#trendy mom bag

[mekyrdesign]

Introducing the 90s Retro Diaper Backpack, the perfect blend of nostalgia and modern functionality for today’s parents. This stylish backpack features vibrant prints inspired by the iconic trends of the 90s, ensuring you stand out while keeping your essentials organized. With spacious compartments and a comfortable design, the 90s Retro Diaper Backpack makes outings with your little one effortlessly chic and convenient. Embrace the past with this must-have accessory for contemporary parenting!

[francebaby]

i was so excited to get this bag i got off kickstarter, but it got delayed a bit to next month instead of this month nooo

i guess it's a bday gift now....

[ghoulsbounty]

The Unexpected pt 1

DBF! Wade Felton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), car sex, cowgirl, semi-public sex, heavy flirting, p in v, bad dates, mutual pining, angst, age gap (reader is early 30's, Wade is 48)

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Anon! ALL the love for Wade Felton! There isn't enough for him and I've loved writing this. Yes this gif did inspire the first half. Here is the first part, I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

The anticipation had been building all day, excitement bubbling up within you like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst. You'd meticulously chosen your outfit, practiced your smile in the mirror, and rehearsed witty conversation starters in your head. After weeks of chatting online, you were finally meeting him in person—the man who seemed to check all the boxes, the one who promised to sweep you off your feet and make your heart race.

But as you sat at the cozy table near the window of the trendy restaurant, watching the world outside blur by in a flurry of raindrops, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach. Time ticked by slowly, each passing minute punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and the murmured conversations of other diners. You checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping for a message, a sign that he was on his way. Yet, there was nothing.

When he finally walked in, you tried to mask your disillusionment with a forced smile. He shrugged off his navy sports jacket with casual indifference, his eyes darting around the room as he muttered excuses for his lateness—a familiar refrain of traffic jams and inclement weather that did little to appease your growing unease.

As he settled into his seat opposite you, his gaze flickering over the menu without so much as a glance in your direction, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. This wasn't how you had imagined your first meeting—a whirlwind of laughter and chemistry, a spark igniting between you from the moment your eyes met. Instead, there was only awkwardness, an intense strain in the atmosphere between you.

You tried to make conversation, to salvage what little remained of the evening, but his responses were curt, his attention already drifting elsewhere. The giddiness you had felt in suspense of this date had long since dissipated, replaced by a sense of defeat and heavy regret. As he snapped his fingers to get the waiter's attention, you realized with a sinking feeling that this was not the beginning of a grand romance, but rather the end of a fleeting fantasy.

Your mom had been relentless in her encouragement to dip your toes into the dating pool. "You need to get out more," she'd insist, her voice a blend of exasperation and eagerness. "Don't spend every weekend holed up with your old folks." Though her intentions were good, her words often felt like a gentle push tinged with a mother's anxious plea.

At first, the idea had appealed to you—a chance to break free from the familiar routine, to explore new possibilities, to embrace the thrill of romance. The thought of being wined and dined, engaging in lively conversations with potential romantic interests, had sparked a sense of excitement within you. It all seemed infinitely better than the quiet evenings spent at home.

However, what you hadn't bargained for were the rollercoaster rides that awaited you in the tumultuous world of online dating. Each date often began with high hopes and slight apprehension but ended with you feeling more disheartened than before. The profiles rarely matched the personalities, the conversations fell flat, and the chemistry was frequently non-existent. The thrill of romance quickly turned into a series of awkward encounters, leaving you longing for the predictability of Scrabble nights with your parents.

Throughout your twenties, your focus had been singular: advancing your career. You'd packed your bags and moved across the country, chasing opportunities that promised to elevate your prospects. Along the way, there were relationships, some fleeting, some more substantial, and your fair share of dates. But whether it was the adjustment to life back in your hometown, or the distinct pool of available men in Raleigh, dating since your return had been anything but smooth sailing.

As you swept your gaze across the bustling restaurant, a familiar figure caught your eye. There, perched on a stool at the bar with an air of casual confidence, sat your dad's best friend. His presence seemed to command attention, and when his eyes met yours, there was a knowing glint that passed between you. With a hesitant lift of his fingers, he offered a greeting, and you responded with a subtle flick of your hand before discreetly returning it to your lap. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you acknowledged him, a wave of nostalgia mingling with a hint of embarrassment.

Memories flooded back—summer barbecues filled with laughter, late-night advice sessions during tough times, and the unspoken bond that had grown over the years. It had been a while since you'd seen him, since you'd returned to your hometown. Despite the warmth of these memories, you'd kept your distance, declining invitations to join your parents at his recent back-yard cook-outs. A sense of failure and shame had held you back, the weight of unmet expectations and dreams unfulfilled lingering in your mind like a stubborn shadow.

Wade Felton sat at the bar, his casual confidence an anchor in the sea of strangers that surrounded you. His eyes, a mix of concern and curiosity, held a spark of recognition that sent a ripple of reassurance through you. It felt oddly comforting, the familiarity of his face amidst the unfamiliarity of the restaurant.

As you glanced his way, Wade raised his glass of bourbon in your direction, a subtle quirk of his eyebrow accompanying the gesture. It was a small but significant moment. Was it an invitation to join him in a drink, or perhaps a silent acknowledgment of the less-than-ideal situation unfolding at your table? You couldn't be sure, but the gesture warmed you nonetheless.

The evening had not gone as planned. Your date, Tom, was self-absorbed, endlessly droning on about his workout routines and expansive vinyl collection, without so much as a pause to engage you in conversation. You felt trapped, a prisoner of your own politeness, listening to him with feigned interest while your thoughts drifted to the man at the bar.

But now, with Wade's gaze fixed on you, you felt a spark of defiance. You'd had enough of enduring dismal dates out of sheer courtesy. His mere presence ignited a desire to reclaim your evening.

Summoning your courage, you interrupted Tom mid-monologue. "Can I stop you?" you said politely but firmly. "This isn't going well, I think you'd agree."

Tom looked taken aback, his expression shifting from confusion to resignation. He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the table. He reached for his wallet, extracted a few notes, and placed them on the table. "You're right," he admitted bluntly, "you were much more interesting when we talked on the app."

You seethed inwardly but maintained your composure, offering a tight-lipped nod as you retrieved your share of the bill from your purse and placed it on top of his contribution.

"I'm taking this," Tom declared, grabbing the bottle of wine as he rose from his seat. Snatching his jacket, he glanced back at you. "Good luck," he added curtly before exiting the restaurant, leaving you alone at the table.

With a heavy sigh, you gathered your purse and the plate of food you had ordered. Determination fuelled your steps as you navigated the crowded restaurant, heading towards the bar where Wade sat, his sturdy frame dominating the space. As you approached, the soft glow of the overhead lights cast a warm halo around him, illuminating him like a beacon in the dimness of the bar.

Setting the plate down on the polished counter, you pushed it towards Wade with a gentle yet purposeful motion. With practiced ease, you hoisted yourself onto the stool beside him, the worn leather creaking softly beneath you. Leaning in, you met his amused gaze with a playful twinkle in your eyes.

"Did you order the Korean tacos with a side of a woman who is apparently more fun on a dating app than in real life, Mr. Felton?" you quipped, your words laced with a touch of self-deprecation. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Wade's laughter filled the air, his easy-going demeanour a welcome contrast to the tension of your failed date. With a casual grace, he turned to face you, one arm resting on the bar as he met your gaze with genuine warmth.

His laughter was like a balm, soothing the sting of the evening's earlier disappointments. "I don't like to pry, but it didn't seem like you were getting a word in edgewise," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement. He signalled to the bartender and ordered you a glass of white wine. "White, right? If I remember, red gives you headaches," he added with a knowing smile.

You nodded appreciatively, a wide smile spreading across your face at his thoughtfulness. The way he remembered such a trivial detail about you struck a chord, touching you in a way you hadn't expected. It wasn't just the wine; it was the recognition, the familiarity in the gesture that made you feel seen.

As you brought the glass of wine to your lips and took a sip, a sense of calm washed over you. The crisp, cool liquid steadied your nerves, the taste familiar and soothing. The ambient noise of the restaurant faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this unexpectedly intimate bubble. The warmth of the moment wrapped around you, making this unfamiliar yet oddly comforting situation feel like a safe haven amidst the chaos of your evening.

This felt like a decisively grown-up situation, and while you knew you were perfectly capable of handling it, there was still a sense of novelty to the experience. Normally, around your dad's friends—people you had essentially grown up with—you couldn't help but feel like a child, forever relegated to the role of the kid tagging along. But here, sitting at the bar with Wade, it felt different. Two adults, sharing a drink and engaging in conversation as equals. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, or if perhaps this was just a figment of your imagination, a fleeting moment of perceived maturity.

"Are you waiting for someone?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you tried to manoeuvre yourself gracefully through the conversation with the older man. 

Wade's gaze drifted for a moment, his eyes flickering briefly to his phone before returning to meet yours. "I was," he admitted with a sigh, the faintest hint of disappointment colouring his tone. He lifted his phone from the bar to check a message. "But not anymore. Seems like I got stood up."

You noticed a flicker of frustration in his eyes, a brief moment where his façade faltered before he shrugged it off with a nonchalant gesture. The soft glow of the bar lights bathed his face in a warm, amber hue, accentuating the contours of his features and the subtle lines that spoke of a life rich with experiences.

"That's rough," you sympathized, your voice soft as you raised the glass of wine to your lips, offering a brief reprieve from the tension in the air. You savoured the taste, allowing it to linger on your palate as you considered the shared sense of defeat you felt with him. "Seems like we're both having a night of disappointments," you remarked, the words carrying a weight of understanding between you. 

Wade chuckled, a deep, reassuring sound that made you feel at ease. His eyes crinkled at the corners, reflecting the light. "Yeah, it looks like it. But hey, at least we can keep each other company now."

You couldn't help but silently thank the woman who hadn't shown. Since you were old enough to appreciate the opposite sex, you'd harboured a secret admiration for the older man. In your awkward late teens, you likely made it painfully obvious, your infatuation spilling over in clumsy gestures and stammered words, until your first experiences with boys taught you the nuances of approaching them with an air of sensuality.

But even as you matured, your admiration for Wade remained steadfast, a silent longing that lingered beneath the surface. You'd often caught yourself stealing glances at him during family gatherings, marvelling at the way his laughter seemed to fill the room and the easy confidence with which he carried himself.

Now, as you sat beside him at the bar, you couldn't shake the thought that fate had intervened in the form of a missed date. The anticipation of what could unfold between you hummed in the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Despite the unlikelihood of him ever seeing you as anything more than his best friend's daughter, you couldn't resist the urge to inch closer on your stool until your knee brushed his, a subtle yet deliberate gesture that spoke volumes of your unspoken desires.

