#but also!!!! i care for myself so much now!!

[gf2bellamy]

Hi!

Could I please request a fem!bau!reader (who isn't dating spencer yet) gets really badly injured by someone so she just shows up to spencer's door at night like 'can you please help me? i don't know where else to go?' and he like takes care of her wounds all gently?

bandage — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader being hurt, mention of blood and open wound , also sort of vv awkward / shy spencer a/n: hi hi ! thanks for your request !! <3 also he's so cute in this gif

Each step you took toward Spencer’s door felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest as much as the throbbing pain in your arm. 

You hadn’t planned on ending up here. The case had been brutal, and though you’d caught the unsub, it hadn’t come without a cost. He’d lashed out in a final, desperate attempt to escape, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

The paramedics had patched you up at the scene, but now, hours later, the wound had reopened. Blood seeped through the bandages, staining the fabric of your sleeve, and no matter how much pressure you applied, it wouldn’t stop. 

You’d tried to handle it yourself—really, you had. But the pain was relentless, and the fear of making it worse had finally driven you here.

Spencer’s apartment was close, and you knew he’d know what to do. He always did.

But now, standing in front of his door, you hesitated. The logical part of your brain told you that you were overthinking it—that Spencer wouldn’t mind helping you, that he’d probably be more concerned than annoyed.

But the irrational part of you, the part that was fueled by pain and exhaustion, whispered that you were intruding. That he might be busy, or worse, that he might not want to be bothered at all. 

The pain in your arm flared again, sharp and insistent, and you winced. That was enough to push you forward.

You raised your hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and you wondered if he was even home.

But then you heard footsteps approaching the door. 

It swung open, and there he was. Spencer Reid, hair slightly messy while wearing a loose sweater. He blinked at you, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he took in the sight of you standing there, clutching your arm. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with worry. “Are you okay?” 

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I… I didn’t know where else to go. I tried to fix it myself, but it’s not stopping, and I—” 

He didn’t let you finish. “Come in,” he said quickly, stepping aside to let you pass. You stepped into his apartment. It was exactly how you’d imagined it—books stacked everywhere, a cozy couch, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. 

“You can sit on the couch,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he glanced at your arm. “I’ll get the first aid kit.” He didn’t wait for a response before turning and hurrying toward the bathroom.

You did as he said, slowly lowering yourself onto the couch. The cushions were soft. Your eyes wandered around the room.

Your gaze landed on the coffee table, where a half-finished crossword puzzle sat next to a mug with a thin layer of coffee still at the bottom. The sight made you smile.

Of course Spencer would be in the middle of a puzzle at this hour.

Soon enough , Spencer returned, the first aid kit in hand. He sat down next to you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

He set the kit on the table and opened it. He pulled out antiseptic and fresh bandages. 

You could feel the warmth of his body next to yours, and it made your heart beat a little faster. He hesitated for a moment before gently reaching for your arm.

“This might… uh, hurt a little,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your sweatshirt, and you felt a shiver run through you as he carefully pushed the sleeve up to expose the wound. 

The old bandage was stained with blood, and he peeled it away slowly, his touch feather-light. You couldn’t help but wince as the air hit the raw skin, and your stomach churned at the sight of the wound.

Instead of looking at the wound, you found yourself looking at him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a thin line as he studied the injury. His hair fell slightly into his face, and you had to resist the urge to reach out and brush it back.

Spencer hesitated again, his hand hovering over your arm. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with guilt as he finally pressed the cloth to the wound. 

You hissed in pain, your free hand gripping the edge of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. “It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth, though your voice wavered. 

He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with concern.He then looked away quickly, focusing back on your arm as he continued to clean the wound. His touch was careful and you could feel the warmth of his fingers against your skin, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. 

“You’re really good at this,” you said quietly, your voice breaking the silence.

He glanced up at you again, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. “I, uh… I’ve had to patch myself up a few times,” he admitted, his voice tinged with nervousness. “It’s not exactly my favorite part of the job.” 

You smiled faintly, your eyes never leaving his.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before looking back down at your arm, his hands moving to apply the fresh bandage.

“You should be more careful,” he said softly, his tone laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

Your heart skipped a beat.

But before you could say anything, he finished securing the bandage and sat back, his hands resting awkwardly in his lap. “There,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That should hold for now.” 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice just as quiet. You didn’t move, and neither did he. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Do you, uh… do you want some tea? Or coffee? I mean, it’s late, so maybe tea would be better, but—” 

“Tea sounds great,” you interrupted, smiling softly. 

He nodded, standing up quickly, almost too quickly, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Okay. I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back.” 

As he disappeared into the kitchen, you leaned back against the couch, letting out a slow breath as you tried to calm your racing heart.

The pain in your arm had dulled to a manageable ache, but the fluttering in your chest was another story entirely.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned, holding two steaming cups of tea. The faint scent of chamomile and honey filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile as he approached.

He was careful not to spill as he handed you one of the cups, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said, his voice low and slightly nervous. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking the cup with your uninjured arm. The warmth seeped into your hands, and you brought it to your lips, blowing gently before taking a small sip.

He sat down beside you, leaving just enough space between you to be polite, but not so much that you couldn’t feel his warmth.

He held his own cup carefully, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from the surface as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. “For… everything. I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

Spencer shook his head quickly, his expression softening. “You’re not a bother,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’m glad you came to me. I mean, I wish you hadn’t gotten hurt in the first place, but… I’m glad you’re here.” 

You smiled faintly, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “Still, I feel bad for just showing up unannounced. I know you probably had plans or… or something.” 

He chuckled softly, a hint of nervousness in the sound. “Plans? No, not really. Unless you count rereading The Brothers Karamazov for the third time as plans.” 

You laughed. “That sounds like a very Spencer Reid kind of night.” 

He smiled back at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “Yeah, well… it’s not exactly the most exciting way to spend an evening.” 

“I don’t know,” you said, your tone teasing. “It sounds kind of nice. Quiet. Cozy.” 

He glanced at you, his smile lingering. “It is. But… this is better.” 

The words hung in the air between you, and you felt your cheeks warm. You looked down at your tea, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “It is.” 

The conversation eventually drifted to lighter topics—work, books, the crossword puzzle on the coffee table—and for a while, it felt like the world outside Spencer’s apartment didn’t exist.

The pain in your arm faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of the tea and the even warmer feeling of being near him. 

When you finally finished your tea, you set the cup down on the table and stood up. “I should probably get going,” you said reluctantly, though every part of you wanted to stay. 

Spencer stood too, looking slightly disappointed. “Are you sure you’re okay to go home? I can… I can drive you, if you want.” 

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I’ll be fine. You’ve already done more than enough.” 

You paused at the door, turning to face him. He was standing close, closer than you’d expected, and you could see the faint blush on his cheeks, the way his eyes flickered to yours before looking away.

“Thanks again,” you said. “For… well, for everything.” 

He nodded, his expression soft. “Anytime. Really.” 

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing as you made a decision. Before you could overthink it, you stepped closer, standing on your tiptoes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm under your lips, and you could feel the way he froze, his breath catching. 

When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was trying to process what had just happened.

But then, slowly, a small smile spread across his face. “Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm. 

You turned and stepped out into the hallway, your heart still racing as you walked away. But as you glanced back one last time, you saw him still standing in the doorway, his fingers brushing against the spot where you’d kissed him, a dazed look on his face. 

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Rites: Valentine

Same-sex relationship is still illegal in my country and punishable with prison term, that's why me and my boyfriend always have to lay low in public and even also took some extra measures in private to ensure our safety. But, for Valentine's Day, we always did something special for the past 2 years and we absolutely planned to do it again this year. Last year it was two stereotypical American college football jocks, this year.....well, we wanted something different

We stumbled upon this opportunity during our research about moving out from our country and settle in an entirely different one. They helped people to relocate for short-term, like quick break from daily living, to long-term such as a complete change of life. Was it the alcohol or what that clouded our judgment back then, but we followed through the procedure back at that day from that shady website and found ourselves the following morning not next to each other and in a completely different country altogether. It was chaotic but we managed to found each other and have the best sex of our relationship to that date before all in a sudden ripped away from the two fine dadbod to return to our ordinary life when the time was up

This year, we're much more well-planned and prepared as we decided to go to Brazil to celebrate our 3rd Valentine together. Spotting that Valentine falls on Friday this year, we also requested a return back to our body by Sunday evening in our country timezone because we still need to go to work on Monday after all

"Ready?"

"Always. Directly DM me, okay?"

"Sure thing, babe,"

"Okay, good night,"

---

I know it's our third time doing this, but it's always giving me such chills to open my eyes and found myself to not be in bed but actually in the middle of doing something inside a completely different body. We did mention to the agency to land us inside fit, 21-35 years old age group Brazilian men, but the weight of it really only hit when you experienced it, and it's certainly true for this one because this guy I'm in is thick!

It's Friday morning here in Rio, and I'm inside this huge tatted hunk named Gonzalo, his buzzcut and overall style makes him look very intimidating but there's a charming side to this handsome stud that I know I won't be able to resist if he flashes his smile to me. A small dog on a leash that I held added another element of surprise because I'm terrified of dog and I really cannot touch dog but I think Gonzalo here has no problem with it, right? I quickly take a selfie of myself and directly send the picture to my boyfriend's Insta as Gonzalo's insta is accessible anyway. Ohhh....he's typing right away, so he logged in to his account already huh......I wonder how he looks like

"Morning, handsome stranger. Just finished with my morning run, I'm reeked. Name's Joao,"

Fuck me, he's looking like a snack! Gonzalo's memory is filled with women and these repeated names of Carla that appeared in a lot of the memory, a girlfriend of Gonzalo apparently, but sorry to that woman, boyfriend is not going to celebrate Valentine's Day with her this year. I started to add my own input to Gonzalo's mind and make this body heated for the snack that is Joao on my screen, as I type my reply stating my interest to come over to check out how reeked he is. This two dudes might not actually know each other, but we don't really care about all that because what mattered for now is the fact that my boyfriend is inside of that man and I want to give him the love and fucking he deserved for his Valentine's Day

Once I receive the detail of his apartment location and another sultry selfie of his already taking off his musky cap and sweaty tanktop, I'm headed his way with the dog coming along with me.

The temperature in Rio is not that different with our hometown, so I find no problem strutting around over here through the walkways to the apartment located around 25 minutes walk from Gonzalo's residence. The people is definitely a lot more diverse and wearing a much-more revealing clothes compared to my hometown, but really, my mind just wandered to the idea of my boyfriend inside that taut Brazilian twunk, probably still sweaty with almost no clothings on already waiting for me. The colors of the street, the sight and senses of a new city, everything becomes secondary as I can feel the throbbing meat is accustomed to its owner's gay thoughts and just ready to be released from its cotton prison.

When I finally ring the bell of his apartment unit, the door opened quickly to the sight I simply cannot resist. I instantly lunged at him for a kiss and before long, we're already stripped naked from all our clothings as we consummate our Brazilian outings right here in this apartment while the sun shines nicely on us and the neighbors clearly can see us fucking each other but not gonna call police on us

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Setting In A Honeymoon

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Oh to be loved. (back on my using gifs because they fit the vibes not the plot shit)

Chapter Title from I'm Like A Lawyer by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?), smut (breeding kink, oral, fingering, p in v)

“Sunshine-“

You hold a hand up—your attention still on the suitcases—and Ben falls silent, but you can still feel his glower. “Did you pack a toothbrush?”

“Of course I packed a fucking toothbrush-“

“And shampoo?”

“They’re going to have shampoo there-“

You shake your head, turning around and moving past Ben to the bathroom. “They won’t have the right shampoo-“

“It’s fucking shampoo.” He mutters, trailing after you to stand in the doorframe, watching you rifle through the cabinets with a frown. “It’s just goddamn hair soap-“

“And you have very nice hair, my love.” You walk up to him—bottle of shampoo in hand—and press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Let me take care of it.”

Ben’s frown deepens, even as his arm wraps around your waist. “That’s not your damn job, Sunshine-“

“Yes, it is.” You give him a wide smile, and feel all his love flare in your chest. “This is a two-way street, Pretty Boy. You refuse to let me fly on a plane, I refuse to let you neglect your hair.”

“Fine.” He grunts, leaning down to pull you into a long, easy kiss, going until you’re melted into his touch and clinging to his arm. But this is the last fucking thing, we need to go-

We have time. You pull away, reaching your free hand up to hold his cheek, your grin unrestrained and a little ditzy. All the time in the world.

Ben sighs, pulls your hand to his mouth, and kisses your knuckles with a deep glare you know is fake. If it’s not in the rough affection and devotion in his chest, it’s in the way he’s holding you so carefully against his body, like he can’t bear the idea of you even stepping away. “Be quick.” He grumbles, and you nod.

“I always am.” You drag yourself away from him, crossing back to the bed. Grumpy.

Shut the fuck up. He moves behind you, almost hanging off your body as you sort through the bags for anything else missing. Tell me how to make this shit go faster.

Patience-

No. Ben lowers his mouth to your neck, and you have to take a long breath as he starts to nip and suck at your skin. I want to take my wife on our fucking honeymoon.

Your wife wants to go on that honeymoon as well, but she also wants to make sure we have everything-

I have you, Sunshine. Ben’s hand grabs your chin, tipping your head back to capture your lips with his. That’s all I fucking need.

You let out a soft, blissful sigh. Romantic, Benjamin-

Only for you, darling. Let’s fucking go.

No, I need to feed Bowser-

I already fucking fed him-

What about the car-

Filled up the gas last night-

Okay, let me just-

Your silent words are cut off with a yelp as Ben scoops you up into his arms and marches you out of the bedroom, his whole body alight with a concrete determination.

“Benjamin-“

“We’re going now,” he grunts your name, shooting you a stern glare. “Everything is fucking fine, we’ve got all we need, and you’re going to fucking hurt yourself if you keep worrying.”

You pout up at him. “I am not going to hurt myself-“

“Yes, you are.” Ben half kicks open the front door of your house. “We’re going to leave, and you’re going to enjoy your goddamn honeymoon without losing that pretty mind about what could go wrong, got it?”

“But-“

“No.” He lowers you into the driver’s seat of the car, kneeling at your side on the pavement and blocking your path back out. “Look at me, beautiful.”

You glare at him, and he reaches up to trace a careful line over your cheekbone, dragging his thumb over your lip in a way that makes it very hard to act genuinely pissed at him.

“We’re good, Sunshine.” He mutters. “Ryan’s with Butcher, Annie and Kimiko have us covered at work, and if any shit goes wrong, which it fucking won’t, we’ll deal with it together.”

You swallow, nodding slowly. “And I get to drive?”

Ben chuckles. “You get to drive, you fucking brat.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, curling into the seat. “You love it.”

“I love you.” Ben rises up to press a kiss to your brow, hunger and his raw, focused love slamming into you like a train when you grab his face between your hands and pull him down into a full, devouring kiss. Fucking Christ, Sunshine, I love you.

I love you too, Benjamin. You pull back to give him a wide, easy smile. Am I allowed to go get the bags?

No. Ben smirks against your lips. Stay in your fucking seat, darling, or you’re not getting fucked for the whole week. 

You snort, because that’s the worst lie he’s ever told you. You don’t think Ben would survive not fucking you for the whole week. He’s been looking forward to this more than you’ve ever seen him be excited for everything. The closer you had gotten to your honeymoon, the more he looked less like a massive, grumpy, amazing man-child and more like a little boy who was about to be set loose in a candy shop and told to go crazy. It’s why worrying about this was, admittedly, a little dumb. Ben wouldn’t let anything go wrong. He’d refused Rome as a destination because he’d never let you fly if he could fucking help it. He’d chosen this resort because they had a very good insurance policy that would allow you to burst into flames and Ben to break a lot of things. He’d even hounded after Singer for a special permission to drive into Mexico, so that the border patrol wouldn’t get all angry about the whole supe thing. 

And you never doubt him. Not for a second. Ben never does anything but what he says he’ll do, and he’s sworn that this was going to be fucking perfect, Sunshine, and he was going make you forget your goddamn name, so it would be good. 

Ben was good, so this would be fucking good.

The drive is long. Almost three days, both of you determined to utilize the advantage of being supes and make it the full drive with only a few stops for gas and one night spent at a hotel near the border. The gas is easy—Ben always stomping out of the station with a prideful glow in his chest as he presents his snack assortments to you like a dog offering its owner a rabbit—and you only leave a slightly charred indent on the wall of the hotel after Ben slams you into it and fucks you until you’re wrapped in flame, but your amazing, impossible husband is not helpful on the actual drive at all. He’s still incredibly anti-GPS, and when he’s not glowering at the map on your phone—grumbling that he’d be able to get you there just fine by his goddamn self—he’s being distracting. Rubbing patterns on your thigh and tracing his hand up to just rest over your pussy, only smirking whenever you shoot him a glare.

“Ben,” your voice is a little strained, because the asshole has started to rub. “You’re going to make me crash the car-“

“We’d live.” He shrugs, pinching your clit in over your panties and drawing a loud moan from your lips. “Need you fucking ready for me, Sunshine, I’m about to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked before-“

“You know you’ve fucked me the most, right?” You give him an amused look, trying not to giggle as he pauses, an almost adorable frown crossing his face. “At this point you’re making up about 85% of all sex I’ve had, ever. You’re only competing with yourself.”

Something hot and bright flares in Ben’s chest, his hunger settling right in your core, and you realize your mistake a second too late.

