#I’m just. gonna try to be kind. live in my bubble. not care

[snixx]

you know you’re pathetic when your fucking dad comes up to you and tells you he feels sad looking at how desperate you are with people your age

[luxesiren]

⸻ 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐈; e.jeager + j.kirschtein x black reader

❦ synopsis; eren and jean argues on gets you first and betting on who can make you come first

❦ warnings; black fem reader, thick/chubby reader, poly relationship, established relationship. smut; oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), hand jobs, competitive sex, riding, jacuzzi sex, public sex, dirty talk, degradation, oral fixation, praise kink, double penetration

❦ author’s note; ahem, i went rogue with this! i made venus’s idea come to live with this piece🤭 but also, i feel like i need this in my life.

wc; 3.6k

you were lounging in the jacuzzi feeling the warm water and bubbles, losing yourself in the comforting atmosphere. the sounds of the bubbly water reaching your ears and making your eyes close with a content sigh.

this was the perfect way to end your week seeing as you had been stressed from school and everything from your schoolwork to your job but the warm water from the jacuzzi was washing away all that stress and you were grateful.

you soon felt a hand caressing your shoulder and another grabbing your hand, you opened your eyes to see your boyfriends looking down at you with smiles on their faces. “you guys getting in, or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“we can’t stare at you, mama?” eren asked with a smirk. jean rolled his eyes in disgust.

“eren, you’re so corny. you look really pretty tonight baby.” jean said. eren tsked.

you already felt the argument coming on. “wait so i’m corny for asking we can’t stare at you? what kind of fucking logic is that?” eren crossed his arms and looked at jean.

you rolled your eyes because of course, jean would feed into that. “fuck you, eren. seriously. yes, it was corny, next time come up with something that’s not corny.” jean argued.

“if y’all are gonna stand there and argue then you can forget about getting in with me,” you said, sinking back into the water and trying to relax again.

jean and eren apologized and hopped in next to you, you sighed with a smile, “see? isn’t that better? why are you arguing anyways? i like being called mama and i'm both of your girlfriend, what’s the problem?”

“nothing, pretty girl. eren is just immature and infuriating.” jean said with a mocking smile.

eren clenched his teeth trying not to start an argument, “mama, i’m sorry. jean just gets me worked up, i'm more focused on you now.”

you laughed at both of them, “y’all are ridiculous.” closing your eyes again with an amused sigh.

eren smiled and trailed his hand on your thigh, squeezing your inner thigh. jean caught him and started to kiss your neck softly. both of them were trying to start something and you couldn’t complain — you loved having boyfriends who took care of you in bed.

you opened your eyes to see eren staring back at you, you leaned in to kiss him. his lips immediately met yours and you felt your pussy jump from eren’s finger teasing you from the outside of your bathing suit. eren’s finger run your clit in slow circular motions and you moaned in his mouth.

jean kept sucking at your neck, placing hickies everywhere he could reach, he moved back to see you and eren kissing — he pushed eren’s head away and turned your head towards him to kiss you.

“hey! what the hell!” eren yelled, jean had practically stolen your attention, eren wanted the attention back on him so he kept moving his fingers on your clit.

you mewled in jean’s mouth, pulling back and tossing your head back, both boys looked at you with a smile. jean saw eren teasing your clit and he wanted to please you like that.

jean started groping your titties softly causing you to moan softly, everything was stimulating you all at once and you didn’t know what to do. “fuck.” you said breathlessly.

they both looked at you and started to smile, “feel good? tell me it feels good.” jean said with a cocky smile.

you moaned, nodding your head. “feels so good, baby.” jean kissed you deeply while still massaging your breasts, he always loved playing with your tits and he never failed to make you feel good while doing it.

eren rolled his eyes, yet again. “mama, your pussy feels so good, what did we do to deserve such a pretty pussy like yours?” he asked, his fingers curling just right and making you see stars. “i bet i can make you cum just like this.”

“you wanna bet?” jean raised an eyebrow.

eren stop moving his fingers which caused you to whine, “you don’t think i can make her cum?”

“oh no, no, i’m fully aware of your abilities to make her cum but i don’t think you can make her cum before i make her cum.” jean snarked back.

you glanced to see them glaring at each other, with full determination in their eyes. “it’s not a competition or whatever but maybe we should see..” you voiced with a sly smile.

they looked at you with surprise and then back at each other, “let’s see who can make me cum first.” you smiled.

making the bet was a mistake all in itself but you would never regret it, not with the way eren was practically tearing off your suit — eager to please you.

jean pushed him aside, “can you be gentle with her? jeez, you’re such an animal honestly.”

you chuckled, taking off the rest of your bathing suit, watching as both of your boyfriend's jaws went slack at the sight of you.

your breasts on display and ready to be grabbed, your boyfriends eyed them and couldn’t look away. the way your hips curved could make them drop to their knees and you loved how willing they were to please you whenever you wanted them to.

jean’s hand trailed up your inner thigh, the movement alone making you jump and chuckle at the tickling sensation. eren looked at you up and down, his eyes fucking you and you could sense the desperation.

your pussy leaking from both of their gazes, your eyes trailed down both of their bodies.

jean’s body was so beautiful, his abs on display and you salivated at the sight of water dripping off his body, his chest was so big and it made you wanna bite them — down to his dick which stood proudly in his swim trunks, jean’s dick was fucking gorgeous. maybe it wasn’t as thick as eren’s but his dick was long and it made your insides dance happily.

you quickly moved over to eren, his body just as beautiful and addicting, she thought about the countless times you found your hands squeezing at his chest while jean fucked you so good that you saw stars. they could be competitive sometimes but you loved how well they could please you.

you snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a finger curling in your cunt slowly. you looked up and saw jean smirking at you while moving his finger slowly, thumb circling your clit and making you moan.

eren moved into action, his mouth latching onto your nipple as if he was a breastfeeding baby and sucking. his tongue swirled around your nipple slowly — your breath getting heavier with all the attention you were getting.

how’d you get so lucky? two of the finest boys wanted your attention and only your attention.

your fingers quickly tangled in eren’s hair and your other bringing jean into a kiss, lips smacking and your tongues tangled with each other making you moan softly into the kiss. something about the two boys just being obsessed with you made you even wetter than you already were, it should’ve been illegal.

“mm please, baby?” you broke away from the kiss to whine.

eren pulled off your nipple and inserted a finger right beside jean’s, “please what, mama?”

you shuddered as his finger entered you, double the stimulation. their fingers moved in sync and it felt amazing, you couldn’t describe the sensation but it was just right and i didn’t want to lose it.

they both watched as your chest moved up and down before looking at each other with a smirk, seemingly communicating with each other before you felt more fingers inside your cunt. you moaned loudly and your sopping cunt clenched around their fingers.

“fuck, eren, jean, oh my god.” you moaned loudly, your eyes shutting on their own accord. their fingers curled in the right place and it was almost enough to drive you over the edge and make you see stars and not the ones in the sky.

jean leaned down to suck a mark on your inner thigh while eren, fucking eren, sucked your clit in his mouth and your hand flew to his hair and gripped tightly.

jean leaned over to whisper something in eren’s ear before starting to suck at his neck while still fingering you. usually, they weren’t affectionate with each other during this time but jean seemed greedy, wanting to please you and him at the same time.

maybe it wasn’t a competition anymore, maybe it was a pleasure fest and you all wanted to please each other. your eyes locked with theirs and you started to shake, it was so fucking good to see jean sucking on eren’s neck while eren sucked on your clit.

“i’m gonna cum, keep going, please,” you whimpered, legs shaking and trembling in their hold.

eren removed his fingers but kept his mouth in your clit and jean’s fingers moved faster but not before he added a third finger. your moans getting louder as the stimulation starts to get to you and your breath gets heavier and heavier.

then, like a balloon popping, the pleasure snapped and you came on eren’s tongue and jean’s fingers. you gasped and shook from the intensity of the earth-shattering orgasm you just had.

jean thrust his fingers inside you one more time before pulling them out and bringing them to his lips and tasting your cum and juices. eren pulled off your clit and watched as he licked it all off before grabbing his wrist and licking his fingers and groaning at the taste.

your eyes rolled back and a high-pitched moan escaped your lips, everything was always a competition so to see them working together and being nasty together was so fucking mind-blowing.

the image of them licking your juices off jean’s fingers would be engraved in your mind forever and ever.

eren pulled jean closer and whispered something in his ear and you saw the mischievous smirk from jean. “hey, pretty girl, whaddya say we take this to our room and we can have more fun, yeah?” jean asked.

you had no idea what they had planned but you knew that was gonna be good.

~~~~

once you got to the room, everything went south really quickly. they manhandle you into their favorite position; ass up, face down. in that gorgeous arch that was only reserved for them, jean leaned down to whisper in your ear and eren positioned himself right in front of you on the bed, his dick free from his trunks and the beautiful red tip, leaking precum and right in front of your face.

“you’re gonna suck his dick while i eat you out, sound okay with you?” he said, a smirk evident in his voice.

you could only nod your head in response. you watched eren’s hand wrap around his dick and start to move it up and down, throwing his head back — his hair, which was out of his usual bun, surrounded his face and you smirked as he locked eyes with you and brought his dick to your lips.

you immediately latched onto his tip and licked his slit before bobbing your head slowly, teasing him slightly. you loved how vocal he was in bed, it made more slick run down your thighs.

jean stood behind you and watched as eren’s dick slid into your mouth so easily. his hands landed on your plump ass and gripped tightly before landing a slap on your right cheek, making you moan around eren’s dick which caused him to groan from the vibration.

one thing about jean, he loved to tease. you admit sometimes he can be impatient and just dive in but when he was feeling it, he would tease you. tonight was gonna be one of those nights.

as eren’s dick slid down your throat, you felt jean’s breath over your folds making your pussy leak even more. “gosh, baby. you have the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen. don’t you think so, eren?” jean asked.

“oh yeah, she does— fuck, she like that mama. prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen.” eren responds with a groan.

your hands gripped eren’s thighs and your head kept bobbing, trying to make him cum now. you release him with a loud pop and start to jerk him off, using your spit to make the glide easier.

while you were distracted you felt the warmth of jean’s tongue at your entrance. his hands gripping your ass and moaning into your cunt like he never ate you out before. everything was a competition to the boys but they both ate your pussy like it was their last meal and there was no competition with that. they both agreed once you told them that they both are good at it.

you moaned out and your head dropped on eren’s thigh, trying to compose yourself enough to put your mouth back on him but jean wasn’t holding back and you were becoming dizzy, “fuck, j-jean, feels so good, mmph”

eren chuckled, “ma, c'mon, put my dick back in your mouth.”

you nodded against his thigh and moved to lick his shaft before deep-throating his dick, his hands moving to your head and guiding you. it was all too much at one time and everyone was chasing the feeling of euphoria — jean’s tongue deep inside you, licking against your walls trying to slurp your juices. eren trying to cum in your mouth and fuck your face and you, trying to cum on jean’s face.

“mmm fuck!! mama, you’re doing so good fa me. taking my dick like a fucking champ” eren praised with a moan.

jean’s hand smacked your cheek hard enough to leave a print, he caressed and smacked it again which made you arch further, pushing your cunt into his face even more.

eren’s thighs trembled under your hands and soon enough he was saying your name and cumming down your throat. he pushed your head down even further so you could properly swallow all of his seed. it was never a challenge because you practically swallowed his dick (and cum) every night.

thick cum traveled down your throat and you moaned around his dick that was lodged in your throat. “so good, ma. did you swallow all of it?” he asked when he pulled you off his softening dick. you nodded and stuck your tongue out to show him that you did what he wanted, “such a good girl.”

“only for you ren,” you said with a smile.

“is that so? you gonna be a good girl for jean too?”

you nodded and he kissed you deeply, “good. then sit on his face.”

jean pulled back and laid down on the bed and you moved to put your cunt on his face. his eyes closed instantly at the taste of you back on his tongue and eren watched your fingers card through jean’s hair as you subtly start to move your hips, riding his face.

“jean, baby, your tongue is so good.” you praised.

eren sat behind you and sucked a mark right under your jaw, his hands teasing your nipples and making them harden. you pushed your tits into his hold as your hips continued to grind on jean’s face.

his tongue flicking your clit and sucking, he was so sloppy when he ate your pussy — making the loudest noises and moaning loudly into your cunt. your hand gripped his hair and you pushed him into your cunt, it was clenching around his tongue, hoping to keep it inside you forever.

jean loved having your thick thighs around his head, he loved gripping them, smacking them, rubbing them, everything he could think of.

your head landed on eren’s shoulder as you felt another impending orgasm approaching. jean made your stomach cave in like a fucking capri-sun with the way he devoured your pussy, “jean, jean, jean…”

eren pulling you into a kiss, his tongue brushing against yours. his hand traveled to your throat and held it there, almost gripping it slightly, your hand landing on top of his and nodding softly — he squeezed and that was all it took for you to cum on jean’s face.

you broke the kiss and whined loudly, “ahh! oh, fuck!!!”

you landed back on eren’s chest and tried to catch your breath and you thought it was over.

jean pulled off your clit after one last suck, caressing your thigh softly, “you good, baby?”

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.”

jean chuckled and looked you in the eyes before saying, “that’s great 'cause we’re not done yet.”

fuck, they were just getting started.

~~~~

jean was under you again while eren was behind you, this was something you guys had never tried before but you wanted to try it so desperately. y’all had talked about this in full, heavy detail before deciding that you were gonna engage in it.

“you sure you can take both of us, baby?” jean asked, concern evident in his tone.

eren was the same way, “yeah, are you sure? this is a lot and we’re both, y’know?”

you nodded with a smile, “yeah. i know, just, go slow.”

they both nodded. jean went first, his tip leaking precum and looking red from not cumming yet, his hand wrapped around his dick, and using his precum he lubricated himself before sliding in slowly.

you softly gasped as he groaned from sliding into you. he always felt so good inside you and you couldn’t help but clench around him tightly, “i’m gonna move and then, eren’s gonna go.”

you nodded in response, too aroused to say anything. your hands gripped jean’s chest and then he thrust up into you, his dick automatically reaching new heights. your eyes rolled and your mouth dropped open with a broken moan, his hands on your hips as he started to fuck you slowly.

eren stood behind you and watched his dick slide in and out of you, seeing it glisten with your slick and cum. the sight was fucking mesmerizing.

he saw jean nod his head as he came to stop and then eren moved to put his dick right beside jean. your head dropped to the crook of jean’s neck as both of the dicks settled inside you.

eren had to will himself not to cum so quickly and jean had the same thought, feeling the heavy weight of eren’s dick next to his was almost too much, nobody moved for a second — just relishing in the feel of everything.

you were shaking, too scared to move but also ready for them to move inside in sync. you moved your head from his neck and you had tears in your eyes jean’s hand rubbed down your back in a comforting motion and eren spoke to check on you, “mama, you okay?”

“yeah, just so full,” you responded with a whimper.

your small smile towards them was enough for them to realize that you were okay.

jean and eren locked eyes and nodded again, “okay, pretty girl. we’re gonna move now, you ready?”

“mhm, fuck yeah,” you said.

and when they moved, they fucking moved. jean was thrusting up into you and then went down, and eren moved forward. the stimulation and the combined pleasure of the two dick inside made you cum instantly.

“MMPH!! holy shit!!” your vision blacked out as you came on both of them.