"So, what were you looking forward to more, the company or the food?" you asked, your tone light and playful.

He leaned back slightly, the leather of the bar stool creaking under his weight as he considered your question. "A bit of both, I suppose," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed a hint of vulnerability beneath his usually composed exterior. "But if I'm honest," he continued, his gaze softening as it met yours, "good company always trumps good food."

There was a sincerity in his words that made your heart flutter, a comforting heat enveloping you you at the genuine sentiment behind them. With a thoughtful expression, you pursed your lips, considering his response. "I agree," you finally replied, a playful glint in your eyes, "but you haven't tried these tacos yet."

With a mischievous smile, you slid the plate over to him, the aroma of the savoury dish filling the space between you. Wade chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that reverberated through the air, his laughter infectious as it mingled with the ambient noise of the busy bar.

"You're right," Wade agreed, his tone light as he picked up a taco and broke it in half with a satisfying crunch. He held out a piece to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he willed you to accept it with a smile. "I can't be too quick to judge, can I?" he added, his expression teasing.

You accepted the taco from Wade, feeling a rush of excitement as his fingertips brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes remained locked on yours, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as he brought the food to his lips and took a bite, a soft hum of appreciation escaping him.

Following his lead, you savoured the explosion of flavours from the taco, each bite a delightful symphony of spices and textures that danced on your tongue. "Damn, that's a good taco," Wade remarked, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he turned his attention back to you. His eyes held a warmth that matched his smile, and there was a subtle yet unmistakable longing in his gaze. "Still prefer the company, though," he added, his words laced with sincerity and a hint of something more, leaving you with a fluttering sensation in your chest.

The moment felt unexpectedly intimate, the simple act of sharing food creating a connection that seemed to transcend the confines of the respective roles you held in each others lives. With each bite, the initial awkwardness of the evening melted away, replaced by a growing sense of ease that you hadn't felt in a man's company in a long time. 

When Wade finished with a lick of his fingers, a jolt of electricity shot through you, igniting a flurry of thoughts and emotions. You inwardly scolded yourself, urging restraint and reminding yourself of the countless reasons why anything beyond what you had with Wade was impossible. After all, there were too many factors to consider: your dad, the significant age difference, the intricate web of familial and social dynamics that bound you both.

"So, tell me," Wade continued, pulling you from your thoughts as he leaned back slightly against the bar, his expression relaxed yet curious. "What have you been up to since coming back to town? Besides enduring disastrous dates, of course."

"Well," you began, fingers idly tracing patterns on the stem of your wine glass as you mulled over your response, "besides dodging the pitfalls of modern romance, I've been navigating the murky waters of post-grad life and a floundering career." You paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle before continuing. "Moving back home has been... an adjustment, to say the least. But I'm slowly finding my footing again."

Wade nodded, his gaze gentle and attentive as he listened to your words. "I can imagine," he replied, a hint of empathy in his voice. "Transitioning back to small-town life after being away for so long must be quite the challenge. But it sounds like you're handling it with grace."

You couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at your lips, appreciating his understanding and the fact that he always knew what to say. "Thanks," you murmured, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. "And what about you? What's been keeping you busy these days?"

"Work, mostly," he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement as he reflected on his daily endeavours. "And trying to keep up with my girls. I was not prepared for teenagers," he confessed, shaking his head with a wry grin, "but your dad's been a real help, keeps me on my toes."

"I bet he does," you replied, the mental image of your dad as the lively and enthusiastic accomplice in Wade's parenting adventure brought a smile to your lips. "He's always been good at that."

Wade nodded, then with a playful wave of his hand, he dismissed the topic. "Enough about him," he added with a laugh, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful to steer the conversation away from your father. It felt odd, almost wrong, to talk about him while your leg was pressed against Wade's under the bar, a contact he made no effort to break.

"So, what are your plans now that you're back?" he asked, his eyes searching yours with genuine interest. "Any grand ambitions?"

Resting your chin on your palm, you observed the dance of light on the surface of your glass, captivated by the intricate patterns it wove. "Honestly," you began, your voice soft yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "I'm still figuring it out." You glanced up, meeting Wade's gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and resolve. "I had these grand plans for my thirties, you know? But I guess the universe had different ideas."

The weight of your words hung in the air, yet, despite it all, a small, determined smile graced your lips. "But hey," you continued, a flicker of energy lighting up your eyes, "if I'm a grown adult now, living under my parents' roof, I might as well make the most of it, right?" You chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of conviction. "So, I'm getting out and trying to have a little fun, seeing what else the universe has in store for me. I guess I'm just taking it one step at a time."

Wade's eyes gleamed with a sense of prideful understanding as he listened intently, nodding along in affirmation. "That's a good approach," he remarked, his voice carrying a comforting resonance. Each word seemed to wrap around you like a reassuring embrace. "Sometimes, taking it one step at a time is the best thing you can do. And hey," he added, a smirk tugging at his lips, "there's nothing wrong with a little fun along the way." 

The seemingly innocuous exchange between you in the intimate ambiance of the bar carried implications that sent shivers of excitement down your spine. With his gaze locked onto yours, brimming with sincerity, you felt a newfound boldness surge within you. "Sometimes, the best things can happen when you least expect them, right?" you posed, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness, yet underscored by a genuine curiosity, eager to explore the depths of this burgeoning connection.

He chuckled softly. Glancing down at his drink, he lifted the glass and met your gaze once more. "To the unexpected," he said, his voice low and inviting.

You brought your glass to his, the crystal clinking together in a toast that felt like a promise. "To the unexpected," you echoed, a smile spreading across your face as the moment hung between you.

As you both took a sip, the background noise of the restaurant seemed to fade even further, leaving just the two of you in your shared bubble. The possibilities of the evening ahead had your heart pounding against your chest, your mind reeling with the idea that perhaps your fantasies were about to come true. You glanced at Wade, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

The buzz from the wine spread through you, mingling with the excitement of the moment. You set your glass down, your fingers grazing his on the bar top, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Can I take you home?"

The drive was silent except for the blues that crooned lowly on the radio, the tension between you palpable. Each glance, each accidental touch, only heightened the anticipation. When he finally pulled into his driveway, the reality of what was about to happen hit you with full force.

Wade turned off the engine, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain tapping softly against the roof, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "I think I should walk you to your door," he conceded, his voice laced with sincerity.

A wave of disappointment washed over you at his words, the excitement you previously felt now ebbing away as you contemplated the end of the evening. Your gaze shifted to your house, standing in quiet solidarity beside his under the silvery glow of the moon. Every window remained veiled in darkness, the roar of the engine hadn't woken your family or his.

You hesitated, reluctant to let the evening come to such an abrupt end. With a fleeting glance back at Wade, you searched his eyes, hoping to uncover any clue about his true desires. The unspoken tension between you seemed to thicken, casting a heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere around you. Summoning your courage, you finally voiced your question. "Is that what you want?"

Wade sighed deeply, his hands sliding over his jean-clad thighs in a gesture of frustration. He looked up at the ceiling, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "No, it's not," he admitted, his voice a hushed murmur. "I want you, but I can't have you."

Your heart soared at his confession, a thrill coursing through your veins. Your fingers tingled as you unbuckled your seatbelt, turning inwards to face him. "Says who?" you challenged, your voice soft but steady.

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. The rain outside intensified, drumming a steady rhythm on the truck roof, making the interior feel even more intimate. The raw intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. The dim light from the streetlamp cast a soft glow over his rugged face, highlighting the conflict warring within him.

"Says everyone," he finally replied, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Your dad, our families... It would be wrong."

"Does it feel wrong?" Your question hung in the air, charged with uncertainty. With a tentative touch, your fingertips traced a path along Wade's thigh, the fabric of his jeans rough against your skin. His breath caught in his throat, a flicker of surprise dancing in his eyes, mirrored by the vulnerability in your own. In the dim light of the truck cabin, every detail seemed magnified—the furrow of his brow, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lips. "Does it feel wrong?" you repeated, your voice steady, yet laced with a newfound determination. "I know what I want, and I think you do too."

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and hesitation as reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savouring the warmth of his touch.

When you opened your eyes again, the uncertainty in his had given way to resolve. He leaned in slowly, his breath hot against your lips, filling the small space with an intoxicating air. "If we're doing this," he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion, "we're doing it right."

You weren't sure what  he was alluding to but nodded regardless, your heart pounding as his lips finally met yours. The kiss started tentative, sweet and gentle as if testing the waters, but quickly deepened into something more urgent and demanding. His other hand released him from his belt before finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. The rain outside continued to pour, but all you could feel was the heat of his embrace and the electrifying connection that surged between you.

His lips were soft but insistent, exploring yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. The taste of bourbon lingered on his tongue, mingling with the sweetness of yours. You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the moment. You slid the hand still on his thigh higher until your palm laid flat over the growing bulge in his jeans. You gave him a firm squeeze, and he tore his lips from yours as he eyed you warily. 

"We can't, not here," he said, glancing behind you, his eyes flitting between your house and his.

You followed his gaze over your shoulder, taking in the proximity of both houses, each window still dark and quiet. Turning back to him, you asked softly, "Are the girls home?"

"Yes," he sighed in defeat, his body still tense under your touch. "I can get us a room."

You shook your head. "I don't want to wait any longer," you told him, voice laced with persuasion as you leant in to plant a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. "I've needed you long before tonight," you told him.

"Gotdamn," he breathed, hand leaving your waist momentarily to adjust his seat, sliding himself back to make more space between him and the wheel. "Hop on, baby," he commanded, his voice rough with need as he pulled at you towards him. You climbed over the console, your dress hitching up as you straddled him, knees pressing into the worn leather seat on either side of his thighs.

His hands settled on your hips again, fingers digging in slightly as he looked up at you, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The raw hunger in his gaze sent a thrill through you, his need for you evident from the hardness pressed between your thighs. You leaned in, your lips finding his once more, the kiss deep and consuming as your tongues battled for dominance. 

The sensation of his hands roaming over your back, holding you tight to his firm chest, was exhilarating. His touch was both demanding and gentle, a mix of urgency and care that made your pulse race and nerves fray as he explored your body.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing hot and wet against your skin, leaving a path of shivers in their wake. His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive spots that drove you wild. When he reached the dome of your breasts, you hooked a finger around the fabric of your dress and the bra underneath, pulling them down to expose yourself to him. The sudden rush of cool air made your nipples harden instantly, standing erect in anticipation. Wade's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight before him, and a soft growl escaped his lips.

He took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it with expert precision, each flick sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. The delicious graze of his teeth added an edge to the sensation, making you gasp and arch your back, pressing yourself even closer to him.

His hands roamed over your back and sides, exploring every curve and contour, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The combination of his mouth on your breast and the possessive grip of his hands on your body was overwhelming your senses with a heady mix of pleasure and lust.

