasn't ready for the dream to end. Tomorrow would be another day. Another moment where he'd have to face his mother. Another day where he'd have to debate which family needed bread the most and deliver it to their doorsteps. But right now, he was just a boy in love with a girl.

Prim bounded up to the door, her braids growing long down her back, her bright eyes looking between the two of them curiously before she smiled that sweet smile of hers. Whether that gleam in her eye was at the sight of food or an acknowledgment of the sparks between him and Katniss, who knew. He wasn't about the break the spell by opening his mouth. Instead he came inside, setting the pot in the kitchen and severing each of the Everdeen ladies before making his own bowl.

There was still pain in the house, the clear absence of Burdock Everdeen left its scar on them. Peeta remembered seeing the Everdeens in the market before, how soft they seemed to be with each other, that look in their eyes. He never saw that in either of his parents. Nothing so all consuming and sweet. They just existed. His house was quieter, his brothers would talk about their days in class clinically as if nothing ever interesting happened. The one time Peeta told the story of hearing Katniss sing, the excitable little five year old without the words to describe the mark she had left on his heart, his mother had screamed at him like he'd set a curse on their house.

Pain existed here with the Everdeens, but love did too. A warm welcoming feeling of belonging, of unconditional understanding. There was nothing that would make this family stop loving each other, no matter how hard it got, no matter how angry or resentful, there would always be an undeniable foundation of love. It felt utterly reverent.

Peeta's eyes kept searching for Katniss throughout the meal, stolen glances, little flirtatious hints of what they had done all afternoon but nothing so bold as to outright say it to her mother. He'd smirk when a flash of blush would touch her cheeks before he changed the subject to ask Prim about Lady and Buttercup. For the first time in a long time Peeta felt an overwhelming sense of belonging.

He waited patiently until Astrid and Prim found their way upstairs, easily persuading them not to worry about the dishes. He and Katniss could handle them. All the while just itching for another chance to kiss her. The moment they were alone his hands found her hips, playfully pulling her closer her. "Thank you, for today." he professed. "And thank you for leaving me game. And...I don't know if I ever thanked you for saving my life."

[angstfactory]

The sheer absurdity of whatever that man just said, brought Jesse out of that confrontational instinct as he stared at him with an expression that quite obviously should be read as: what the fuck? "What in the hell do you even mean by that?" he had to ask, head cocked to the side like an affronted dog, as his brows furrowed together in confusion. "How the fuck do those two scenarios relate to each other? Why would someone who drives 'round with shit that ain't necessarily common or regulation, be the same person that'll ask for a manager?" Seriously, the mental gymnastics of that statement completely sidetracked him a moment. "One is gonna tell on the other, not be the same person." And obviously, if either one of them were going to be anyone in that scenario... Jesse was the first, and this idiot here was the tattletale. Clearly?!

After a moment, he seemed able to get beyond that. "That sounds like a 'you' problem, man." Jesse only shook his head. "You needa work on mindin' your own business — it works wonders in not givin' a fuck what anyone else is doin'." He spoke out of experience, of course. Did people annoy him regardless? Sure, plenty. But the point was, if the guy kept to himself, none of this encounter would even be happening.

Despite the other coming in closer, Jesse stayed as he was, sitting on the edge of the tailgate with the two wieners roasting over the drum fire. "That's cool," he only nodded about the other's philosophy to the type of man — nay, loser — he was, before looking him dead in the eyes, "I mean, ya really laid it all out there for me... I'm gonna come away from our chat as a new man that's definitely gonna pause n' do some serious self-reflectin' 'cause... I care deeply what ya think of me." This was said straight, almost even with a believable sense of earnestness, yet it was clear these words were meant to mock the other man's attempt to shame him. Jesse thought this concept of some code was ridiculous. All that did was give this guy some false sense of security that he was better than Jesse. Whatever helped him to sleep better at night.

"Oof, right in the heart," Jesse said, idly gripping a hand into his chest as if the man's shoot down about his looks truly wounded him. "I guess my ma lied 'bout me bein' the most handsomest boy in all the land." At this point, he was having more fun annoying this prick than anything else. The guy made it so damn easy, too. Hell, Jesse would even say this person was itching for more problems than even he did. "Well Jack," he said in a softer tone, as he turned the wieners over so they didn't burn, "I ain't movin', so I guess you're gonna have to ruin the movie for both of us." Though, if he was being honest, he didn't actually want to ruin his own night with this stupid bullshit, either. A fight here ran the risk of getting them both banned from the place, and that would piss him off to no end. Jesse could be sensible, sometimes. "Or," he propositioned then, reaching over to dig inside the ice chest and pull out one of the chilled glass bottles of Budweiser, "you can just take this n' we'll call it even." Jesse held the bottle out to him.