“ma, your pussy feels so good around the both of us. doesn’t it, jean? tell our good little slut how good she feels,” he said through his groans of pleasure, almost cumming too soon but wanting to stay in the daze of pleasure for another moment.

jean was fucking spiraling, “baby, you were made to take both of our dicks inside this pretty cunt. fucking made for it—SHIT!”

they moved slightly faster and you were limp, drooling on jean’s chest and letting out small “uhs”. you felt them teasing your cervix every time one of them pulled back before slamming back inside you.

eren gripped your hips tightly, sweat dripping from his chest and moaning loudly. jean was in no better shape, his bangs sticking to his forehead and his thighs shaking from thrusting into you.

you couldn’t even think, your hands gripping the hair on jean and trying to move but you couldn’t even think to fuck yourself back on their dicks. “jean, eren, oh my fucking— i’m gonna cum again, FUCK!”

“you gonna cum again? that’s four times tonight.” eren smirked at you and jean leaned up to capture your lips in a kiss.

you and jean came simultaneously, both screaming and shaking from the power behind it and eren kept thrusting inside you, his balls smacking against your ass as he chased his orgasm.

his hips stuttered and you felt his cum fill you up just like jean’s did. “f-fuck…”

after a moment they both pulled out and you laid there cum leaking out of you and exhausted from the night.

eren went to grab a rag and cleaned you up while you lay limp, jean caressed your cheek and spoke softly in your ear, making sure you were okay and seeing if you needed anything.

eren laid right beside you and wrapped his arm around you, “i guess now, the question is…who fucked you better? me or horse-face?”

“fuck you! we were both inside her you fucking piece of shit!” jean yelled, feeding into eren’s bullshit.

of course, right after, arguably, the best sex of your lives they had to fucking argue. you were so sick of their shit.

© 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐡𝟒𝐥𝐥 | do not steal, copy, or repost to any other websites such as wattpad or ao3. reblogs and comments are appreciated.

🏷; @venusflytrapstar (it’s finally free lol) @phorxic

[nathanbatemanfucker]

The Dead Horse

summary: santi brings you back to reality.

pairing: fem!black!reader x santi garcia

contents: angst & fluff— happy ending, canon typical violence, blood, gore, ptsd, depression, feelings of hopelessness, friends to lovers, kissing

wc: 2,419

an: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now bc of nerves, but always wanted to write Santi with a black love interest. planning to dip my toe into that pool more in the future 🥰

oscar issac characters masterlist

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here like this. It could be minutes, hours, even days. In these four walls beneath the shower’s spray, there is nothing that matters. Not even you, not anymore. And while you’re usually the first to be cheery, to tell each of the guys that the work they do— the work you all do together— doesn’t compromise the goodness you see in their hearts, you’re having a hard time believing that right now.

Not with what you’d done. It was to survive, and while you’ve come to terms with how scary you could be in the past you thought it stayed there.

In the past.

Tonight had proven to you that you could always access that piece of you. That terrifying piece that was a killing machine. The emphasis doesn’t lie in efficiency, but in ruthlessness. You had shown no mercy, the switch for empathy and compassion turned off as soon as your hindbrain decided that it was fight or flight. Dormantly thirsty, lurking in the shadows waiting for its time, it chose to fight. But you had gone a step too far—like always— because of your lack of control.

You were messy, enjoying the cutting of thick flesh, the warmth of the blood as it sprayed you. The copper smell, so familiar and embarrassingly comforting, though you didn’t have the mind to think that now, not when you were exposing the pink underbelly of a corpse.

Santi’s been pacing the hallway since you all made it back to the safe house. He’d tried to chat you up on the way home with no success. You wouldn’t meet his eye, and when he drew nearer to catch your gaze it was empty. It chilled his blood. He wasn’t sure of what exactly happened in that room you’d gotten ambushed in but he’d seen the aftermath. Recalling the image of standing over one too many dead bodies, a gleam in your eye had made his stomach curl. He’d smoothed his hand over your knee and left it at that, trying his best to banish all the red and pink and white.

It’s been an hour since you’d stumbled into the bathroom. He can hear the shower still going when he puts his ear to the door and sighs, a mix of frustrated and concerned. He’s not sure what to do– he’s never had to take care of you before. He’s always been grateful for that given all the fondness he has for you bubbling just beneath. Any acknowledgement could jeopardize too much– missions, the dynamic of the team, and most importantly your friendship.

“You alright in there?” He calls softly through the door.

He’s met with silence. He rolls his neck, cursing beneath his breath as his mind goes back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

“Just go in there and check on her,” Frankie says from behind him, causing the other man to flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Santi assures Frankie, leaning against the wall to face the man. He nods at the door. “She could be naked.”

Frankie snorts, shrugging. “She’s seen all of us at least half naked and well, Benny—“

Santi quickly cuts him off, trying to keep the sour jealousy out of his voice. He knows that there’s nothing going on between you and Benny, that Benny is as much of a flirt as he is but sillier and less concerned with his image. “But we haven’t seen her. I don’t— I’m a dog but I’m a respectful one.”

“If she’s gonna get help from anybody on this it’d be you. She trusts you man.”

Santi looks at him like he’s grown two heads but feels a little warm, “She trusts all of us, kind of a prerequisite of living and working with a group of men.”

“It's different with you. You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around.”

Santi almost lets himself think about it. Almost lets himself dream a little. Almost.

“Or see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Like a lost fucking puppy,” Benny pipes in, breezing down through the hallway between the two of them.

“Don’t sound so concerned, Benjamin,” Santi calls after the man, mouth quirking into a grin.

“Don’t look so smug, Santiago,” Frankie teases.

“I’m not smug,” He denies. He decides to go in, okay with being kicked out by you if it means that Frankie will be gone, done poking and prodding at what the man must know is his heart.

“Good luck.”

Santi murmurs a quiet thanks before slowly entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stands, frozen in place for several moments as he digests the sight of you. It's heartbreaking. His chest goes tight, and he curses softly again. What could he do for you? He’d do anything, but he’s just not sure what. He feels helpless seeing you like this. He could burn this entire city, burn anyone who would look at you wrong. Hell, he’d burn the entire world if it meant some warmth would come back into your eyes.

You’re curled up, your arms resting atop your knees, head resting to stare forward. Your curly hair that usually frames your face is completely soaked like the rest of you, flat and sticking to your face in various places. He knows that your eyes are unseeing, that you’re so incredibly removed from yourself because you make no indication that he’s stepped into the room.

“I’m gonna come sit beside you, okay? That’s it. No words,” Despite his words he stays where he is for a handful of seconds, hoping to get some sort of answer from you. You don’t speak a word, don’t utter or sound or so much as look in his direction. But you do shift slowly, making more room for him underneath the water.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” He grits out, drawing close enough to you that your shoulders rest flush against each other.

He gazes over at you, noticing the way the water glimmers on your brown skin. The way its collected on your dark eyelashes. If these were different circumstances maybe for just a handful of seconds he’d let himself get lost in your beauty. But then you acknowledge him– sort of. You hum softly and the leaning of your head on his shoulder. It's a good sign and he relaxes beside you.

“Do you want me to shut it off?” He asks gently, reaching out to take your hands into his. Your fingers are cold as ice, and he rubs at them in a futile attempt to generate some heat.

“No, please. No,” You beg hoarsely, suddenly springing to life. You grip at his hands desperately, eyes wide with panic as you finally meet his gaze.

“Alright, hush, cariño, I’ve got you. C’mere, baby,” He shushes you, pulling you into his arms and flush against him.

At little more present in the moment, you feel the chill registering. You curl up, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. There’s still some warmth in his skin and you press into it, letting the sound of his steady breath lull you back into a dissociative state.

Santi holds you for an undetermined amount of time. He runs his hands up your back, over the crown of your hair, feeling the difference of how your curls feel when wet. His hand drifts to your chin, and he leans away, tipping your head up.

“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me,” He whispers.

Your dark eyes have a little more life to them, but that’s only amplified the sadness they hold. “Santi, I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me, please.”

“I have to, you can’t stay like this. We’ve got to get it out in the open.”

“Like you do?” You challenge– your voice distinctly unkind, harder than he’s ever heard it before. His brow furrows and guilt blossoms inside of you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. This just fucking sucks, Santiago. Its all wrong again.”

“Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it.”

“There’s no way we can fix it. I’m just broken. I’ll always be haunted by her. She’ll always be here, waiting for an opportunity for that.”

“You preach that shit to me and the guys. Day in and day out. Every mission, and you don’t believe it?”

“I do— I did. I believe it for you. For them. You’re good people, Santi. Good men, all of you. You take care of me.”

“You take care of us, honey. Fish hangs on your every word. Will too. Benny is well— Benjamin.”

“And you?”

He shrugs, “You know I gave into this a long time ago. Before we even met. No other way for me to be.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I try to. I want to. There are parts of me too that I don’t like. I want them gone. I rip them up and bury them but they always come back to haunt me. I don’t think that means I’m not trying to be better, but it means I’ll never be the man I want to be.”

You frown at him, concerned, “Santi—“

“It’s okay. I accepted that after the first tour. Sometimes you gotta let the horse be dead.”

“Do you think my horse is dead?”

There’s no room for his ego, no room for hiding when he hears the blatant fear in your question.

He rests his head back against the wall, murmuring, “I think you’re the sweetest thing this earth has to offer.”

“You think so?”

“Bouncing around with your curls, and your sweet little smile. Kicking Benny’s ass with grace while you’ve got a cake in the oven. You should see yourself with Frankie’s little girl.”

“Seems like you watch me a lot,” You suggest softly.

“I watch you all the time,” He admits, but there’s no shame in his voice. In fact you can see resolve in his eyes, and possessiveness. A chill runs down your spine and it’s not from the water. Santi mistakes it for that anyway. “Let me turn this off for us?”

He’s still asking. Still checking in with you though there’s much more light in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Santi leans up and turns off the shower, letting out a sigh of relief. He runs his hands over your wet curls, pushing them away from your forehead. His thumbs swipe your cold cheeks, brushing away some of the water droplets.

Without that steady sound of the shower, sheets cascading down on you, you both are feeling a little more exposed.

“I came in here to make sure you were alright, not spill my fucking guts. I just had to take care of you,” He says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“You can always take it back,” You say teasingly, though most of you expect him to bite at your offer.

He’s said much more in these last few minutes than he ever has to you— Santi’s a sweet guy under all his charm, but he never lets you see below the surface. Not until now, when letting you in seemed like the only way to get you out.

It takes more effort than he expects to pull himself away from you. He leans back against the shower wall, nimble fingers lacing together in his lap. “And lose you?”

“You could never lose me, Santi,” You murmur, reaching out to grab one of his hands.

Your eyes roam him, a little in disbelief at what’s happening right now. But yes, it is Santiago Garcia sitting next to you. With his dark brown eyes, his sharp jaw dappled with stubble, his salt and pepper hair looking much darker and curlier than usual due to the water.

“Yeah?” Santi asks, eyes glued to where yours sits atop his. He traces slowly over the sight of you two linked together, admiring how soft and rich your skin looks even after sitting in a shower for so long.

He’s a goner isn’t he?

“Yeah.”

There are butterflies in his stomach. Butterflies, sweat slicking his palms despite the fact that he’s soaked through his clothes and down to the bone. He realizes in this moment that he’s not just a goner. No— he loves you. He knew that he was harboring some kind of feelings for you, but when your eyes meet his— earnest and tender— he can only think one thing: I love you.

His eyes hungrily drop to your full mouth, and another shiver runs down your spine. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, squeezing his hand that’s still in yours.

“I need to hear you say it. You have to say it for me, so I can believe it.”

“I want you to kiss me, Santiago. Please.”

He’s on you then. All over you. His hands move quickly, guiding you back into his lap before one loops around your torso and holds you close. The other cups your jaw, angling it back so that he can press his mouth to yours. You’re breathless before the space between you is closed, chest heaving at how sure and firm his hands are. He kisses you. Kisses and kisses you, like his life depends on it. Like you’re lost and the only thing that will guide you home is his insistent tongue.

Your hands slip and slide against the fabric of his wet shirt before you give up, raising them to tentatively cup his face so that you can have leverage.

“That’s it honey, kiss me back. Take what you want to. Whatever you need,” He encourages between kisses.

Take you do. You squirm in his lap until he lets you shift and straddle him. It had started with him leading you, consuming you but now it’s your turn to surround him. Santi gives in, sighing into your mouth as your tongue goes on the hunt for his. You kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him until your mouth aches. When you pull away his is flushed pink, newly wet. You run your thumb over his lips before wiping your own mouth.

He looks up at you like hang the moon. His eyes are soft and hazy, pink mouth pulling up into a smirk. There’s the Santi you know. The Santi you love. But even now, he’s softer and sweeter, gathering you close again.

“What do you need now, sweetheart? What can I do to make it better?”

“You.”

“I’m yours.”

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

[kelogsloops]

putting this in the tumblr ask box bc idk where else to put it 🕺 does anyone even read these still

anyways i just woke up but i had a dream and you were a big part of it- i don’t want to say it was a nightmare or like a bad dream but like basically in the dream you announced that you would be quitting art and like retiring ig? it was for a few reasons but in that moment idk i just realized just how much you have had an influence on my life- you know that saying “you don’t know what you have until you lose it”? yeah…

honestly at first when i woke up i was so ready to call it a nightmare, like “oh my god?? you?? leaving?? forever?? noooo!” but as i’m sitting here awake now i realize eventually it’s probably gonna happen- maybe not in the way it was in my dream with you making a whole like announcement video and wiping your accs, but maybe quieter. i wonder if it’ll be that you stop making art, but i find that hard to imagine. i think it would happen slowly, less and less posts as the years go on. in my head even if you stop posting it, i’d think you’re still creating, making art for simply the sake of such. but then i think about how silly that thought is though, i don’t know you outside of your social media bubble. i don’t know your life and what happens there so to even assume something so quiet is pretentious of me. 

like i said, at first i thought it was a nightmare, i can’t bear the thought of you leaving one day- especially for the reasons you gave in my dream it was like “i gave up, arts getting too much for me, and things are so competitive now no one wants my art anymore…” blah blah blah. it was all my own stress as an artist manifesting onto you i think- but anyways i hope that should the day ever come where you do end up leaving your socials and whatnot, i can only hope that it’s out of your own accord and you do so because you want to, not out of pressure or anything like that. like i’m not saying i want you to quit or anything, but what i’m saying is if it happens i just hope it’s something that you chose on your own. i just don’t think i could ever stand that happening though without letting you know how much of an impact you’ve had on my life. 

i found your art when at a very developmental part of my life, so your work wether consciously or not i think has just become like a part of my brain wether conscious or not haha. whenever i go to draw even if i don’t explicitly go to look to your work for inspiration, it’s still there i can see it. it’s like just unconsciously ingrained at this point. but more than that though the whole idea of like “brb chasing dreams” and whatever and the whole idea that i feel you impart every time you share pieces of your journey as an artist to just keep going, i kind of stole that mantra for myself and started to tell myself that as well. even at my lowests, i’m still trying to follow that dream, even lost and i don’t know what direction i’m going in there’ll always be that dream as an anchor almost.

thank you for all that you’ve shared and thank you for being the biggest inspiration in my life. i know that’s quite dramatic to say, but i mean it in full honesty. whatever the future holds for you, i hope it’s kind. i hope you live a long life chasing all your dreams where at the end of the day, you’re happy. thank you. 

waking up to find a message like this in my inbox has me feeling t e a r y. it's reading stories like these and hearing how my work has impacted people that makes this all feel so surreal sometimes. the fact that people would even care if i stopped making art one day or just disappeared is crazy... i'm very fortunate!

i've resigned myself to the fact that sure, one day (but hopefully never) i won't be able to pursue a professional career as an artist anymore, but if there's one thing that i can promise, it's that there is no reality in where i stop making art!

i don't know if i show it enough, but to each and every one of you who have been part of my journey so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it's messages like these that pinch me and remind me how it's all so worth it

forever #brbchasingdreams

[idontplaytrack]

could you do more amber appleton x reader fics please? I don’t have a very specific request but maybe one where reader finds out ambers living situation and begs amber to let her help somehow with some angst? thank you! <3

Honey

Amber Appleton x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, angst, implied/mentioned sex

Amber hates asking for help, but reader’s had enough of it and begs Amber to step back

Amber was…a lot of things: bubbly, kind, helpful, supportive, optimistic. Well, and was also quick frankly the cutest person you’ve ever laid your eyes on. She was the first friend you’ve made at high school, and your crush on her only started to show up in junior year. So when you’ve been around her for the last nine or so months, you’ve been a tad nervous. That you’d make a fool out of yourself if you ever drew a blank while you were hanging out with her. Expertly, you shoved those feelings for her aside and chose to ignore them— hoping they’d go away. You could never be good enough for her, she was a straight-A student and as established, very pretty. You knew a bunch of students off the top of your head that had crushes on her and/or tried to ask her out. Though she hasn’t said yes to any of them, you never once thought you’d have a chance. Did you dream of it? Yes. But did you think it would ever happen? Absolutely not.