As he switched to your other nipple, giving it the same exquisite attention, you tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close. The cabin of the truck seemed to shrink around you, the rain outside a distant, rhythmic backdrop to the heat building between you. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you in this moment of raw, unfiltered passion.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against the roughness of his jeans, seeking more friction, more contact. Every nerve in your body felt alive, tuned to the frequency of his touch and the sensations he was eliciting from you. The tension that had been building all evening was finally coming to a head, and you hoped that this was only the beginning.

His hardness was unyielding against your thigh, the heat of it sending a thrill through to your core. You smiled, the excitement electrifying as you slid a hand between your bodies, fingers deftly working to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink echoed in the confined space of the truck, adding to the charged atmosphere. You released him from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, feeling the weight of his cock in your hand, heavy and pulsing under your touch.

Wade's breath hitched, his teeth grazing down on your swollen nipple with just enough pressure to make you gasp. The flat of his tongue followed, soothing the bite with a heavenly lick that prickled your skin with goosebumps. He kissed up your jaw, his lips soft and warm as he grinned against your neck, mumbling a promise not to leave any visible marks on you this time. 

Before you had a chance to contemplate the significance of his words, you shifted, aligning yourself over him and using the leaking tip of his cock to slide your panties aside. The feel of his smooth head against your wet folds made you both moan softly. Wade's hips pushed upwards instinctively, seeking more of you, but you held back, teasing him by running his sensitive tip through your slickness.

His eyes were dark with lust, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear. "Please," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw with need. The sound of it made you ache for him and you felt your wetness seeping down your thigh as you dragged him back and forth.

You couldn't resist any longer. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the head of his cock parting your folds and sliding into you with delicious resistance. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that felt both familiar and new. Wade groaned, a deep, primal sound that resonated through his chest and into yours, his hands gripping your hips as if to anchor himself.

You started to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that allowed you to feel every inch of him. Each thrust, each slide, sent waves of pleasure through your body. Wade's hands roamed over you, caressing and squeezing, his fingers digging into your flesh with every rise and fall as he guided you expertly on top of him, your own fingers gripping at the meat of his shoulders.

"W-Wade," you mewled, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over.

The car was filled with the lurid sounds of your fucking —the soft moans, the wet squelches of your cunt taking him as began to bounce you on his cock, the occasional squeak of the leather seats. It was raw, it was real, and it was everything you'd secretly desired.

"You feel so good, baby," he murmured, pausing to tenderly nip at your chin. "So unbelievably good, wrapped around me like this." His words, laced with admiration, echoed in the intimate space between you.

Wade's lips found yours again, capturing them in a searing kiss that conveyed everything words couldn't. His tongue danced with yours, the kiss deepening as your pace quickened, the need to reach that ultimate crescendo becoming overwhelming. You rode him harder, faster, the friction building, the tension coiling tight within you.

When his hand slid down to where your bodies were joined, his finger pressed against the tight bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars. You tore your lips from his, seeking solace in the crook of his neck. Inhaling his bewitching scent—pine mingled with a faint hint of tobacco—your mind numbed, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations as you gave yourself to him completely.

Your body tensed, every muscle locking as waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under his touch. He muffled the cry of his name from your mouth with a fiery kiss, continued to use his grip on your waist to bounce you on top of him as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own. When he followed, he groaned into your mouth as he pumped his load inside of you, bit your bottom lip as your greedy pussy took all of him.

You broke the kiss and collapsed against his chest, feeling his strong arms envelop you as his chin rested gently on your head. He traced soothing patterns on your back, and for a moment, you stayed like that, intertwined, with the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Slowly, you ran a trail of soft kisses along his jaw before resting your forehead against his, both of you struggling to catch your breath. His large palm caressed the exposed skin of your ass, sliding back and forth between your behind and your thighs in a tender attempt to soothe and comfort you.

"Well," you breathed, your eyes gleaming with a teasing light, though a hint of vulnerability still shone through. "Did it feel wrong?"

He chuckled, leaning back against the seat as he considered you. "No, darlin', it did not," he said, his smile matching yours.

You rose on shaky legs, took him from you and tucked him back into his jeans before reluctantly moving away from him. The ache for more of him already tugged at you, but you knew your time together was limited tonight. As you shifted back to return to your seat, you misjudged the space and accidentally pressed against the horn of the truck. The sudden blare shattered the night's silence.

You jumped in surprise, and Wade's hands immediately grasped your hips, steadying you both. His gaze quickly scanned over your shoulder, looking for any sign that his daughters had been awakened by the noise. You mirrored his concern, your eyes darting to your parents' home. The windows had fogged with the tell-tale signs of your act, but you managed to peek through a clear spot to see. After a few tense moments, you sighed in relief when everything remained still.

Looking at each other in disbelief, you both laughed as you sat back in your seat, adjusted your dress to cover your breasts and thighs as you smoothed the down the fabric. A wave of nerves washed over you, unsure of your next move until Wade turned to you with an endearing smile. "I'm gonna walk you to your door now, before you wake the whole neighbourhood."

He left the comforting warmth of the truck, and for a brief moment, you felt adrift, alone and lost. But then your door opened, and there he stood, extending a hand toward you. You smiled, placing your hand in his as he gently helped you down from the truck.

As he walked ahead, he kept your hand clasped behind him, positioning it between you both as if to shield you from any prying eyes that might intrude on your moment. The gesture touched you deeply, a silent reassurance that he was still connected to you even after leaving the intimate cocoon of the truck.

You followed him up the steps to your porch, the familiar creak of the wooden boards beneath your feet grounding you in the present. When you reached the door, he reluctantly let go of your hand, allowing you to rummage through your purse for your keys. The rain had stopped and the night air was cool against your skin, filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal creatures.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gaze brimming with worry as he peered down at you. "You'd tell me if you weren't, wouldn't you?"

Your lips curved into a smile, moved by his genuine concern for your well-being. You held you keys in your hand, the metallic clank loud in the silence of the night. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, warmth infusing your words. "Actually, more than fine. Thank you for turning a disastrous evening around, Mr. Felton," you quipped, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Grinning, he casually leaned against the porch banister, hands snugly tucked into the pockets of his jeans. A mischievous glint in his eyes, he winked, reigniting a spark of need within you. "Hope to catch you at the next cookout," he teased, before pushing off the banister and descending the stairs with easy confidence.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, silently watching as he made his way to his own porch. Pausing at his door, he cast a lingering glance your way, offering a final wave before disappearing inside.

Entering your home, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse, leaning back against the door with a contented sigh. Your heart overflowed with joy, and your mind stubbornly refused to dwell on anything but the exciting possibilities awaiting you with Wade. You weren't quite sure what this was between you yet, but one thing emerged crystal clear: your dad was to never find out. 

[bluerthanvelvet444]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

Kit Walker x fem!reader

tags: smut!!

warnings: murder, blood, fingering, p in v.

summary: reader and kit get paired up in the kitchen. Kit comforts her anddddd...you can imagine what happens next.

character count: 11k. yes. 11k. lost track of length while writing the plot.

full fic under the cut ↓

➽───────────────❥

May 14th, 1964.

People always said you were meant to be a teacher, that it was your role in the world, since kindness and patience have always been your best qualities. This is how you ended up in that pre-school in Massachusetts full of little sunshines that were absolutely fond of you and saw you as their older sister. It was the best job in the world in your eyes, and you were sure you were going to spend most of your days doing it. If only you knew.

That fateful day you were wearing a trendy but simply cut canary dress, slightly accentuating your waist, perfect for the warm weather of spring. Birds’ faint singing could be heard through the open windows, The kids were sitting around small tables while doing their drawings, and you looked at them lovingly while leaning your back on the chest of drawers that kept the children’s bags.

“Teacher! Teach-!” one of the little boys exclaimed to get your attention, but you cut him off.

“Joseph, I'll be there for you in a second, let me change the song first, alright?” You turned around to put the other vinyl in the player, and the tunes of ‘Hit the road Jack’ started playing. You waited a few seconds before turning around…and that was probably the biggest mistake of your life.

Hit the road Jack-BANG!

You quickly turned around as you heard that loud noise. What you saw next permanently changed your life. A tall man, all dressed in black, was holding a gun in his hands and had just shot one of your little kids. Before you could process anything, the gun was pointed at you, and…BANG! You fell to the ground. The bullet missed you and instead carved a little hole in the wall. You couldn’t feel anything, none of your senses worked, except for hearing.

Don’t you come back, no more-BANG!

no more-BANG!

no more-BANG!

no more-BANG!

Hit the road Jack-BANG!

You woke up by the police violently shaking your body. You were confused, and all around you was red. Red blood everywhere.

➽────❥

At first, the police was doing a fantastic job by trying to identify the killer. You had to do so many interrogations, but you felt like with your descriptions and help, the searching for the murderer was close to an end. The case was on all the TV channels and news, the whole state was thirsty for truth. It was when the police started looking into your past that things started to go wrong. You had a previous “arrest” for gun possession. Nothing too crazy, your uncle gave you one when you first started living alone, you realized your mistake, and you were released after a few days anyways. Then the moms of the poor little angels started to spread rumors about how you were “mean” to kids. That of course wasn’t true, they have always been pretty jealous of a young woman who got along with their children better than them. And you tried to explain that to the police, but they just seemed to get more suspicious. They believed that you randomly went crazy and shot all the kids, that would’ve explained how you were the only one who survived too.

Before you could know it you were charged of murderer, and your life sentence was to spend your whole life in an asylum. As bad as the situation was, you were hopeful that you were going to be treated better in an asylum than jail.

You were wrong. Briarcliff Manor was just another way to say hell. Nuns treated you horribly-except Mary Eunice- god bless that poor soul- and Dr. Arden was a living nightmare. You tried to stay as far as possible from him once you heard all the stories of his victims. People were REALLY crazy there…except one. Her name was Pepper. Sister Jude had introduced you two, insisting that you could bond over “baby murder”. You thought she really did it at first, so you kept distance. Pepper insisted on interacting with you, repeating the word “friend”. You glared at her, spitting words harshly.

“I'm not a murderer like you.”

Pepper frowned and started crying. Now she was saying the word “baby.” It was weird but, you felt sorry for her…something in you told you that she may have been not guilty. She dragged you into the library, then she showed you a magazine with the face of the popular star “Elsa Mars.”

“Mom.” She said, you looked at her confused, then Pepper pointed at the sentence written in the magazine “Elsa used to own a Freakshow before…” it was clear to you then.

“Did she put you here?” You asked. Pepper shook her head and mumbled the word “Sister”.

After a few weeks of befriending her, it was clear to you that Pepper was the living representation of “never judge a book by its cover”.

➽────❥

Two months later.