“Am I the best you’ve ever fucking had,” he drawls your name, his hand resuming with long, lazy movements. “The only one who’s ever fucked you properly, like the perfect fucking problem you are, fucking ruined you-“

“Shut up.” You mumble, small lights starting to dance through the car as your face heats up. “Of course you’re the best I’ve had, you asshole, you’re my husband-“

Second mistake. That only spurs him on. 

“That’s fucking right, beautiful.” Ben leans over to growl right into your ear, spanking your pussy once and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “You’re fucking mine, and this cock his yours-“

You moan, grinding into his hand and thanking the universe that this highway is mostly empty. “Ben-“

“I’m about to fuck this pretty pussy full of me when we get to the resort,” he grunts, shoving a finger under your panties, right into your cunt. “Already so fucking wet for me, darling, ready to be pumped full of my cum-“

That’s enough. You flip on your turn signal, pull off to the side of the road, and almost leap out of your seat onto Ben’s lap.

The sex is quick, feral, and brutal. You half burn through his pants as you fumble with his belt, sinking yourself onto his cock in half a second, and squeaking as Ben wraps his arm around your waist, pinning you to his chest as he hammers up into you. You’re not quite burning, but you’re lost in the sheer power of the hunger and adoration in Ben’s body, and the sound of his skin slapping on yours, the way he’s biting and sucking at your neck, how deep he’s hitting inside of you-

You find release quickly, a second orgasm rushing through your body as Ben cums up into you with a roar of your name.

He drives the rest of the way—the combination of sex and almost two days of straight driving making your eyes start to droop, so Ben flat out refuses to let you keep going—and you slump in the passenger’s seat, your head buried in his arm and your mind a little high on the smell of pine and coffee and Ben.

You get through border security fast, mostly thanks to Ben’s sheer everything. You keep your face hidden against his body as he glowers at the guards, refusing to answer any sort of question about your lives outside of you’re heading to Mexico for your honeymoon, you have permission from the fucking president himself to cross the border with weapons—you’re the weapons, plus you’re pretty sure Ben has a gun in the trunk—yes, he’s over a hundred, but if these pussies try to act like they don’t know why he’ll fucking kill them, and obviously you’re fucking married, he’s wearing a goddamn wedding ring, and it was all over the damn papers after Homelander’s death.

“Nobody reads the papers, Benjamin.” You mumble as he pulls past the border checkpoint.

“Well how the fuck do those pussies get the news-“

“TV, you old cunt.”

Ben snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and running a hand through your hair until you melt into his side. “Brat.”

You only hum, and the remainder of the drive carries out in easy silence as you drift in and out of sleep, Ben keeping you tucked into his body.

You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until you’re in Ben’s arms, and he’s carrying you up to your room.

“Ben,” you push slightly against his chest, your face still nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Bags-“

“It’s handled, Sunshine.” Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, his words low. “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head, the movement not at all convincing. “Wanna help-“

“You’re on vacation.” He grunts your name, squeezing his gentle hold on your body. “Fucking rest.”

God, you’re going to kill him. You love him more than life and every beautiful thing in the universe, but that’s the fucking problem. Ben tells you to rest, and he’s alive and attentive and devout in your body, so you can’t stop yourself from falling right back into peaceful sleep.

When you’re up, Ben’s body is heavy over yours, his face buried between your breasts and his arms wrapped around your waist. You don’t wake him. He looks so handsome and calm against you, his snores rumbling easily through your body, and his love sitting in content at the top of your chest, so you’ll stay here until he makes you move. Playing with his hair and watching him with a stupid smile, humming softly and letting the room fill with rainbow mist and light until he stirs, looks up and you, and meets your gaze with his own, wide and powerful grin.

“Hi, Sunshine.” His voice is hoarse, his eyes still slightly glazed with sleep, and you don’t think spending eternity with him is going to be enough. You need him all the time before, and now, and a little longer than forever after. 

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” You lean down to kiss his nose, and he makes a low, grunting noise that goes right to your core. “Thank you.”

He frowns. “I didn’t do fucking shit-“

“You’re here.” You whisper. “You’re taking care of me.”

“That’s my goddamn job-“

“And I’m still thanking you.” You hold his face between your hands, shifting slightly up to he every angle of him impossible handsome face. “I love you-”

The sound that Ben makes is low and primal, and you cut yourself off with a gasp as he flips you over, kissing you into the mattress and rutting into you until you’re writhing under him, scraping at his arms for more.

“Ben-“

He starts to trail sloppy kisses over your whole face, smirking as you let out another strangled moan. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, fucking love you, so goddamn good-“

You whimper as he pins you to the bed with his hips, his mouth trailing down to your neck, over your collarbone, and his hand pushing between your bodies to rub fast, strong circles on your clit.

“So fucking beautiful, already fucking wrecked.” He growls against you, and you can only whimper. “Cum for me, darling, soak my fucking hand-“

You cum with a scream, and Ben groans as he jerks against you, something warm spreading over his boxers as he buries his face in your neck, his own orgasm sending a small, shivering one into your body.

“Did you just-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He grunts, nipping at your skin as he flicks your clit once, your back arching off the bed at the movement. “You’d cum like that as well, if you could see how fucking perfect you are.”

You giggle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Grumpy-“

“I said shut the fuck up.” He growls, and you just hum, still smiling like an idiot. God, you fucking love him.

It takes an hour for you to get out of bed, and then another two to leave the room. Ben will grumble something that makes you jump on him, and then you smile at him and he’ll pin you to the mattress, or the wall, or just hold you up in his arms as he fingers you in the middle of the room. He tries to get changed and you fall to your knees to take his cock into your mouth. You bend over to pick something up and he drives himself into your cunt from behind. The only reason it ever comes to an end is because your stomach growls, Ben’s head shoots up from between your thighs, and you’re suddenly being dragged down to the lobby for breakfast. 

The day from there is slow and lazy. Wandering around with no destination, Ben’s hand tangled naturally in yours, acting like you can’t see the people silently watching you with whispers and wide eyes. You’d expected it, but it’s still strange, and you’re more than happy to let Ben handle it whenever someone crosses a line. Mostly it’s just the stares, but one very drunk man tells you he could give you cock better than any old Hollywood asshole, and you have to act like it doesn’t make you ache for Ben when he draws to his full height, puffs out his chest like a lion, and hisses that he’s the only fucking asshole in the world that could handle you, because you burn this pussy to fucking charcoal in a second. Then a rich finance dick tries to get Ben to invest in his crypto business, and you get to smile like a dummy as Ben snaps that his wife thinks crypto is stupid as fuck, and she’s smarter than this fucking idiot by a goddamn mile. The best one is when a very stupid woman comes up to Ben and tell him he deserves a real, truly American woman, and you get to watch him go tense and—pulling you so close you think he’s worried you’ll vanish into thin air—sneer that he’s already got the best fucking woman in the goddamn world.

But outside of these sparse moments, it’s all so fucking easy. Ben flat out refuses to wear a Hawaiian shirt because he’s not goddamn Butcher, but you get him into a loose, white linen one that makes you almost climb on top of him in the middle of a very crowded shopping center. He buys you flowers—shoving them into your hands with a low grumble of for you, beautiful and a radiant glow blooming over his ribs—and then tucks one behind your ear with a grin, looking at you like you’re holy. There are a few moments when you have to slap him for saying things that really do prove he’s a hundred years old, but you’d expected that. You know who you psychically bound yourself to for eternity, and it’s a grumpy old man who frowns as you explain why he can’t say that, then nods and never says it again. He doesn’t apologize—Ben so rarely apologizes, and it’s only ever to you and Ryan—but he learns, and he tries, and you love him even more.

It’s only when you go to the beach and you remember why you’d try to talk him out of honeymooning anywhere near the ocean, that the day comes to a crashing halt in the best way possible.

Ben shouldn’t be allowed near a beach. His skin glows golden, and his eyes look greener than the sea, and his bare chest is broad and muscular and covered in a light layer of sweat that you want to taste-

“You’re drooling, Sunshine.” He mutters in your ear, and your knees almost give out from the force of the want in his body. “You need something?”

You swallow, looking up into his lust-blown eyes, and your voice is soft and breathless. “Ben-“

“Fucking Christ,” he grunts you name, spinning your body to fully press into his, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “You’re so fucking beautiful, darling, driving me fucking insane, want to fuck you until everyone can see that you’re mine-“

And that’s enough. You grab Ben’s wrist, spin on your heels, and drag him after you as you half-run back to the hotel.

You make it about ten steps before Ben pulls you back into his arms, picks you up without breaking pace, and marches you back to the room.

You’re barely through the door when you squirm in his hold, reaching down to palm at his bulge over his shorts. Ben groans right in your ear, his grip on your body tightening, and you grin as he twitches at your touch. You manage to twist in his arms, offering yourself more access to slip your hand right into his trunks, wrapping your hand around his thick cock and start to jerk him off with slow, teasing movements

Ben growls, prying you off his body to lower you onto the mattress, standing above you with a stern glare you can feel right in your pussy. 

“Jesus, beautiful,” he grunts, tangling your hair in his fingers, tracing your parted lips with his thumb. “Such a needy fucking brat, need to be damn careful-“

“Or what?”

His throat bobs, and you feel the glow over his ribs grow starved, all of it focused into you, and he says your name in a low warning. “You’re- Fuck,tell me what you want, brat.”

You run your hand up his thigh, making your eyes big and pleading, letting little bit of your sheer desire leak into Ben’s body. “Want you, my love. Want your cock filling me up.”

“Fuck.” He grunts, his jaw clenching as you pull down his shorts. “Want me to fuck your mouth, Sunshine? Want me to feed you with my cock until you’re begging for more-“

You know Ben. He’ll keep dirty talking and taunting you until you either fold into him and start begging before you even taste him, or you explicitly tell him want your big cock on my tongue, Ben, please.

And you might have said that between your minds, because Ben’s grip on your hair does tighten, but it doesn’t matter because you’re not bothering to wait. You take Ben into your mouth in one motion—until your nose is pressed to his abdomen and the head of him is bumping the back of your throat—and look up at him under hooded eyes.

He’s holy. He looks feral—his eyes almost wholly black and his full mouth parted as he stares at you—and a low growl escapes his chest as you hollow your cheeks, lick the underside of his cock, and speak in a needy, high plea into his mind. Fuck my mouth, Ben, please-

You moan as he tugs you almost fully off of him, lets you flick your tongue against the weeping slit of his cock, and shoves your back down until you’re gagging. 

He pauses, his grip loosening slightly as his stone-like concern wraps over your skin, and his voice is strained from above you. “You-“

I’m good. You reach a hand to play with his balls, making your eyes soft and pleading when you look back up at him. Please, just fuck my mouth-

“Fuck.” He groans, repeating the same movement from before, once, twice, over and over until you’re drooling on him, your fingers on his balls light and uncontrolled as you grow cockdrunk. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, goddamn beautiful choking on my cock, pretty lips made to be wrapped around my fucking dick, making sounds like fucking music, sucking on me like a fucking brat, so fucking good-“

You whine around him, your thighs rolling as you try to bunch the sheet between them, and Ben chuckles, the sound raspy and hoarse and shooting through you like lightning.

“Need some help, beautiful? Got a fucking problem, so fucking wet and desperate for me, just from sucking my fucking cock like a good fucking girl-“

God, he can’t be allowed to speak during sex. You’ll never be able to stop him—it would be downright cruel to your pussy, pulsing and grinding against nothing, soaked just from the deep sound of Ben’s voice—but he’s going to make you lose your mind. 

Ben, you moan between your heads, and his dick jerks, heavy on your tongue. Please, need you so bad-

He pops you off of him, angles your head up to hold his gaze, and you whine at how fucking good he looks. How his chest is heaving, and his eyes are pulling you apart under him, how he drags you up to crash into him halfway, making you moan down his throat from his demanding kiss.

“Fucking love you,” he grunts your name, biting on your lower lip and smirking as you start to try and climb up his body. “Want to fill you up, Sunshine-“

You nod franticly, squirming against him. “Fuck, yes, yes please-“

“You want my fucking cum, beautiful?” Ben growls, and when you glance down you don’t miss the way his own words are making his cock jump against nothing. “Need me to stuff that pretty pussy full of me, mark you up with me-“

“Yes,” your moan is shameless, because god, you’ll give him whatever he asks for, and take anything he offers you. “Please, Ben, fuck me, want your cock, want your cum-“

You gasp as Ben rips off your fully ruined swimsuit, tosses you back on the mattress, and shoves your thighs apart with rough hands.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, running two fingers between your folds, looking up at you with an awe and love that feels slightly out of place for how he’s plunged those two fingers inside you, crooked them in your cunt, and started to rub right against that deep, desperate spot. “Squirt on my hand, darling, need you fucking soaked for my cock-“

Your body obeys his command without thought, and cum with a choked gasp of Ben. 

“There you go,” he growls, scissoring his fingers as your back arches off the bed, keeping his movements careful and measured as he drags you through your orgasm. “Good girl, so fucking good, just for me-“

Just for you, Ben, please. You grab at his wrist with a slack grip, grinding helplessly against his hand. Please, fucking please, my love-

He pulls his fingers away, flicking your clit once and smirking at your high whine before positioning himself between your legs, slowing pumping himself as he scans over your flushed body.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and it seems to be mostly to himself. “Fucking perfect, love you so fucking much, Sunshine, you don’t have a goddamn clue-“

You have sort of a clue—he does tell you that about five times a day—but your words and mind are lost in a daze of Ben, so all you do is reach pathetically up for him, spreading your legs wider with a sound of need to beg him to just take you. Just fuck you like no one else can, like no one else ever could.

“Christ.” He grunts, shaking his head slightly. “You’re- fuck-“ Ben doubles over with a groan as you raise your arms over your head, your legs splayed fully apart in a silent plea.

Benjamin. You take a long, heavy breath, rolling your hips for him with your best sweet, pleading gaze. Fuck me.

The sound that leaves Ben might be the deepest you’ve ever heard, and his voice is downright animalistic as his hand trails over your abdomen and inner thighs, sending a shiver through your spine. 

“Arms stay up.” He orders, and you nod, moaning as Ben crawls over you, lining himself up to shove into your needy cunt. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

You barely have a moment to hum an agreement before Ben shoves into you, and everything turns into an intoxicating haze of Ben. He’s hiked your leg over his waist to push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix, and trailed a hand up your arms to pin your hands to the bed, leaving you open and vulnerable for him to use.

And fuck, he’s using you. Ben’s thrusting his cock into you at a feral pace, his mouth biting and sucking everywhere he can reach, pulling you so high you can only moan and whimper his name as he ruins you.

“So fucking perfect, darling,” he groans against your throat, and you throw your head back with a high whimper. “Gonna fuck you full, fill your perfect fucking pussy with my cum, get you fucking round and beautiful with my baby, show the world how good I fuck my wife, how fucking desperate you are for my cock-“

You make a high, breathy noise, writhing under Ben’s touch as his free hand moves to roll your nipple between his fingers. “Fuck, Ben-“

“Say my name, Sunshine, fucking scream so everyone knows you fucks you right, tell the whole damn hotel who you belong to-“

“Ben!” You can’t remember any other words as he moves his hips in a circle, angling you a little higher to somehow hit deeper inside of you. You can’t touch him—your hands still trapped over your head—but he’s so good, and you’re so full, and fuck, you might be crying with pleasure as he bites on your shoulder, and you know whatever mark he leaves will fade in a second but god, you want it to stick- 

“Fuck,” Ben hisses your name as you squeeze around him, and your eyes roll back in your head as his hand snakes between your bodies and he starts to circle around—but never on—your clit. “You’re so fucking good, beautiful, tight and warm, wrecked on my cock, you’re perfect, love you so fucking much-“

“Ben,” you trying to keep your eyes on him, his face filled with a zealous care and hunger, but fuck you need to come so bad. “Ben-“

“All goddamn stupid when I fuck you, smart fucking mouth all, fuck-“ Ben kisses you into the mattress with a brutal force, shoving his tongue down your throat as his thrusts grow sloppy. Christ, need to cum in you, darling, you’re- Fuck- Ben’s hips stutter and you squeak down his throat. Cum with me, Sunshine-

You let go with a scream right as Ben pinches your clit, and he slams home with a roar of your name. You feel his warm cum spread inside you, leaking slowly down your thighs as he pulls out, and when Ben drops his weight carefully down over you—his head resting on your chest as you move your arms to wrap around his neck—you hum in happy, fucked out, empty-minded content.

“You’re really having a lot of fun with the baby thing, my love.” You mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“You fucking love it.” He pauses, something sore settling over his skin as he frowns up at you, and you can’t stop the small smile crossing your face at the stone like protection wrapping around your body, Ben’s grip on you tightening like he’s trying to protect you from ghosts that never exist when he’s at your side. “You-“

“I do love it.” You whisper, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. “I love you.”

He grunts. “You’re fucking certain-“

“Positive.” You smile against his lips. “With you, Benjamin, I’m always positive.”

His nostrils flare slightly, and everything fades back into furious, bloody, unwavering love in his body. “Then we’ve got a goddamn week to make sure it happens, Sunshine.” He growls, rolling his already semi-hard cock against your thighs. “You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when I get it to stick.”

He always avoids the words when you’re not actively fucking, and youknow why. Ben never seems to fully trust that you’re really ready for this. Not because he doesn’t trust you, not because he doesn’t want it more than you do—if the way he flares and bursts over your ribs at the very mention of it isn’t proof, the way that you’ve caught him staring at baby cribs and clothing when you walk through Costco is—but because he’s a stubborn, protective, amazing asshole who values your comfort above everything else in the world. Once a douchebag congress member accused you of illegally aborting Homelander’s baby, and Ben interrupted the hearing to hold your cold, frozen body against his chest and roar some of the most violent threats you’ve ever heard at the committee.