“Amber~” You walked up behind her, chin resting on her shoulder for just a second, “Good morning.”

She grunts, shrugging slightly. You took the hint and moved off of her. You were immediately concerned, she’s never been like this before. Just yesterday, she was on cloud nine because she got invited to audition for Carnegie Mellon. So this, was unexpected. Especially from her.

“Hey, what’s the matter, Ams?”

Her face perked up, she smiles at you, “Nothing. I’m fine!”

You bit back a sigh. “Are you sure? We still have time before class, we can talk—”

“Yep!” She confirmed in her usual chipper tone. “Come on, let’s get to home room.”

“Okay…” You squinted at her. She squinted back, “y/n, I’m okay.”

“Sure. Okay, let’s go.” A quiet sigh inevitably falls from your mouth as you agreed with her, walking side by side to the designated classroom. You decided to drop it— for now.

After lunch, you finally saw her again in wood shop and what caused alarm bells to go off in your head was how careless she was being, it was as though she was purposely trying to injure herself. "Amber." You seethed, "What are you doing? Be careful."

Not a single peep out of her. You were very quickly losing your patience, especially after what happened before homeroom. You had been worried about her all day. She huffs and went up to the teacher to ask for permission to use the restroom, knowing that you couldn't stop her and that the teacher only allowed one student to go at a time. When she returned to the workshop about ten minutes later, she didn't even look at you anymore. But she did seem super agitated which only caused you to be more concerned and even a bit anxious. What the hell was going on?

"Hey, could we talk? Please?"

"What's there to talk about? I'm gonna be late for my shift." Amber says dismissively.

A lie. She had more than a half hour to get there.

That look on her face was seriously starting to irk you, why was she acting as if you owed her the world?

"So?" She tilted her head up, "What? What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"What happened?" You asked, "Why are you acting like this? I'm just trying to help you and you're acting like— like you hate me now."

"I don't hate you." Amber's gaze softened as she gnawed on her lower lip, "I'm sorry, okay? It's just that something happened last night with my Mom and I've been pissed off about it." "What happened?" You repeated, "Let me help you, Amber."

And then that expression was back on her face, that annoyed, unhappy look. It was very subtle, but having spent nearly everyday with her, you knew.

"I don't need your help."

"So then you're just gonna be like this from now? So angry?" You snapped.

"I don't need your help y/n, leave me alone."

"Fuck, Amber. Why is it so hard for you to ask for help? Let people help you?" Your voice got shaky towards the end, you were looking right into her eyes. That harsh glare had its moments of softening, she was about to cry.

"I don't know what to do." She mumbles, "I don't know how anyone will be able to help me. I didn't want you to know that I—"

You tug on her arm and told her to sit down on the bench, you did the same. "Amber, it's okay. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is, we'll be okay. We'll figure it out...get through it."

And that triggered the waterworks. Amber just broke down in tears and gave you the shock of your life. You instantly engulfed her in a hug, rubbing her back to calm her down. "Last night— they found out me and my Mom have been sleeping on— on one of the school's buses."

Oh. Fuck, it was much worse than what you could've guessed. Your heart shattered, you couldn't believe you didn't find out sooner and helped her, and her Mom.

"She got fired and she was just so upset and I didn't know what to do because she wanted me to go stay at Oliver's with her but he hits her and has her drinking again. I didn't want that, so I told her no, told her not to go...but she still went so I just— I slept on a bench and now— I guess, now you know."

"Stay with me." You told her, biting back the rapidly forming tears. "Please, Amber, let me help you. You're my best friend, I don't want you to feel unsafe at Oliver's, I don't want you sleeping on benches, I don't want you to be scared to come to me for help. Do you have any idea how much you've helped me since we met on our first day?"

Amber sniffled, "You're my best friend, of course I'd help you."

"And you're mine, of course I'd help you." You breathed out heavily, a painful lump in your throat.

"I got to get to the donut shop." Amber got up, taking a deep breath to recompose herself, "I'll see you later? Promise."

"What time do you get off?"

"Eight-thirty."

"I'll be there." You promised. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, "Okay."

————

While you headed home, Amber headed in the opposite direction towards the donut shop. The whole time, her revelation kept replaying in your mind on a loop. You simply could not shake it off. In the shower, it had you screaming out of frustration from the fact that it kept haunting you. "Fuck!" You groaned, fist slamming into the wall on your side, "Stop it! Stop it, just help her. Stop thinking about it, Amber's alright right now."

After your shower, you dried off, got dressed and started to deep clean the house. Again, out of frustration. And to distract yourself. It worked, though you were sweaty again after you finished the chores two hours later. Plopping onto the couch, you stared at the clock: 6:35pm. You had plenty of time before you had to go pick Amber up from work. Your Mom was on the way home from work, your Dad was on a business trip. But that was the least of your worries because they knew Amber and absolutely adored her. Amber doesn't come by to hang out that much, because she worked after school most days, but they knew her and knew her well enough to trust her completely.

After some thinking, you got started on dinner. Your mom gets home right around that time. "Mom, hey."

“Hi, sweetie." You mom smiled at you, approaching the kitchen, "What are you making?"

"Nothing fancy, just a lasagna since we had the ingredients." You smiled back, "Um, Mom? Amber's gonna have to stay with us for awhile."

"Oh. Amber? No problem, she can stay as long as she wants to." She agreed quickly.

"Thanks." You were a little shocked by the fact that she didn't even need to know more first, but really relieved she didn't and trusted you and Amber like that.

Your Mom excuses herself to go take a shower, you acknowledge that with a nod and off she went while you finished up putting the lasagna together then into the oven. And when your Mom came back downstairs, the lasagna was done, fresh out the oven. "Honey, that smells amazing." "Thanks, mom." You beamed brightly, "Oh, I have to go pick Amber up in a few, but if you want you can eat first."

"It's okay, honey. I'll wait, I'm not that hungry yet since Jodie at the office brought cake to celebrate her birthday."

"Oh, alright. I'll get going now, but I'll see you back here in a bit."

"Drive safe, sweetie." Your Mom gives you a hug before you leave.

It was a short drive to the donut shop. You pulled up right outside, watching Amber wipe down the counter and then she saw you. Her face lit up with a smile before she waves at you. Lloyd sees you as well and waved hello. Amber puts the rag aside, picked up a pink box and walked outside to meet you. "Good night, Lloyd!"

"See ya, Amber!"

"Hello." Amber was back to her usual self now, and thank god because you couldn't cry anymore, no way.

"Hey, how was work?"

"It was fun, never boring because Lloyd's always cracking jokes." Amber shrugs, "And we get free donuts."

"Those are always great." You nodded gleefully.

Parking your car in the garage, you stepped inside the house with her swiftly. "Hi!" Amber greeted you Mom instantly.

Your Mom playfully stares at her, "Remember not to call me 'Mrs. y/ln'?"

"Yes, I remember, Eda. How are you?"

"I had a good day at work, got to leave on time." Your Mom answers, "It's been awhile, and I get to see you?"

Amber chuckles, amused. "I come bearing donuts."

"Do you have rainbow sprinkle?" You and your Mom asked in unison. Amber laughs, so did you and your Mom.

"Certainly do. You each get one."

Dinner was lovely, you got to be with Amber and your Mom. Having good food and chatting the night away. But eventually, dinner concluded and you were by the sink— with Amber, washing up the dishes. Your Mom was gonna do it, but you offered, seeing that she was likely tired from work. "Let me help you."

"You are helping." You squint at her jokingly, "By standing here and chatting with me. Keeps me awake."

After the dishes were dried, you head up to your room with Amber at your heel, holding onto your hand as you walked up the stairs. She initiated the hand-holding, not you. But honestly, as startled as you were, you did not want to let go. Why? You were happy she was showing you affection.

Amber would be sleeping in your bed with you. It was big enough for two but besides that, it wouldn’t be the first time she slept here. She had no objections to sharing a bed with you, with you being her best friend.

“Just take whatever clothes you like.” You told her as she stood by your dresser rifling through the drawer, “Towels are in the bathroom. So are extra toothbrushes and pads— if you need them.”

“Okay.” She answered softly, “Thanks, y/n. Really. You don’t know what you’re doing for me, I can’t ever thank you enough.”

“As long as you’re safe, that’s a big enough thank you.” You replied earnestly.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” You nodded, “Take your time. I’ll just…be here getting comfy in bed.”

She grabs a carefully selected stack of clothing and began walking towards your bathroom. “Amber wait.”

“What is it?” She asked, turning around to face you completely.

“Where’s Bobby?” You asked nervously.

“I left him at Ricky’s this morning.” Amber tells you.

“Oh.” You heaved a sigh of relief.

Amber leaves you alone for the next twenty minutes to shower, then she was back out with you again. You picked up on a difference in her mood, it was intense and made your heart race. She was looking at you a certain…way that made butterflies rage in your chest.

“Can I…give you something?” She asks, sitting down next to you.

“What?” You asked with caution.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss? Sure, Amber. You, want to kiss me?” You scoffed. But in the next second you feel her hand on your cheek, her face inches away from yours. “Yes.”

“Amber, you’re vulnerable right now, I don’t think I should—”

“That’s not why I want to kiss you.” Amber says, face somehow closer.

Fuck, you were so tempted. You wanted this. You’ve dreamed of this.

“Okay.” You decided, she kisses you. Not just fleetingly but a hungry, long kiss that caused you to ache. When she pulled away, you were damn near whining into her mouth. One thing led to another that night, it was everything you could’ve ever imagined and more. Amber was passionate, but so, so gentle with you, it was the best sex you’ve ever had and the first time anyone’s made you come.

As happy as you were, you were quickly bothered with the question of ‘what are we?’ right as you sobered up. Was this a confession of sorts that led to more? Or was it just…a one night stand? You looked at her looking at you, wondering if it was the right thing to do albeit enthusiastic consent from both parties, given the circumstance.

Before you could even process that you had tears in your eyes, she was asking you if you were okay. “I’m worried.” You revealed without much thought.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You continued, “I’m scared that I shouldn’t have done that because you’re—”

“I wanted that, okay? Don’t be scared, I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t want that.” She caresses your cheek.

“But I’m more worried about how things would be like between us now, Ams.” Your voice quivered with each word, “I— I wanted to tell you that I had feelings for you but I could never do it, I just— I didn’t want things between us to change, not in a good way.”

Amber smiles, thumb still smoothing over your cheek, “I like you too, y/n. So much, I wouldn’t have done something like that with you if I didn’t. We’re okay, we’re more than okay. We’re spectacular.”

You laughed a little then ended up bursting into tears while your head was nuzzled against her chest. Amber rubs your back, planting a kiss to the crown of your head, “You are mine.”

A smile creeps onto your face, “I’m yours.”

Amber chuckles, combing her hand through your hair in a calming motion. “Yes, you are. About time.”

“Good night.” You whispered, then took some deep breaths to even out your breathing.

“Sweet dreams, honey.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[lurkingshan]

Step by Step Episode 11 (OF DOOM)

Warning: I really, really did not like this episode. If you’re trying to keep positive vibes you should scroll on by, friends! 

Welp. I told a few friends last week that my biggest disappointment would be if, after missing the mark on the emotional payoff of the slow burn and speed running the relationship, the show chose to break them up and do a time jump rather than staying with them in the present time and working through the conflicts they set up. And here we are! I wish I’d been wrong about where this was heading. Shouts to @waitmyturtles and @neuroticbookworm for holding me down while this show fell apart on me, I’ve been all in a tizzy about it, because I really loved it for awhile there.

This episode, yet again, felt like a disjointed mess. After last week’s cliffhanger, the idea of Pat resigning to get away from the predatory office gossip fell away within a few quick scenes. Instead the tension disappeared as the plot brought them into a bubble with only their most supportive colleagues and we swerved into a retread of the Put nonsense and a new plot about Jeng and Pat fighting to save the digital marketing team via the power of Put’s quasi-celebrity and Instagram likes. Or something. I honestly couldn’t tell you the details of what they were trying to accomplish, I was too distracted by my incredulity to pay close attention to this very sudden fake problem that they were obviously going to conquer (that, my friends, is what we call conflict with no stakes). Meanwhile, the show suddenly wants me to care about Jaab and Jen again - enough to devote a big portion of the penultimate episode’s runtime to them, what a choice - after doing fuck all with that plot for six weeks. It’s a no from me. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because soon enough we’re time skipping again! After resolving the work challenge subplot we speed past another three months of Pat and Jeng’s relationship without addressing any of their issues, and I guess I’m supposed to be at peace with being a full nine months into their relationship with no onscreen emotional advancement? But I gotta be honest, y’all. I am not. You just don’t do this with a slow burn romance narrative. You can’t spend 80% of your runtime building to something that you have no intention of paying off, and no amount of thinking about what else this show is trying to say is going to convince me they did proper justice to the relationship. I already broke down why I didn’t think the episode 10 culmination got us there, and nothing that happened in this episode changed my opinion.

And all of this is leading to yet another time jump - two entire years this time - after the big reveal that Jeng doesn’t believe in Pat at all and literally bought his success, Evil Daddy knew it all along and waited for a choice moment to deploy the info for maximum damage while twirling his villain mustache, and Pat is finally quitting for real and dumping Jeng for good measure.

And ya know what? GOOD FOR PAT. I was completely on his side in this decision. If there’s one bright spot in this episode (other than Chot, always Chot) it’s Pat getting himself together enough to realize he deserves better than the bullshit he’s been getting from Put and Jeng and walking on out. So Jeng and Pat are now broken up, but I never got invested in their relationship in the first place, because we barely saw it, let alone got the chance to live in and feel it. I wasn’t even upset while watching this breakup scene - it left me emotionally indifferent. Which is maybe the worst thing I can say about a dramatic climax in a story.

I guess next week we’ll meet Jeng and Pat again two years in the future and get some kind of happy ending. I’m gonna stick around for the finale and cross my fingers that we get all the epilogue fluff we have definitely earned, but sadly, this show has lost me.