You were playing-at least trying to play-chess with pepper in the common room.

“Pepper, you can't move two pawns together…only one.”

She laughed and moved another one. Your attention was now brought to a woman who seemed new in that place.

“Uhm…you know what, pepper? You win! Congratulations!” You said a little white lie so you could meet the mysterious woman. Pepper smiled and laughed happily, and started wandering around. You got up and walked towards the new presence. She looked lost, confused, angry but definitely not crazy. You sat in front of her and tried to put on a friendly smile.

“Hi… I noticed you from across the room. Who are you?”

The woman looked at you. You couldn’t help but feel judged and studied by those piercing eyes, in a quiet voice, she replied.

“Lana. Lana Winters.”

➽────❥

Time passed. Every day was the same as the one before, torturing and boring. You bonded with Lana too after you acknowledged her story, and she told you about the secret tunnel and how she planned to escape. The occasion came soon when unexpectedly, one random night, cells opened. You insisted on bringing Pepper with you in the escape attempt, and you three ran for your lives. While running, though, pepper decided to take another path. You stopped and whisper-yelled at her to come back, but she didn't listen to you. As soon as Lana noticed you stopping, she dragged you with her, telling you to not waste time, and while you were running, Kit walker caught up with you two. You didn’t know much about him, so you didn't really mind him trying to escape too, but apparently Lana did. You heard her yelling.

“HELP! He’s escaping! The killer is escaping!”

You tried to shush her, but before you knew it, you were captured.

You and kit were then bent over Sister Jude’s desk, while she praised Lana and allowed her to choose the cane you were going to be punished with. You were surprised when Kit took the blame on himself, letting you free and gaining more lashes for himself.

➽────❥

After a few days, you found yourself paired up with Kit on kitchen chores. You stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts while kit prepared the dough.

“You okay over there, suga’? You haven’t said a word.” You were brought back to reality at the sound of his deep voice and smooth accent. You gulped.

“Yeah… I-I’m fine. Just thinking…” You heard him sigh.

“It’s because of what they say about me…ain’t that right? I’m many things, darlin’, but I’m not a murderer. So, don’t be scared.”

You looked at him furrowing your brows and shook your head.

“No…it’s not because of that- I don’t think you’re a killer- I just… I’m just worried. Worried about Pepper. She’s nowhere to be found, a-and I feel guilty. So guilty. I should’ve followed her and brought her back.”

He chuckled lightheartedly.

“Oh, don’t say that, suga’. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably out there livin’ her best life.”

You sighed and replied nervously.

“You and I both know that isn’t true. She’s wearing a fucking gown, and her looks don’t help either. If she actually managed to get out, she’s already got caught.” You looked down, fidgeting with your fingers. You jumped slightly when you felt his hands touching your shoulders. He gently caressed your arm from behind and spoke with a kind tone.

“Hey-hey- calm down, suga’. Whatever happened to Pepper, it’s not your fault. Don’t be so harsh with yourself. You tried to stop her, there was nothin’ else you could do.”

You sighed and leaned into his gentle touch.

“I just hope she’s fine. She’s an innocent soul…I could never live with it if something bad happened to her.”

He took your hands in his.

“You don’t belong here. In Briarcliff.”

You sighed and let yourself relax in his arms. He whispered in your ear.

“You need a distraction, suga’.”

you then felt his cold hand on your exposed inner thigh. You looked up at him, your cheeks slowly turning red.

“Shhh… Just relax. It’ll feel good, I promise.”

You nodded slowly and looked down as his fingers made their way to your exposed folds under your gown. He sighed as he ran a finger over your slit, and peppered gentle kisses on the side of your face. He started slowly circling your clit. His big hands felt like heaven on you and you couldn’t help but buckle your hips towards his hand, sweetly whining for more. He flashed you with a tender smile and pressed a sweet kiss on your lips. His fingers shifted position, so his thumb was now grazing your clit while one of his digits made its way to your entrance, gently pushing in. You gasped and let out a soft moan, muffled by his mouth making contact with yours. He inserted another finger in, stretching you and slowly thrusting inside.

“Ah… Faster Kit…please…” you whined softly.

“Whatever you say, suga’.”

He started moving his fingers faster, making your back arch as he hit that sweet spot perfectly. He kept going until he felt your whines grow louder, and right before you could cum, he suddenly stopped and pulled his fingers out.

“mhhhph….w-why did you stop?”

He chuckled and have you a loving kiss on your lips.

“I wanna be inside of you…suga’…is that okay, mh?”

You nodded eagerly, and he picked you up to set you on the counter. He grabbed your waist with his veiny hands and leaned in to crush your lips together. His tongue swirled around yours as you sloppily made out. You pulled your lips away from his and whispered.

“w-what if they catch us?”

“They won’t. I’ll be quick, love.”

He lifted your gown once again and settled between your legs. He groaned as he rushed to lift his gown, and he hissed while lining up your entrance with his needy cock. He immediately began pounding in your poor cunt. His thrusts were fast and sloppy. As you whined for the sudden roughness, he whispered right next to your ear in a hoarse voice.

“Sorry suga’. Been too long since I've touched a woman.”

You moaned as your legs clung to his body, and you had to adjust to the new position. Not long after, between dough and adrenaline for the fear of being caught, he sped up his thrusts until you came with a loud moan that he tried to muffle with his hand. At the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, he cummed inside you right away with a deep groan. You panted for a few seconds before getting off the counter and regaining your decency. He pressed a loving kiss on your lips and gently caressed your hair. You allowed yourself to melt in his embrace, and while thinking about everything that had happened so far, a sudden thought came to your mind.

“Kit…why did you stand up for me when Sister Jude wanted to punish us?”

He put his chin on your head, and with a sweet smile plastered on his face, he spoke.

“I followed your case on the TV before gettin’ locked up' here. I always thought ya were innocent…”

He chuckled and pressed gently his lips on your hair.

“…and cute.”

➽───────────────❥

a/n: aaaahhh!!! this is my first smut. I'm really proud of this one. lemme know if you like it!!!🧡🧡

join my taglist!!

all rights reserved!!

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

So now sporting his mom's purse, Cory walks up to Shawn and quietly asks, how could you let this thing fall apart? -Danielle

Looking very trendy for today, by the way. Like guys are now all wearing fanny packs and like over the shoulder bags. I was like, oh, this is actually a good look for Cory. -Rider

He looks great with a murse. Shawn argues, it's bigger than me. It's bigger than both of us. Very well played. Great line. Bigger than me, bigger than both of us. Cory says they have to hold this thing together. -Daniellle 

Yes. Best performance in Boy Meets World history. I'll never get better. This is it...This is peak acting Rider. I think so. Because after this I take myself way too seriously. For whatever reason. I was like outta my head and just having fun this episode. Great. -Rider 

[seeyal8r]

@FCKL8RBOY JUST POSTED ON TIKTOK! - HANA AND LO TRAUMA DUMP WHILE MAKING CANDY SALAD

🍓 ˖ ࣪ CONTENT WARNING: swearing, mentions of harassment, suicide, sex, cheating and toxic relationships. It’s a bit explicit, I guess? Nothing crazy though.

₊˚﹒⤻ insp. by my forever boys @bluwavez

₊˚﹒⤻ this piece is set in the @dreamquest dorms!

Hana sits in front of the camera with a playful smile on her face, already makeup-free and ready for bed after a long day of rehearsals. From what can be seen in the background, she is in the shared dormitory of the DreamQuest girls.

Hana claps her hands together lightly before speaking. “I’ve noticed it’s trendy these days to share your traumas for fun, outside the confines of your therapist’s office. So, here we are.” Hana then grabs Eloise by the shoulder, pulling her into the frame. Eloise, with an unusual expression of discomfort plastered on her face, waves both hands at the camera with a forced smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Hana declares, motioning for Eloise to step out of the frame. “Hi, I’m Yunha. No, my real name isn’t Hana. Anyway, I’ve brought licorice sticks. When I debuted with that group—yeah, the one everyone knows but I won’t mention because they're all backstabbing bitches— I received a massive wave of hate just for being my father’s daughter. Creepy people would wait for me outside Hidden Entertainment at night and basically harassed me, calling me a spoiled talentless brat and telling me I should kill myself or I’d drag the group down with me. My dad had to assign me a couple of bodyguards for my safety. Super fun, right?” With a big fake smile, Hana dumps the licorice onto the clear bowl in front of her, her eyes never leaving the camera and her smile never faltering.

Tugging at the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, which is clearly a guy’s, Lo steps in front of the camera, replacing Hana.

"Hey, I’m Eloise, and I brought watermelon sour brite crawlers," she says, unenthusiastically waving the candy bag in the air. She pauses, pouting off-camera at what it can be assumed is Hana. Despite her reluctance, she continues, “So, during the Zombie promotions, one of our wardrobe assistants attacked me because she thought I was hooking up with her boyfriend, who happened to be one of our producers. Totally not true, by the way, but she was out of her fucking mind. She caught me off guard in the bathroom while I was washing my hands, yanked my hair, and slammed me into the mirror. The CEO found out and ended up firing both of them, so yeah, good riddance."

Hana's laughter can be heard off-camera, which brings a pleased smile to Eloise's face. She dumps the contents of her candy bag into the bowl before being replaced by Hana once again.

“Okay, what else…” Hana pauses, pretending to think, but it’s clear she knows exactly what she's about to say. “My dad cheated on my mom for the first time when I was, like, five? Maybe six? Who even knows at this point. So, one day, my mom and I go to the company to pick him up for a family dinner. She’s chatting with some employees in the lobby and sends me to his office. Of course, it never crossed my mind to knock, because Hidden is like my second home. And there he is, fucking one of his secretaries. The most basic cliché ever. So I ran back and told my mom that daddy was kissing another woman. And you know what she said? 'I’m sure you’re imagining things.' She made me think I was crazy and acted like I hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell. They both played the perfect couple in front of the whole family later that night.”

Eloise tries to suppress her laughter, which causes Hana to laugh too. “It’s okay! You can laugh. It’s funny. Years later, I found out my dad cheating is considered normal in their marriage. And my mom denying it is too. It’s ridiculously pathetic, but who am I to say anything anymore? Let them deal with their own mess. Oh, I also brought strawberry sour patch. These are the best!”

Eloise seems a bit calmer when she reappears on screen with a new bag of candy in hand. “Hi, it’s Eloise again, this time with original Haribo gummies. So, when I got kicked out of L8RBOY…” She’s cut off by a pink sour patch hitting her in the face. Eloise picks it up from her lap, where it landed, and pops it into her mouth. “Alright, alright, the group that shall not be named because they’re a bunch of blah blah blahs. Anyway, I started dating a boy. He was my first real boyfriend. He also happened to be obsessed with me sucking him off. We’re talking about the guy I lost my virginity to, so I had like zero experience. Plus, I was super shy in bed, like everything felt like a big deal to me. So, obviously, I kept refusing until one day he threatened to break up with me if I didn’t do it. He literally blackmailed me into sucking his stupid dick. I was such a mess back then that the thought of him leaving me was terrifying. I eventually caved and gave him a blowjob and he still dumped me, saying I was terrible at it. And now, I’m terrified of dicks! Yay!”