But Ben’s not Homelander. He’s the furthest thing from Homelander. He’s the light that’s dancing over the room as you lay in his arms, and the whole world inside your body, and the best thing that’s ever happened to you in your life. He gives you everything, and more, and the only thing that could ever be better than him is what you could offer him.  

The only person in the whole world who, after everything, could ever want to offer that.

So you smile at him, playing with the hair of his beard, and crane your neck to whisper against his lips. “When you fuck me full of a baby, Benjamin? When you get me pregnant?”

Ben stiffens, his cock already hard once more and prodding against your thigh, his voice so low you almost cum on the spot. “Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, ardor and a fervorish, wrathful reverence exploding in his chest, all aimed at you. “You’re going to fucking kill me-“

“No, I won’t.” You grind up into him, and he hisses. “But I am going to let you fuck me stupid, Pretty Boy, let you fill me up with your baby-“

Your blatant bait works. Ben sits up in a sharp movement, pulling you with him, and impales you back on his cock in one, smooth movement.

“Such a fucking brat.” He grunts in your ear, his hands on your hips holding you still, forcing you to just fall into his warmth and clench desperately around him. “You want my cum, beautiful?”

You nod stupidly, and he smirks.

“Words-“

“Want it, Ben.” You moan, clinging to his body. “Want you.”

“You’ve got me, Sunshine.” He mutters, squeezing your ass with a firm hand. “Now be a good girl and take me.”

You half-scream as he starts to move, and you could be happy dying here. With a husband that loves you with such a raging strength, who fucks you so good that all you can do is grow slack in his hold and let him abuse your cunt until you’re his in every way possible.

And you already are. He’s alive inside of you, and molded into you, and wears a matching ring to yours that you think he’d sear into his skin if he could.

But God, it will never be enough. Ben is more than enough, but you’ll never be satiated of him. 

You could never be satiated of him. 

And that’s why, when he cums into you again, you really do hope it sticks. Because the only thing could ever be better than Ben was a bright-eyed, cared for, happy bundle of evidence that you belong to each other forever. A child that will never know the pain you and Ben have held each other through, because Ben doesn’t allow people he loves to be in pain.

And he really deserves more people to love. His own piece of proof that you trust him more than you trust yourself, that he’s repented and you’ll offer him a million smiling children for everything he’s done for you. For how well be cares for you, and how well you know he’ll care for them. For how it will be hard, but worth it, because you’ve bled for less and cried for more. 

And no matter what any form of family comes, you’d never want it with anyone but Ben.

End Note: God please send me someone who's as down bad for me as Ben is for Her.

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[hotwife-larissa-returns]

That was so fucking naughty… hubby and I were in the States for vacation and we ran into an old friend of mine. As I hugged him, he whispered some compliments in my ear… hubby didn’t hear it and I tried to hide my smile.

Nevertheless, we were in a hurry, so I just got his phone number and I called him to arrange to meet and have dinner the next day. But I couldn’t get him out of my head, I remembered how he made love to me. I got wet… and horny… for him.

So I stealed away from my hubby, telling him I forgot to get something, that I needed right now. You know, honest conversations are important in our relationship and I wasn’t lying. Of course, I left out some details, but that didn’t matter right now. I had a burning desire, I called my friend and drove to his hotel.

As I knocked on his door, he opened it, he was wearing a towel… he knew, why I was here and had just showered to be fresh and ready for me. I stripped out of my clothes in no time and the towel dropped on the floor, giving me a close view of why I had missed him so badly. He‘s really hung, easy twice the size of my hubbies dick and he also knows how to use this thing.

He didn’t need to seduce me, we skipped foreplay and started to fuck like wild animals… for two hours. We‘d completely lost track of time and we had that reservation at the restaurant in half an hour. We’re already late… so I called hubby that we‘ll meet there, telling him I got stuck in traffic.

There wasn’t any time left to shower or freshen myself up. We just dressed up and hurried to my car. Hubby already waited for us as we arrived, hand in hand… and that glow in my face together with my messy hair already told him the story. I hugged and kissed my cuckold, whispering to him, how much I love him.

He knew exactly, what I had done. And it got him excited. Still hugging him, I told him, hat he could taste him, if he‘ll let his finger run up my inner thighs. He did as unsuspicious as possible and pick up some drops, licking them up. „Tell him he‘s delicious.“ Gosh, my hubby is so great, he really did tell my old friend, how good his cum tasted.

We went inside and enjoyed dinner. I sat next to my friend, while hubby sat across the table. He clearly could noticed, that my friends hand were doing something under the table… he fingered me gently, while I had slipped out of one of my shoes and rubbed my hubbies bulge through his pants.

We told our story of how I had met my friend, that we had an affair years ago and that he’s always a great companion in bed… adding an „even today“ to add a little spice for my hubby. My friend smirked at my hubby, I had already told him about our lifestyle and he couldn’t have been happier with that. Turns out, that he got divorced a while ago and haven’t found a new woman yet.

We had finished the main course and I said to hubby, „We weren’t finished before we got here and I think we‘ll take dessert somewhere else.“ We let hubby pay the bill and I took my car to give my friend a lift. Hubby couldn’t follow us fast enough and he called me. As I were in my friends hotel room again, I just texted my cuckold „have a good night, sweetie, I‘m safe and sound in his room taking care of my friend, see you tomorrow.“

He fucked me all night long till dawn… giving me multiple shaking orgasms that night, fucking my brains out and screwing me like he hadn’t had a woman in months… I could barely move the next day and just managed to drive home to my hubby, who eagerly waited for my return and couldn’t stop himself from caring for my manhandled and sore pussy.

👩🏻🤗😘💋🥰🔥💍😈💕💦🍆🤷🏻‍♀️

[sgiandubh]

Shippers lose all credibility every time they send messages to places like Deuxmoi, with claims like CB is hiding her rings and hasn’t been seen with her husband for months—like, implying her divorce is imminent. It’s so obvious! It’s been ages since your friend SHwifey blogger announced with such excitement the news about a supposed Decree Nisi and nothing happened yet?🤥 let’s be real T&C are here to stay and a divorce ain’t happening.

Come on, we're not stupid, next time shippers are sending such nonsense to blind items sites at least try to cover it up a bit! And then they say the antis are the desperate ones...

By the way, how’s everything in Puffiland?"

Dear Deux Moi Anon,

Not my circus, not my monkeys, darling, and you know it. I don't know, nor care about what exactly happened, who dunnit and why. It still doesn't change anything to the fact McGill has been MIA for months now, and that yes, the very fact that you rushed in here to screech tells me it bothers you greatly.

Short, but firm reminder I shall not speak for any other blogger than myself, nor take responsibility for any content other than what I sign, seal and deliver on this page. However, you might want to brush up your expertise in British family law and see what the difference is between a decree nisi and a decree absolute. Even if the law changed in the meanwhile (2020 and enforced in 2022), the procedure I am about to describe and comment has not, assuming it started as stated, in 2020. Sidenote: the 2022 law does not change much to its essence, either. It just simplifies the grounds for divorce and leaves some unwanted uncertainty on the ways financial separation is dealt with by the applicants (formerly called 'petitioners').

Here, pumpkin, educate yourself. By the way, you should stop imagining that the entire world has the same rules and regulations on things: divorce is something that is dealt with very differently in the US, as compared to the UK, for example. But anyways, this is the most comprehensive and clear explanation I could immediately find online and it should be enough for you. Also, dutifully highlighted, just to piss you off, darling:

[Source: https://www.aticuslaw.co.uk/what-is-the-difference-between-a-decree-nisi-and-decree-absolute/]

In British legal practice, there is, in reality, no time limit for the decree nisi to remain on the court file, simply because, as the paper above strives to explain, the legislator is fully aware of the fact that it is not always quick, nor easy to deal with the consequences of a separation, such as a change of personal status or financial situation. The 12-months term is, in effect, deemed reasonable to get all the practicalities sorted out. But people are strange, like that: some may just linger complacently in a limbo, some take their time to go their separate ways, others are held by external pressure vectors that are entirely independent of their own will (*coughs*). However, there is no reason to deny the belated petitioners the right for a decree absolute and all it takes is a written Letter to Court, explaining the reasons of the delay. You just need to pay a good specialized solicitor and there are even templates galore to download and fill in, on the Internet. An example:

[Source: https://www.lexisnexis.co.uk/legal/precedents/letter-to-court-applying-for-decree-absolute-more-than-12-months-after-decree-nisi - you can imagine I won't be arsed to pay for the sake of someone like you asking. But you can also imagine the above letter primarily deals with exposing/justifying the reasons for the delay and any new events that may or may not have complicated the issue at stake, such as the birth of a child. ]

I trust this is straightforward enough, or do you need me to draw it to you?

So, there goes your completely false allegation that divorce was automatically implied as 'imminent'. Chop chop, to the scrapheap, with all the rest of you. Not my problem either, that (as always) you have no idea of what you are talking about. See, I am just analyzing some useful legislation, here. I don't read tea leaves, I am definitely not into that Lady of the Rings kremlinology club and I very rarely speculate on social media drama-drama. These being exactly the reasons why you guys seem to hate me with a passion. I don't, darling: I pity and despise you, in equal measure.

As for the current situation in Puffland, you can fuck right off and ask that woman yourself. I don't think she likes me and I can't say many nice things about her, either.

But funny how I, along with a couple of other shippers, seem to live rent free in your empty brains. Given the mentioned company, I feel honored.

[millersfinest]

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE | 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS, YELLOWJACKETS AU, SERIES!

SERIES MASTERLIST

001 — When You’re Gone wc: 14.4k

chapter blurb: the struggles of a soon-to-be high school graduate was rough—leaving home, leaving the girl you love behind knowing you weren’t strong enough to love her aloud; it was fear inducing. however, not as fear inducing as the sounds of a plane breaking down while in the air with you and everyone you care about inside of it. now, that was bone chilling! it’s the beginning of many, many, many nightmares to come.

cw: use of the word ‘dyke’, r and ellie being teenage lover girls, closeted abby, dramatic teenage girls, reader is working on her internalized homophobia, sarah miller, ellie being the best non-girlfriend ever, mention of a teacher/student relationship, plane crash, character deaths, reader lowkey has main-character syndrome, ellie/abby beef, reader calls her dad ‘daddy’ because she’s southern-ish (because it’s the midwest technically), 90’s accurate alcohol, little bit of r and ellie angst.

note: omg this is the first chapter in the summer act! by the time you guys see this, all of the parts for this act should be finished and queued for weekly releases (if i hold myself accountable)(i didn't but i refuse to sit on this). after i watched yellowjackets i immediately thought about ellie for obvious reasons. happy valentine’s day and happy yellowjackets s3 premiere day hehehe. hope you guys enjoy!! (if you wanna be added to the taglist, pls feel free to fill out this taglist form) also... if you see a typo, no you didn't!

The woody smell of a forest was never a comfort for you; however it wasn’t a disrupter either. Like most people, you loved the smell of flowers, fresh plants, the aroma, and texture of fresh soil—but you didn’t care for it enough to linger within it. Haunt the spaces between the tree, to feel a sense of connection to the Earth. That wasn’t the type of person you were. It didn’t mean that much to you. Although, you signed many petitions to save the trees. Save the wilderness. She had a right to be preserved.

The layered sounds of cheering echoed through the gymnasium as you and your team ran in a line toward the middle of the court. Grins adorned your faces, waving and pumping up the crowd like you were used to. Cameras flashed from the sidelines, snapping pictures of the celebration of Jackson Hole High’s victory. The Fireflies have been invited to Boston to participate in a national championship.

You’re fucking going to nationals in Boston!

Nearing the end of your senior year, with college looming at your door, it felt good that you could have one last hurrah with your favorite girls—loosely including the junior varsity players who were waiting for your dismissal so they could move up.

Loving every member of the team was hard, but you truly did; they were your sisters. Minus one faithful central striker who stood before you on the field. It would be weird to call her your sister since you’ve been sucking each other’s faces off since sophomore year.

The both of you may have been an okay pair off the field, but on the field… You were perfectly unstoppable! She was fast, while you were tactful. Even though, you were surrounded by supportive players who were eager to make a goal—a lot of times, it felt as though it were just the two of you.

You couldn’t help but be a romantic when it came to her. She was always determined to put on a show—a good show, at that. The eighteen-year-old had a reputation to uphold: mean, small town lesbian. But she was so much more than that. Under the many course layers of being a skillful forwarder, a notable lover of female company, and totally hot; she also respected the bounds of science, had an obsessive amount of Savage Starlight memorabilia, and has the intention of becoming an astrophysicist in the future. She wanted to become a scientist for the sake of the game, not to make a shit ton of money.

However, despite all of this good, there was a minor wooden hedge that kept the two of you at an arms length distance from each other.

And here’s the real kicker… You’re not one hundred percent out to the public about your sexuality. Therefore, in the past three years you’ve been sharing with this beloved girl, it’s all been experienced under pressured wraps. You didn’t necessarily hide your attraction from women—you just hated feeling other in your hometown. While you were cocky about your soccer skills, you didn’t harbor that same meanness to protect yourself when it came to who you romanticized.

Jackson Hole, or Jackson, was a town that was surrounded by elements of the Earth—right beside Yellowstone Park—there were so many other things to talk about than the fact that you were a lesbian. But that just wasn’t how small towns worked. Perhaps, it was a born and bred thing. Whenever you were born or bred into a small town, you activate this gene that forces you to be interested in everyone’s lives but your own. People from your town loved a spectacle.

And to be fair, hanging out with Ellie Williams was spectacle enough.

There were rumors that the two of you were gay for each other—that you were hooking up in hidden places. You never confirmed or denied whenever you were boldly asked. Unless your parents were pressing you about being out so late. Those claims were dead on, though!

Now, your parents were in on the whole thing, and they loved her. They were so supportive of the relationship that you sometimes thought they loved her more than you. She was labeled spunky in their eyes.

But, with all this considered, she wasn’t your girlfriend. She was just a girl that happened to be yours; someone you kept all for yourself. And Ellie being Ellie, didn’t always appreciate that phrase. It wasn’t until this year that she became indifferent to it.

“Let’s congratulate our varsity Fireflies for being chosen for nationals!” The principal of the student body praised over the choppy, cracking microphone. He had called your names out one by one, getting you onto that shiny, scuffed basketball court. Coach Tess Servopoulos stood at the head of the line, while the assistant coach, Owen Moore, stood at the other end. Accompanied by the soccer manager, Mel Teagan.

The pep rally was fast, and you were standing around the quad before you knew it, discussing a course of action for a junior varsity player who was good but not great. She lagged during games whenever she was brought on as a substitute—failing to take initiative to score. Since tomorrow was the morning that you were leaving for Boston, Coach Moore decided on throwing a scrimmage between varsity and junior varsity as a fun arrangement. However, some of the girls found this to be a moment of opportunity.

“I think we should push Lucy a little bit…” The auburn-haired player suggested, crossing her arms over her chest. Surrounded by her trusty friend group: you, Riley, Dina, and Cat.

You bunch your eyebrows, glancing at the other girls. “What do you mean by push ‘er?”

“I don’t know, make her actually work for her position.” Ellie responded, shrugging her shoulders. They all just looked at her, waiting for her to further explain. “If she’s coming with us to Boston as a substitute, she needs to work harder than just kicking a fucking ball around.”

“And she barely even does that…” Riley added, snickering, letting her eyes wander around the quad.

Cat put her hands on her hips, rocking on her feet. “If this includes physically pushing her, then I’m out.”

Ellie shook her head, holding out her hand. “Nah, that’s my job if it comes down to it.”

Dina deepened her eyebrows, squeezing her eyes shut. “So, what are we gonna do? Ice her out the whole game?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. “Only pass the ball to each other— everyone on the team except for her. Maybe it’ll finally get her to fight for a score.”

You puffed air from you lips in thought, glancing over your shoulder, uneasy. As captain of the team—yeah, you were team captain—it wasn’t ideal that you were plotting against your own. Although, she was junior varsity, it didn’t change the fact that she was a Firefly. You just wished that Lucinda Henderson did more for her team—she needs to learn to play aggressively not passively. That’s how you score. That’s how you win.

A sigh flees your mouth, peering at the central striker with narrowed eyes. “If you’re gonna push her, do it safely… I cannot afford to have a hurt freshman on my conscious.” You tiredly spoke, preparing to walk away, but Ellie grabbed your hand before you could leave the small huddle.

“Seriously, what do you think I’m capable of?”

You placed your hand over hers, squeezing, gently. “You’re different on the field… Just remember that, okay?” Sliding your hand from hers, you glance to the other girls. “I have to go run a few things over with Abby. See you in a few.”

Ellie scoffed as you trotted away, seeing your goalie talking on a bench with some bashful cheerleader. “Hey, Abs, can we talk for a sec?” You question, not giving her much of a choice by walking past the bench she was sat on, perching yourself beside a tree.

From a distance, you could feel the eyes of your undercover lover watching you from her spot. Her lips moved, still engaging in conversation about Lucy Henderson, probably, but her olive eyes remained on you. Whenever you had these sidebars with Abby, she tensed. Ellie rarely talks about why Abby gets under her skin so easily—you wondered if it was intimidation, or worse, jealousy.

Abby rolled her eyes, muttering a quick farewell to the cheerleader. “What now?” She perked an eyebrow, crossing her muscular arms.

“Don’t what now me. You think I didn’t notice those eyes you were giving to the coach?” You prodded, authoritatively. “What did I say about him— fucking drop him!”