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Three

Summary: Dieter and Emily go on date number two at Venice Beach.

Rating: PG

Notes: I’m writing exclusively from Emily’s POV but will include little transcripts here and there to show Dieter’s perspective. I gave Dieter a brother named Friedrich. They call each other Freddy and Deet.

[Telephone call between Dieter Bravo and his brother Friedrich]

Friedrich: What happened now?

Dieter: Why do you assume something happened? Maybe I’m just calling to hear your amazing voice.

F: Because it’s one o’clock in the fucking morning, Deet.

D: Shit, sorry. It’s only ten here. But Freddy, I have to talk to you. This is big, bro.

F: Work big or personal big?

D: Personal. I think I just met the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

F: [sighs] Is this going to be like Jonathan?

D: No. Nothing like Jonathan. That was just … I was stupid then. And horny. But Emily — her name is Emily — she’s amazing, Freddy.

F: I’m sure she is, but don’t get ahead of yourself. You always leap without looking.

D: I know but there’s something … we just clicked, you know? Met her in a bookstore and we went to another one for our first date. Couple of drinks, dinner at a tapas place. Nothing fancy but … I haven’t felt this alive since I stopped using.

F: I’m happy for you, Deet, but be careful. Don’t jump into anything. Promise me.

D: I’m gonna marry her.

F: Give it a year. If you still feel the same way, then go for it.

D: A whole year?

F: A whole year. Promise me, Deet.

D: [sighs] I promise. But mark your calendar. I’ll be calling you a year from now to tell you we’re engaged.

F: If you say so. Look, man, I need to get some sleep.

D: Okay, sorry. I just … I had to tell you.

F: I know. Make good choices. Night.

[Call ends]

****************************************************************************

I texted Dieter as soon as I got home and he replied instantly.

Me: Home safe

Dieter: Same here. Had a great time tonight.

Me: So did I

The typing indicator showed up, then disappeared, then showed up again. When it disappeared for a second time, it stayed off. I was puzzled until my phone rang.

”Hello.”

”Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I figured it’s easier to do this talking than texting. I hate texting, anyway.” He chuckled softly.

”It’s fine,” I said. “So, you had a good time?”

”A great time,” he corrected me. “I … look I’m not really that good at this kind of thing. In my line of business you get people fawning all over you and they always want something … it’s hard to trust, you know? But I didn’t get that from you.”

”I know you’re famous and all that, but you’re still just a guy,” I said. “I had that bubble burst a long time ago when one of my friends introduced me to one of the members of a band their Dad knew. I thought it was going to be magical and he turned out to be boring. Literally spent most of the time talking to her Dad about some kind of woodworking tool he’d bought and how he was trying get his son to make a bird house.”

Dieter laughed. “I’m not that boring, I hope.”

”Not at all. But you’re still just a guy. Who happens to make his living pretending to be other people and gets paid obscene amounts of money to do it.”

”Not that obscene,” he said. “At least, not for a while.” He cleared his throat. “Look, before we go any further, I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m kind of fucked up. I mean, more than the usual ‘everybody’s messed up one way or the other’.

“I’ve been in rehab. I was using a lot of shit to escape reality and … I almost died on the set of Cliff Beasts 6. Like literally OD’d and they had to restart my heart. I swore off the hard stuff after that and checked myself in. No more coke, no more acid, no more mystery pills.

”And I connected with my therapist there. She’s amazing and she gets me. So I have rules now. Alcohol if I’m with other people, never when I’m alone. Nothing stronger except this one brand of edibles that mellow me out when I’m super anxious. And I’m on meds to straighten out my brain chemistry. And I have a session with her every week. So, that’s me …”

“I knew about rehab,” I said carefully. “It was on the Internet and gossip magazines. But I didn’t know you almost died. That must have been really scary.”

“Scared the shit out of me,” he said. “There was this girl who worked at the hotel. She’s the one who found me and helped revive me. She professed her love for me in the ambulance and … it lasted about three weeks. I woke up one day and realized ‘Shit, I’m in my forties, and this girl’s in her twenties. What am I doing with my life?’ And I checked into rehab the next day.

“I had to drop out of a couple of projects, and my career was already heading down the crapper anyway — I mean, Cliff Beasts? — so I’m kind of starting over.”

”That’s okay,” I said. “Like I said, you’re just a guy who happens to be an actor. Your job doesn’t have anything to do with why I enjoyed the evening with you. We would have had fun if you were a CPA or a garbage man or whatever.”

“Yeah, and that’s why … I’d really, really like to see you again. Soon.”

”So would I,” I said. “I’m off work for the summer so my schedule is wide open.”

“How about Sunday? I have some shit to take care of tomorrow for a charity. Wait, that didn’t come out right, it’s a charity, it’s not shit …” He sounded a bit flustered. “Sunday. We can go to the beach. Unless that’s too long a drive for you?”

”Traffic shouldn’t be too bad on a weekend. And I haven’t been to the beach for a while. I’d love to.”

”It’s a date then. I’ll … I’ll text you tomorrow what time to meet and where, if that’s okay?”

”That’s perfect,” I said.

”Well, I should let you get to bed. I’m sure you’re tired after listening to me all night and driving and everything.”

”Yeah, you should get some sleep, too. Got to be fresh for the charity shit, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Good night.”

”Good night.”

The call ended and I sat on the couch staring at my phone for a few minutes. Then I texted Sam.

*****************************************

We were on the boardwalk at Venice Beach. It was a hot day, so the place was crowded, perfect for people watching.

“Oh, my God, your dog is so cute!” Dieter fairly ran across the boardwalk to a young couple with a Corgi on a leash. It was wearing a bow tie. “Can I take a picture?”

I followed more slowly, ready to apologize to them for my date’s ridiculous behavior, but they were already making the dog pose and look even more adorable, if that was even possible. Dieter snapped a picture of the dog, then shoved his phone at me before getting down on the ground. “Get a picture of me with the dog,” he said. His goofy grin was irresistible. I snapped a couple of pictures of him and the dog, then we chatted a bit with the couple. The dog was a boy, named Kirby, and while he seemed to enjoy the attention, he was a bit aloof, as Corgis often are, until he very solemnly and daintily licked my hand. His owners gushed over how he doesn’t normally like strangers and I should feel special.

“She is special,” Dieter said, giving me a squeeze.

They awkwardly asked for an autograph and a selfie. Dieter obliged, with me taking the photo for them. We said goodbye, and Dieter wistfully watched them walk away. “Now that made my day,” he said.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re on a date with me and meeting a dog is the highlight of your day?” I teased.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he blustered.”Like, the dog is the icing on the cake. You’re the cake.”

“Come again?”

He scrunched up his face. “It’s like … okay, icing is nice, icing is great, but by itself it’s kind of gross. Too sweet. You need the cake to give it meaning. The cake is the foundation. The icing is optional but the cake is essential.” He shook his head. “I’m not explaining this right.”

I grabbed his hand. “I think I can see the sentiment behind this rather tortured metaphor,” I said. “Cake is good even by itself; icing enhances it but you don’t really need it.”

“Exactly,” he said, raising our joined hands to his mouth. He kissed the back of my hand. “This would have been a great day even without the dog, but the dog made it even better.”

“I’m only letting this go because it was a Corgi,” I told him. “Any other breed and I’d be insulted, but damn, Corgis are adorable.”

He laughed and put his arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss. A skateboarder zipped past. “Get a room, boomers,” he yelled.

“Hey, we’re Gen X,” Dieter yelled back. “We don’t give a shit!”

“You are such a dork,” I said, laughing into his chest as he flipped the kid off.

“Ah, you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I admitted. “You’re ... adorkable.”

“Now who’s making shit up?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

****************************

“Let’s go in the water,” Dieter said, tugging at my hand and leading me off the boardwalk and into the sand.

“We don’t have bathing suits,” I protested. I stopped to take off my flip-flops; it was nearly impossible to walk in sand with them on without tripping over my own feet. Dieter pulled his own shoes off as well, and we continued across the beach, shoes in one hand, holding hands with the other.

“We’ll just get our feet wet,” he promised. “Come on.” He whined like a little kid who wanted candy. “Pleeeease.”

I laughed. How could I resist him when he was such a goofball? “Okay, but not too deep,” I said, realizing I sounded like a mom. “I’m not getting all wet and then having to sit around in soggy shorts the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” he said, but there was a wicked gleam in his eye that I didn’t quite trust.

We waded out into the water, letting it lap against our ankles, the occasional wave breaking harder and splashing us up to our knees. “Next time, we’ll wear our swimsuits,” he said. “Bring a boogie board or something.”

“I can’t swim,” I admitted. He stopped dead, staring at me.

“What?!,” he said incredulously. “You grew up in SoCal and never learned to swim? How is this possible?”

I was embarrassed, but decided to tell him the truth. “I have a phobia about water,” I said. “If my face gets in the water, I panic. I failed swimming in high school, the only F I ever got on my report card.”

“Well,” he said, “we’ll have to fix that. Lucky for you, I have a pool at my place, and I’m a very good teacher.” He slid his arms around my waist. “Do you need to get out of the water right now?”

“No,” I said. “This is fine. This is fun. It’s just when the water gets on or around my face.”

“Okay, then,” he grinned. “Let’s play some more.” He darted off down the beach, splashing water behind him as he ran through the surf. I gave chase, laughing as I tried to catch up. He was a total goofball, but he was my goofball.

*****************************

I was pretty sure I had a sunburn. We’d been good and applied sunblock before we got out of the cars, and reapplied later, but I could still feel the heat on my skin. “Ooh, shave ice!” I cried as we came around a corner. It was a very hot day and nothing is better on a hot day than a shave ice.

We bought two large shave ices, cherry for me, and a multi-hued mixture of flavors for Dieter. “You’re boring,” he said, pointing at my solid red treat with his plastic spoon.

“Not boring,” I said. “Classic.” I took a big bite and savored the sweet, cold ice as it melted on my tongue.

He shook his head and dug into his own ice, as we sat on a bench facing the ocean. The on shore breeze kept the heat from being overwhelming and the shave ice cooled me off quickly.

“Ah, shit, brain freeze!” Dieter said, holding a hand against his forehead.

“Don’t eat it so fast, doofus,” I said, poking him in the side with my elbow.

He stuck his tongue out at me. It was dyed a dark purplish color from the combination of flavors. “Gross,” I said. “See, that’s why I go with the cherry.” I stuck my own tongue out, knowing it would be a bright red.

“Well, you certainly don’t need lipstick,” he said, pulling out his phone and taking a quick photo, which he showed me. My lips were cherry red.

“Ah, you’ve discovered my cunning plot to replace makeup with shave ice syrup,” I said. He leaned in for a kiss.

“Mmm,” he said. “It tastes better than lipstick, I’ll give you that.”

I shoved him away. “You’re so weird,” I said. “Eat your shave ice before it melts.”

“You’re so bossy,” he grumbled, as he shoveled another spoonful of ice into his mouth.

“I work with teenagers,” I reminded him. “I think I can handle your sorry ass.” I took a big bite of my own shave ice, but instantly regretted it. “Ow, ow, brain freeze!”

Dieter nearly fell off the bench laughing, and I joined him, as soon as my head stopped pounding.

***********************************

The sun was low in the sky as we made our way toward the parking lot. “Next time we’ll get here later, rent bikes, and stay to watch the sunset,” Dieter said. His arm was around my waist, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he gazed down at me.

“That sounds wonderful,” I replied. “But how about our next date, you drive out my way?”

He scratched his chin with his free hand. “I guess I could,” he said. “Is there anything out there to do?”

”I hope you’re being facetious,” I told him. “Because only I can diss where I live.”

He chuckled. “Totally facetious. Besides, as long as I’m with you, who cares where we go?”

”Smooth, Bravo, real smooth.” I tugged his arm, pulling him to a stop. I went on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, in one of those delectable little bare patches in his beard.

”It worked,didn’t it?” he said smugly.

[oonajaeadira]

Hi lovely! Hope you're doing swell!

I'm coming in hot with an unsolicited Pats question for you - because I literally cannot think about anything but how BAD he has it for Preciosa - so I hope you don't mind.

I've been wondering about his other clients. What is he like with them and how does it compare to what he's like with his #favoriteclient ? Do any of them notice anything different in the way he is with them since he's started letting himself get closer to Miss Thursday? And while I'm here... Do any of them ever communicate with Shell after she sends them to his door, or is that a hard line she doesn't cross?

Hello, bby. Thank you for coming in hot. It is so very cold outside right now that I live for any kind of heat. ANY.

I recognize that you sent this ask before the great "Let's Try This" thing they've started up, but it still applies. The short answer is, it doesn't change much in the way you'd think, but so much more in other ways. And the long answer is down below.

And while I have YOU *huggle*...Shell gets her fair share of gift baskets and special perks, some mysterious VIP treatments and really grand bouquets. But once she's sent a potential client his way and they've been accepted and treated, if they ever run into her again to thank her, well. She generally just gives them a sly little half smile and tells them, "That sure sound's wonderful, hon, but I'm sure I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Speaking of other clients...

Kiss and Tell: It's Still About You (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content.

He can feel his eyebrows pulling together at the blue and purple blemish that’s interrupting the precious dimples in his client’s thigh. His fingers trace around it for a moment before he circles the table to her other side to the bruise he noticed on her knee a few minutes ago...and a couple near her elbow. These have more green in them, further along in healing.

Running his hands over her soft, bare belly, pushing gently to move and work the holding muscles there, he watches her face. Jaw relaxed. Eyelashes feathering over the apples of her cheeks. She’s got nice, ample breasts and he’s gentle as he works his oiled hands around them. She doesn’t flinch, just relaxes into his touch, total trust.

That’s a good sign. Still. Just to make sure he asks, “You feel safe at home?”

“Hmm?” Her mermaid blue eyes drift open in wakening confusion.

“You have some pretty heavy bruises today and I noticed a few on you last time. Just wanna check in.”

Smiling and letting her eyes drift closed, she melts herself back into the table. “Eh. I’m just a danger to myself. I bruise easily and have no idea where half of them come from half the time. I’m a walking billboard for the Klutz Lifestyle.”

“Okay…” his voice isn’t as confident as his hands, but he has to trust her.

“But thank you,” she laughs lightly, punctuating her self-condescending remarks, “Really. I promise you, Mitch questions them too. He keeps threatening to make me a suit out of bubble wrap and duct tape. I told him gray’s not my color.”

This makes him chuckle as he dips his fingers between her legs. “Looks like you’re good and ready for hour two. Wanna move on over to the bed?” Holding her hand as if she’s a princess descending a carriage, he guides her, taking note of her hazy, relaxed smile. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good husband.”

“Yeah. He’s playing online with his buddies tonight. Sends his love. And his thanks. He likes the things you teach me.”

“On your stomach, legs together. Gonna try something new. Show you a few ways to take care of those knees when they’re bruised.”

As she slides onto the sheets, he takes note of the bruise on her thigh so he won’t grab it accidentally when he’s in his throes, pushing gently at her skin and curves, sweeping her pink and green hair off her back, just making a final check to make sure he didn’t miss any other sore spots. He runs his hand lightly down to pat her soft ass, bringing forth the most satisfying jiggle from below and her pillow-muffled giggle from above.