"You drive around with a grill and a bag of wieners in the back of your pick up but I'm the one who looks like I ask to speak to the manager? That feels kind of anti blonde but we can explore that at another time. And what's it to me? I don't know man, I'm sitting here, enjoying myself with this nice view that I got because I was here early and along comes you to make your presence known, not just by your truck, no cause that's not enough, you gotta have a grill going just to make sure everyone really knows you're here. It's fucking annoying is what it is, and I am not a great fan of being annoyed." Maybe if he was drunk he would've just thrown a punch and not thought about it but he wasn't really trying to fight this guy, he just wanted him to either move away or leave completely. The latter would've been ideal but he wasn't the drive in police, he just wanted to be at peace.

Shawn let out a laugh and ran his fingers through his hair, not at all surprised that the guy just kept going on. "You're right, my mom didn't teach me shit, never met her. And I am a loser, have been all my life. But even losers like me have a code, you're the worst kind of loser. The kind of loser who's an asshole just cause he can be. That has nothing to do with parents, that's all you." He took a step closer, this time rolling his eyes the more the other spoke. "Please, don't flatter yourself. I've seen the dudes around here and I can guarantee you that you don't even make the list. Look, I don't give a shit about your barbecue but you need to move. I was in this spot with a clear view, you almost took off my bumper and honestly, I'm two seconds away from ruining this film for both of us. So why don't we save a fight and you move out of the fucking way." He knew that it was unlikely to end there but he didn't care anymore, if they were gonna fight they were gonna fight.

[feelyourno1z]

you'll forever be a cringey immature straight girl no matter if you call yourself a he or a xim or a identify as a table leg, no matter how many bone-eroding cross-sex hormones you take or whether you amputate or boobs or not. biologicallly you will always be a female heterosexual since that's what you were born as. neuroscience proves that heteros aka opposite-sex attracted people have distinct brain phenotypes from gay people, regardless of if they identify as trans or not. heterosexual aka male-attracted 'transmen' have the same brain chemistry as any normie het woman, proving both that sexuality is only determined by sex and that transness isn't innate the way homosexuality is. you can larp as whatever, call neuroscience and basic knowledge on sexuality 'stinky doo doo opinions' like a petulant child who just realized santa isn't real. the only thing you're doing is embarrassing yourselves in front of anyone with the slightest cerebral functionality because you're mad we're calling out your gay-fetishizing homophobic anti-scientific bs for what it is unlike the tras who pretend to see you as 'gay' 'men' because they feel sorry for your mentally ill ass and your internalized misogyny. sure you het women will never be in an equal relationship with a male because straight men see you as throwaway sex toys and free domestic servants but this isn't an excuse for you to fetishize gay men and pretend to be them, certainly not an excuse to expect them to go along with the charade and put up with you het weirdos preying on them. het males aren't dumb when it comes to manipulating women for easy p*ssy which is why they're already on grindr with your het ass, pretending to be QWeEr and non-binary to get that mentally ill gullible cooch. no actual gay male will look at you and have any other emotion aside from anger and pitiful laughter. even if you 'pass' completely, they'll be disgusted after learning you have female genitalia and lose any attraction they may have had because het sex is abnormal and undesirable to gay people, not falling for and not wanting to fuck the opposite sex is the literal essence of our sexuality which you are diametrically opposed to. you'll just rub your nub away to yaoi like any other fujo who is either an ugly woman or understandably disillusioned with men but the only outcome is that you'll be a bitter p0rn sick lonely coomer just like those crusty basement-dwelling straight men who can't get laid. the worst part is that nearly any het woman like you can get laid, that's no achievement, het men will even pretend to be bi or gay to use you as a fleshlight but no gay male will ever want your musty homophobic vag, they want none at all and deep down you know it. that you'll never be loved and wanted by a gay man, that you'll never be seen as gay or male by anyone. you'll never know the ultimate compatibility and sublime equality that only exists in same-sex love. and now that you've ruined your straight woman privilege, only the most abusive and weird straight men will go after you, whose only purpose is to take advantage of you. what a sad existence, foaming at the mouth at gay people for standing up for ourselves when you fake progressive breeders try to brainwash your fellow homophobes into your heteronormative bioessentialist homophobia, insisting gay people could be bisexually attracted as long as you wear 'boy clothes' and cut your hair off. congrats on alienating the very people you pretend to be, most of us were 'trans allies' just a few years ago before you went full crackhead and started pretending sexuality is based on a made-up gender not biological sex. enjoy withering away in your early menopause knowing no gay person will ever love or desire you, knowing you'll never be us and should be grateful since you couldn’t stand a day of real oppression. choke on as much d*ck as you'd like, it only proves what a wanton female hetero you are and that straight males would stick their d*ck in anyone female

Bro, do you need a hug?

[stateofcharles]

disgusting. fucking disgusting.

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