The blonde groaned like a stubborn child. “Can’t you just mind your business, Turner?” Abby retorted. “I get that you’re captain an’ everything, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to poke your nose in things that don’t involve you.”

“You know, this is a crime, right? Statutory rape—“

“Ugh, you’re always so serious. I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah, but you’re still a student here, and he’s an instructor.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Do you wanna be on the front-page paper listed as a victim? I wonder what that would look like when you’re playing pro in a few years…”

A sneer stretched onto her lips. “Couldn’t be as bad as being called a dyke by ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the population.”

“Says the two-hundred-pound, six-foot goalie who was just flirting with Calliope Kimber…”

She stiffened, averting her eyes from you. “I wasn’t flirting…”

You chuckled behind your fingers, sizing her up. “You totally were.” With a perched eyebrow, you analyzed her features. Blue eyes shifting, twinged with bothered nerves at the mention of her behavior. “I don’t care if you’re using a man to hide behind, Abby. But I do care about the legacy of our team.” You began, nudging her arm. “Plus, Coach Moore is annoying as shit. If I were you, Henry Harmon would be more of my shtick.”

Abby shook her head, her long braid falling over her shoulder. “You’re such a control freak…” She muttered, sucking her teeth.

“Or I’m just a very passionate person.”

“Nope… You’re a control freak.”

“Okay, whatever, Popeye. God.” You hold up a dismissive hand.

The both of you walk around the school to the soccer field to prep for the scrimmage Coach Moore was hosting. You sat on the ground stretching and ensuring your laces were tight and knotted. Some of the junior varsity team sat around doing the same thing, conversing amongst each other.

Ellie, Riley, Dina and Cat joined the group as if they had something up their sleeve—not paying much of attention to the young coach marking on a clipboard. The auburn-haired player plopped herself beside you. Like usual, you adjusted yourself to do an assisted stretch with her, touching your straddled feet together and pulling each other’s hands like a seesaw. “How different am I on the field— what did you mean by that?” She asked, pulling you forward, causing her to lean backwards.

“Uhm, Ellie, you’re a threat on the field to anyone who isn’t on your team.” You pulled her forward, causing you to lean back, smiling in amusement.

“I’m not a threat, just a girl who takes her sport very seriously.” She shrugged, pulling you forward again.

You laugh, pulling her forward, but this time inching your hands up her arms so you wouldn’t lean back so far from her. “No, babe, you’re definitely a threat. But… I like that about you.” You bat your eyes at her, playfully.   

She smirked, glancing down at your lips in such an obvious way. A way that you couldn’t give much attention to—at least, not in the way you wanted. “Well, then… I guess I’m the worst of threats— the most threatening girl in the world.”

You snickered, sliding your hands back down to her hands. You pushed your legs together to do the same thing, back and forth. “Be whoever you wanna be.”

To be honest, you’d probably love her regardless of anything. She was so admirable to you—her boldness in her identity; God, Ellie was such a dream. If only she knew how much she meant to you.

“All right, I’m gonna break ya’ll up— some of varsity will be playing with jv, some of jv with varsity.” The assistant coach announced, with the sport manager standing right beside him, eagerly. Upon his immediate direction, the girls groaned—mainly, the older varsity team. Not caring for their younger peers or their feelings. “Don’t complain. It’s Coach Servopoulos’ choice!”

The choice to split them up made Ellie’s plan a bit difficult to carry out, especially if the group wasn’t split up on Lucy’s team. Coach Moore began to list out the names, the manager handing out jerseys to the ones he called. Luckily, Ellie and Dina were put on the same team as Lazy Lucy, while you and Cat were placed on the opposing team. Separated by your team with an orange jersey, and her team having a blue one.

Before the scrimmage began, you pulled Ellie aside. “Remember this is an opportunity to teach someone, not to hurt someone. Be careful out there.”

“I’m not a fucking child, y/n. I know how to be careful.” She responded, curtly, walking to her place across from you at the starting zone. You rolled your eyes, gritting your jaw in irritation. You were told to play central striker for your team, which meant that you and Ellie looked right into each other’s’ eyes before the match. Through a heavy glare, you attempt to remind her once more, but she ignores your gaze.

When the whistle blared, the game began, brutally. After all, that’s how the both of you played—even against each other. Unfortunately, her team had more varsity members, meaning you and three other people had to carry the burden of keeping your team afloat.

There was a moment where the ball was sequestered between your feet, and you were moving toward the goal with quickness. That wasn’t until Riley swiped the ball from your feet with a giggle, muttering a small apology. While you tried to get the ball back, you watched as Riley and Ellie shifted ownership of it. Obviously, excluding the calls for a pass from the copper-headed player, Lucy.

Instead of asking, Lucinda grumbled, running toward Riley to steal the ball, heading straight for your goal. You slowed down, getting the intuitive feeling that something was about to go wrong. Even Cat paused on the field, glancing at you with concerned eyes. Ellie cast her eyes toward Riley, huffing from her lips. And, just like that, she made an effort to steal the ball from Lucy—getting overwhelmed by her competitiveness.

Her cleats made a move for the patterned ball, but instead of kicking it forward, the steel of the tip of her shoe made a collision with Lucy’s fibula. A crack sound echoed over the field, followed by a shriek expelling from the girl. Lucinda dropped to the ground cradling her calf with horror.

Ellie stopped, emitting a gasp. She gripped the roots of her hair, noticing the image of her bone sticking through her skin. It was surrounded by oxidized blood, dripping all over the freshly painted turf. Briefly, you froze. Eyes widening at the scene. “Fuck,” You grimaced, sprinting over to the area, along with everyone else.

You glared at auburn-haired player, kneeling to try and help the girl, pulling her head onto your lap. “Fuck, it’s going to be okay, Luce.” You looked around for the adult authority. “Coach Moore!” You called, worriedly, trying to avoid looking at the appearance of the injured girls leg. Every time you looked at it, the image of her exposed bone caused bile to rise in your throat.

He was already in transit, with a look of weariness, running over with his hands on his head. “Shit! Mel, go to the office and tell Tess, so we get can 911 on the phone.” Coach Moore directed to the short-haired manager, clutching onto a plastic first aid kit.

“You mean Coach Servopoulos?” She raised a finger.

“Fucking obviously, Mel!” The blonde goalie told, crouching toward the sobbing freshman. The manager jumped into a sprint, running toward the building while Abby darted her eyes over the brutal injury. Her father was a surgeon, and she had always been really curious about his job. He was wildly busy, but on the weekends, when he was on-call, he’d take her with him. There was a surgery gallery above one of the operation rooms, and he snuck her in a few times. Blood never bothered her as much as it bothered others.

Coach Moore forced the girls that weren’t helping to head inside to the locker room and wait for an update, because practice was now over.

The ambulance came in due time for her to get the medical attention that she needed. Lucy winced and whined as they lifted her onto a gurney, loading her into the back of the loud ambulance truck. Abby and Nora stayed behind with you as you monitored the situation. You couldn’t help but feel at fault for this—you should’ve just told Ellie no.

“Is your girlfriend tapped?” Nora questioned, while the three of you watched the coaches tell the EMT’s what happened, even though they didn’t know much. All they knew was that a player accidentally kicked her fibula through her leg in an attempt to kick the ball.

“Nora!” You scolded, glaring at her. Partially, for outright blaming Ellie for her actions, but also for labeling her your girlfriend aloud. That part was debatable. While you were warming up to the idea, a part of you felt like you didn’t deserve that title.

Abby chortled, “It’s a valid point.” Shrugging with her arms crossed over her chest. “I watched her ice Lucy out the whole game, y/n. When she finally had it, Ellie tried to steal it from her— her own teammate. What the hell was she doing?”

You shook your head, puffing air from your lips. “Lucy played a little lazy, so she was trying to… Teach her a lesson.”

The curly-haired, right-wing central striker scoffed, fixing a pair of disappointed eyes at you. “And you let her? Some kind of captain you are.”

“Hey, I told her to be careful.”

“You should’ve told her not to do it. Now, we’re short one sub for nationals. So, thanks a lot.” Nora concluded, turning her back on you to walk toward the locker room, leaving you with the disapproving sighs of Abigail Anderson.

The both of you watched the assistant coach hop into the vehicle with Lucy, since her parents where meeting them at the hospital. Coach Servopoulos instructed that he did so—he didn’t decide to join the injured teenager on his own accord. “She took it too far…” Abby sighed, as the head coach approached the two of you with a grimace on her features.

“It was an accident, Abby. Ellie didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“You saw what her leg looked like… I find that hard to believe.” The blonde goalie frowned, walking away once Tess Servopoulos got closer, glaring at you. Like you mentioned to Ellie, sometimes she got carried away during games; she wasn’t her usual self. As in, her competitiveness gets the best of her at times. It skews her vision and makes her decide on the most aggressive courses of action, which aren’t always the best. There has been a few games where they consistently got penalties because of her rough housing.

“Turner, what the hell happened out there?” Coach Servopoulos questioned with a firm voice, running her fingers through her mousy-brown hair.  

You slumped your shoulders, rubbing your hand over your pulled back hair. “I don’t know…” You lied through your teeth, sighing. The idea of snitching on Ellie wasn’t option. She’d get benched, or worse, kicked off the team. Tess Servopoulos wasn’t a coach that just let things slide; so, there was going to be hell to pay.  

She raised her thin eyebrows at you, dryly chuckling. “Her fibula is sticking out of her leg, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t know?”

“It happened so fast, Coach. Too fast. I think it was just a misstep.” You told with layers of uncertainty.

She sighed, pressing her lips together. “This misstep just sent a fifteen-year-old to the emergency room… Now, this isn’t the first time Ellie—”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You tried, fiddling with your fingers.

Tess side-eyed you before speaking, walking toward the school building. “This isn’t the first time Ellie has been rough on the field, but it’s the first time it’s resulted in something this severe—which leads me to this… In Boston, if she as so much as shoves another player too hard, she’s getting benched. Do you hear me?” The older woman raises an eyebrow, peering down at you. A frown fell onto your lips as you casted your eyes at your moving feet.

“I hear you.” You replied, solemnly.

“I have a lot of paperwork to fill out, so… Do me a favor and let her know that. I’m not gonna care for her attitude in Boston if you forget to tell her. I’m just gonna look at you.” Coach Servopoulos told as you neared the school, entering on the athletics side, leading you to the locker room. You were absolutely dejected, feeling waves a guilt that you shouldn’t have. The image of Lucy’s leg couldn’t leave your mind, making your stomach to stir. On top of the responsibility of, basically, threatening your companion.

When you entered the locker room, the team was sat on benches tiredly, awaiting the verdict that you were looked upon to deliver. They all sat upright when they noticed you strolling in after the fuming head coach who had seemed to already reach her maximum level of stress. “What’s up? Is she gonna be okay?” Ellie was the first ask, standing to her feet from the bench, her features scrunched with worry.

“Well, I’m sure she’s getting pumped with fentanyl as we speak, so… I think she’s gonna be all right.” Tiredly, your hands fall against your thighs, passing her to walk to your locker. A frown pressed onto your features because of the nausea building in your throat.

Abby sighed, leaning her arms to the side on bench. “If only you didn’t wanna teach her a lesson…” She muttered, causing Ellie to shoot her a glare.

“What?” She snarled.

“Was that not your plan? Maybe y/n relayed it wrong tryin’ to save your ass.” Abby exposed, but you ignored her trying to focus on not throwing up, rummaging through your locker.

Riley stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. “How ‘bout you just mind your fuckin’ business, Anderson.”

The blonde snickered. “Yeah, you were probably behind it, too, huh? Best friends until the end—“

The feeling of bile rising in your throat caused you to drop the lock in your hands. It clambered to the floor, shutting them up mid-argument. “Fuck, I’m gonna vomit.” You covered your mouth with your hand, running to the nearest trashcan you could find. It was large, and thankfully, without any trash inside of it. You gripped the rim that was wrapped with a black trash bag, leaning your face over it to relieve yourself.

“Now, look what you made her do!” You heard the sound of Ellie’s voice.

You lurched, groaning at the uncomfortableness of unleashing your breakfast and lunch into the trash covered in stomach acid. You felt hands on your back, rubbing, softly. When you peered over your shoulder, you noticed the dark, wavy hair of Dina standing over you. “Made me barf, too.” She kindly smiled, patting your back.

When you finished, you wiped your mouth with your shirt. “Should’ve never agreed to that shit…” You murmured, shaking your head.

“Maybe it’s for the best that she doesn’t come to Boston with us, anyway. There’s an upside to everything!”

“Whatever, Dina.” You sighed, thanking her with a pat to her shoulder.

She mirrored your sigh, following you to the group, getting close to you. “This isn’t your fault, you know?” Dina starts, as you ignore the tension in the air while your teammates changed. Ellie had walked to the other side of the locker room to hide from everyone, probably drowning in that same level of guilt you were. The dark-haired girl leaned her shoulder against the cool, gray metal.

“Then, who’s is it? Throwing Ellie under the bus, would mean throwing myself under it, too. I might as well just do it alone.” You grumble, beginning to pull the athletic clothes from your body.

After you changed into your casual clothes, a pair of jeans, blocky sandals, and a printed tube top. A thin, knit cardigan covered your arms during school, but the final bell had rung a long time ago. Ellie had always been your ride home, so you found her waiting in the quad for you on a bench—lonely, with a pair of headphones covering her ears. They were connected to an old Walkman you gifted her some time ago.

You waved a hand at her as you approached. She slid the tiny headphones from her ears to hang around her neck. She stood up, slinging her school bag and duffle bag over her shoulder. “Hey…” Ellie greeted, timidly.

“Hey,” You smiled, watching how she adjusted herself. You adjusted the thick strap of your own duffle bag, examining her freckled features. “What a day, huh?”

“Yeah…” She started walking toward her truck, pulling her keys from her pockets. Now, would be the best time to tell her of the limited amount of fuck-ups she had left, but the words wouldn’t come out. You followed her, swinging each foot in front of the other. “You were right… I shouldn’t have pushed her… I fucked up so bad today.” Ellie shook her head, running a hand through her shaggy, short hair.

You shrug, pressing your glossy lips together. “It happens…”

“I shouldn’t have let you take the fall for it.” She takes your hand, as you walk toward the emptying parking lot. You glance at the desperate hand, grasping for consolation and understanding.

In return, you grip her to reassure her. “You’re lucky Coach Serv didn’t ask too many questions— I barely took the fall for anything.” You lean into her arm, holding her bicep with your other free hand. “She probably has loads of paperwork to fill out since it happened on the school’s property. I think she has bigger concerns, right now.”

When you arrived at her blue Ford Bronco, you trot to the passenger side. “But I don’t mind taking the fall for it. I wouldn’t wanna go on this trip if you weren’t going, too.” Ellie grinned, watching you toss your things into the back seat.

The both of you got into the truck, shutting the door at the same time. The auburn-haired girl started the engine, causing the radio to switch on. Her earthy irises looked over at you, with a gleam of adoration. You smiled, cheeks warming under her gaze. A giggle leaves your throat as you lean over the center console, pulling the fabric of her shirt towards you so you could plot your lips against hers. Her windows weren’t that tinted, but you didn’t care in that moment.

Kisses always heightened Ellie’s mood, and you didn’t want her to worry about what happened with Lucy anymore. It was nothing but a mere accident—she would never want to hurt anyone.

You pulled away from her lips, not before plotting one final chaste kiss, leaning back into your seat. “Are we going to your place or mine?” You reached over to stretch the seatbelt across your body.

“Do you have everything you need for the party later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“My place it is then.”

As we die, both you and I with my head in my hands I sit and cry…

No Doubt played on the radio, distracting you from the minor, small town traffic that got on under your skin—even though, you weren’t the one driving. You leaned your head on your fist, watching Ellie from the side of your eye. Her window was wound all the way down, elbow resting on it while her other steered the wheel. Her shaggy, auburn hair was blown across her head from the intensity of the wind. But she didn’t care, and neither did you. Her thumb tapped along the leather steering wheel to the beat of the music, nodding her head, rhythmically.

God, you were so in love with her. You were going to miss the days driving down the skinny roads of your hometown with her manning the wheel—because you rarely drove when she was around.

There was a secret that you were keeping tightly under wraps, though—amongst that love. Away from her, and the rest of the team. The joys of traveling to Boston with your team, and your non-girlfriend, is that it’s like a final hurrah before you all graduate and go your separate ways.

A few weeks ago, you received a letter from the admission’s office at University of Notre Dame for their soccer and Literature program—you got in! To your knowledge, Ellie had already committed to Massachusetts Institute of Technology. There was a family friend that lived in the area, which made her feel comfortable with moving so far away. Once you tell her about your commit to Notre Dame, everything will be set in stone; that the both of you were moving on. Everything would be too real—too fast. You were really leaving each other.

That was a topic you always found a way to jump around. At the end of the day, she wasn’t really your girlfriend. The pair of you had been in his happy mix of a relationship and a friendship—calling each other friends but doing the things that people in relationships did for a few years now. It kept too many people from asking you questions you didn’t feel enough conviction to answer. But that left you in a vulnerable position.

Once she sets foot up North, girls will be all over her as if she were a walking aphrodisiac. The prefect blend of masculinity and femininity relied in her spirit. She’d be the apple of any woman’s eye—well, any woman in their right mind—if she does half of what she does for you. Perhaps, one day you’ll rack up the courage to claim her, loudly.

She pulls into the driveway of her two-storied, brick home, sighing, casually. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Sarah’s back early from school for my graduation. I’m gonna try and get her to be our ride for tonight.” Ellie shuts off the engining, gripping the handle to open up the door.