Both girls burst into laughter at Eloise's mock enthusiasm. She dumps the bag's contents into the bowl, and Hana takes the opportunity to sit down on the floor next to her. In an attempt to stop laughing, they both start munching on some of the candies, only to end up choking on them when the laughter doesn't let up.

When she finally calms down a bit, Hana starts talking again. "Okay, okay, one last rant for today. I’m Yunha, and I’m out of candy, but I vouched for one of the girls in the original lineup of the group that shall not be named because my dad wasn’t sure about letting her debut. And what do I get in return? The bitch backstabs me during the group buyout and INFERNO decides I’m totally replaceable. I said I wouldn’t name names, but screw it—Zhao Jiayi, you’re the biggest backstabbing bitch ever! I guess that’s how you stole the leader spot in the new lineup. Seriously, go to hell!"

Eloise looks totally shocked, eyebrows up and hand over her mouth. "I can't believe you just went there."

Hana shrugs nonchalantly. "I mean, I'm just speaking facts."

"Yeah well, she’s definitely gonna see the video," Eloise says, to which Hana grins wickedly.

"Oh, but I hope she does."

[hihereami]

Yesterday talking with friends we realised all of us grew up as teenagers (13-16) knowing a girl our age who had been killed in an act of femicide that all of Argentina had known.

A girl I knew personally when we were twelve dissapeared for three days before being a half-undressed corpse on a beach at fourteen. They yelled for her all through the country and they didn't condone her alleged murderer until I was twenty two. She never got to that age.

Latin american young girls grew up planning or picturing how our loved ones would handle us being the next femicide. We naturalised girls our age appearing in garbage bags so much that we were straight up thinking "huh, my dad and grandma would be the one yelling for justice in the media because my mom would be too devastated" or "i should leave my passwords somewhere so they can tell those who wouldn't know otherwise".

And now? At least in Argentina, no one talks about it anymore. Every 30 hours a woman dies and no one gives a shit. It's worse than a decade ago because now the media cycle about femicides is over and everyone has decided the topic isn't trendy anymore.

And every once in awhile I think of her, her sunny smile and I make plans in case I dissapear tomorrow.

[brokoala-soup]

I think my aesthetic might be something along the lines of cottagecore and light academia with a tinge of Studio Ghibli and bits and pieces of chaotic academia. So this includes:

classical music blaring out of cheap speakers, homemade food served in reused takeout containers, half dying houseplants in everything but traditional flower pots, the fragrance of jasmine and mint, mirrors reflecting sunlight on to disorganised bookshelves with the most random collection of books, soups in glassware, gel pen doodles all over my notes, herbal teas in whiskey glasses, locally sourced incense sticks, handmade woolen blankets over commercially sold quilts, baking granola bars on a lazy sunday afternoon, adding chocolate to literally everything, mid day naps when the weather is cloudy yet humid, ribbon ties instead of stapler pins, making my own spice powders, scented oil lamps, being obsessed with cloves, sleeping on a bed full of pillows only to find over half of them on the floor next morning, missing alarms because closing my eyes for two more seconds won't make me fall asleep again, picking flowers and herbs from the garden, sleepy afternoons, careful skincare but with the most day to day products, eucalyptus oil, use and throw inhalers to deal with my anxiety because the smell of menthol calms me down, short nails and neutral manicure, smelling like flowers one day and like the sea the other, getting excited whenever I spot the moon, absolutely in awe and in love with the clouds because they're amazing and so creative, puppies, calligraphy using ball pens, homemade mocha latte using soya milk, my grandma's childhood earrings that I wear all the time, newspapers, organic vegetables sold by retired social workers, tote bags, reusable metal water bottles, hot showers and cold rinses, using my grandmother's favorite brand of soap because I love smelling like her, herbal hair oil, smelling like sandalwood, cooking pasta with the family, reading secondhand books, collecting fused light bulbs, pencil underlines, postcards, 1 am poetry, pop instrumentals and pensive journaling, benzene rings on page margins, berry flavoured cough syrup, baking bread, long walks, loud conversations, thrifting, e-books, chocolate wrappers hidden between dictionary pages, colourful periodic table prints, plushies, honey, fleece blankets, sleeping cats, signet ring, dried rose I'd bought for myself and carried around like a trophy travelling back home with it in the public bus, twinning perfumes coincidentally with my best friend, vintage looking brand new ink pen and expired ink, sticky notes with motivational quotes covering my wall, never buying perfumes and only using the ones I'm gifted, random words that remind me of niche incidents or memories written along the corners of my study material, pearl jewelry set that my dad gifted my mom but it's me who wears it now, combat boots bought at ¼th it's price at a discount clearance sale, all my jackets being bought from different countries by my dad and thus each serving as a token of memory, lipstick shades that match only extremely specific vibes and look off and odd at other times, cherry lip balm stick that I've used only twice, daily calendar sheets reused as a notepad, birthday candles from my 16th birthday sitting on my work table, the lingering smell of multiple beverages in my room because I seldom wash the cups I drank them from and now they're cluttered all over the room, hand me down luxury watches older than me, chipped nailpolish, reminders written down on tissue papers, bus tickets all over my bag, sugar-free chewing gum, deodorant that never washes off my clothes, wearing clothes purchased 5 years ago and getting compliments simply because it's not trendy but is unique, mini origami cranes, rose sprays, lychee scented sanitizer, baking bread at home on weekends, homemade hair masks, turning up late because i was busy enjoying life walking through the eucalyptus grove on the way to class, running to the station yet missing the train, all my everyday ornaments having a deeper meaning to me.

[kosem-sultan167]

"Daddy's Daughters. New ones."

Chapter 5

Dr. Ivo Robotnik began to get closer to psychologist Tricia Morgan. The woman helped Sophie get rid of stress before exams, Adele cope with allergies to sweets, and the sisters become friends (but it didn't work out very well). Stone watched as the doctor talked sweetly to Tricia. As it used to be with Y/N . The agent understood that the daughters would not accept this. He also shared this with Fatma Khanim. And one day something happened that turned my whole life upside down. Ivo Robotnik met with another woman who had the name Y/N. But she turned out to be too clingy and stupid. He left her and met Tricia. The psychologist shared that the man she likes will never ask her out because his heart is busy. At this time, Sophie fell in love with John Wackowski. They started dating. And at home, Adele found a gift from her mother behind Sophie's bed. Lizzie's mother gave her the encyclopedia she dreamed of, Dora got new headphones, and Adele got an expensive doll. Only Sophie didn't open it because she was offended by her mother (although she pretended to. She missed her mother). Adele looked into Sophie's bag and took out an expensive, trendy phone and a note.

-What a cool gift Sophie's mom gave her. I want one too,-Adele said. Lizzie and Dora looked at the phone.

-Better put it away, Adele,- Lizzie said, -it's Sophie's phone.

-Come on, Liz. She doesn't use it,- Dora said. Adele was running with Sophie's phone and accidentally touched a candle, which fell on a note from her mother. The girl stopped and looked at the fire. Dora and Lizzie pulled their sister away from the fire and huddled in a corner in a panic...

Robotnik returned home, put the ring away in a specially created drone. He decided to let his wife go. And then he smelled burning. -Daddy! - Adele screamed in tears. Ivo quickly ran to the kitchen and put out the fire. Then he hugged his daughters and started stroking them.

-Hush, girls. Dad is nearby. Dad saved you. Sophie returned home happy. And she gave Adele the phone. When the three girls had gone to play a board game, Ivo and Sophie were reading the remaining note from their mother. "Happy New Year, Sophie, my sweet daughter. I'm sorry that I'm not around, but if you need help, write..." The note ended there. There was no number. Sophie stared with glassy eyes, and Robotnik hugged his eldest daughter to him. When Sophie, Lizzie, Dora, Adele, Stone and Ivo were playing a game, the doctor's phone beeped. He read the message that said, "Ivo, hi. This is Y/N. This is my new number, let's meet and talk." The doctor rolled his eyes and wrote "leave me alone, I have another one" and blocked it. But she wasn't such a pesky woman... He got it mixed up... Y/N lifted her head from the phone and stared at the wall with tears in her eyes. Is that really it? Her husband has another woman and she has no place in their family...

[pplatonic]

Baby's First Pride

I'm 16 and a half years old. I came out to my parents inspired by a story at my school's GSA - just walk up the stairs and call it out. I was terrified, but they were accepting, and I learnt that my brother has trans friends and that Mom even experimented with girls when she was a teen. It's 5:10 PM, so it's probably time to go to the pride event Mom has been talking about all week. She said her boss told her about it, and that it's all ages. I get dressed in my Hatsune Miku cosplay, drape my Aromantic pride flag around my shoulders, and tie the ends in a reef knot around my neck to wear it as a cape.

I go downstairs, putting my Miku wallet in my bag, and take a short video of me twirling around to send it to my friends captioned 'ARO MIKU IS GOING TO PRIDE.' When I get outside, my parents and Mom's friend coo at my outfit, saying I look nice. They say goodbye to Mom's friend and they get ready, and they stop at Walmart to buy 'pride gear' to try and match my look. They get me pins, because they know I love pins.

I listen to my playlist of Magical Mirai albums as Dad drives us to the pride event. He does an illegal U-turn, and I tell him cops aren't allowed at pride, so we're okay. We park.

When we get there, the first thing we notice is all the food trucks. We ate before we came here, because they didn't think there'd be food. The first thing we do is Mom and Dad get alcoholic canned drinks, and they later buy me a cold vanilla latte at a different booth. We start walking around.

Mom's more interested in the concert being held by a queer artist who's name I didn't catch, and she jokes about us going to mosh there. I tell her it's dangerous and that I'm wearing my binder right now, and my dad comments that he didn't even notice.

While we're standing and waiting around, Dad perplexedly exclaims that there's a bar. I tell him as a joke that of course there's a bar, this is pride. He doesn't get it, so I explain the history of gay bars and the Mafia and all of that, and tell him the original pride parade was a protest where parking meters were uprooted and bricks were thrown at cops.

We start walking around to the several booths of queer creatives selling their art, and my eyes are battling between scouting for pins and looking at all the kinds of people here. It's truly all ages, from seniors to toddlers. I see as many visibly disabled and plus-size people as I do visibly abled and skinny people. When we first started walking in to the event, we saw a person in a cutesy lolita-styled outfit with cat ears and tail in the trans colours, in front of someone embracing their trans flag.