Sliding a condom out of the bedside table-drawer, he prepares it and sheathes himself as he explains, “My girlfriend gets mystery bruises too. Happens when she’s in a hurry. Instead of slowing down, she just keeps moving and says ‘that’ll leave a bruise’ out loud. Says it helps stick the moment in her brain so when she finds the bruise later she’ll remember where it came from. If she slows down for a second then it’s in the forefront of her mind so she can grab something cold to ice it as soon as possible. Cuts down on the severity and the duration of the bruise. I recommend trying it.” Rolling the condom down to his base, he mounts the bed and straddles her legs, pulling her cheeks apart and exposing her more sensitive parts, blowing gently and smiling when she clenches. “After you recognize the pattern of how you’re getting hurt, you can start protecting and correcting your actions. I’m not a doctor, but I might also recommend talking to one about getting more sun and more vitamin K. Water’s your friend. I’ll mark your chart.”

She giggles low and pleasingly in her throat. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Is that new?”

“Relatively.”

“Does she know you do this?”

He lines himself up, her breath hitching a beat as he slides his tip around her opening. This one’s a talker, loves chatter in bed, but he always likes to see what can throw her off her game. “She’s very aware.”

“Mmmmm. That’s nice. She must be pretty cool. Lucky you.”

Without answering, he slides in and she gives him a silken moan. When she turns her head to the side, he can just make out her smile through her splayed hair. The client is happy. Melting. She clearly feels better than when she came in. And she’ll go home to her husband and show him these techniques and they’ll enjoy them. She’s come so far since her first session months ago. He did that. Does that. Is doing it. It makes him rock hard. He’s so fucking good at this and he knows it.

And you know it. You know it and you don’t ask him not to.

He refrains from speaking further about you. There are private lines he doesn’t cross for the good of everyone. It’s fitting for some of his more trusted clients to know he has his own attachments and that everything is open and honest; that they themselves and their sessions aren’t a cause of any possible trouble. But they don’t need to know anything about him or about you beyond that. You are his treasure, his alone. He’s going to keep your understanding and your trust like a jewel tucked in close to the chest, handle you preciously, take joy in your generosity.

He does not answer the client. Not out loud. But as he takes in her satisfaction and triumphs in his own skills, he closes his eyes and angles his chin to the ceiling, sighing a silent prayer, “You have no fucking idea.” _____

Your phone rings as you’re putting a load of laundry into the dryer.

“Hey there, loverboy. I thought you had a client tonight.”

“I do. She’s sleeping. What are you up to?”

There’s a confidence in his voice as he speaks that sparks something in your core, an easy, non-apologetic tone, a man talking to his girl with nothing to hide. It’s not exactly easy yet, knowing he is intimate with so many others, but he doesn’t speak about them with regret or shame, only the professional respect and demeanor you’ve spent so many months admiring, and that helps immensely.

It’s the first time he’s called you immediately after a session though. And you find that you like it. A lot. Just because he was servicing someone doesn’t mean he’s not thinking of you.

“Laundry. Not as fulfilling as your evening. But hey, clean sheets are always very relaxing.”

“Sounds nice. Those the floral ones?”

“Uh..” How did he…oh. That time he took care of you when you were sick. He must have seen them then. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He’s silent for a moment, you can tell he’s gearing up to ask you something. You’ve learned to wait, although it’s still hard to anticipate the best case scenario. “I…don’t mean to invite myself over, but would you mind if I mess them up a little this weekend?”

And you laugh. Another win for the best case scenario. “I mean, you could mess them up a lot this weekend if you wanted.”

“Yeah? There a time that works best? Or should I just pull in the welcome mat and have my neighbor watch for packages?”

And you smile, remembering that it’s only been a couple of days since your first weekend together, wandering his house in nothing but togas made of rumpled sheets, spending much of it wound up in his arms, on your back, curled up napping on the couch with the tv on, sipping coffee sitting side by side on his kitchen counter….

“I’d tell you to pack a bag, but you’re not really going to need clothes. This time you’re mine, loverboy.”

______

NEXT

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[ofbluesandyellows]

Committed to the Cause (Part 2) - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Spider-Man keeps on showing up to check on you, as annoying as he is you can’t help to find his presence comforting.

Word count: 7,623

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury, swearing and alcohol.

Your arm was feeling numb again in that unmoving angle, the cast made your skin itchy but you couldn’t even scratch it, it almost made you go insane at times. 

Jerry had finally left and you were doing the best you could to collect the dirt from your large table, leaving everything clean for the next morning.

It was probably past nine when you managed to close the store, a message from your dad, reminding you about the big wedding on Friday, you had to stay overnight on Thursday to make all the arrangements for the tables in time and… well and you were frustrated because without an arm it was double effort. 

The commute back home served you enough to awake, you still had stuff to do to prepare for tomorrow’s long day. Feeling instantly more relaxed when you got in your building, the keys fell at your feet when you went to unlock your apartment’s door. It had happened at least once a day since you got that broken arm, you grunted, still a little upset with Spider-Man. Of course you didn’t attack him back when he visited you that night at the hospital because you thought it was a good act of kindness, showed that he cared and that he was sorry for what he did. And you were kinda loopy on meds.

However you were upset, and maybe not with him but for the way you felt so useless most of the time. Working on the bouquets was twice as hard and they weren’t as pretty as when you arranged them with both hands, you couldn’t chop anything and you always poured your coffee over your shirt. This could help you be ambidextrous but it was hard, and you had not the patience for it.

Percy didn’t welcome you when you got in. You huffed. Great, now your dog didn’t want you either. Turning the lights on, your bag plopped on the floor.

“FUCK!” You squealed, back resting on the door.

“I should’ve announced myself, sorry again.”

Spider-Man was sitting in your living room, Percy on his lap, tail whipping his leg. This was the most bizarre thing you’ve seen in your life. 

“You can’t be—jeez you want me at the hospital again? Oh god,” you were panting.

You didn’t hear him approach but Percy was soon jumping at your feet demanding attention. As you hovered over to try and catch your breath your line of vision became red spandex feet.

He squatted down to be eye level with you, he waved your way. You felt a bubble bursting in your insides and you wanted to punch his face, poke his big white bug eyes and you also wanted to cry until you fell asleep.

“You’re upset.” He pointed.

“Well of course! I came home after a very long day and my dog doesn’t welcome me and then you almost killed me with your bug-ish presence in my couch, like how did you expect me to react!” You reincorporated, sighing. 

“Right, sorry my bad…again.” Spider-man’s hands went up, clearly taking the blame.

Eyes glancing at him, Spider-Man was not paying attention to you, he was looking around, not touching anything, and Percy somehow was following him around. Annoying.

“Anyway, what are you doing here?” you went to the kitchen to grab some water. 

Spider-Man popped in. “I just wanted to see how you were doing… it’s been two weeks, and—“ he went silent, it made you turn around.

He was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, eyes staring. A shiver ran down your spine, it was weird to be observed so intently and not be able to read the expression of the other person.

“And?”

“Nothing, just wanted to see how you were, okay? I’m gonna go now. I see you are not in the mood.” 

He backed out and you sighed, resting your only good arm on the sink. Why was he so annoying?

“I had a bad day okay, sorry If I’m taking it against you.”

From the living room you heard him grunt or chuckle or whatever.

“I get that,” 

“You can go do your hero stuff, it’s fine. Thanks for checking on me.”

You took a long sip of the too cold water, wincing you felt it drop in the depths of your belly. 

Not even surprised when you accidentally knocked a cup off the counter while you tried to wash the dirty dishes on the sink. 

Your eyes instantly closed, another cup down, this was the sixth one in two weeks, without counting the dishes and glasses. 

Spider-Man appeared next to you in a second. 

“Um, do you need help? With… anything?”

You stared at him and felt your nose tingle, eyes prickled. 

“No, thanks.” With a wet hand you moved away from him, noticing how close he was now. You gathered the broom and the dustpan, ready to clean your mess when a red gloved hand took it from you.

“Y/n, let me help you.” 

You sniffed, not letting the emotions win. “I can do it, really.”

“I insist.” and that was the end of it. 

Spider-Man cleaned the floor, washed the dishes and even put the kettle on to make tea. The feeling eased a little as you watched him do it, ever so often insisting on doing it yourself all for him to wave his hand at you, dismissing your words.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the New-yorkers.” You said putting a green tea bag—that Spider-Man helped take out from the package—in your chipped cup filled with hot water.

“I am,” he exclaimed, sitting opposite you on the small kitchen table, hands resting on his lap, fingers intertwined. “Am I not?”

You couldn’t see it but you heard the sardonic tone. “but I’m not in danger.” 

You hid your tiny smile behind the cup lingering on your lips.

“No, but you could be, shattered glass can be deadly, I know from experience.”

You scoffed. “I’m trying my best not to destroy what’s left of my tableware, thank you.”

Hands up in the air again. “okay, but you could burn yourself with the tea, burn injuries are pretty awful—“

“You know from experience too?” you pulled in your lips trying not to laugh.

“Hey! I know you’re making fun of me but yeah, and it’s not pretty.” 

“Fine,”

Percy came running into the kitchen, he laid down right at Spider-Man’s feet, you frowned.

“Percy, you betrayed me!”

Spider-Man laughed. “See, at least someone likes having me around.”

You noticed his laugh for the first time and it was boyish, carefree and contagious. Now that you were thinking about it, it felt less weird to have him there, yes it was weird from all the angles you could look at the situation but it felt somewhat comfortable. 

Silence landed heavy in the room, your mind was restless to find words to say, to express how you felt; tired and also grateful for this unexpected visitor, you wanted to tell him something meaningful but you didn’t find the words. He just kept petting the dog and looking at you occasionally.

“You always work late?” he asked suddenly.

“No, but it’s been busy weeks, you know, the holidays and there’s this wedding on friday and they need like twelve bouquets for the tables and another four for the bridesmaids so tomorrow I’ll be in the shop until I finish.” You scrunched your nose. “it’s fun, I usually don’t complain but it’s been hard to try and do things with your less skillful hand.”

“And it’s all my fault,” you glanced up at him through your lashes, he was looking somewhere up your ceiling.

“Yeah but it’s done, you can’t do anything about it.”

His big shiny white eyes focused on you. “I could,”

“It’s enough by having you here making tea for me.”

He sighed.

The sound of sirens went louder as they ran down the street. Spider-Man stood up fast, Percy almost jumped on his spot.

“Uh, do you mind if I—?” he pointed to your window.

“No, go ahead.”

“Cool, thanks. I’ll… see you around, right?” 

Weird, your stomach felt weird. “Yeah, why not!”

“Great, okay I’ll go now, job can be a pain in the ass.” He chuckled and with a flick of his wrist he went out flying. You stood on the door frame looking at the open window when something smacked on the class and in a fast movement it closed, you started laughing. 

In awe you ran to the window, the air instantly made the web freeze and shine under the moonlight. 

•••

Your back was aching with every tiny little move you made. Feeling the muscles and nerves squeeze and stretch made you wince. You were finally done, the clock said four in the morning, body screaming for bed. At least you didn’t have to deliver them too, you had no bike either way. That was Jerry’s job for once.

A light drizzle was falling as you tried to wrap your scarf around your neck as well as you could with your good hand. The shop was closed and the padlocks were in place. You still needed to walk two blocks to get to the subway.

In there were only people that had to work too early or people that were finally off their night shift, the subway was for once silent. Sitting down, your eyes spotted a pair of black converses almost in front of you. Your eyes slowly looked up, a black coat, a red beanie in place and earphones on, eyes closed. 

You squinted to give the person a better look, those eyes opened. You tried but the effort was futile, brown eyes found you looking and you simply gave him a lipped smile as a way to hide the embarrassment, your red cheeks gave you away anyway.

The boy put one earphones off and gave you a soft smile. “Hey” he greeted.

“Hi,” damn now you made him uncomfortable and forced him to talk. He leaned on, resting his elbows on his knees as he typed something on his phone, the one he put away only a second later. 

There, you were staring again.

“Thanks for the flowers by the way, you shouldn’t have done it but thanks I appreciate it.”

Oh, right, he was the daisies’ guy, that’s why he looked familiar. “It's fine, you can always come back and buy another bouquet from us.”

He laughed. “yeah, you’re right, I should do that.”

You smiled and both traded looks, the whole scene was a bit weird, too tired to process things, too early to be on the subway chatting with a boy.

“Were you working? Because it is a bit late” you pointed, playing with the cuff of your sweater.

“Is it? It could also be pretty early” you chuckled at that. “But yeah it was a late shift… I had a few difficulties with my ride so I had to take the good ol’ sub.” He said but you notice one of his hands wrapped his wrist absentmindedly.

Scratching his cheek he rested his back on the backrest, eyes on his hands. You only nodded. “Yeah same,”

Silence for a bit, you could feel his eyes staring.

“Are you doing okay?”

You furrowed. “What?”

His arm went up to show you what he meant. “Your arm,”

“Oh yes… it’s mostly fine now. Still need to wait a few more weeks to take it off but,” you shrugged, “could’ve been worse”

“Sure, must suck though.” You caught real anguish in the way he said it.

“It does.” 

Your face went deeper in your scarf as the boy looked at his fidgety hands.

The urge to speak was down on you, you hated awkward silences.

“What’s your-“

“You live-“ 

Both said at the same time and grins appeared on your faces. His smile was nice and it made his eyes twinkle. 

“Go ahead please,” the boy quickly said with a hand gesture.

“Er, I was gonna ask you what your name was.”

“Oh” he scratched the top of his covered head. “Peter…Parker?”

You chuckled. “You sure?” He cocked a brow. “You don’t seem very convinced.”

He let out a low laugh. “Right no yeah, it is Peter Parker… sorry yeah or just Peter it’s fine!”

“Okay,” you smiled. “I’m y/n”

“Cool… cool name” he avoided your eyes and you smirked. You usually didn’t make boys feel nervous, this was fun.

Peter looked around and abruptly stood up, making you jump slightly. 

“This is my stop… I’ll see ya later?” 

Your eyebrow quivered for a second, the tone reminded you of someone. “Sure, get home safe”

“You too…” doors slid open just in time and… he took a step out still facing you. 

Peter waited for the doors to close to wave at you as the subway moved. You beamed… that was definitely weird. 

•••

Peter felt incredibly stupid doing this, but there was something about being near you that caused his brain to make stupid decisions. He’d try to mask them as “apologetic actions”. He had no webs left, he forgot to put his emergency cartridges in and now he was back at his apartment, backpack filled with cartridges. A quick breakfast and a shower later he had his Spider-Man suit on, under his clothes and there he went out into the wild.

He walked around his neighborhood for a few minutes to try and deceive his incoherent ideas, yet there was this urge of seeing you again popping out of nowhere. Peter had been fighting it harder lately, so he opted to go to work. Stark Industries helped him focus on other things, like perfecting his web fluid and explosive web balls. Sometimes he still sent images to the Bugle to keep gossip at bay, now more than ever after his little incident it was to try and calm the waters. 

That served him well until he had to head out. Peter’s mind went back to basics.

Grabbing coffee and putting his casual clothes in his bag, he gave in rather easily. Swinging—now full Spider-Man out— around buildings with two cups of coffee and a blueberry muffin in a bag. Three days in the same week, he was heading back to you.

You are going unhinged with these apologies Peter.

Balcony window slid open and there it was, Percy instantly jumping at his feet, begging for a belly scratch. Spider-Man sighed, comfort wrapped him as his nose caught the scent of coconut. Scanning the room he found a new batch of daisy poms and roses.

“Is someone home?” he said loudly, not wanting to scare you again. 