“Ellie, you know she’s gonna say no. If you wanna drink tonight, I can take one for the team…”

“I want us both to be able to celebrate, and after today, we both deserve a drink. Plus, she owes me.” She shrugged, grabbing her bags from the backseat, and you doing the same.

You chortle, walking around the to truck, to her side. “A drink won’t kill me.”

She looks at you, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. “Okay, you hate driving. Why do you wanna be DD so bad?” Ellie passed you, walking toward her front door. The sound of you giggling, trailing behind her.

“I’m just making sure we have options. Did she drive, this time, from Washington?”

The auburn-haired nodded, unlocking the door and pushing inside. “No, she took a flight. So, she shouldn’t have a problem borrowing Maxie” She referenced the dull, blue Bronco that she trusted with her life.

Ellie’s adoptive sister was a second year at the University of Washington. Every summer she comes back home to be with her family because dorm-life called the shots.

You walked inside behind her, passing the kitchen to get to the pair wooden stairs that led to her bedroom. “I’m home!” Ellie called, walking toward the fridge with you lingering behind her. “Sarah!” She offered you a cold bottle of water, handing it to you as she awaited her sisters’ response.

“Up here!” Her sister responded from up the stairs.

You trailed after your lover, trotting up the wooden steps to follow Sarah’s smooth voice. There was a light echo of The Cranberries, When You’re Gone, playing on the radio, coming from her bedroom. She must’ve been playing the new album. Ellie peeked into her bright space, placing her eyes on her laying figure, doodling in an artbook. Her pale, blue eyes looked up from the coarse page, twirling her charcoal pencil in her left hand. “Dad’s gonna be workin’ late tonight. So, I might be the one dropping you off tomorrow. Hope that’s all right.” Sarah hit the eraser of her pencil against the page, looking up at her sister leaning on the threshold of her bedroom door. Before she had shipped off to Washington, there used to be a thick southern twang that caught the attention of many Jacksoner’s. Sarah replicated the vocal inflections of her father—and Ellie’s voice did the same occasionally. She glanced at you, wiggling her fingers as a greeting.

You smiled, waving your hand.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Also… Could you do me a favor?”

She rolls her eyes, pushing her stuff aside to adjust herself onto her butt, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. “y/n and I are going to this party tonight, and we wanna drink— safely, so… Could you drive us?”

Sarah sighed, hopping from her bed to turn her silver-gray radio down, twisting the knobs with her index and thumb, plum nail polish artistically chipped. “I thought you had friends, Els… With cars.”

Ellie chuckled, dryly. “I do, but I don’t trust them to drive us back sober.” She rocked on her feet, furrowing her eyebrows to show humility. “C’mon, Sare, you owe me.”

She raised a blonde eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I owe you? From what?” Sarah dubiously asked.

“That one time sophomore year when I lied to Joel about where you were— saying you were at Natalie’s house, when you really were at Cole Matthew’s playing horizontal Twister.” Ellie blinked, feigning innocence. “If you don’t take us… I don’t mind clearing that up with him when I get back from Boston.”

The college girl gasped, then shook her head in disbelief. “Teenagers are evil. Wow.”

“You just turned twenty in April…” Ellie deadpanned.

“Fine. I guess I’ll take you, but I’m picking you up no later than one.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, lips curling at the edges. “Whatever,” She pivoted, taking your hand. “Thanks.” Her eyes glanced at you over her shoulder as she led you a few paces down the hall to her bedroom.

You shut the door behind you, snickering to yourself at the little threat she made to her sister. “You’re a manipulator…” You mutter, dropping your bag near the door. Her room was comfortably dim, with a dark, earthy motif. While her walls were still a white-ish tone of beige, its starkness was diminished by the many posters layered over each other. There was a slight lack of orderliness to her bedroom—a touch of clutter, making it all the more comforting.

Immediately, Ellie walked to her closet to change into some comfortable clothes. She dropped her jeans, sliding on a pair plaid boxers and a t-shirt. “Sometimes you need to do a little manipulating to get the job done.” She shrugged, humorously. “Sarah’s been trying to live down Cole Matthew’s since they hooked up her senior year— it was an easy shot.”

The softness of her made bed called out to you, making you leap onto it after kicking off your sandals. You rolled onto your back, sprawling out over her mattress. “I don’t think Dr. Daniela Star would approve of this.” You sit up on your elbows, ogling her from the center of her bed, referencing the protagonist from her favorite comic. Ellie turned to look at you, lips curling into a boyish smirk.

She sauntered toward you, crawling onto the mattress, over you, settling between your legs. You drape your arms around her shoulders, looking up at her with gleaming irises, examining her round features—olive, doe eyes, sprinkled freckles over her cheeks and nose, plush lips exposing her straight teeth. “What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.” Ellie grins, pressing her body against yours as she leaned down to plot her lips on yours. Smooch. Smooch. Before she begins to devour your face like it was the last time.

She braced one elbow by the side of your face, using the other hand to drift down your body, gripping and groping in ways you’d ever allow her to do. You giggled against her lips, completely comfortable under her devoted and doting caress. You were going to miss this most of all—the intimacy of her touch.

So, you spent the time before the party, memorizing every crevice of her body. From the follicles of her auburn hair to the birthmark on her ankle, breathing her in like your own addictive brand of oxygen. After you indulged in each other for a few hours, she pulled out guitar and played for you. Sat by her desk, facing you as you watched her fingers press along the copper strings of her acoustic guitar.

When it was time to get ready for the party, Ellie didn’t do much but throw on an outfit that appeared to have come straight from a Delia’s catalog. You had packed a boxy corduroy mini-dress and a pair of converses that matched hers; they were just a smidge cleaner, though. While you primped and primed yourself, you managed to convince her to smudge some eyeliner around her eyes—it brings out green in your eyes, you say; after propping yourself on her bathroom counter, welcoming her between your legs to add charcoal eyeliner around her eyes.

Ellie then peered in the mirror, over your shoulder, cheeks warming up at her own reflection. She wasn’t a typical wearer of makeup, but whenever she did partake, you noticed her expression of elevation. If it was small, and dainty, she never minded adding to her appearance with a little bit of makeup. However, she only did so when you applied it for her.  

You left the house borderline fashionably late, with Sarah swinging Ellie’s keys around her index finger. She hopped into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and seat to accommodate to her style of driving. Ellie had to push her seat forward to allow you climb into the backseat. The blonde took her time, causing her sister to side-eye her, pointedly. “Sarah, you are killin’ me.” Ellie spoke, holding out an annoyed hand.

“You asked me to drive you, and you’re complaining? I got a hundred on my driver’s test for a reason—”

“Nobody cares. Please, just drive, dude.”

She pressed her lips into a line, shifting the gear to backing out of the inclined driveway. “Ellie, you just get bitchier with time.” You snickered in the back, pulling your seatbelt over your body, clicking it into the lock. As she started down the road, she peered into the rearview, getting a glimpse of you while her lips percolated to speak. “So, y/n, have you committed to a school yet? I know time’s just a’tickin’…” Sarah offered conversation, smiling in the small mirror. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the rigidness in Ellie’s shoulders at the mention of university.

Ellie nudged her over the console, scoffing. “No pressure…” She filled in, giving you comforting glance.

“I haven’t yet… I’m waiting until after nationals… I don’t want my decision to be heavily influenced by anything, you know?” You slowly explain, looking at the blonde through the mirror.

Sarah glanced at Ellie, making a face you couldn’t quite read. “Yeah, for sure.” She responded, chuckling, lightly. “I forget— what are you going to school for? I know Ellie’s doin’ Biophysics. She’s going full astronaut on us!” She playfully punched Ellie’s arm, laughing, joyously. Clearly, already proud of her.  

You lick the cherry gloss on your lips, priming them to speak. “I’m going for Literature. I used to want to be a professor, and I might still go down that route, but I think I’m going to take soccer serious for a little while.”

“She wants to go pro.” Ellie added, winking over her shoulder at you.

“Hopefully, I can qualify for the Olympics within the next two years.” You shrug, nodding your head, timidly. It was always hard to tell people what you wanted for your future—especially, when your goals seemed so far away. It was always fifty-fifty when sports players wanted to go pro—hit or miss! That’s why you wanted to get you degree; so, it could seem more realistic.

The eldest in the truck, hummed. “I’ve seen you play. I’m sure you could qualify now.” Sarah laughed. “Who do I have to call to make it happen?”

“Oh, my God! You sound just like Joel!” The auburn-haired player gasped, chortling in her seat. The two siblings then began conversing between themselves, asking for your input every so often.

In the dark, she pulled into a clearing that was already lingering with drinking teenagers. She sighed, putting the car in park. “I swear this is like the beginning of a slasher film— you guys be safe!” Sarah told, leaning down as the both of you exited the car. For a moment, you had to wait for Ellie to release the passenger seat, so you could climb out the same way you climbed in. “And cover your drinks… There’s some odd-lookin’ character’s out here.” Ellie gave her thumbs up, attempting to shut the door, but her sister had to say one more thing. The blonde snickered behind her slender fingers before speaking. “I was also gonna say wrap it up, but… You know—”

Ellie decided to cut her off. “Okay, see you at one!” She shut the door, peering at your amused face. “She’s so not funny.”

“I disagree.” You slide your arm through hers, holding onto her as your feet crunched through the grass. Her earthy eyes glanced at you, glancing down at the touching of your skin to hers—boldly in front of your peers. You weren’t entirely thinking, you just wanted to be close to her. That simple feel for physical touch caused her cheeks to fill with warmth, eyes sparkling under the full moon.

She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to freak you out. Make you coil into your own touch. Earlier, Ellie didn’t make a note of your touch when you were walking to the parking lot after school, because barely anyone was around to tell the tale. The tale of two girls cuddling up with one another in a more than friendly way. Now, you were surrounded by your peers, other upperclassmen, and you were holding onto her like she was your girlfriend. Not your friend.

You approached a wiggling fire, burning a pile of logs, a bonfire. A few fireflies hovered around it with red solo cups in their hands, conversing and laughing. When they noticed you and Ellie, they smiled and waved—some of them. If the varsity team could be cleanly divided in half, that would show the exact turn out of the smiles and frowns.

“Hey, Turner.” Abby greeted you, and you alone. Nora lingered close by, with Dina and Cat hovering in the back. They waved, but they could see the tension developing and didn’t want to get involved.

Instantly, Ellie stiffened, groaning under her breath. “I’m gonna go find us somethin’ to drink.” She pulled from your grasp, leaving you colder than before—and it was leaning more into summer by the day. Riley held her red cup by the white line along the rim, following her as she walked into the dimly lit dark. You could already hear her rants of internal fury coming from Ellie’s pinched mouth.

“Stop trying to piss her off.” You tell the blonde, deepening your eyebrows.

She pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears, shrugging. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Let the situation be done with. It’s over, so get the fuck over it— I’m serious, Abby.” Your voice firmed, glaring up at her, since she was so much taller than you. “We are leaving tomorrow, and I want us to all start off on the right foot.”

“Right leg, you mean?” Nora lifted an arched eyebrow. Shamelessly, she referenced the bone-white fibula that was sticking out of Lucinda Henderson’s leg on the field.

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Nora?” You ask her, narrowing her eyes. “You were so upset about what happened, and now you’re joking about it?”

“Well, if it never happened, I wouldn’t be joking about it now, would I?” The curly-haired forwarder retorted.

You scoffed, having enough of their paired hooplah—it was annoying you, and you were wanting to have a good night. “You know, what? Fuck you guys.” You mutter, pushing through them toward Dina, Cat, and another one of the players, Aisha Conrad. They were watching with keen eyes, clutching their drinks in their hands.

“They’re such bitches…” You grunted, crossing your arms, wondering where Ellie was with your drink. You could certainly use one.

Cat swallowed a sip of the jungle juice, nodding her head. “Tell me about it.” She shook her head. “I should’ve never told my dad about this— we should’ve booked public instead. They would have booked an entirely different flight than us, and we could’ve all been spared of their endless bullshit.”

“You know, the only reason I think Abby is still on this team is because she’s fucking Moore.” Aisha added, rolling her eyes.

Dina gasped, covering her lips with her hand. “Wait, what?”

“Aisha, we shouldn’t be talking about that.” You remind her, widening your eyes, warningly.

“No, wait.” Dina held up a hand, eyeing you. “Abigail Anderson is fucking Owen? The same girl who I always catch chatting up cheerleaders?” She raised her thick eyebrows, guffawing, loosening up from the alcohol in her hands. “Hell, I’m surprised she’s not doing it right now!”

The short-haired midfielder, Cat, looked to the dark sky in thought. “I wonder why she chose Owen of all people. He’s so… Lame.”

“And good for nothin’.” Aisha added, shrugging.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that—good for nothin’—yeah, that checks out. He definitely wasn’t as good of a coach as Tess Servopoulos; you didn’t even know why he was hired. Who cares if he attended Jackson Hole High a few years prior?

“Why not Henry Harmon?” The freckled girl questioned, swirling her drink in her cup. “Now, he’s hot.”

A surprised laugh left your throat. “Dina, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him— plus, everybody knows that Henry’s hot. Even you. Just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes.” Dina rambled, carelessly, until she abruptly covered her mouth with her hand, again.

Instead of cowering from the term of your sexual orientation, you barely flinched. You only narrowed your eyes at your friend, chuckling. “Shit, sorry, y/n.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure half the student body already suspects it.” You wave your hand.

Aisha pursed her lips, glancing around the teenager-filled clearing. “I mean, it’s not like you had a boyfriend in the last four years…”

Cat nudged her, roughly, arching her lips in shock. Aisha could be a little bit too honest for her own good. You were surprised that she hasn’t told everyone in a five-mile radius that she was friends with a lesbian. Or, maybe, she had. There was one afternoon—junior year—when you checked your main locker and a note fell out. It was scribbled with pink cursive handwriting, signed with heart and purple lipstick.

I always knew you were a lesbo!

In that moment, you thought your life was over. Then, a girl by the name of Laura Leony privately came forward, saying it was all her doing. She didn’t declare why, but she didn’t have to—you could understand. After that, you just tried to lay low.

That might’ve been the worst of you and Ellie. To argue was to breathe when it came to the two of you last year.

“Aisha, what would I do without you.”

“Crash and burn.” Innocently, she touched her ears with her shoulders, giggling to herself. “I really don’t think people care as much as you think.”

Deeply, you inhaled. “You’d be surprised.”

The sound of your name was spoken from behind, causing you to swivel. It was Ellie and Riley approaching. She had two drinks in her hands, and was mid-conversation, talking with her eyebrows burrowed together. “Spiked punch,” Ellie informed, handing you the red solo cup, filled a bit more than halfway. “And it’s pretty strong.” She sighed, jutting her eyebrows up at the girls as a greeting.

“Did you guys know that Abby’s fucking the coach?” Dina abruptly asked them, pointing a lazy finger.

“Yeah,” Riley chortled, sipping her drink.

“Tess?” Ellie questioned, incredulously, snapping her head toward her best friend in confusion.

You sigh, rubbing your fingers along your eyebrows, tiredly. It was better that less people knew about Abby’s silly affiliation with the young coach—it was better for the Fireflies. “Owen. Not Tess.” Still, you clarified, glancing at her. There was a reason you kept this one thing from Ellie. Her and Abby rarely got along, what if she exposed this interesting fact aloud during an argument? They could open a case, and the entire team could be put on probation until it was solved.

Her jaw dropped in mischievous shock. “What? You knew about this?” Ellie asked you, while her eyes gleamed in the dark. The ‘and you didn’t tell me’ part was silent, but you somehow could still hear her saying it in your mind, filling the gaps.

Your response was none other than a sip of your drink, and a brief lift of your eyebrows. You’ve been captain of your team since the end of sophomore year—of course, you knew about this!

“It’s not obvious?” Aisha perched an eyebrow, downing the rest of her drink.

“Some of us mind our business, Aisha.” Riley snickered, crossing an arm under her elbow. She squinted her eyes at her as a bratty response. “It’s not a secret if it’s obvious.”

“This is great.” Ellie muttered into her cup, shrugging her shoulders.

You snapped her your head toward her. “No, it’s not great. Don’t get any ideas.”

Her best friend laughed, peering down at her amusingly. “Oh, Turner, you’re late. Far too late— the ideas have already began flowin’.” Riley laughed. She was always a subtle lover of chaos and disturbance. She rarely ever caused it, though; Riley was more the type to watch it unfold, and step in if she needed to.

“Ellie,” You warn, deepening your eyebrows.

She put her hands up. “Your secret is safe with me— or, I guess, her secret.” Her smokey, olive eyes glanced at her closest friend, snickering.

You suck your teeth, tapping your fingers against the plastic of your cup. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Boston! Are we excited about Boston?” The lip of your cup found your lips, and you began sipping the drink like your life depended on it. It was the only way to numb your anxieties.

Dina grinned, pointing her finger at Ellie. “Oh, my God— wait, didn’t you get into MIT?”

Immediately, she grew bashful, nodding her head. “Yeah… But I’m not going.”

You paused, turning your body to face hers. “What do you mean you’re not going?” Your eyebrows were deepened, eyeing her intently. “It’s fucking MIT…”

She inhaled, deeply, pursing her lips. “They didn’t have the major I wanted.”

“You never said anything about this.”

“You never asked…”

An awkward beat passed through the group. Mainly hovering between you and Ellie. Your free hand fell to your side, slapping against your bare thigh. Aisha’s voice barrels through the silence, looking around a few parked cars. “Henry!’ She called, waving her hand high above her head, breaking the silence. “I’m gonna go… Come on, Cat!” Aisha took Cat’s hand, dragging her from the group. Whoops, things just got awkward. However, you didn’t care; your eyes were stuck on Ellie’s with a worried irises.