As I look around, I see various flags: bi, pan, lesbian, trans, nonbinary, genderfluid. On a couple people's shirts I see the ace flag. But as far as I'm aware, I'm the only person here in this entire crowd wearing the Aromantic flag. It's bittersweet, to be the sole representation of your people.

I see people in all styles of clothing as well: goth, punk, alternative, grunge, trendy, cute, casual, retro. I see some people standing out in absolutely fabulous outfits with sequins everywhere. I see a dog in a gay-coloured tutu, and a person with pride-coloured butterfly wings on their arms. Half the people here have dyed hair of some kind.

We sit down and take a break. It's near the mini waterpark nearby, which makes it fresh and cool-feeling and perfect for a break. A child with endless joys in their heart ends up spraying us with water, and we get a move on. I go around to multiple booths and buy an assortment of pins, one that says "I'M SO GAY I CAN'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT" and one with a fuzzy Aro-coloured animal on it.

When we sit for a final break, I find two dirty books on the ground as Mom hands me a progress flag pin she found. I pick up the books. One is a 'queer history tour' of Edmonton brochure that has multiple locations of down-town and their associated queer histories. The other book is a mental wellness book targeted mainly at Indigenous folk, but I decide to take it any way since a lot of it advice applies to everyone. I show my Mom the page on ableist language, that talks about replacing words like 'crazy,' 'insane,' and 'psycho' with words like 'wild,' 'bananas,' and 'ridiculous.'

When we start walking back to the car, we see a group of four dressed ridiculously. One of them has massive, bouncing balloon tits, and they stand out the most. I'm afraid of what my parent's reaction will be, and this is what I told them to be nice about before we came, because pride was and still is a protest. They laugh and move on. I'm a little surprised that they're so cool with it.

We stop by the truck at the very start of the walk as Mom comments on it. It's a kink gear store. I stare in awe at the bear pride flag and leather puppy pride flag, telling my family about them. I have to ask one of them to confirm it's the leather puppy flag because I'm not wholly sure, and the people running the truck smile as they teach me about it.

We drive home, and as we walk back to the house, I think about Mom and Dad's reaction to the person with the balloon tits. I think about how they laughed kindly at one of the biggest displays of societal norm defiance I've ever seen. And then I think about the openly disabled people I saw with their pretty canes and wheelchairs, I think about the punks with fishnets and leather jackets and high boots, I think about the emo kandi kids with their black-and-rainbow stockings and vibrant kandi cuffs, I think about the booth run by African black people that stood for trans black liberation, I think about the truck run by kinksters decorated with historical flags, I think about the two feminine-presenting people I saw kissing and the transmasculine gay couple I saw holding hands.

I think about all of us, the societal outcasts that we are, proudly displaying what outcasted us in the first place, without a single person yelling that we're faggots, or trannies, or cripples, or fatasses, or freaks.

And for the first time in a long time, in all my childhood where I was ostracized from the girls for being too tomboyish from the boys for being born a girl, so badly until I started ostracizing myself, I know that I'm safe and welcome, somewhere in the world.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Frozen in Time

Fandom: DC Comics, JLI, GL Corps

Summary: Daddy-daughter weekend does not go as planned.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Michael Jon Carter (DCU), Rani Carter (DCU), Michelle Carter (DCU), Hal Jordan, Helen Jordan

Additional Tags: Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Road Trip, Angst and Humor

Chapter One: Unicorns

"I'm a great dad," I defended myself. Michelle bounced her head from one side to the other sarcastically. "I am!"

"Okay... Try not to cause a world-ending crisis at the tea party," Michelle replied on her way out the door. I glanced over the checklist Skeets printed out and packed Rani's bag. He even color-coded it to show me what order to pack things in. I'd planned this weekend for months, hoping I'd finally get Rani to call me dad or some variation of the word. It was my chance to get Rani to see me as a real, genuine father figure.

I packed her bag, and then I packed lunch for our special picnic. I must've watched thousands of videos trying to figure out how to make unicorn grilled cheese sandwiches. I made every cool and trendy snack I could think of to impress her. It was a rare four-day weekend, and I planned on making it the best four days of Rani's little life. The plan was to be impressive and fatherly and show her I was all in on the fatherhood thing.

I understand people would say I'm not the most responsible, reliable, or predictable guy they know, but I had a chance to be something different with her. I figured I'd take her on a nice trip and follow it up with a tea party. My plan was foolproof. I finished packing and prepping with a few minutes to spare. I had enough time to walk to Rani's school and wait at the gate.

I put on my shoes and grabbed a snack, Rani's favorite toy, and her visor. I was so excited to see her that I took the hopscotch path. There was no rush to get home to dinner or a meeting. We had time.

I stood at the gate with the other parents. While I waited, a single mom struck up a conversation with me. "I didn't know your ears were pierced," she smiled.

I touched my ears and remembered I was wearing flower earrings. "Oh, yeah. I took Rani to get her ears pierced a few weeks ago, and I didn't want to make her do something I was too scared to do... So, I got mine done first," I replied, "That doesn't explain the earrings, though... Does it?"

"It doesn't have to," she laughed, "Were you scared?"

"Terrified," I chuckled, "I had to close my eyes and suck it up. But Rani was a champ."

The bell rang, and she waved goodbye. I power walked to Rani's class excitedly and scooped her up as soon as she came outside. "Hi, Mikey!" Rani laughed. I set her down and took her backpack.

"Here, I'll trade ya," I smiled as I handed her toy to her. I put the visor on her head and offered her a snack. Rani smiled and grabbed my hand. "Rani, I need your help with some stuff this weekend."

Rani pouted. "Is it a lot of work?" Rani questioned.

I nodded solemnly. I finally figured out how to get maximum excitement from kids. The trick is to seem as disappointing as possible so that reality would seem fantastic in comparison. She was so disappointed she couldn't muster the energy to swing my hand. It took everything in my power to keep from laughing.

When we got home, she helped me put all the bags in the car, and then it clicked. "Hey! Why are we putting suitcases in the car?" Rani questioned.

"You've got me! Okay, I wanted to take you on a trip this weekend... Just you and me," I replied. Rani jumped into my arms.

"Wow! Where are we going?" Rani asked. I shook my head and grinned.

"That would ruin the surprise," I replied, letting her back in the house. "I'll wait in the car."

Rani paused. "Is it a long drive?" Rani questioned. I nodded. "Then you should go to the bathroom before we leave."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I realized she was right. After we met at the car, Rani sat in the backseat and buckled her seatbelt. "Mikey, guess what?" Rani asked.

"I love a guess what," I replied.

"We saw a real firefighter today," Rani announced, "How come you don't have a big truck? All the helpers today had big trucks."

"That's a great question. You see, they're better drivers than I am. I could probably drive a big truck, but I think it'd be responsible driving a car I'm comfortable with," I answered. Minus ten cool points for the minivan dad.

"Everyone has different abilities. Not everybody can do your job," Rani reassured me.

"Thanks, Rani," I replied.

She fell asleep immediately after that, and I turned the radio on low. I got on the freeway and drove for almost an hour before Rani woke up to tell me about her dream. "You were there! And you had a sword," Rani replied, "You looked so cool."

Thank you to Rani's subconscious! "I could definitely get a sword... I could be a sword guy," I replied, "Do you think I should get a sword in real life?"

"Yeah!" Rani replied.

"Cool! I'll probably have to take sword fighting lessons and learn proper sword safety because safety is important—."

"You still get your toast out of the toaster with a fork," Rani interrupted.

"Okay, but—. Is that actually—? Do you wanna pull over and have a surprise snack?" I asked.

"Yes, please!" Rani shouted. I grinned and pulled to the side of the road near an orchard. I climbed into the backseat. "What's in there?"

"A surprise. I made these," I replied. I pulled out two neatly-wrapped unicorn-shaped grilled cheese sandwiches. Rani unwrapped hers and gasped.

"They're so pretty! How did you make rainbow colors inside the sandwich? Is it like marshmallows?" Rani questioned. I took a bite and shook my head.

"Take a bite," I replied. Rani took a bite and smiled.

"It's cheese!" Rani exclaimed. She took another bite, and I took a moment to soak in my victory. The grilled cheese was a hit! I finally managed to make something for her that we both liked.

[zapreportsblog]

↱ a day of bonding ↰

➘ summary : Jessica and her daughter have a wonderful day out and about

➘ Jessica Drew x reader , Spiderman into the spiderverse x reader

The sun shone brightly over the bustling streets of New York City as Jessica Drew, also known as Spider-Woman, strolled hand in hand with her daughter, (Y/N). It was a rare day off from the responsibilities of being a hero, and Jessica had planned a special girls' day out for the two of them.

"(Y/N), are you excited about our shopping day?" Jessica asked, her blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

(Y/N)'s face lit up with a wide smile. "Definitely, Mom! I can't wait to see all the cool places you want to take me."

As they walked down the crowded sidewalk, Jessica led (Y/N) to a boutique known for its unique and eclectic fashion. The shop was filled with colorful displays of clothing, accessories, and whimsical items that caught their attention.

The mother-daughter duo spent hours trying on outfits, giggling as they swapped opinions on various styles. (Y/N) twirled in front of the mirror, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Mom, look at this dress! It's like something out of a fairy tale!" (Y/N) exclaimed, her fingers trailing over the delicate fabric.

Jessica grinned, nodding in approval. "You've got a great eye, sweetheart. It suits you perfectly."

After making their selections, they moved on to a trendy café nearby. They sat at a cozy corner table, sipping on their drinks and indulging in delicious pastries.

"(Y/N), tell me about your dreams and aspirations. What do you want to be when you grow up?" Jessica asked, her gaze focused on her daughter.

(Y/N) pondered for a moment before responding, her eyes alight with determination. "I want to be like you, Mom. A hero who helps people and makes a difference."

Jessica's heart swelled with pride, and she reached across the table to gently touch (Y/N)'s hand. "You've got a heart of gold, just like your mom. And remember, you can be anything you set your mind to."

After their café adventure, Jessica and (Y/N) ventured to a nearby park, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their skin as they lounged on a blanket. They chatted about everything under the sun, from their favorite movies to the most memorable moments in (Y/N)'s life so far.

As the day drew to a close, Jessica pulled out a small gift from her bag and handed it to (Y/N) with a grin. "I thought you might like this."

(Y/N) unwrapped the gift to find a delicate silver necklace with a spider-shaped pendant. Her eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Mom, it's beautiful!"

"It's a reminder that you've got a strong spirit, just like a spider," Jessica explained, her voice soft and affectionate.

Touched by the sentiment, (Y/N) hugged her mother tightly. "Thank you, Mom. Today has been amazing. I love spending time with you."

Jessica hugged her back, her heart overflowing with love for her daughter. "I cherish every moment we have together, (Y/N). You're my greatest joy."