“Hello little Percy, here I didn’t forget about you.” Peter put the coffees on the coffee table as he scattered inside his backpack, a little tupper of fruit appeared on the dog’s line of vision. It made the furry thing go crazy when he tasted a piece of red apple.

Peter’s eyes caught movement and you appeared on the door frame of your room, a towel on the top of your head, a big pink sweater on, tired eyes but you were smiling at him. 

“Hey” Peter said, waving a hand. He quickly grabbed the tray with the coffees. “I brought you something.” 

Your eyes grew big. “Oh, thank you. What are you doing here?” 

Good question. “I was in the neighborhood, wanted to—“

“Check on me… again?” you smirked.

“Yeah, is that wrong?” 

Your head shook. “I suppose it isn’t, but it still is a bit weird if you ask me.” 

“Thought we were friends or something.” 

Taking steps closer to him you grabbed your coffee, taking a sip, Peter watched under his mask, expectantly.

“We aren’t friends but we are definitely something.” 

He felt the smile spread on his face. “That's what I’m saying.” 

It was funny how he made himself at home, sitting on the couch, as he fed Percy tiny pieces of fruit, you disappeared in your room only to appear minutes later with your hair down and damp.

“How are you going to drink your coffee?” you asked him with a funny look.

Peter noticed then what you meant. “Um I don’t know, you can leave the room and let me drink it and then you can come back… my identity needs to stay secret.” 

You chuckled. “yeah of course, that would be so inconvenient for me, you are in my house.”

“I know but how else would I drink it then?” Percy barked, as if giving Peter the reason.

He smiled when he saw you roll your eyes at him. “Just put the mask up to your mouth, don’t think I can recognize someone just by looking at their chin.”

“I don’t know, can you?” 

You shrugged. “Anyway, you need to stop being so nice with Percy, he’s been a little punk since you fed him, it’s like he has fallen in love with you.” 

“Not my fault that I’m so lovable. He has good taste, right Percy.” 

The tiny dog only blinked and jumped on the edge of the couch for attention. 

“See? He reacts to your voice so easily. Must be some kind of animal connection.” 

Peter scoffed. “I am slightly offended, I am not an animal, woman.” The sharp look you threw him made him snort. “Just have spider-like abilities, wait— do you actually think I am like some hybrid creature, half spider half human?” he let out a long loud laugh when you diverted your gaze.

“Don’t laugh, it is kind of common sense, you shoot webs and fly and climb walls,” 

Peter couldn’t breath, that was rich, no one had actually asked him if he had more than two eyes or if he had fangs or fur covering his skin.

He saw the cushion flying from the corner of his eyes, it landed with a low thud on his head. 

“Stop it!” you squealed. “How could I know you are indeed a normal looking human?”

Peter’s belly hurt from laughing. “I could show you,” 

You looked at him with big eyes. “Don’t lie, you wouldn't show me”

He chuckled. “Yeah… maybe one day, who knows.” he laid his back on the couch, the cushion you threw him now on his lap. “Wow that was— you are very funny.” 

“Ha ha yeah and you are rude.” 

“I am definitely not,” 

A sigh escaped him, his body felt light and relaxed. He tried to think of another time where he’d felt this at ease. 

Nothing came to mind.

“You didn’t go to work?” Peter said after clearing his throat, he felt a flutter in his stomach.

“I didn’t… Jerry is taking care of the arrangements with one of his brothers, and because I stayed until pretty late…well—”

“Or early,” Peter mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Uh, nothing…” 

“Well… they gave me the day off to rest.”

“Cool, so… do you have plans? As in right now?” 

This could either go splendidly well or horrendously wrong. 

“No… Just want to have some food… why?” 

Peter noticed how your mind was trying to figure out where his question was going. 

“I could go get us pizza? Or sushi? Maybe thai?” he shrugged. He was playing it cool, he was surprised at how casual his voice sounded, the complete opposite happened inside his body where everything was on alert, ready to be rejected.

“um…” your eyes landed on his face, Peter felt his whole head grow hot, what was his purpose with this? He wondered. “Sure, yeah that’d be nice… but are you gonna eat? Don’t want to be eating pizza while you just watch.”

Your face was a combination of emotions; a smile, flushed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows, Peter felt the urge to pinch your cheeks.

“Of course! I’m not inviting you to eat something just to watch you, not my kind of kink.” 

This made you snort, he smiled. 

“Okay then, just no pepperoni.”

“Pizza it is, be right back.” He stood up in a swift jump.

“Wait, let me give you money.” You grabbed his wrist. 

“Nope, my treat.” 

Peter didn’t let you say more, the next thing he knew he was smiling, swinging through buildings and screaming feeling alive and jolly. For once he felt happy back in his world. Not an ounce of regret or the thought of his other Peter variants in mind.

•••

Eating pizza with Spider-Man was not on your bingo card, not in your wildest dreams thought you’d have him on your couch half mask up, eating pizza and drinking beer while you two watched New Girl.

“I’m gonna admit that this show is pretty funny, I was not expecting it.” Spider-Man said, munching on his food. You saw his little smile as he reacted to something Schmidt had said. 

More than watching the show—the one you’ve watched and re-watched several times—you were mainly focused on the arachnid hero at your side. He seemed to be so immersed in the whole thing that he didn’t notice your staring. 

You found yourself smiling when he did so, or when he absentmindedly scratched his cheek or the top of his head. And you wondered how weird it was for him to be living a secret life as well as a heroic one. You wanted to know who was under the mask as well, because just these little snippets of normalcy between you and Spider-Man—even though he was a bit annoying—felt so normal. You liked his personality, he was a good company after all. The man under the mask as a matter of fact had to be just as nice.

“Who is your favorite character?” He asked, fully looking at you, mask back down. He caught you looking.

Trying to act unsurprised, you took a bite of your now cold slice of pizza. “All of them, have a soft spot for Nick but they’re all amazing, that’s what makes the show so good.”

“Hmm… yeah well I don’t know, after two episodes all I can say is that the girl with the bangs,”

“Cece,”

“Yeah, Cece, is going to end up with the guy with the tip jar.” 

“Schmidt.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

It made you smirk that even now you could sense when he was smiling under his mask, it was in the way he spoke that told you he was happy.

“I’m not saying anything, you need to watch it,” 

“Fair enough.” He hugged a cushion against his chest and threw you a look. “Put the next one, come on woman.”

“Wow, see! Rude.”

“Sorry,” he squeezed your arm. “I just want to see if I’m right.”

That’s basically how it started, New Girl was a bonding method you found really rewarding, lots of laughs and nods. Spider-Man left only twenty minutes later when his phone started buzzing, with an apologetic gesture he exited the apartment through the window. 

The next time you saw him was a week later, he carried a bag full of Chinese food, and you kept on watching season 4 where finally Nick and Jess get together. 

Percy got a new toy, which ironically was a tiny Spider-Man stuffed toy, it made you laugh and Spider-Man felt quite proud of the joke. These late date nights became not a daily thing but a regular occasion, never on the same day but most of them around ten at night. 

Five weeks later you were trying to come up with a way to wrap a fairly big wedding bouquet with a baby pink ribbon with just one arm. It was a hard task, Jerry left for lunch and to deliver a few stuff, you were not expecting him to come back until probably two more hours. That left you with no more option than to wait in the store.

Until you heard the bell chime, announcing a new customer. Leaving the flowers slowly on the table you sighed in defeat when the bouquet lost form without your holding them.

“Peter Parker!” you said gleefully stepping into the actual shop.

His smile and dreamy eyes caught you off guard. “Hey y/n”

And there’s something about hearing your name coming out of a cute guy that made you feel special, and stupid.

“The usual I suppose.” 

“Yes,” he nodded and you disappeared into your station again. “How you’ve been?”

“All right, I'm counting the days until I get this damn thing off my arm, but besides that everything’s been good.” 

The flowers you picked for Peter were always the most beautiful, the ones with the brightest colors with the freshest steams and even when you were giving him a variation of daisies, you didn’t dare to charge him full price. 

“How about you, how’s work?” 

His visits had been twice a week, and you liked having little chats with him, he told you the other day that he was working on a secret project at Stark industries and that he couldn’t tell you more because it was indeed a secret. 

“Peachy, remember the project?” 

“Yes,”

“It’s going pretty great, actually we could have a few tryouts within the next few days, so I’m pretty stoked about it.”

“That’s cool, even though I don’t know what’s that about but I trust you. You’re the future of science mister Parker.” you said with a chuckle as you appeared on the counter. 

A slight cherry color was staining his cheeks, adorable. “I am not, I just like to—you know… help.”

“Uh huh, very heroic of you.”

He frowned. “Not heroic enough, it’s nice of you to say, though.”

“Could you help me wrap them, you know the drill already.” 

“Of course,” 

He knew pretty well, you’ve been asking him for help wrapping the bouquets whenever he showed up when Jerry wasn’t around, which was pretty often, as if he knew when Jerry took his break. 

Peter held the paper in place as you placed the flowers, then he simply followed your instructions into twisting and folding the right corners until he had a pretty perfectly wrapped bouquet of rainbow like daisies. 

“I don’t want to abuse your kindness but can you help me with another bouquet? I’ve been trying to wrap it but I just can’t find a way”

Peter blinked, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah no problem, always nice to be of help.”

You let Peter in, your station was a mess but it was all part of it, he looked around as you told him to hold the flowers up for you to see and rearrange them properly. White gardenias, and white roses filling the air with their sweet aroma, you were very concentrated in doing your job, instructing Peter to hold the tip of a cream color ribbon with his thumb.

“Like this?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Okay so now I am going to surround the stems with the ribbon and you need to hold it on every round, okay?” 

Your eyes went up to find his already on you, the way he was gazing at your eyes and your nose and your lips made you suddenly very shy. 

“Peter?” Voice came out as a mumble.

Quickly he shook his head and nodded. “Yeah I got it!” voice going slightly high pitched.

You did your best to not touch him much, but it was inevitable to not brush your hand against his skin or his covered chest, his sweater was soft and now the scent of flowers mixed with his aftershave. 

It was… nice, something within you churned. You gulped.

“Done,” a sigh escaped you, this had been a bit harder than you thought…. Not talking exclusively about the bouquet.

Your eyes found his and both of you smiled, it wasn’t uncomfortable yet there was a slight shift in the atmosphere.  

With a blink Peter instantly turned around and walked away from you. “How much I owe you?”

“Same as always,” 

Peter handed you the money, he crusty and you scrunched your nose, he caught you doing so

“That was… I didn’t mean to curtsy,” he laughed, ears turning bright red. “I’ll just go. Er thank you!”

With a chuckle you returned an exaggerated curtsy. “Bye, sir Peter.”

“You are so annoying, you know that?” He said pushing the door open, he waved at you through the window display.

•••

It was past eleven, and Spider-man didn’t show up again, it’s been four days now, you were worried, only slightly, you should have known better than worry about an actual hero, he must’ve been doing pretty important stuff, he didn’t owe you and yes you were friends… or something but it was odd to not have him around, not even a note or a quick stopping by as he had done before.

Percy had been looking through the window every night to see if his favorite human appeared, yes Spidey had taken your place which was unfair considering you fed and played with the doggy all the time.  

Huffing you snuggled deeper into your mattress and duvet, your feet were cold, this impeded you to reconcile sleep, but eventually your whole body fell into slumber. Thoughts and the images of a weird dream started to take shape and form an incoherent plot. Yet the barks of Percy made you jump out of your skin in an instant.

Sitting in bed with your heart palpitating so fast you felt it coming out of your chest any second. Holding an empty vase near your bedside table you walked out of your room, Percy instantly coming to meet you. 

“What is it?” you asked him in a whisper, to which Percy only ran away straight to the living room.

Shuffling and grunts echoed in the apartment. You gulped, the grip on the vase tighter. Mind came up with a plan in seconds, that was adrenaline acting up. If you ran, turning the lights on and then throwing the vase to whoever was in there you could gain enough time to hold Percy and run away.

Yeah, that was as good as it could get, shaking your head you did it, no overthinking just running, switch on and you almost tripped on your feet.

“HOLY FUCK!” you shouted, the vase fell on the couch, dammit you were about to ruin a pretty great vase for this.

“Sorry, I am really sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention, just Percy here, little snitch.”

Spider-Man was holding his chest, as he was sprawled on the floor, the window slightly open cold winter air swirling in.

“What… are you okay?” you saw the splash of darker red on his suit. 

Oh no.

“I… yeah. Sure, Just need a sec to catch my breath, promise you if I had somewhere else to go I wouldn’t have bothered you but… oh” His hand went up , as if he was examining it. “Shit that’s lots of blood.”

Instinctively, you approached the wounded man in your living room. Kneeling by his side the blood was creating a small pool of crimson liquid, the metallic smell made you want to gag.

“Jesus, er I, okay I’m— I need to see what you have there, can you move? Are you dizzy?” 

“Yes, I am very dizzy and… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to move.” 

“Of course, okay but I still need to see your wound, let me just get my scissors, there’s no way I’m letting you die in my living room Spider-Man.”  

At this time you weren’t sure where the scissors were, but how could you, you were panicking, you had zero to no experience in wounds. 

A knife and scissors and towels, water, aspirins, you grabbed everything you found remotely useful and let it fall at Spider-Man’s feet. He chuckled and grunted all together.

“Okay, let me see.” You went to grab his suit but he caught your hand mid-way, warm and gooey with his own blood.

“No, I can take it off, this suit” grunt. “Believe it or not it costs a fortune, well no, it doesn’t but it cost me a lot of time to make.”

You were looking at him unblinkingly, how on earth was he able to joke. “Whatever, just let me see!!”

“Jeez y/n chill I won’t die… at least I hope not.”

You grimaced just by looking at him struggling with his suit, slowly but surely you waited and helped as much as a girl with one functional arm could.

His chest was like a work of art, splashes of red angry hits, purple fresh bruises as well as yellow-y spots where starting to disappear to leave space for the new ones. Near his ribs there were three wounds, you couldn’t tell if those were deep or not but blood was seeping out of them, your whole body tensed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, those will heal in a couple of hours.” Spider-Man affirmed, mumbling. Percy was licking his naked arm, you heard the man let out a low laugh. “Thank you Percy I knew you’d understand.”

“Who did this to you?” you gasped, feeling your eyes prickle. 

“Bad men, they usually use guns so I was not ready to be attacked by…um sharp… objects…”

“Those are knife wounds?” 

“Not exactly but you could say so, yeah.” Spider-Man winced.

Ok, that was your cue, you needed to figure out a way to fix him. “I don’t know what I’m doing but we got this Spider-Man,”

Your only hand available was shaking heaps as you pressed the towel against his wounds. “Add pressure and I’ll start cleaning the rest.”

You demanded and Spidey obeyed. 

His mask was still on so you had no clue if he was looking at you or just resting his eyes. Either way you cleaned his torso as best as you could. Unfortunately the towel started to stain red, and you had to run to get another one, no time to wash or rinse. Percy followed you like his presence was doing something to help you.

When you came back only one of his wounds was dripping, the other two were bright red.

“See? We are getting there.” Spider-Man said in a chuckle probably because of your expression, total awe.

“Yeah, I see now… but still I’m gonna wrap you in these.” You put up some tights and baby pink towels. 

“Uh?”

“I know these are not bandages but it’s what I have, okay, so I’m putting the towel there and then wrapping it in place with the tights.” 

Spider-Man had no other option so he sighed, giving you green light. 