“I’m sure Jesse is somewhere lookin’ for me… I’ll leave you guys.” Dina gave a tightlipped smile, slipping away, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

“You’re still going to college, right?” You ask, looking at her intently.

“Yeah, of course! Joel would have my head otherwise.” She responded, chuckling, glancing off into the woods.

You blink at her, scoffing under your breath. “Okay, so where? I know you applied to Brown, USC… Uhm—“

“Notre Dame.” Ellie answered, plainly, rocking on her feet.

Your jaw practically unhinged itself, flickering your eyes between hers. Notre Dame? That was your school. “What?”

She sighed, downing the rest of her drink, crumbling up the plastic and tossing it to the side. “They had the major I wanted. Biophysics. And… I saw the acceptance letter in your kitchen while you were in the shower a few weeks ago.” Ellie paused, running her hand through her short hair. “It’s your dream school— I knew you’d commit. Their soccer program is phenomenal— aren’t they, like, second in the country?”

With your lips gapped open, you were frozen in surprise. Ellie had decided to attend the same school as you? Even after her set plan of going to Boston? To say the least, you were surprised—as surprised as a person could get. The possibility of the two of you going to college together never seemed to cross your mind. Indiana didn’t seem like Ellie’s gig.

“I was hoping for a better reaction than this.” She tapped your jaw, lightly rubbing her thumb against the structure of your face.

You blinked, again. Taut breath escaping your throat. Instead of speaking, you wrapped your arms around her neck, tugging her against your body, causing your drink to spill down the back of her shirt—it was an accident. “Woah,” Ellie chortled, pulling you in from your waist.

“Fuck, I would’ve said something sooner about Notre Dame— I just…” You stammered, inhaling, sharply. “I don’t know… I was getting really existential about everything. Leaving the team behind— leaving you behind! I was fuckin’ losing it…” You pulled back, keeping your arms draped around her shoulders. Her fingers finding comfort at your hips. “But I swear, I was gonna tell you once we got back from Boston… I wish you would’ve said something earlier. Now, I look like an asshole.” You plucked her shoulder with your fingers, pouting.

“I was waiting until you wanted to tell me for yourself— it just took longer than expected s’all.”

Ellie was patient when she wanted to be. At first, you thought it was because she knew that you were separating soon, wanting to end on a good note an all. She used to gripe about being in an unlabeled relationship, but since the spring semester started, she was a sweet as pie. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, playing with the short hairs at the nape of her neck. The comment of your coach rang through you mind—maybe, you should warn her about messing up… But you didn’t want to ruin this moment.

“It’s fine.” She hummed, flickering her eyes over your features. It really wasn’t fine, in your mind, but whatever she said went. If you were her, you would’ve broken up with yourself a long time ago. “We’re goin’ to college together.” Ellie grinned, leaning toward your lips.

You laugh, adjusting your arms around her neck. “We’re going to college together.” You parrot, leaning into her, carelessly. Not caring for the off-handed looks of your peers—as their expectations were met by the physicality of your relationship.

Before your lips could meet, surrounded by trees, the sounds of an altercation pulled her from you. It sounded like—

“Is that Riley?” Ellie questioned, looking over your shoulder.

You turned around, narrowing your eyes on the figures getting at each other. They were pointing fingers and yelling, causing a group to develop around them. “What the hell…” You mutter, dropping your cup, and jogging over to the scene. Ellie was on your tail with a similar look of confusion.

People had gathered in a circle around them, urging them to have a cat fight. You shoved the guy instigating to the side, pushing into the middle of the crowd. Heat burrowed under your skin, glaring at the two girls—Riley and Abby—as you mentally decided on the course of action.

“You know what, meat-head? I suggest you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut!”

“Or what?!” Abby exclaimed, holding up her arms, tauntingly. “You gonna kick my shin in—? I’d like to see you try!”

“Am I gonna do that before or after you fuck Coach Mo—“

That’s when you interrupt, running between the two of them. Ellie following in your steps, placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “Riles, leave it.”

You snap you fingers, glaring at the both of them. “Fireflies! What the hell are you doing— let’s go!” You instruct them, pointing your fingers toward the semi-crowded wood. There was a path leading you down, but you need them to separate from the rest of your class. Abby hesitated, gritting her jaw, glaring at the girl with braids running down her back. “Go on…” You push her arm, lightly, guiding her to lead the group.

The core group of the team lingered in the crowd, pushing through as soon as you commanded. When you found privacy, they stood in a line before you. In the order of: Ellie, Riley, Aisha, Cat, Dina, Nora, Abby, Sid, Uma and Mei. You didn’t even realize Uma and Mei had been in attendance until they materialized from the shadows of the party.

You paced down the line like a military general, with your hands held behind your back. “Clearly, none of you heard me when I said that tomorrow we need to be starting off on a good foot— so, now, I have to treat you girls like children.” You scold, glaring at the most argumentative on the team.

Sid raised her hand, pursing her dainty lips. “You don’t have to…”

Your eyes peered at her, smirking. “Oh, my God! Sid, thank you so much for volunteering for my exercise—“

“Huh?”

“Come here.” You tell her, holding out a hand. She comes forward, stuffing her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Here’s what you’re gonna do… You’re gonna go down the line and say what love about your teammates— each and every one.”

Sid groaned, slouching her shoulders. “Ugh, that’s embarrassing! y/n, do I have to? My team knows I fuck with them…”

Dina raised her hand, snickering. “Actually, I didn’t know that… You’re always so quiet.”

You grip Sid’s shoulders from behind, peering over her shoulder. “Now, look at that… Why don’t you start with Ellie?”

She dragged her feet forward, positioning herself to stand before the girl. “Uhm, Ellie… I think you’re one of the best this team has. It may not always seem like it, but I appreciate the feedback you give me when it comes to defense.” Sid sighed moving into the player beside her. “Riley, despite how much it annoyed y/n… I do find it commendable that you were so quick to defend your friend for something that she wasn’t even around to hear.”

Riley glanced at Ellie, earning a soft nudge.

Sid continued, going down the line of the team, awkwardly complimenting until her turn was over. The line went from the end to the front, until everyone had gone; you being the last to compliment your team.

The core argumentative four managed to say nice things about each other, through their opposing opinions, causing everyone to neutralize their emotions. After, Riley Abel had found herself apologizing about nearly exposing the relationship between Abby and Owen—it was fucked up, she said.

Then, Abby apologized for tempting her to fight, which led to her apologizing to Ellie for her harsh judgement. Nora followed suit, hesitantly.

So, your plan worked! Either they were all completely humoring you, or the tactic that Coach Servopoulos mentioned last year actually worked.

It wasn’t long before you heard the horn of Maxine honking at you and Ellie. The complimenting session brought you guys to one, meaning it was time to leave. And neither you nor Ellie didn’t mind. The party wasn’t the most relaxing shindig, but improvements were made within the group. Hopefully, meaning that tomorrow morning everybody will be walking onto that plane with a fresh start.

Sarah had dropped you off at your house. Ellie letting you out the backseat, kissing you goodbye, longingly. Her hands clutched your sides like she didn’t want to release you—like you weren’t seeing each other in seven hours. When she finally did, you held onto her hand until your fingers slipped from hers, walking up the path to your home.

You were a bit of a last-minute packer, meaning you spent the next hour making sure you have everything you needed for Boston. Your uniform, pajama’s, cute clothes, three pairs of shoes—including your cleats. In the case of boredom, you shoved two options of books into your duffle bag. Since you were flying privately, because of a large, humble purchase made by Cat Yoon’s father, there was more give to the weight of your bag.

When you were finished, you put the bags by your front door, as quietly as possible to not wake your parents. Then, you showered and slipped into bed, falling asleep to the image of furthering your education with the love of your life. While it slightly worried you, excitement was the most noticeable emotion coursing through you. More so because it gave you time. Time to open up and be yourself to not only Ellie, but to the world moving and progressing around you. You didn’t want to hide beneath a blanket of neutrality anymore.

To love a woman wasn’t a crime to be charged with. Not anymore, at least—its 1996.

The morning came around fast. Your blaring alarm woke you up with a screech, which was followed by your mother knocking on your door for breakfast. Quickly, you did your hygiene routine. Then, you rushed down the stairs to consume something hearty to last the whole flight, or most of it. You never liked eating on planes. It always felt like the food never digested properly in the air, or perhaps, that was your slight neurosis of flying. Your parents spoke of how proud they were of you, going to nationals, getting into college—they were getting emotional before your eyes.

In a way, their emotions shifted onto you, causing your eyes to water. It felt as if you were already saying goodbye to them. Your father helped pack your bags into the car, before he kissed you farewell. He couldn’t drive you to the airport because work had called him in. “Please, don’t forget to call us when you get to the hotel.”

“Remember, your dad is prone to strokes…” Your mother added, walking around to get into the driver’s seat.

You laugh, pulling from the embrace he had wrapped you in. “I remember. I won’t forget!” You patted his arm, reaching for the handle of the passenger door. “As soon as I get to the hotel, I’ll call you, daddy.”

“All right, have safe flight, honey.”

The sound of the foreign engine of your mother’s car sounded as you slipped into the passenger seat with a departing smile. When your mother pulled out of the driveway, you waved to your father as he watched the car roll into street.

Jackson Hole Airport wasn’t far from your home—under ten miles. So, you didn’t spend a lot of time chatting with your mother before you drifted into the independence of traveling to Boston. You couldn’t get far from the drop-off point before she reminded you to call when you arrived at the hotel. After sharing quick I love you’s, you dragged your luggage, with your duffle bag draped atop of it, into the semi-busy airport.

On your way inside, you catch the frantic movements of Mei Hawkins. She was hitching two medium-sized luggage’s and a backpack. They kept falling over, tilting over sidewalk curbs and bubbles on the pavement. “Mei,” You waved, trotted over toward her. “You need some help?”

Her shoulders were hunched, a whine-like laugh coming from her throat. “If you can…” Mei smiled, showing her slight gapped tooth smile. “Flights always frazzle me.” You took one the luggage’s from her, pulling it along with your other hand. There was some weight to it, more than you thought. “A few years ago, my aunt was in a plane crash— it was minor. Barely lifted off the runway before it came back down. She was stuck in Kyoto for a week.”

You snickered, walking through automatic doors of the airport. “I don’t know if we could count that as a plane crash…”

“You can to! The wheels went up, so everybody felt the collision. It was like a bad landing, but worse.” Mei explained with lifted skinny eyebrows. “It’s freaked me out ever since. I haven’t visited Japan in three years because of it.” She shivered, adjusted the straps of her Jansport. “The only reason why I even agreed to this because, one— it’s nationals, and two— it’s within the country. Slowly, but surely, I’m conquering my fear…”

She was a bit of a nervous rambler, but she played completely opposite of that. Like you, she was a center midfielder—she stood right next to you on the field. When Mei focused, she was a totally different person compared to who she was off the field.

“That’s one way to look at it. Glad you could make it— we need you.” You told her, shuffling through people. The team was able to evade customs since the flight was private, thankfully. Especially, with the load that Mei was carrying.

She chortled, peering her hazel eyes around. “No need to butter me up. I’m already coming.”

“Yeah, clearly. And you brought your whole closet with you.” You laugh, looking over at her. “What’s in this luggage? A dead body?”

Mei looked at you with a pointed expression. “I pack for emergencies…” She leaned closer to you, as you approached the outer boarding area. “All types.” The girl spoke with such diction that made your mind go straight to the gutter.

“Mei, is there alcohol in here?”

Her lip fell between her teeth, mischievously. “I’ll tell if you sit next to me on the plane…” She shrugged, walking ahead of you.

“Sold!” Although, you were planning on sitting beside Ellie, the offer was too good to pass up. If she snuck in the goods, Boston was going to be so much more fun than you expected.

The aircraft came into view, obstructing the morning sun from your eyes. It was the perfect size for your team. A smile creeped onto your face, wheeling yours and Mei’s belongings toward the plane. Coach Servopoulos stood outside, chatting with Henry Harmon, and his brother Sam.

Your eyes widen at the sight of them, jogging toward the two. “Oh, shit! Henry, Sam— since when were you guys coming to Boston?” You ask through a friendly smile, doing a mixture of a waddle and jog to approach the brothers. Mei had simply waved at them, before walking up the metal stairs into the airplane.

Henry grinned, waving his hand, boyishly. He was a senior just like you, approaching graduation with ferocity. He was the president of the school newspaper and worked very hard to earn his position. His brother, Sam, was a sophomore following right in his footsteps, knowing how to man a camera like it was easy. Sam took the pictures, and Henry wrote the stories.

“We’re plannin’ on publishing a story on JHH’s Fireflies going to nationals. Coach T just approved the request yesterday.” Henry grinned, leaning onto his tough-box luggage.

Sam gave a shy, tightlipped smile. He pulled his camera around his body, aiming it you. “Smile!”

The flash of his camera shocked you into being ready, but it didn’t work. “Okay, Sam… At least try and get my good side.” You pose for the photo, turning to the side. He chuckles, snapping the picture, then giving you a thumbs up. “All right, I’ll see you guys inside.”

“What am I chopped liver?!” The head coach calls, slapping her hands against her covered thighs.

“Sorry! Morning, Coach Serv!” You grit your teeth, trotting up the steps. Slightly, struggling with Mei’s bag.

Most of the team had already arrived and they already sat in their seats. Abby jutted her eyebrows at you from her cushioned position, sitting beside Nora. They both had neck rests of different patterns and had faces that exposed their fatigue, and potentially, their hangovers. Dina sat beside Mel, and you knew that wasn’t by personal choice. She waved her fingers at you, keeping place in her book with her other hand. Cat and Aisha sat together, already talking up a storm. Ellie and Riley were the only ones running behind, and it made you frown.

“Mei,” You complain, attempting to put the luggage in the overhead.

“Sorry!” She hopped from the seat she was getting comfortable in, deciding to help you get the luggage into the compartment.

After securing it over your seats, you put your luggage in an empty one a little way from your seat, then the both of you sat. She took the window seat, while you took the aisle, in the front half of the plane. Perhaps, it made sense for you to be ahead of most of the team—you were the captain, after all. And, if you could choose a co-captain—which you asked Coach Servopoulos about a variety of times—it would be the girl sitting beside you, Mei. Not only would she deserve the position, but she’s the next best player beside Ellie. Because the two of you have been involved with each other for some time, choosing Ellie as your co-captain would be a recipe for disaster. Frankly, if she were, the decision would be made on the warm front of collective bias; she played entirely too rough to be considered the co to your captain. And the girls would have a riot.

You lean into Mei, squinting your eyes with inquiry. “What’s in the bag?”

Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I’m not telling you until we take off.”

“You say that like I’m gonna snitch on you, or something.” You bunch your eyebrows together. “I would never… As long as I have in on it.” A snicker fell from your lips, and she playfully shoved you.

“I don’t wanna tell you now because then you’ll just ditch me to sit with Ellie… Whenever she gets here.” Mei pursed her heart-shaped lips, looking through the oval window. She hid behind her words a bit, but you could feel the genuineness peeking through her skin.

An empathetic smile spread onto your lips, gleaming at her. It was always a soft feeling to be liked and appreciated. What a page-turner from the night before. “I already told you that I was gonna sit with you… I wouldn’t go back on my word. Swear.” You held out your pinky-finger, bending it to get her attention.

She narrowed her honey eyes, taking your pinky with hers, releasing a sigh. “Fine…” Mei released your pinky, peering over her seat for prying ears. She leaned toward your ear, and you waited with a slight grin of anticipation. “My sister’s boyfriend sells weed, so she got us fourteen grams to split— but only for the seniors, duh.”

You glance at her. “That can’t be it— your bag weighs a ton.”

“There’s two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20, and the rest of the weight should be my clothes…” She says, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

Your jaw dropped, blinking at her. She had two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20… You never took her for a girl who thrived under rebellion. “Mei, holy shit—” Did her parents know about this?

“What are ya’ll whispering about?” A familiar, raspy voice speaks. Immediately, she caught your attention, causing you to swivel you head around.

“Ellie, where the hell have you been?” Quickly, your attention was diverted—purposely, changing the subject from the items Mei had brought. Sometimes, she had the tendency to be late; and every time it drove you up a wall. “We were told to be here by a certain time for a reason. We’re on a schedule.” You nagged, ignoring the soft kisses she was plotting along your forehead.

She chuckled against your skin before speaking. “Last minute, we had to pick up Riley—”

“My bad!” The brown-skinned girl interjected, raising up a hand while she got situated in her seat toward the back of the plane.

“And some morning traffic picked up— this isn’t my fault. Plus, I bought you some tea!” Ellie offers up a warm cup, holding it in front of you. “It’s lavender.” She grinned.

Your eyes lit up to the drink in front of you, taking the warm cup with quick fingers. “Ugh, I love you…” The mumbled words tumbled from your lips before I could catch them. Every proclamation of love you gave to Ellie was all to yourself, or Dina because she knew about the most when it came to your relationship.

Her olive eyes widened, lips parting in genuine shock. For a moment the world went silent, and neither of you spoke. The process of saying I love you in an environment that wasn’t her bedroom, was an odd feeling. It modeled after the uncomforting bite of a crisp, winter morning—poking at your flushed, sensitive skin.

“Awkward…” Aisha poked her head above her seat, and you shoot her a glare.

Coach Tess Servopoulos walked into the plane, which automatically settled the team. Henry and Sam followed after her, finding their seats somewhere in the middle. Abby waved at Henry, reaching to dap his hand as a greeting.