As the sun set over the city, Jessica and (Y/N) made their way back home, their hearts full of cherished memories and the unbreakable bond between a hero mother and her aspiring hero daughter.

As Jessica and (Y/N) returned home after their delightful girls' day out, the warm embrace of their apartment enveloped them in a sense of comfort and familiarity. Jessica's husband, Peter, also known as Spider-Man, was busy reading a newspaper on the couch, but he looked up with a smile as they entered.

"Well, well, well, look who's back from their big adventure," Peter teased, setting aside the newspaper.

(Y/N) grinned, excitement still dancing in her eyes. "Dad, you won't believe all the fun we had today!"

Peter raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, really? Well, tell me all about it."

With enthusiasm, (Y/N) launched into a lively account of their day, recounting their shopping spree, their time at the café, and their leisurely moments at the park. Her words painted a vivid picture of the laughter, bonding, and heartfelt conversations they'd shared.

"And then, Mom gave me this beautiful spider necklace as a surprise!" (Y/N) exclaimed, holding up the pendant for her father to see.

Peter's eyes sparkled as he observed the necklace. "That's a special gift, (Y/N). Your mom knows how to make moments unforgettable."

(Y/N) nodded, her smile radiant. "She really does. I love spending time with her, and today was so much fun."

Peter reached out and ruffled (Y/N)'s hair affectionately. "I'm glad you had a great time. Your mom has a way of making ordinary moments extraordinary."

Jessica chimed in, her voice filled with warmth. "And your dad knows a thing or two about that as well."

Peter chuckled, his expression fond. "Well, we both learned from the best."

As the family settled into the cozy living room, (Y/N) nestled between her parents, the sense of togetherness and love palpable in the air. In that moment, they were a trio of heroes who found strength and joy in each other's company.

"(Y/N), never forget that we're always here for you, no matter what," Peter said, his gaze locked on his daughter's eyes.

(Y/N) leaned into her parents' embrace, feeling their unwavering support surrounding her. "I know, Dad. I'm lucky to have both of you."

The evening continued with laughter, stories, and a shared sense of contentment. As the night grew darker, the bond between Jessica, Peter, and (Y/N) remained unbreakable—a testament to the power of love, family, and the adventures they faced together.

[the-gone-ton]

The purge at the Westgate Mall is almost done. Hawk Music, More, Westgate Jewelers, Holiday Hair, Fashion Nails, and Amateur Athlete Skateshop have packed their bags and left. Subway will be open until this Friday. After that, at some indeterminate point, demolition will begin on a stretch of the mall that will eventually be replaced with something that the out-of-state owners of the mall think is more "attractive" and "trendy": a strip mall prominently featuring a Starbucks with drive-thru. Nevermind there's a Starbucks 1.4 miles down the same road. Also present will be a Jersey Mike's, because screw the Subway franchise who's done business there for decades - Jersey Mike's is trendier!

I was at the mall the other day with my mom and girlfriend. My mom hadn't been there in a while. We went store for store and she asked me what used to be there. "That was Kay Jewelers." "That was the arcade." "That was the art supply store." And so forth.

It's so sad. I just ask that my locals who have been following me to remember the Westgate Mall how it was, and not whatever sanitized, unremarkable thing they turn it into.

[astoldbychae]

✈️ 💯 💘💜 for Kimora, Malaysia, AND Capri

PERCOOOO! The gif is sending meeeee! Lol...🤣

*cracks knuckles* Alright...let's get it:

✈️ Does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

When Big Sean said "I be in the air, more than I be on the ground..." he was talkin bout her. Miss ma'am is literally NEVER home.

💯 Share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

She's chopstick savvy (she's got the lil trait and everything)

Can solve a rubiks cube in less than 5 minutes

Dance is literally her life (She had the opportunity to attend an Ivy League school but she preferred to attend an HBCU so she could experience being a Majorette)

💘 What and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Her Grandmother (on her Dad's side). They've developed a very tight bond with each other over the years and Angel likes to describe her as "her heart in human form".

Angel was adopted when she was born, so unfortunately she didn't grow up knowing her birth family. After graduating high school she took a gap year to explore Sulani; an attempt to connect with her birth family. Unfortunately, her father had passed away but she was able to find her Grandmother and 3 of her father's other children. Papa was a rollin' stone, so he has quite a few offspring around the Sim Worlds. She doesn't have a connection with her birth mom...but that's another story for another day.

💜 What is your oc's ancestry/genetic background?

Her mother is Black and Komorebian and her father is Sulanian. Ultimately, If I were to translate this to real life Angel would be Black, East Asian, and Pacific Islander.

✈️ Does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

Although sweet pea is adventurous and travels a lot (mainly for work), she prefers to be home. She's the type to light a candle, put on a face mask, drink a glass of wine, and unwind with a good book (or snuggle up under her man with a good book Lol).

💯 Share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

She's ambidextrous

She's absolutely terrified of Frogs

German Chocolate cake is her favorite but she somehow hates chocolate flavored things.

💘 What and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Her peace is the most important thing to her. She meditates, journals, and practices yoga daily. I love that for her so much!

💜 What is your oc's ancestry/genetic background?

She's Black. Her mother is from Willow Creek and her father is from Del Sol Valley. If this were real life, think roots in NOLA and Cali.

✈️ Does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

Babygirl is a little bit of both. She is definitely a Simelta Airlines SkyMiles Member (and her bags are still waiting to be unpacked from her last trip) & she loves a good road trip but she loves a good, cozy night in just a little bit more. "Girls Night In" is her favorite, she hosts it once a month at her house and they have all the drinks, charcuterie boards, and gossip til' they pass out.

💯 Share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Snorkeling with Dolphins in Sulani is her favorite thing.

She sews her own clothes (she's currently considering opening a shop on Trendi)

She can't whistle...like at all (thia reminds me of that one Peppa Pig episode where she can't whistle and I've been laughing way too hard for way too long)

💘 What and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Marine Life. Before she dropped out of college for a Reality TV opportunity she was studying to be a Marine Biologist. She loves everything about the ocean...or any huge body of water for that matter. Whenever she needs to decompress, she goes to the Aquarium. I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up leaving the hustle & bustle of the city for the beach life.

💜 What is your oc's ancestry/genetic background?

She's Black. Her mother is from San Myshuno and her father is from Copperdale. At this time I don't have a real life city comparison in my game for these two worlds. So far, all I know is San Myshuno is a BIG city and Copperdale is the country...Lol.

💛 Thanks for the ask.

[keepyourvoicedown89]

You look around and can’t believe it.  As you stand in your brand new 700 sq foot loft in downtown LA, you take a deep breath and look past the stacks of boxes you have yet to unpack, out the window to the toy district’s art deco building across the way.  The sun is shining through the large factory windows and you can hear a neighbor’s music beat a rhythmic hum. You’re sure at some point that will be annoying. But right now, you love it.  It’s a sign of life, and this is the life you’ve been wanting to build for years.  You’re taking in this moment for what it is:  you’ve done it.  You’ve finally moved to a bigger city.  This is your attempt to find whatever it is your heart feels pulled to (even though you have no idea exactly what it is).   

It's been nagging at you under the surface for years.  Though you had a full life in your hometown, it never felt exactly like what you wanted.  Something always felt missing. Dating was abysmal at best, searching for a needle in a haystack amongst a field of toxic masculinity and piles of broken relationships.  Sure, you’ve done work on yourself, and could see yourself happy wherever you lived.  But you couldn’t ignore that deeply rooted pull to the west coast that became so strong you had to give into it.  When the pull became too strong, you started looking for jobs at publications in California. You were done being a big fish in a small pond at a hip, local scene publication back home.  After a zoom interview in the bag and some writing samples submitted, your first day at your new job at Crescendo Magazine, the nation’s most popular music magazine, was in a week.  It wasn’t exactly the fanciest job at the best place, but you were on your way up in the business.  You have to start somewhere as a little fish in a big pond.  

Just not yet.  First, you get to settle into your new life.  

You take a deep breath, take a mental snapshot of this first day in your new city, just an hour after the movers have dropped off your stuff. Just as you’re about to unpack your first box, your phone rings from your pocket.  Your mom’s voice greets you enthusiastically on the other end of the call.  

“Did everything make it okay?  How does it look?  I can’t wait to see it once you get your personality all over the place!” she says excitedly.  Your mom has always been your biggest support.  She had done all the research with you on where you might live in LA, and flown out to the city with you to look at a few places before deciding on the loft where you stand.  

“It’s great, mom.  I still can’t believe I’m here.  I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I do!  If you look in the box labeled ‘kitchen box one’, I threw in some gift cards for some of the local coffee shops and restaurants in your new neighborhood to get you out of the house and exploring.  I snuck out and grabbed some while you were still sleeping when we visited.  Why don’t you go out and be a part of the neighborhood a little bit, nourish yourself, let the neighborhood welcome you, and then get back to work?”

“Mom!  Oh my gosh, thank you.  It feels so daunting to even step outside until I unpack all of this,” you say looking at the towers of boxes scattered throughout the room.  You sit on your couch while you grab the box she identified and open it.  Sure enough, there are a handful of cards inside an envelope at the top of the box.

“Get out there and go find your people, your places, and your things, my dear.  Call me later today to let me know you got home safely.  I love you.”

You hang up with your mom and put the gift cards in your back pocket of your cut off shorts.  Your favorite old Get Up Kids concert T-shirt, with tears in the shoulder and the right side, somehow looks trendy even though it’s from wear.  It drapes on you, and you consider changing before heading out on your first adventure in your new neighborhood.  Your long, brown hair is tied up in a messy bun on top your head with your loose curls tickling your neck.  You disregard the thought of changing, grab your keys, your journal, a pen, and head out the door.  

Outside, there’s pockets of people wandering the streets.  Some look like tourists, with that familiar upwards gaze looking at the buildings or the constant searching through faces for famous people.  You pull the cards out of your back pocket and start looking up names of coffee shops that match the cards.  You pick the one right in the middle of the map so you can have a bit of a walk.  There aren’t too many cars out this early on a Sunday.  LA doesn’t wake up until 10am anyway, you’ve heard.  Everyone’s probably still climbing out of bed.  

Once inside the coffee shop, you order from the generic looking horn-rimmed glasses wearing, mustached hipster. You grab the number on the metal stand for your food, and find a spot near the large windows and wait on your latte and breakfast sandwich.  It’s still pretty empty in the shop, and you have your pick of places to sit.  The smell of coffee beans starts waking up your senses.  You think to yourself about calling the one friend you have in the area to invite them for coffee, but decide to stay on your own.  It’s harder to be on your own in a new place than you thought.  It’s anxiety inducing to sit there without the grounding of familiarity.  You open your journal and find yourself staring at the blank page hoping writing will ease your anxious thoughts.  You glance out the window at the people passing by.  Groups of hip, casually dressed thirty-somethings chatter as they head to the restaurant across the way for brunch.  There’s a small group of people on the corner in the direction towards your apartment hovering around someone.  Likely, a celebrity of some kind.  That’s something you’ll have to get used to.  Most of the time the “famous” people aren’t those you’d consider a celebrity, anyway.  