The wrapping ended with various grunts and low cursing coming mostly from him but you also collaborated with a few big heavy words as it wasn’t an easy job to do but it got completed, your forehead had pearls of sweat at the end of it.

Sitting beside Spider-Man you felt the warmth coming from his body, unexpectedly his thumb came to caress the side of your forehead, right up your temple, you looked at him moving your head away just a little. 

“You have blood there.” He simply mumbled but made no effort to move his hand. You kind of didn’t want him to.

“It's fine,” hand went flying up your face, clumsily touching Spider-Man’s on the way, it was probably the adrenaline still running up your veins that caused the almost electroshocking reaction inside you. 

Spider-Man’s hand fell on his lap and Percy quickly ran to nuzzle against his fingers.

“All right then.“ He said as he scratched the dog’s ear. “You know how to be adorable and make me feel better.” 

“Hey, I did all the hard work” of course you were going to complain. 

“And I’ll forever be grateful for it, but Percy is adorable, look at that face.” 

You instantly notice he felt better, that was a big relief.

“You are adorable too. Is that what you wanted me to say?” 

You scoffed. “No, but I am indeed very adorable and also very intimidating.”

Now it was his turn to scoff. “Absolutely not, you are small and cute. Not one hair of intimidation in your body, y/n come on let’s be for real now.” 

The weariness made you laugh at that. “You are such a pain in the ass Spider-Man, I fucking patched you up and you are making fun of me, that’s not the way to go man,”

You tried to ignore the fact that he had called you cute, that had caused your belly to do a flip. 

He went silent, you instantly went to look at him, he couldn’t die now, right?

“You okay? And be honest, please.” Jokes aside, you were still worried.

He nodded eagerly. “I do feel better, a little bad that I ruined your towels and the floor will need a good scrub later.”

“Don't worry about it, I can charge people to come see the spot and become a billionaire.”

Your smirk made him chuckle. “Funny, but I’d ask for my share.” 

“No way, it’s my apartment and you came for help, that’s how you pay me for ruining the floor.”

“Oh so you do care about me ruining the floor with my blood.”

You gasped, offended. “You are truly the worst, just for the record I don’t care, the idea seems like a good way of making easy money.”

“At my expenses.”

“Yeah, but you owe me.” Your broken arm went up to remind him, he shook his head.

“I thought I covered that up already… I see how things are now.”

You laughed, and he mirrored you, only that his laugh was followed by winces. 

“Let me get you some water… Are you hungry?” you got up, noticing now that your pajama had dark red spots spattered.

“Your look is very Carrie.” 

“Thanks to you,”

“Always happy to provide.” 

Again, a pain in the ass this masked boy was. “Want a sandwich?” 

“That’d be great actually, thanks.” 

As you prepared sandwiches and tea, you had the unsettling feeling that Spider-Man would either disappear or die right after you dared to divert your gaze for even a millisecond, him lying there in the still fresh pond of blood. The gears kept on running inside your brain, making you peek through the door every couple of minutes to see him and calm your unsettled self. He was still in place, Percy with now pinkish fur sprawled on Spider-Man’s lap where he was brushing the tiny dog’s head. 

Warm and toasty bread was all there was to smell in the apartment. You put the plates on the coffee table, one at a time, then the tea and then you went to gather bed sheets to put on the couch.

“Sit up here, you will be more comfortable.” You didn’t ask, your tone pretty much demanding,

Spider-Man didn’t argue with you but he complained about the obviously painful wounds. You were wary about every move, every deep breath and sigh he made, you observed him, your sandwich rested cold on the plate, opposite to Spider-Man he was devouring the simple meal you made for him, you offered him your own food and he looked at you, and even though he had that stupid red mask on, you could feel the intensity of his eyes, those white big bug eyes that made you wonder what their real color was. 

Spider-Man had thin lips, not too thin but they weren’t plush, they were pink even with all the blood lose, that gave you some relief; his jaw was strong and sharp, a little stubble was resurfacing form the skin and he had a kind smile, you liked how he smiled at you.

“Stop looking at me like that, I’m not going to die… at most I’m gonna finish all the food you have in the apartment.” He said munching on the last bit of sandwich. 

Warmth crept through your neck. “Sorry, I’m a bit worried…”

“I—yeah, right it was all my fault sorry. You would be sound asleep if it wasn’t for me.” 

He moved, almost ready to leave the place but his body refused, he grunted and plopped back on the couch.

“Shit,” he said, mask down again.

“You can say as long as you need.” You went on to collect the dirty dishes and somehow you expected the hero to protest or try to help you but he simply sighed. 

You didn’t make the effort to wash dishes, instead you did what it was a necessity now. More towels and the mop, a bucket with a bunch of cleaning products got translated to the crime-scene-looking-spot in your living room.

“Whoa! Hey, I am definitely not letting you clean that.” Spider-Man quickly got up and after a moment of dizziness he kneeled beside you. “Give me that.” 

“Hell no, you just sit there, you really need to rest. I have this under control, and it’s my apartment so you just stay put, watch tv, or even better get some sleep and stop bothering me.”

“But it’s unfair, I—I caused this.” 

“Yeah but you can’t clean it, you can pay for it later.”

He got up and sat on the couch. “Just because I’m really not feeling well I’ll let it pass… but it hurts me to see that you’re getting rid of that art work.”

“Uh huh, it was a great gift to humankind but I don’t think people would come see it either way, no one would believe me it’s your blood.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile. The words caused the reaction you wanted when you heard the boy gasp.

“You only said people would pay to see it to make me feel better?” eyes found his body, he had a hand on his chest, clearly taking the offense to a dramatic level. “So low of you y/n, I trusted you.”

“What can I say Spidey,”

You heard him chuckle after that and your chest felt funny. 

“Has anyone ever told you you are too nice? Like seriously, any other person would’ve kicked me out or would’ve called the police but you… you are insane, woman.”

The laugh you let out made him react the same way. “I just accepted you because you brought coffee and bought me pizza, and because you like New Girl just as much as me now.”

“How convenient.” 

“That’s just the truth.” at least you tried to convince yourself of it.

“Well… thank you.”

“No need, you’d do the same for me.” The spot of crimson liquid was now gone, a light stain remaining. Your brows knitted. “You wouldn’t let me die in your living room, right?”

“Of course not, I’d leave you in an alley.” 

“Ha ha funny.”

Both of you kept silent but only for a brief moment because Spider-Man made sure you heard him.

Web fluid took the mop from your hand, making you look his way. 

“Y/n I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe… look what I’ve done now; condemning you to a friendship after I broke your arm and you saved my life, I think we are stuck together.” 

The way your smile only grew into a beam after those words, being attached to Spider-Man didn’t sound bad at all. 

“I like that promise,”

You weren’t sure how but you knew that the boy hidden inside that suit was beaming at you the same way you did. 

The floor got mopped, the air smelt fresh and Spider-Man was lightly snoring on your couch as Percy finally laid on his fluffy bed, after seeing his pink painted paws you made a mental note to shower him. 

Carefully you sat back on the free space on the couch, trying your best to not wake the boy there. Eyes scanned every inch of his body several times, making sure his chest was moving and his body wasn’t tense. Your mind was running wild thinking of having him there at all times, to have someone to talk to, someone who could help you cook or take Percy for a walk. And it was creepy to think about such things when you had no idea who was the boy sleeping on your couch, yes it was Spider-Man but who was he really.

The night swallowed your thoughts and wonders, making your eyes flutter, each blink slower, until you couldn’t resist it anymore, you were sure he was fine now so no worries were keeping you from resting. Still somewhere in your subconscious you were on alert, and the moment you felt the shifting on the couch you woke. Spider-Man was ready to go, you knew, it was all in the way he was standing.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered as if someone would hear him.

“Stay,” you mumbled, feeling the slumber heavy in your eyelids and body.

“Can’t… I have to go now, but I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

You barely heard him whisper this to you, but you nodded your head. A breeze made you snuggle between the cushions, noticing a blanket over your curled body, soon you were dreaming of being able to drive your bike, to wash dishes with both hands, to finally shower properly.

Part 1 - Part 3

[tickletastic]

High Horses and Trojan Ones Too

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Ship: N/A (could be read as pre-slash Hangster)

Summary: Days after the mission, The Dagger Squad has decided to stay a week with Maverick before going off to visit their own families. Though Hangman and Rooster have made up, Hangman feels as though there are still some roadblocks between them, so he takes some advice from Phoenix. (Dialogue inspired by this prompt)

Warnings: sickeningly sweet

The morning had been pretty quiet, most of the Daggers being away from Mav’s. Phoenix and Bob had gone grocery shopping for snacks and things that Mav had run low on since seemingly adopting the squad. Javy had gone to get a book from Barnes & Noble, apparently his favourite author had released a new one some time during the mission and he was only now finding the time to grab it. The rest of the squad, Jake wasn’t sure of. 

Well, except for shirtless Bradley Bradshaw making eggs at Mav’s stove.

Jake awkwardly clears his throat when he enters the kitchen, and Bradley whips around, ceasing the humming he had previously been doing while stirring the eggs. 

"Bet those are the crunchiest eggs ever made,” Jake quips, grabbing a piece of bacon off the island, “do you even know how to cook, Bradshaw?”

Bradley scoffs, rolling his eyes as he watches Jake chew the bacon, “I have you know, I am an excellent chef.”

“If I asked Mav would he say the same?” Jake asks, eyebrow raised.

“Why would you ask Mav?” Bradley asks, head tilted. 

“I mean, he’s like your dad.” Jake laughs.

“Seresin,” Rooster grits, jaw suddenly tense, “what did I say about talking about my dad?”

Jake’s eyebrows shoot up and he stammers out an apology that seemingly falls on deaf ears. He gets up from where he had sat at the island in favour of walking to the living room, regretting the previous interaction. He shoots Phoenix a text, asking her if she has any solid advice on how to lessen the tension between himself and Rooster. She responds immediately.

Tash: Hi Hangman!! It’s Bob :)))

Tash: Phoenix is driving but she said “I’ve known Roos for a long ass time, and sometimes his panties just get in a twist, there’s nothing you can do but let him realize he’s being a baby.”

Hangman texts back, letting out a sigh.

Bagman: it’s not just this time, he kind of always assumes the worst with me, is there a way to get him to lighten up with me? 

Bagman: i already feel like an ass for bringing up his dad during training

Bagman: i don’t know why, but i just need him to know that i’m trying to be better, and i care about him

Once again, almost as soon as they saw his typing bubble stop they were ready to shoot him a response. 

Tash: Still Bob!

Tash: Who knew you were such a softie?

Tash: Tash said “there is one thing; he’s really ticklish. It makes him a little embarrassed, but he feels connected with people when they tickle him, it’s like a play-fighting thing.”

Bagman: tickling? tash, we are 2 adult men

Tash: She said “just trust me, Bagman.”

Jake grins to himself, and, just as he’s about to put his phone down, it pings again. 

Tash: One more thing; Tash said go for his tummy last.

Bagman: gr8, will do ;)

Just as Jake goes to put his phone down again, Bradley walks into the room, placing a plate on the coffee table in front of Jake before sitting down next to him on the couch, his own plate in hand. Bradley puts his own plate down and breathes in like he’s gonna speak, but remains silent.

A minute of thick silence passes them before Bradley finally breathes in to speak again. “Jake, I,”

“I’m sorry,” Jake interrupts, finally meeting Bradley’s eyes.

“No, no,” Bradley shakes his head, “no, this one’s on me.” 

Bradley awkwardly fiddles with his hands, taking a minute to collect his thoughts. 

“You were right when you said I’m kind of always on my high horse,” Bradley says as Jake laughs, “don’t laugh! You can be an asshole too.”

Jake grins, “I know, I know. But I’m trying not to be.”

“I know, trust me, I see that, Jake, I do,” Bradley scrambles out, putting a hand on Jake’s knee. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I know you didn’t mean it any way, it’s just between the comment at Top Gun and the whole thing with Mav... I was just being a little reactionary.” 

“Well, apology accepted, pretty boy,” Jake smiles, sending Bradley a wink.

Bradley goes pink, and he can’t help but break eye contact. They’re silent for another beat before Bradley finally concludes his apology, “and, well, you were right.”

“Don’t I know it and aren’t I always?” Jake says, southern twang on full display, “now, why don’t we see if this knocks you down off that high horse?”

“What do you- Jahahake, whahahahat the hehehehell?” Bradley screeches out at Jake manages to poke his ribs until he’s stuck in the corner of the couch, unable to escape Jake’s tickly fingers. “Thahahat tihihickles!”

“Uh, duh, Rooster,” Jake says with an over-exaggerated eye roll, “had to figure out some way to humble you.”

Rooster giggles, trying to flip himself over and failing hopelessly. He tries to grab for Jake’s hands, but his erratic movements are too much for Rooster’s tickle-addled reflexes. “Stahahap! Jahahake nohoho!”

“No can do, buckaroo, the doctor called for the full treatment,” Jake teases, noting how Bradley’s ears turn pink, “damn, you squirm harder than a rodeo bull.”

“ahahare youhohou- ahahare yohohou reheheally mahahaking Texhahahas refeeheherences?” Bradley laughs, arching when Jake gets a spot at the bottom of his spine. 

“Best state,” Jake says, a coo on the tip of his tongue as he watches Rooster giggle himself pink, “they say everythin’s bigger there, but something tells me that your laugh is about to be the biggest of all.”

Jake’s fingers dart all the way up to Rooster’s armpits, causing the other man to squeal, shaking his head back and forth. 

“Oh, you think this is bad?” Jake says, “this is only the start of my hands’ journey.”

He spiders in Bradley’s armpits before going lower, tasering his ribs. Bradley snorts whenever Jake hits a particularly bad one, squealing when he hits others. It’s like music, in a way. The cutest music that Jake’s ever heard. 

Once Jakes gets bored of that, he goes down to knead Bradley’s sides, which causes the other man to scream, trying to kick his legs out, arms going everywhere. “FUHUHUCK! JAHAHAKE PLEHEHEASE!”

“Don’t worry, Roos,” Jake smiles, sincere and lacking any of his usual smugness, “we’re almost at the grande finale.”

Jake moves his hand to hover just over Rooster’s tummy, shaped like a claw and lowering menacingly every few seconds. 

“No! nohoho! Jahahake dohohont!” Bradley pleads as he tries to both catch his breath and stop Jake’s hand. “I cahahan’t! Ihihi’ll dihihie!”

“You’re not gonna die, idiot,” Jake laughs, “but you might wish you did.”

Bradley’s laughter descends into silence when Jake’s hand starts to claw in circles around his belly button. He wheezes everytime he has enough air to audibly laugh, quickly descending again into silence. When Jake finally gets his belly button, tears prick from his eyes, laughter coming on loudly in bouts.

“UHUHUNCLE!” He screeches when he gets enough air to plead. Jake stops, giggling at the sight of Bradley, red-faced and smiley, trying to breathe as much air as possible. 

When Bradley finally recovers, panting only slightly, he glares at Jake, “you’re evil.”

“That’s the goal, Roos, and I’m damn good at it.” Jake smiles, winking.

Rooster gets up from the couch, walking towards the kitchen. 

“Where are you goin’?” Hangman asks, watching Rooster stop at the entryway. 

“Just got to do somethin’, that’s all,” Bradley responds with a shrug. 

“What about the food?” Hangman asks, “you’re not going to grace me with your presence?” 