And she wants to pretend that she’s not lesbian.

Just as she does so, the assistant coach walks steps into the plane, nodding his head curtly at those who spared him a glance. Mel jumped onto her knees in her seat, to wave at him.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck. “I’m assuming you’re sitting with Mei— hey, Mei.” She awkwardly waved.

“Hey, Ellie.” She kindly smiled, bending her index finger at the auburn-haired player.

As you held your warm cup, your skin wrinkled between your eyebrows with internal confusion. Did she not love you? Was this a bad time say that—did you say too much, too fast, too loud? Holy fuck. “Yeah, I am…” You respond, distantly, attempting to meet her eyes but you couldn’t fully.

“Cool, uhm, I’ll be back there,” She juts her thumb toward the pair of seats her best friend was settling in. “With Riley… Uh, maybe Mei and I can switch sometime after take-off…?”

“Maybe… I might be asleep, though…” You scratch your eyebrow, pressing your lips into an awkward smile.  

“Oh,” Ellie pursed her lips, chewing on the skin inside of her mouth.

“Yeah… You should probably go find your seat— take-off should be any minute now.” You found a way to blink at her. The auburn-haired player chortled, nodding her head. Her cheeks had reddened from your undignified confession, but with your sudden coldness, she felt the need to retaliate with frustration. A scoff left her plush lips as she stepped away from you, down the aisle. “Thanks for the tea!” You raised the cup, turning your head to face the leather in front of you.

Mei bored her eyes into the side of your face the moment Ellie left. “What the hell was that?”

“As if I would know…” You casted your eyes to the cup in your hands, feeling its warmth.

“I’ve known you guys for a long time…” Mei began, puffing air through her lips. “I thought you were the one with the concerns.”  

Mei Hawkins had known about your reservations with your sexuality and was one of the few people to understand why you felt that way. She wasn’t a lesbian or thought of women the way you did but she could empathize. Growing up in Jackson wasn’t always the easiest for her either. Her dark, often chained, fish-netted appearance was always a topic of discussion.

“Me too… I don’t know what the hell that was about.” You frowned, scrunching your eyebrows. Ellie has never acted like that before. The moment your louder with your adoration, wether it was on purpose or not, she quivered away. It was such a discomfort that it made your skin itch.

“Maybe, she was just surprised. I love you is kind of big…”

“I’ve already said it before. There’s no reason for her to be so surprised.” You curtly added, intently peering at your friend. Eyes glinting with a shell of worry. For a moment, you thought your eyes were welling up with tears, heating up behind blinking eyelids.

Before the plane took off, the head coach stood up to speak. She demanded that they were to behave the whole flight, be kind to the two attendants, and don’t cause a stir. The girls acknowledged her word all together, nodding their heads, and speaking the saying ‘heard’ in unison.

Within moments the plane finally took off with an unnerving shake of the vessel.

As it rumbled along the track, and gradually lifted off the ground, your stomach folded. Mei had reached for your hand, clenching it with a firm vice. You placed your other hand over hers, puffing air from your lips. Flights weren’t your favorite thing in the world, but your fear wasn’t as great as hers. Under the light weight of her hand, you could feel her trembling. What happened to her aunt must’ve really frightened her—phobia’s truly know how to bury its roots within a person.

Once you were in the air, you dropped her hand, not before massaging her palm, comfortingly. Soon enough, the attendants were walking down the aisle offering snacks and drinks. You were still good on drinks, considering your tea, but a bag a chips wouldn’t hurt. You weren’t hungry, but you offered to share with Mei. To get her mind off the fact that you were floating in the air in a heavy machine.

Within the next few hours, Mei was the first to fall asleep. She swallowed some allergy medication, probably something to help her sleep, and slumped against the window. You tried to sleep but the idea of Ellie being ashamed of loving you bothered your mind. Sure, it was a thought of insecurity, but she’s never done that before. Has she finally had enough of your tiresome ways? If so, you’d understand. That wouldn’t negate the fact that it would still hurt, though.

However, it wouldn’t make sense. She had just admitted to committing to Notre Dame… Because they had the major she wanted, but also, for you. You were confused, and overwhelmed. Perhaps, it was the flight that was making your brain run slow and obsessively.

There was slight turbulence that made you shut your eyes, holding onto the arm of your seat. But it wasn’t enough to completely freak you out—until the shaking got worse. A flight attendant was walking down the aisle, collecting trash into a bag with a kind smile. Another turbulent bump occurred, causing her to run face first into the wall leading to the pit.

After that, there wasn’t much reaction time to laugh or wonder if she was all right.

The private plane began to wave side to side in the air. Beside you, Mei was startled awake with wide eyes. “What the fuck is happening?”

You couldn’t respond because your eyes were stuck on the attendant. Blood had secreted from a wound the accident caused. Her forehead dribbling with thick, crimson blood. Then, the plane dipped in the air, dramatically.

There was a muffled sound of your seat partner calling your name, but your ears had tuned it out while chaos began to nest within the aircraft. Screaming, wailing, yells for order happened all at once.

Masks dropped from the ceiling, but as you began plummeting from the highest point in the sky, you froze. Hastily, Coach Servopoulos appeared, placing the masks over you and Mei’s face as you both panicked in different ways.

Unexpectedly, a hole materialized in the side of the front of the plane, peeling its mechanics away every passing moment. The pressure sucked the head coach out of it, right it front of you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you released sobs of trepidation.

Mei was right. She had every reason to fear airplanes—but you hated that she was right. It seemed to be your final moments; you peer at her, reaching for her arm, deciding to cling to her. Somehow, your life flashed before your eyes. The moments you shared with Ellie, the moments you hid from the world in the hopes to be seen as normal. What a fucking waste of time.

With Mei in your arms, you shut your eyes, tightly. To brace for the impact of the earth. However, that was something you never got—well, while you were conscious.

In its plummet, sometime between the crash onto the ground and breaking down of its parts, yours and Mei’s seats had been sucked out of the same hole in the wall that Tess had. When it happened, your body shut down out of fear. And for that, you were subconsciously thankful.

However, when your eyes fluttered open after the fall… To your shock, you were hovering over the ground. Moist soil, covered in green leaves, was the only thing in your line of sight. Birds poked at the back of your head, pinching at your skin. Anxiously, you fanned them away.

There was a pressure pulled against your lower stomach, keeping you suspended in the air. You released a groan, reaching for the tightness restricting your lower abdomen. It was the belt of your seat, still locked into the gear that was connected to the cushion. Mindlessly, you tugged at it, dizzy from the fall and the oxygen being squeezed out of you.

When your thumb found the release button, you yelped as you dropped from your suspension, hitting the ground with a thud. Your arms barely braced your fall, causing you to fall face first into the dirt, getting a mouthful of soil.

Its dry, tanginess shocked your senses—waking you up from the trance that had enveloped you. You coughed it up, rubbing your tongue along the fabric of your shirt. “Oh, my God…” You muttered, leaning back onto your knees, taking in the endless environment that surrounded you. Slender stalks of trees went on for miles before you, and it set fear into your muscles.

Mei.

Just then, you gained the memory of the crash. The shutting down of the engine, a hole being blown into the side of the aircraft, the screaming and wailing—you crashed in the woods, but where? You were in a fucking plane crash!

“Mei!” You called for her, rasping, attempting to stand to your feet. You wobbled, scratching your sore throat. But, as you pivoted on your feet, you didn’t have to search far for your seat buddy. Your eyes widened at the sight, lips parting to erupt a horrified shriek.

Her body was strung up, caught in thick branches. Her warm, hazel eyes were wide open, frozen in a state of fear—looking at you. A branch was impaling her chest, propping her body up like a piece of meat on a skewer. It was the same branch that your seat was attached to; the one you fell from.

Your hands covered your mouth in horror, falling back onto your knees. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” You chanted, leaning into the ground, rocking your body to soothe yourself. Not that it was working. If you could climb the tree to take her down, you wouldn’t have enough strength to pry her from the branch. You couldn’t help her.

Then, the thought of everyone else flooded your mind. “Oh, my God— Ellie…” You whined, wiping your face that was getting covered in more dirt by the second. If something had happened to her… You wouldn’t know what to do. You’ve never been one for suicidal thoughts, but the idea would entice you.

For a moment, you couldn’t help but panic, imagining the worst. What if she was the one strung up like Mei—you wouldn’t be able to take it. The image of that flashed behind your eyelids, causing a cry to emit from your lips. Please, don’t be dead.

The smell of smoke and gas wafted into your nostrils, causing you to sit up. It must’ve been the plane.

Boom!

The sound of an explosion startled you, but it sounded close by. You refused to be alone—out in the middle of nowhere—so, you straightened up. You stood to your feet, dusting the dirt from your shorts. With a final glance to the fallen Mei, you pressed your fingers to your lips, sending a kiss her way. I’m sorry. Internally, you made a promise to never forget her because that was all you could do. She succumbed to one of her greatest fears—what a tragic way to meet one’s end.

However, you had a team to locate, despite the looming temptation of death looking you right in the eye—for the sake of self-preservation, and for the sake of proving to yourself that you weren’t alone in the torture that was the grief nesting inside of you.

taglist: @sawaagyapong, @violetszn, @vxsellie, @vahnilla, @cherryvinyl-777, @aphrodyk3, @lovinglynny.

[kerryshifting]

hi, so i decided to leave shiftok and come here… i wanted to ask some questions because tiktok fucked me up 😭😭

1. i wanted to shift in a dangerous place but on tiktok i got harassed in the comments saying that i shouldn’t. so it’s okay to shift in places that aren’t perfect?

2. i wanted to use a face claim because i don’t like myself here… but i don’t know if its okay to do so

3. is permashifting real?

4. is having multiple s/o real? i used to follow someone who said that having different s/o in different realities is cheating (if you are not poly) and now i’m scared

YOU SWEET SUMMER CHILD. okay so you know the tiktok brainrot? yeah, shiftok is the same thing. it’s everything but helpful. scratch that. start over.

1. you can shift where the fuck you want. also, i don’t think that the dumb people that harassed you in the comments understood that it’s a reality. it’s life. since when life with human emotions is perfect!? yes, you can shift in dangerous places. it will be dangerous, of course, so just be careful. i shift in percy jackson where i will fight monsters of greek mythology and in game of thrones. some people shift in a zombie apocalypse, others in call of duty. no one can be entitled to make you feel bad about your damn reality.

2. its totally okay to do that. you don’t have the same face in other realities. realities are infinite, you are not the same gender, race, age, in all of them. you are just choosing a reality where you look different from your self here.

3. as real as fire. so, very much. if you can stay here forever why you can’t stay in another reality forever? this is not your default.

4. i think it’s different from person to person. personally (and i am not poly) love my s/o only in the realities where he is my s/o. in this reality, i acknowledge that i have a girlfriend in my game of thrones dr and a boyfriend in my marauders dr, but i don’t have the same emotions that i would have for them in their respective realities. different realities, different bodies and minds. what about your emotions? if you still love them all, it’s okay. you have so much love in you and i think that’s beautiful!!!

[lananiscorner]

Reblogging this version and stealing the tags as well:

#i realized this when I was following#gen padalecki#she was talking about the garden#and livestock#and book clubs#and doing so many things with the boys#and i realized that if she had to work#like i have to work#and didn't have the money to hire people to do shit#she couldn't do all of that either#and then i unfollowed her#because it wasn't relevant to me#and was just making me feel bad about myself#even though i knew we were not on the same boat#she's in a yacht#and i'm in a rowboat#and you can't compare the two

This is so important, especially when it comes to body image.

If you ever find yourself looking at someone and thinking "damn, I wish I was as slim and toned as that insta model" or "damn, I wish I was built like that Navy Seal dude"... remember that this is literally PART OF THEIR JOB. You can't be an insta model without being slim and you can't be a spec ops soldier without being in excellent, buff shape. And as a result, people like that spend A LOT of hours in the gym. Like, a lot A LOT. And no, not off hours, after already working for 8+ hours a day like you with your desk job. If you are trying to emulate people like that while not being in that job, you are essentially trying to do two jobs at once. And that ain't a sustainable way to live (you can make it work, but good grief, at what cost...)

And any time you look at someone rich enough to afford somebody else to do their cooking and cleaning and child care? Dial your own expectations way the hell down, because those are freaking time sinks. There's a reason rich people hire other people to do that shit for them (because it's work--and unless you are rich it's work you HAVE TO do for free, because cooking is kind of important for eating and cleaning is kind of important for being healthy and if you don't take care of your kids they have a high risk of ending up dead).

I would also add to this that sometimes it really is too late/impossible to strive for something that you would like to be your top priority. I have asthma and I'm nearing 40. Even if I started working out right now, with the same diet and exercise regimen as a soldier, I would not be able to get that level of fitness, because 1) my lungs aren't build for that and 2) aging is a thing and my body's prime days are over.

And that sucks. Realizing that there are legit, unchangeable roadblocks to things you would like to make your priority SUCKS. And it's okay to be angry and frustrated about that for a while, and to grieve the opportunities you wish you had but never will. It's perfectly fine and normal and healthy. So long as you remember that grief is not a place to be forever. Life goes on. There's more beauty to find in the world and so much more to live for rather than wallowing in sadness forever.

So, if you find yourself with something that you want to make your priority, but cannot, for circumstances outside of your control, ask yourself "okay, but how much do I have to dial back the intensity to make it work and still have it be a top goal?"

One of my goals for this year is to go swimming again. I used to do that competitively. I would love to get back to that same level of intensity again, but 1) I am getting old, 2) I have a full-time job, and 3) it's not something I can just do at home anytime I want--I have to take a bus to the city swimming pool to get there and they ain't open 24/7. So no, I will not be swimming again with the same regularity and intensity as before, but I will try to find a time window that will work with my job and the commute and the opening hours and I will take as much swimming as I can get, because good grief, I miss the water.

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

[tactidoll]

help a disabled trans woman finally move into a real house

hi my names eris im a 26 disabled and heavily mentally ill trans woman living in one of the worst places in england, and more than that just over a year ago i was kicked out by my moms transphobic girlfriend, since then to avoid full homelessness and not having anywhere else to really go ive been living in a barely insulated shed on a farm in the middle of nowhere, this has led to me being nearly constantly sick for the entire year, already barely able to take care of myself ive just absolutely fallen apart as a person despite my best efforts and now during winter the shed has been constantly absurdly cold and lead me to deal with regular mild hypothermia thats sometimes hit moderate despite bundling up with both an electric heater and fireplace going and honestly i just dont know how much more i can physically take

ive been wanting to move into a walkable city due to my disability meaning i cannot ever drive, and ideally somewhere progressive so i can start to finally present femininely despite being outted over a decade ago which would also help dramatically, but despite trying to get financially able to afford the move ive made no progress due to having to spend the lil money i have spare each month on solving immediate issue and sadly im way too mentally ill too consider trying to move into a house share/roommates situation

the british housing assistance system id be able to use would need me to get a place before im able to claim assistance on rent so i really just need to get the money to pay for the deposit and first month of rent and the average deposit ive seen for the apartments that would be comfortable and habitable for my disabilities is about £1100 and about £800-900 for first months obviously thats a lot to ask for and im gonna be trying my hardest to put as much as i can aside to cover the rent and seeing if i can borrow money to help make up the rest

thank you so much for reading im sorry this isnt that well written im really struggling mentally and physically and im just so desperate

my paypal is https://paypal.me/tactidoll absolutely anything helps even if its just sharing this post everything will be saved until i can put that deposit down

0/£1200

[goldenhickeysandramen]

Jungkook came to weverse 🥹🥹

🐰: ARMY, you’re staying healthy, right?

Lately, the weather seems to be warming up, only to turn cold again—it feels like it’s mirroring my heart.

Today’s weather feels especially gloomy.

Though there’s still a long way to go, I find myself having more conversations with myself around this time of year.

It’s one of those nights filled with many thoughts.

Sometimes, I imagine capturing ARMY and myself together in a single photo.

The smile that unconsciously spreads across my face in that moment makes me feel truly happy.

But at times, I also wonder—will it only remain a figment of my imagination now?

Of course, even that doubt, I choose to question. I will create memories even more beautiful than what I imagine.

That means I’ll have to put in just as much effort, right? ㅎ

I never forget that the ones who have held the pen writing my story all this time are you, ARMY.

Because of that, I know exactly what I need to do.

Even so, I can’t help but feel a little impatient, excited, and maybe even a bit uneasy.

But after writing these few words, I think I won’t get lost in my thoughts too much.

I just… I just want you to know that I think about you all so, so much. That’s all. I don’t ask for anything else. ㅎ

Thank you for reading this.

I miss you today, as always.

I’m still waiting.

Please take good care of your health, everyone.

I love you.

My baby… I just… I just want you to know that I think about you all so, so much… tooooo

That’s all. I don’t ask for anything else.

[greatbananaboat]

i keep seeing people complaining abt the blisters and bedrock letter vander wrote to silco. stuff about how it wasn't a good enough apology. it's actually rlly confusing to me bc watching it, i thought it wasn't meant to be an apology?

it kind of mirrors something my friend and i do when one of us is upset about something the other did. we don't get to see each other super often unless we're actively making time to, so we will text that we're sorry and ask to see them in person so we can actually communicate.

vander's letter reminds me of that. reading it, i thought he was trying to get silco to come see him so they could actually talk to each other and he could really apologize. a letter isn't good enough to get your emotions across.

i did a bit of a breakdown of the letter, not sure if it's very good though lol

"I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s clear you don’t want to be found."

he's been looking for silco so he can apologize personally. this isn't his plan a. this is what he has to do bc he can't find silco and he can't apologize the way he wants until silco allows himself to be found.