Your food arrives and you thank the barista as they barely nod in acknowledgment and walk away. You lean into your journal while slowly drinking your latte.  You’re pouring your energy into your writing while you feel the tables around you become occupied.  A man’s voice mumbles “excuse me” from behind you and without looking up you apologize and scoot your chair towards the table to give him room to sit down.  A few minutes pass, and you feel someone’s eyes on you.  You don’t want to make it awkward, so you drop your napkin and reach down to pick up and scan the room in the direction you feel the gaze.  From a few tables over, a man with sunglasses and blonde curly hair smiles at you.  You manage a half-assed close mouthed smile and go back to your writing.  

The feeling of the gaze doesn’t go away.  About fifteen minutes later you’re about to say something when you look up and notice the man isn’t even there anymore.  In his place, two girls sit talking and continue to glance your way while they chat with each other sipping their espresso.  The girl with her back to you turns her head and makes eye contact with you while the girl facing you mutters something glancing down.  

“Oh no,” you think.  “Did I spill something on me?  I must look a mess.  They’re mocking me because of how unkept I look.”  You self-consciously look down at your T-shirt and don’t see anything spilled on you.  Maybe your hair?  You pull out your top bun and mess with your curls and accidentally bump the man behind you.  

“oops, sorry,” you mumble while you nervously adjust your shirt.  

“ ‘salright, darlin’,” a soft male voice replies.  

 You glance back towards the girls and there’s now a couple more looking over.  What is going on?  Less than a day of living in LA and you’re somehow a social pariah?  

You hear a female voice behind you.  The barista is bringing the man behind you his coffee.  “here you go, one espresso and a breakfast sandwich.”  She hovers by the tables.  “is there anything else I can get you?”

The male voice speaks again, and you notice a british accent.  “no thank you, love.  this should do it.”

Where have you heard that voice before?  

You glance around again and see the girls who were looking at you before looking a bit beyond you.  Suddenly you realize they aren’t looking at you at all.  They’re looking at the man behind you.  

Where have you heard that voice before??

You put your head back into writing as you finish your sandwich.  Just as you’re about to finish your latte one of the girls from the table is walking your direction.  She makes eye contact with you again and widens her eyes as she passes you and addresses the man behind you.

“Excuse me?  I hope it’s not rude of me to interrupt you while you write, but I wanted to tell you I love your band so much.  Could I have an autograph?”  She asks him.

A band.  Ah, a musician.  Of course.  Your first day out and you end up sitting next to some famous musician.  You don’t want to turn around so obviously, but the suspense is killing you.

“Hi, darlin’.  Absolutely, you can have an autograph.  Who might I make it out to?”

“Morgan.”

A few moments pass, and the voice speaks again.  “Here you are, Morgan.  Thanks so much for loving our band.”

She walks away with a skip in her step and she and her friend leave.  The minute they’re outside, you watch as they both giddily jump up and down and squeal.   You chuckle about their delight and take the last sip of your latte.  You feel the chair behind you bump into yours.  

“ ‘s a good feeling making them that happy just to say hi,” the familiar voice says.  You turn your head in his direction and see him glancing out the window at the girls’ direction.  He turns his head, his dark curls dangling there just as unkept as yours, but his are tighter.  You immediately recognize that hair.  The minute you see those curls and the glimmer of his eyes through the sunglasses, you know exactly whose voice that is.

It’s matty healy.  

Your heart sinks to your stomach and you’re not sure what to say in response.  

So you don’t say anything at all.  

He leans his chin on his right hand while he looks at you sideways.  “I saw your Get Up Kids T-shirt when I walked in.  I love that album.  Great choice.”

Oh, okay.  So the first human you’re going to actually interact with your first day in town as a local is Matty Healy.  This is fine. 

“Thanks.  It’s one of my favorites,”  you mumble looking down at your shirt. There’s a pause where neither of you say anything at all.  You’re unsure if you should make a statement about his band.  You know who his band is.  You’ve seen them perform.  

“Midwest emo, huh?  A girl after my heart.” He says moving his sunglasses to the top of his head.  His brown eyes feel like they’re consuming your entire being.  It’s all a lot.  This man knows how to make you feel SEEN.  It is both delightful and terrifying.  It feels like he can read your thoughts.  You nervously giggle.

“That’s what I thought when I woke up this morning.  I’ll wear this and grab some depressed emo kid’s heart and run.”

“Who am I??”  you think as the words fall out of your mouth.

“Consider your day a success then,” he says.  His eyes drop to the tear in the shoulder.  His glance lingers there before returning north and meeting your eyes.  “I’m Matty.”  It feels like he’s taking in every cell in your body.

You look in his eyes and don’t look away.  There’s an electric feeling shooting throughout your body.  You don’t say your name for a second, and then you smile and tell him.  He smiles back and bashfully looks down.  He’s not shy, surely.  

You look away and see a notebook in front of him on the table, and nod in its direction.  “looks like we’re both writing?”

“yeah.  Writing kind of morning, I ‘spose,” he says looking towards your journal.  You both chuckle.  

“i guess so.  I wanted to write a bit before I head back to my new apartment and unpack.”

His eyes perk up.  “oh?  Just moved to Lalaland?  Welcome.  It’s…something.”  He adjusts the way he’s sitting to turn more towards you, with his hand draped over the back of his chair as he leans on his right arm on the table.

You laugh.  “The way you colored that ‘something’ tells me all I need to know.”  You adjust your body position and accidentally brush your arm against his fingers.  An immediate warmth rushes from the spot where you both touched on your arm all through your body.  He glances down to his hand and his gaze slowly comes back up to meet yours.  There’s another moment of pause.

“it’s an interesting enough place to write, that’s for sure,” he says after a moment.  God, does he know when he looks at you it feels like he bores a hole into your soul?  “so, are you a writer?”

You nod.  You giggle.  “you?”

He pauses for a moment, unsure if you were kidding for a nanosecond.  

“Sometimes. Right now, yeah.”

“Well, well, well.  We should write together sometime.” Your boldness surprises you.  It surprises Matty, too.

“Considering how much we’ve both gotten done today on our writing, maybe that’s not such a good idea,” he quips back.  His glance lowers to the tear lower in your shirt.  

Oh, that wasn’t meant to shoot you down.  

You’re uncertain what to say back when his phone starts buzzing from the table.  “oh, I’ve gotta take this.  One sec. Hello?” he says picking up the call. 

You needed this pause to check in with reality.  Are you really flirting with Matty Healy right now?  Did you almost invite him back to your bare apartment??  You pick up your phone and check it like you have messages to check.  Instead, you’ve checked how you look in your camera to see just how messy you look.  Oh, god.  You’ve got to try to clean yourself up.  You quickly decide to run to the restroom to straighten up.  As you stand, Matty’s head snaps and the look on his face tells you he’s questioning if you are leaving.  You shake your head and gesture towards the bathroom door a little bit away, and mouth asking him if he can watch your stuff.  He nods as he continues the conversation on the phone.

The minute you’re in the bathroom you look at your reflection and quickly try to correct the fly away curls and adjust your wrinkly T-shirt and cut offs. Crap, there’s no coming back from this.  You met Matty Healy in your scrubby clothes.

You’re gone just long enough to approach the tables where you’re both sitting to hear him laughing as he’s turning towards his own table away from yours.  His eyes watch you approach and his head slowly follows you as you sit back down.  After a moment you hear him wrapping up.  “..okay.  I’ll see you soon.  Yeah, I know. We’ll see.  ..Exactly.  Okay.  Bye.”  His eyes meet yours again after he takes the last sip of his espresso.  Is there disappointment in those eyes?  You must be projecting.  You have to be.  

“It’s been lovely meeting you, darlin’.  I’ve gotta run.  Enjoy LA.  The city’s definitely better now that you’re here.” He stands up and turns towards the door.  As he does, his hand touches your shoulder and squeezes with care.  You look up at him and see him looking down at you with a dark glimmer in his eye while his hand lingers on your shoulder.  You can’t help it, you imagine the sight of him at that angle in the dirtiest way.  He smirks at you as if he also imagines the same thing, but you know he can’t be.  His hand hasn’t moved from your shoulder, and you haven’t said anything back yet.

“I’m glad you were the first person I’ve met in LA, Matty.” You say looking up at him.  He smiles, and walks towards the door and heads around the corner away from the direction of your apartment.

You sit there frozen for a moment before grabbing your things awkwardly and heading back home.  As soon as you’re home, the mountains of boxes call you to unpack but you are shaking from the encounter.  You decide to call your mom instead.  Excitedly, you tell her all about the encounter and how you didn’t even know he was there.  She gets just as excited as you, since she knows how much you like the band.  You tell her how you were where she bought the gift card and writing in your journal and didn’t know he was behind you.  As you’re telling her the story, you grab your journal and open it to a random blank page a little bit after where you’ve stopped writing.  There, in scribbled handwriting, is a message.  You freeze.

“Honey?  Honey?  Are you still there?  What happened?”

Scribbled towards the bottom of the page is a message in Matty’s writing.

“Let’s get together.  Matty xx” and his number right after.

[mamantrendy]

Trendy Mom: the ultimate guide to being a trendy mom

Being a mother does not mean giving up your sense of style and fashion. Today, more and more mothers want to remain trendy while assuming their role as parents. This is where the concept of the "trendy maman" come into play.

The trendy mom is a modern mom, who follows the latest trends while juggling the responsibilities of family life. She knows that motherhood is not an excuse to let go and she makes it a point of honor to take care of her appearance. Here are some tips to become a trendy mom.

First of all, it is essential to find a balance between comfort and style. Being a mother often means having to run after children, carry diaper bags, etc. It is therefore important to choose clothes in which you feel comfortable and which allow you to move easily. Opt for soft and stretchy materials, such as jersey or cotton, which are both comfortable and trendy.

Then, do not hesitate to be inspired by influencers and celebrities who are also moms. They are often the first to adopt new trends and can give you ideas to create your own style. Follow them on social networks, read fashion magazines and stay tuned for new collections.

To be a trendy mom, it is also important to take care of yourself. Take the time to put on makeup, do your hair and dress every morning. Even if you don't leave the house, it will help you feel good about yourself and be ready to face the day in style.

As for the wardrobe, bet on versatile and timeless pieces. Basics such as jeans, white t-shirts and blazers can be easily combined with more trendy pieces to create looks that are both elegant and casual