"God I’m shit at this. I’m sorry. When she died…I lost my head."

he acknowledges this isn't going to sound very good, because again, this wasn't how he wanted to apologize. it's still not how he wants to apologize. he tries to explain himself hoping silco can use it to see where he was coming from and calm down enough to be willing to see him in person.

"I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it, but the dirt was on both our hands."

he acknowledges he was in the wrong and that his personal justification in that heated moment was flawed. he's saying that originally, he thought silco was the reason for everything that happened, the reason felicia died, but now that he's cleared his head somewhat, he knows it was just as much his fault as silco's.

"Anyways, you know where to find me. Blisters and bedrock. V."

he extends the offer to reach out, knowing he's not going to find silco unless silco wants to be found. he also adds a sentimental touch to it with the blisters and bedrock part, knowing it's symbolic of the relationship they had before what happened and hoping that relationship can be rebuilt.

and as we saw from the au, it could be rebuilt. silco just had to find the letter and decide to meet vander.

honestly i thought this was a rlly nice letter considering i didn't see it as an apology. a letter is never going to be enough to sincerely convey your emotions and really communicate with the other party. it's not like a face-to-face conversation.

i assumed from scenes with vander that he's someone who likes spending time with the people he loves. he likes being at the last drop with the people he cares for, music playing and drinks pouring. it stands to reason that he'd prefer in-person conversation over a letter.

idk maybe i'm way off base with this one lmk

[merchantziro]

This was Danny's final shot, he honestly didn't have that much ecto left in him to keep enchanting metal. This city didn't have much, it was concerning it generated ectoplasm as is without a Ghost Portal as far as Danny knew but... Not his monkeys, not his circus.

So he built the portal outside the city, hoping it was somewhere secluded where those furries won't bother him this time.

Phantom finally got the portal set up and just needed to find a power source, so he left for what would hopefully be the final time to gather up some sort of power source, however right when he was returning...

B O O M !

Danny heard an explosion in the distance, that sounded like it came from-

The ghost boy ran back into his hideout, but was immediately kicked to the ground by one of the costumed jerks.

"No... No!"

Danny looked over at smoking and burning remains of the portal. They seemed to be asking him something but Danny neither understood what they were saying nor cared enough to say anything.

However what he did do was collapse to his knees, this was the final straw that broke the Halfa's back.

"Why? Why do you keep doing this?"

The costumed heroes paused before one reached out to him...

"Art thee tis fine...?"

...But Danny smacked the hand away with a growl.

"Get out..."

The man flinched back at the venom before the smaller one, a child that might be almost Danny's age, raised a sword.

"Thou art the one with the League, whatev'r grandfath'r is planning wonneth't cometh to fruition!"

The Halfa then looked at him coldly before wailing.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

A green shockwave came from his mouse and knocked them into a wall. They raised their weapons and prepared to battle, but Danny then just turned away to the portal as tears formed in his eyes before collapsing to the ground sobbing.

"I just wanted to go home..."

That made the costumed freaks pause before looking at each other confused, not really knowing what to do. As the ghost boy cried himself until he fell asleep.

--- Hours Later ---

Danny woke up, only to find one of his tormentors, the one in a black and blue suit, was watching over him in a room that looked like a guest bedroom as he was laying on a bed. Though this time he looked concerned.

"Art thee good now?"

The ghost boy just glared before grumbling.

"...Why do YOU care all of the sudden? You sure didn't care before?"

"T appears we might has't misund'rstood thy intentions, and we wanteth to fixeth yond misprision."

"You want to what?"

Danny tilted his head before noticing a woman with a purple outfit enter the room, she had tan skin, green eyes, and poofy red hair that looked long and vibrant.

"This the one thee hath asked me to holp thee with right, Dick?"

She asked the man before he nodded, the woman turned back to him before getting closer as she puckered her lips

"Good now holdeth still, this shall only taketh a moment."

Danny immediately flinched back reflexively but couldn't react or speak fast before feeling the woman kiss him briefly on the lips. He could also see the man turn away, looking grumpy.

However the moment AFTER they broke, he was coughing and gagging.

"Ugh! What the hell was that for, I'm only 15 and not interested in whatever weird kinky shit you-"

"Do you understand me better now?"

Danny paused when he heard her speak English back to him.

"Uh? ...Yeah? How did you"

The woman nodded.

"I apologize for scaring you, Tamaraneans like myself have the ability to learn other alien languages through oral contact."

"Wait Tama-what now? Wait, I kissed an alien!?"

The woman giggled at Danny's stuttering realization, while the man continued to watch the conversation from the sidelines.

"Indeed, I am Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran, but you may call me Starfire."

"Uh... Danny, Danny Fenton of... Well it's complicated."

Danny felt his cheeks burning green because, concerning potential age difference aside, holy shit kissing an alien princess almost makes this all worth it and he's gonna brag to Tucker and Sam about it for a week when he gets home!

...Home...

The memory of the ruined portal immediately caused Danny to slump back into his chair as he turned back to the man.

"So what? After every time those guys destroyed my attempts to make a portal, NOW they decide they want to talk when I lost my final chance!?"

He folded his arms and looked away, the man flinching at his outburst.

"...There might have been a misunderstanding with your intentions and nature. Tell me, do the terms Lazarus Pits or League of Assassins mean anything to you?"

"The Who Pits and League of What!? No, Ancients no!"

Danny raised an eyebrow and looked genuinely baffled by the question.

"Well according to what Nightwing told me, they believed you were using an old form of their dialect and thus believed you were with them. Tell me then where did you learn it?"

"Uh? This is English? I don't know why everyone else speaks like old Shakespearean novels in this world but at least it's English back in my dimension?"

"I see... So then I assume you were just trying to build a portal home?"

She placed a hand onto Danny's shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Y-Yeah... And... That was my last shot. Because I needed to use Ectoplasm to imbue the parts in order to make the portal into the Infinite Realms so I could find my way back."

This caused the man to take a deep sigh as he's having a slow burn realization of something before resting his head on his arms.

"Oh mine own god we couldst not has't fuck'd this up any m're if 't be true we hath tried..."

Step 1: Get stuck in another dimension. Step 2: build a portal back to the Ghost Zone. Step 3: Leave.

Danny's got it down to a science at this point. It barely takes him a week to get back home. (Except for the time the dimension he landed in was in the stone age, but we don't talk about that.)

Step 1 was easy enough, if involuntary. Now, step 2 is where it's all going wrong.

This dimension's language isn't one he speaks. That's fine, maybe adds a day or two to the search for parts, but the main problem is the people dressed in Halloween costumes, speaking like they're from a Shakespearean play who always find him and wreck his portal.

And it's not like he can just move to a different city, this one's soaked in ectoplasm. He'd have to spend a pretty fair amount of time searching for another place as saturated as this one.

Meanwhile, the Bats are not having a good time. Some League or League-adjacent member speaking a barely intelligible form of the League dialect keeps attempting to build some sort of weapon in Gotham, and refuses all communication in English.

(AKA: Danny is stuck in another dimension where his English is their League dialect. He just wants to go home now, please.)

[madamenaomi]

Do Brats Need More Softness?

I’m not a brat tamer, and I never will be. I find obedience deeply seductive—there’s a quiet power in the way surrender can be a gift freely given. That’s what I crave. That’s what fulfills me. But I also believe that not every brat needs to be ‘tamed’. Sometimes, they just need to be loved on a little more.

I recently had a client who showed brat tendencies our first week together. During his onboarding process, I searched for any indications that he might be a brat and made it very clear that I wasn’t the right Domme if what he needed was a tamer. He assured me that he was seeking guidance, structure—someone to hold him accountable while he pulled himself out of the cycle of procrastination and bed-rotting he’d fallen into after losing a close friend. Our initial conversation flowed naturally, and I was drawn to him, so, even though I had my suspicions, I reserved them.

He only booked me for two weeks, and by the end of week one, he had his first bratty fit. It was slight, almost unnoticeable, but I recognized it for what it was and decided on an appropriate punishment. This left us with a disconnect, because I over punished for what should have been a funishment.

In turn, it created a whirlpool of shame within him that hurt our dynamic. The shame stirred from his inability to appease me as someone who prided himself on being obedient and devoted. My response made him feel anything but that, which made his confidence diminish.

This is something I never want to see in a submissive ever again.

When the second fit occurred, I didn’t lean into punishment or respond with the disciplinary steps I normally would. Instead, I found myself reaching for the softest part of me.

“Princess,” I called him softly. “Do you want to tell Mommy why you haven’t finished your task today?”

There was silence on the other end. I could hear his breathing, uneven and shallow, as if he were bracing himself for a reprimand. But I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t scold. I just waited.

When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “I don’t know… I was going to, and then I just didn’t feel like it. I’m sorry.”

I hummed softly. “Did you not feel like it, or did it feel too heavy to start?”

Another pause. Then, finally, a whisper. “Too heavy.” His voice was so sweet and soft.

I could have corrected him then. Reminded him of the commitment he made to himself, to me. I could have reinforced discipline. But I didn’t. Instead, I chose a different path.

“Come here, baby,” I murmured, knowing fully well he couldn’t physically be near me. But the words did something—I heard his breath hitch. “You’re holding so much, aren’t you?”

He exhaled shakily. “Yeah…”

“Let Mommy help, then,” I cooed. “We’ll take this slow, together. Tell me everything. You’re feeling right now.”

What started as an extra vulnerable conversation led to Hypnosis play session that left him extra obedient for the rest of the week I was his Domme.

Eventually, I had to let him go so he could find a more appropriate Domme, someone with more experience in taming, as I believed he needed that more. But my experience with him showed me that bratting can be a plea for more nurturing. A subtle, subconscious way of asking, Do you see me? Do you care enough to hold me through this? And sometimes, the answer isn’t discipline, force, correction or even funishments. Sometimes, it’s a little more love.

[petitepatateuwu]

Have some rants about my fav Sonic ships

Trust me when I say this is not what I intended to do for Valentine's day, but my access to the proper materials for my next big project is currently fairly limited, so instead have this (I didn't think I had so much to say I got a bit carried away 👉👈). This is heavy with aro/ace/aroace discourse because as an aroace myself I cannot help it, and huh, reminder that this is just for fun and everyone's opinions are accepted around here as long as it's respectful :3

Espilver is so wholesome I am willing to temporaly remove the aromantic label I put on both these guys. And when an aroace person is ready to drop this label for a ship you know it has to be good. (They're still both asexual idc tho)

I am prone to shipping Sonic with pretty much everyone (elligible for that at least) while thinking he's the biggest aroace mood ever (but I know I am not alone on that one)

Since I've started posting Sonic fanart, there has not been a SINGLE sonadow ship art, but I still really love this ship. Like it's mostly what got me into Sonic in the first place but I don't want to draw it (honestly I think my mind is just drawn to less popular things, I mean sonadow is already everywhere on my dashboard)

Because (except for espilver) my top ships are sonjet and surgamy, I'm basically shipping your two main hedgehogs who are sometimes implied to have feelings for eachother in a gay relationship with a green person with spiky hair and an attitude, and I thought it was funny because it was NOT on purpose xD

Speaking of sonjet I have like three different timelines existing in my mind with this, because I love the "they never dated but they are definitely exes now"/"they tried smt some time ago it didn't work out" narrative, but also the one where Sonic can be the perfect boyfriend and respond to Jet's needs and issues I imagined for him, and also the one where Jet is a total girlfailure of a man who tries to rizz up someone who has zero clue.

I have thought over and over about Blaze ships and my mind just blocks it. At first I thought it was just Silvaze because I was overprotective of my Silver's orientation (when I first saw it I thought "yeah he's aroace", and I'm not a fan of shipping a guy and a girl just because they interact with eachother and are close). But it's everything. Sonaze? I mean she blushed around him on several occasions, so what? I feel like she's just not used to social interaction. Blazamy? I see the fluff, I see the awesome lesbian couple (and I'm an Utena fan, I gotta love the pink/purple yuri), but it doesn't light up anything in me. Are they any other Blaze ships? Idk, but I can't see her with anyone romantically. Never has a character given me so much aroace vibes that the very forces of nature are preventing me to ship her.

Vectilla activates my brain chemistry like crazy. TF you mean the only "sega-approved" ship is between two grown ass people who are not even part of the main character group? And one is a single mother too? Like it's very simple but it's already a norm breaker in my opinion. Though usually a bunch of male characters have their own personally-crafted love interest, they fall in love for no reason and the love is immediately reciprocal because of course it is (*cough* looking at you ninjago). I think it also work because both Vector and Vanilla have their own things going on, and the romance is just a nice plus. And since Team Chaotix is already the peak of Sonic found family, it's also cool to think about the shenanigans with the children (aka Espio, Cream and Charmy). I am a strong Vectilla shipper and I will make you care about them >:)

[olderthannetfic]

Oh boy yumeshipper drama! Recently, I got into yumeshipping despite long-ingrained instincts that self-inserts are "cringe" and "the kind of thing only annoying and unskilled/inexperienced teenagers do". (I grew up in the days of things like deviantArt shaming and Mary Sue character drama, so even now it's still a hard instinct to overcome.)

But despite that I decided to play around and make a yume character to set up with some blorbos I liked in one of my fandoms, because the world is burning down and this is honestly a better way to cope with that than substance abuse. It's actually been really fun sprinkling bits of myself into a character and adapting it realistically to the specific setting that I'm playing around in (and it's also potentially been making me realize some things about myself with regards to some things like gender).

Even so, I don't *DARE* discuss this outside of the small circle of friends I know I can trust, because I have heard so many horror stories about other yumeshippers who get violently possessive of their blorbos and stir up shit. It sucks because I've actually been having so much fun and I want to share my good time with others-

(Personally I don't care about other selfshippers with my blorbos, because I am of the attitude that every person's interpretation and interaction with a piece of media will be different and anything can be possible if you spin it convincingly/in-character enough, and thus one version is no more "correct" than another, with some rare exceptions, obviously. So my version is different from your version, and that's okay! If I don't like it I also don't have to look at it! And that's also okay!)

-but I really don't want to invite the drama and potential blowups into my escapist space.

--

[tokiro07]

Something I alluded to in this week's Ichi review was that while I've been invested up to this point, I haven't been as completely immersed as I had been with Undead Unluck or Cipher Academy, which both captured and held me from ch.1 all the way to the end

I decided to chase that and analyze why Ichi wasn't connecting with me the same way

Looking back at chapter 1, the thing that hooked me was the setting; a world where only women can wield magic, and do so by passing tests posed to them by monsters who embody the individual spells. Even ignoring the premise that a man manages to break the status quo, that core concept alone was enough to spark my curiosity

From there, each chapter continued to expand on that setting - giving examples of the types of monsters we'd see, teasing the process of finding and facing them, showing glimpses of the society built by the women who use magic, their tools and their fashion, but something was still missing

Every week I found myself asking "what are we doing this for?" What was the grander goal, and who was going to stand in the way?

It wasn't until the most recent arc with the introduction of the World Hater that I really got the answer to that question - one of the monsters, moreso than any other, wants to destroy everything. In turn, our protagonist, more than anything, wants to kill it - regardless of whether or not it would save lives, he just knows it would be fun. It's a fairly simple goal, but a compelling one nonetheless, allowing me to not only be invested in the setting, but now also in the plot

But something was still missing

And it was only during this chapter that I realized what it was. Desscaras, The Strongest Witch, faced with a situation that her strength won't help her overcome, chooses to be open and vulnerable, and suddenly that something wasn't missing anymore

I was finally invested in the characters

I thought Ichi was interesting enough, for sure, with how unhinged he was and the themes that his philosophy suggested for the series, but I didn't know what the intentions were for his arc. Desscaras was silly and fun to watch, but I didn't have a good read on how she would contribute to the narrative. Kumugi was the only one I particularly saw thematic potential in from the get, which is why I latched onto her pretty quickly, but it was clear she was meant to be a slow burn and wasn't going to be getting a ton of focus for the foreseeable future

In other words, everyone in the cast had an interesting hook, but no one had shown any real depth yet, at least not to the extent that I wanted

But now I can see it

The flaw in Ichi's philosophy that makes him reckless with the life that he supposedly cherishes so much, the weakness in Desscaras' heart that necessitated she become the Strongest in the first place, and the connection forged between the two of them

Granted, I also said from the beginning that I expected that sort of connection to come up between Ichi and Uroro, so it's not like I couldn't envision how this story would deepen its cast, but just imagining how it would do it and actually seeing it happen are two different things. Now that we're seeing the bonds deepening between two characters, we're likely to start seeing it happen with others more and more often, though likely still fairly slowly

Now that I have a clear picture of how the cast will grow, I can definitively get excited for it rather than just projecting a hypothetical that I hope to see

I think this is also why there are so many manga in Jump that I don't get excited about

I didn't care for Kagurabachi from the beginning because I didn't care about the setting, plot or characters. It was only during the Rakuzaichi Arc, which really started focusing on the characters, that I started feeling invested, but I still don't care about the setting and only slightly care about the plot. In the Samura Arc, though, I'm starting to care a bit more about the plot, and I can see a bit more of interest in the setting, but I'm still not there yet. If it can clinch that, I'll be all in

There are other factors that matter, of course - art style, pacing, themes, etc. all contribute to my enjoyment, but I can look past the art and pacing if everything else works, and I can only care about the themes if I like at least one of the previous factors

By analyzing my experiences like this, I'm getting a clearer picture of my tastes and how I define the quality of a work. Hopefully this framework will help me better articulate my opinions going forward and give me a better approach to appreciating what I read