“Ive got a call to make,” Bradley grins, devilish and chilling, “to Javy.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Jake shouts, chasing Bradley out of the room.

[highladyelenna]

hey! im what some would consider a "gwynriel" but ive seen sm hate on ur account for liking elriel when u literally tag pro gwyneth too! genuinely its like people assume that bc ur an elriel that ur being mean to her :( its sad to see especially since it is ultimately its just a book. having hyperfixations and being SUPER emotionally invested is valid but real people fighting to this extent over fictional characters is crazy 😂

i really love reading your takes even if i dont agree because your theories make sense! and seeing a version of elain who embraced the night court would be so so so so cool. but i dont think she will since sjms introduced gwyn (part of me is a lil disappointed she didn't do that with elain, but im hoping she'll write something cool like that for us in the future)

i just want all of these characters to end up with as peaceful of an ending as possible, including lucien, tamlin, and eris. i think beron and hybern poisoned sm of prythian over the years that everyone deserves at least a chance to redeem themselves after amarantha. but i think elain's book will handle koschei for sure, shes ready to do more and i wanna see what shes gonna do to him 👀

Hiiii, thank you sm for the kind words🖤

I try my best to always put “this is just my opinion” or “this is just a rant” I understand not everyone’s going to agree with me and that’s okay, i don’t mind. But, yes, to respond to my posts with hate is wild. Like I’m always up for a friendly discussion but if you’re gonna attack me then i won’t stand for it.

One thing about me that I try to work on is being the bigger person and not responding to comments that are coming at me. I’m just really defensive, but something I’m working on.

I’m glad you as a “gwynriel” can see that I have no hate for Gwyn. I actually love her and think she deserves better than what it seems she’s been getting right now.

Yes, I do prefer Elriel simply because I love a forbidden love trope. And I’d love to see the mating bonds be explored more in terms of rejection. Do I wish Lucien any ill? No, I actually hope he finds someone. If Elriel does happen. I want him happy! I also want Gwyn happy. If Elucien happens, I want Azriel to be happy!

I’ve stated in comments before, but it always seems to go unnoticed, but i’m pro-elain’s choice.

If she chooses Lucien, yay. If she chooses Az, yay. If she chooses neither and enjoys figuring out her fae life alone? YAY.

I’ll be happy either way!

As for Gwyn, I just want her to be happy. She is a sweet happy bubbly person who loves with her whole heart and what SJM has written so far is only setting her up for heartbreak and it’s very sad to me bc she’s the least deserving of it. I actually really hope we get to see more of Gwyn’s family history! I want to know her parents. I want to know how she came to live in the night court.

And I agree I’m a sucker for a happy ending and if we get to see all these characters happy i will be here for it!!!

There are certain characters I really don’t care for, yet! But seeing more of their background is always fun! I love seeing characters go from sidelines to a fully developed person with a story!🖤

[rearranged-fanfic]

New Chapter, Ah Yeah!

Excerpts below the cut

(Spoilers, duh)

Excerpt 1:

“What’s going on?”  Honestly, I’m not sure I want to know. Akemi smiles pleasantly.  “Settling a difference of opinion.” “On my front porch?” I inquire dryly. At that moment, Takuma’s eyes get wide and he points at me, excitement coloring his tone.  “Oh, you’re outside by yourself!  Heck yeah!” “My wardens decided to lessen my sentence a bit.” “’Bout time!” he crows, delighted.  “Thought you were gonna die of boredom if you stayed locked up much longer.” “Well, it was either that or killing them for entertainment.”  I shrug nonchalantly, like I hadn’t just inserted murderous intentions into a normal conversation.  I wait for them to take that as a joke and laugh, but they just kind of look at the ground awkwardly. …Okay?  They’re acting weird. “Don’t you attract Spirits, though?  Are you safe?” Akemi points out. And when I pull out the charm that Gojo gave me, Takuma elbows forward to take the glass bead in his palm.  His eyebrows scrunch up cutely and he leans in super close.  All Sorcerers apparently abhor personal space. Which is all well and good until Beans launches herself from my cleavage in a sneak attack, clasping onto the younger teen’s face with her wings.  Takuma lets out an undignified ‘eep’, scrambling backwards.  That’s what he gets for muscling his way into my bubble.  If only Beans could do that to Gojo—I’d have the ultimate protector, saving me form touchy-feely weirdos. He pulls the Shiki off, sucking in air and fanning himself like a dainty woman about to faint. Beans comes back to rest on the top of my head, planting herself on my crown and letting out a tiny, angry roar.  I reach up to stroke under her chin with my finger.  Good beans, I think affectionately.  Takuma finally collects himself, even as his sister has to hold her gut form laughing at his misfortune. “You have a charm like Ieiri,” the young Sorcerer notes.  I immediately note the lack of honorific, but don’t really think much of it.  Instead, it��s his words that get my attention. I peer down at the blue bead.  “She has one too, huh?”  I guess that makes sense; Gojo is all about fiercely guarding the two people he actually cares about in this world.  And now he’s offered the same protection to his precious little informant.  I should feel privileged, but him walking in on my masturbation session because of this little charm still lives in my head rent free. “It’s on her wrist,” he says, gesturing to his own. I think back and try to remember if I’d noticed a bracelet before, but I’m not really that observant.  At least I know to ask about it next time she pops up, I guess.  It’d be nice to know exactly what this charm can do, beside allow Gojo to be the world’s most efficient stalker-slash-cockblock. I shake my head to clear out the fuzz and offer my guests a little grin.  “So, what brings you guys here?” “Oh, Ma told us to come check—” Akemi throws her hand over her brother’s mouth, cutting him off.  “To check to see if you could help me with something!” she says a bit too excitedly. “What do you need help with?” I ask, distrust laced through my words. “I’m having trouble in English class, and I know that it’s your first language.  Do you think you can help me?” Uh huh.  Well, that’s not suspicious at all.  They’re clearly here to appease their mom.  And they’re fibbing about it. I cross my arms and raise a single eyebrow questioningly, doubt painted over my features.  Akemi holds up what looks to be a backpack, shaking it as though in offering.  Clever, bringing an item to use as an excuse.  The other young woman puts on her best puppy dog face, making her green eyes appear large and watery all while her lower lip quivers ever so slightly. I’m a sucker, I think with resignation as I step aside to welcome them in.

Excerpt 2:

I pinch off a section of cake, offering it to her as tribute.  The sweet treat is quickly gobbled up, and she sniffs at my fingers for more.  I roll my eyes at the gluttonous Shiki and give her another sizeable chunk.  This one, she eats a little slower.  And when she’s done, she gives me a friendly nip at the tip of my thumb and a sweet chirp.  Content with the cake for now, she curls up around my throat and prepares to sleep.  I note that she bites her own tail so that she doesn’t slip off backwards. I have a living necklace, I think.  When I pat her, she wriggles to get closer to me, letting out a contented sigh. Somebody’s affectionate today. Then again, she’s been clingy since this morning for whatever reason. Rolling my eyes at the silly creature, I peer down at my phone.  Time to see what’s up next on my adventure.  I scroll for a few minutes, listening to the whistling snores that my Shiki puts off like it’s the most soothing music known to man. A shadow falls over me, blocking the light, but I ignore it.  Until somebody clears their throat. “Excuse me, Miss.”  I think I’ve heard the voice before, but I’m not quite sure where.  Maybe he’s another friendly character from the manga? Then I roll my eyes at the thought.  Yeah, right.  What are the odds of meeting another manga character in a city as bis as Tokyo?   He’s probably just some dude that I’ve met in passing—maybe the clerk at the hotel I stayed at my first night here?

[cringemesstickles]

Play With Me, De!

Summary: Sam wants to play but Dean is doing something so he breaks out the puppy dog eyes and Dean caves. [Weechesters]

Pairings: None (obviously)

Word Count: 1,253

A/N: this is one of my favorites because idk it’s just soft and they’re smol and don’t have any big problems yet. 🥲

———————————————————

Dean sat at the kitchen table in their current motel room, cleaning the guns.

John was off on a hunting trip, leaving Dean to take care of Sam as usual.

Sam was pretty mellow for most of the day; watching Scooby Doo or Looney Tunes or whatever was on, Dean wasn’t really paying attention, only looking up every now and then to make sure Sam wasn’t dying.

However, he knew that the silence wouldn’t last forever; cartoons could only entertain his little brother for so long.

He knew the time was up when he heard the pitter patter of little feet approaching the kitchen table before Sam was in front of him with an energetic smile.

He looked down at his little brother and set down the gun that he was cleaning.

“What’s up, Sammy?”

“Play with me, De!” Sam bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Sorry Sammy, but I’m kind of busy right now.”

The youngest pouted, the sparkle in his eye disappearing instantly.

“Please De?..”

He tried clinging to the fabric of his older brother’s jeans, giving him the best puppy eyes he could muster.

Dean took one look and could already feel his heart melting.

Surely he could make some time for his brother; especially if he was gonna keep giving him that sad puppy look.

Sam could get Dean to do whatever he wanted as long as he had those damn puppy dog eyes;

they were Dean’s biggest weakness and Sam knew it.

“Come on Sam…Don’t make that face..” He tried his best to look away but found it nearly impossible.

“Please play with me, De..”

And just like that, Dean caved.

“Okay okay… I’ll play with you Sammy.”

The sparkle in Sam’s eyes returned as he grabbed Dean’s hand and dragged him to the living room.

“Alright Sammy, what do you wanna play?” He watched his little brother think, concentration clear in his face.

Eventually, all Sam said was - “I don’t know.” - with a slight shrug.

Dean raised a brow.

“You’re telling me you broke out the puppy dog eyes and you don’t even know what you want to play?”

The exasperation in his voice made Sam giggle.

Upon hearing the adorable sound, Dean knew exactly what he wanted to do.

“Oh you think this is funny, Sam? Pulling your big brother away from his work? Is that funny to you, Sammy?”

Sam giggled even more, shaking his head and trying to cover his mouth.

Dean growled playfully, scooping his little brother up in his arms and dumping him on one of the nearby beds; heart melting at the childish giggles that fell from the younger’s mouth, despite not being tickled yet.

“Well Sammy, since you like to laugh so much, how about we pay a visit to an old friend~”

The elder growled in the crook of his brother’s neck, making him squeal and giggle helplessly.

“De!”

“Sorry Sammy, De’s not here, but d’you know who is?”

Sam’s giggles raised in volume and he shook his head.

“Well get ready Sammy, it’s..”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“The tickle monster!” He roared, raising his hands and making claws before digging into his brother’s sides.

Sam squealed, giggles turning to loud bubbly laughter.

“De, noho tihihihickles!” He pushed at the offending hands, a bright smile and rosy cheeks decorating his face.

Dean felt his big brother heart swell with love and affection for his precious little brother;

the brother he would give his life to protect.

“Yes tickles!” He tweaked his brother’s ribs, eliciting yelps and squeaks.

Sam kicked his little legs and squirmed about, unable to escape his brother’s clutches.

“What’s so funny Sammy? Does this tickle? I bet it does!” Dean teased and switched to spidering, smile widening at the little snort that escaped the younger’s mouth.

“DEHEHE!! N-NOT THEHERE!!” The little boy shrieked at the ticklish feelings crawling on his skin, his face reddening from all the laughing.

“The tickle monster tickles wherever he wants!”

Dean growled playfully.

“Lucky for you though, he’s bored of this spot and will in fact be tickling elsewhere…”

He looked at the sliver of exposed skin where the kids shirt had ridden up from the squirming and he grinned.

“How about…here?” He poked Sam’s tummy repeatedly and watched the kid squeak with each poke.

“EEK- It t-tihihickles!” Sam squirmed and batted at the hands.

Dean snorted. “No way, really? That’s crazy, Sammy.”

He stopped poking and formed claws with his hands, wiggling his fingers just over the sensitive spot.

Sam’s eyes widened comically and his laughter became more frantic.

The older Winchester laughed with his brother, finding the reactions adorable.

“Sammy, I’m not touching you.” Dean laughed fondly.

He dove his fingers down and retracted them at the last minute making Sam fall into helpless laughter.

“I’m gonna get your tummy, Sammy~” He sang teasingly, knowing just how to get his little brother worked up.

Sam covered his face with his hands, a snort escaping him as he squirmed helplessly.

“De, plehehease!”

Having decided that he shouldn’t keep the kid waiting any longer, he dug both claw shaped hands into the soft tummy, eliciting a loud squeal followed by bright bubbly laughter.

“DEHEHEHE! NOT MY TUMMEEHEHEE!!”

Sam bucked and squirmed instinctively.

His tummy had always been extremely sensitive; Dean loves to tickle him there because it always gets the cutest reactions.

Dean knew Sam loved getting his tummy tickled as much as Dean loved tickling it, so it was a win win.

“Aww, Sammy~” He rucked Sam’s shirt up to his ribs so his belly was completely exposed.

The older Winchester leaned down and nuzzled the boy’s stomach, growling against the sensitive skin while Sam screeched at the ticklish vibrations.

“Uh oh Sammy…I think the tickle monster is hungry.” Dean could hardly hold back his own soft chuckling, finding his brother’s bright laughter to be quite infectious.

“The tickle monsters gonna eat your tummy, Sammy!”

The younger brother’s squirming increased at the playful threat, anticipation growing in the pit of his stomach.

The eldest started nibbling along his brother’s sensitive tummy, heart swelling at the loud happy laughter.

“Mm.. ticklish bellies are my favorite snack! NomNomNom~”

“EEK! DEHEHEE NOOO!! DON’T EAT MEHEHEHE!!”

Sam squealed happily, arching his back, kicking his little legs, and wiggling about in his big brothers grasp.

Dean smiled against the little boy’s skin. He loved being able to play around with the younger.

Being 5, Sam didn’t fully understand why their lives were this way;

why they moved around so much, why they salted the doors and windows every night, why their dad was almost always gone, why they didn’t have a mom…

Dean at least understood most of it, but poor Sammy probably just thinks that it’s all for no reason.

Still, it’s better than if he were to know the truth.

Dean was just happy that he could be the one to put that sweet smile on the boy’s face.

When Sam’s laughter went silent, Dean pulled away, admiring the rosy cheeks and dimpled smile.

He leaned down and bumped their noses, nuzzling affectionately.

“Hehe!” Sam giggled.

Dean laughed and gave Sam a kiss on the nose, watching him scrunch it up momentarily.

Sam curled up in his big brothers lap, snuggling against his chest with a content sigh.

“I love you, De…” He yawned, tuckered out from the tickling.

Dean carded his hands through the soft brown locks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Love you too, Sammy.”

[infinitethree]

i'm

i

i'm

I'M LIKE YOUR TUBBO??/

INNITT!!!

i. this is a positive reaction by the way

*so many hugs*

i'm honoured!!!

oh!! by the way! you've been referred to by it/its by default, but do you have other pronouns you prefer?

oh and we can't forget the food.. how about some eggrolls andd pancakes?

Innit perks up as Asher scrambles into its arms, their paws patting excitedly at its face.

It beams, hugging them as they chitter at it. “I'm glad you're happy with that. You're here the most, and you– you really care, y'know? So…so, of course I treasure you. I'd be crazy not to.”

The question makes it hum in thought, its tail swishing back and forth. “Uhm…I've never really thought about it? I know I'm not a she, though. He is closer, but not quite right…”

It takes a moment for it to remember the other one. “Ah, right! They/them would be nice. Since…I mean, it was really ‘cause I was…I was always thought of as the bad parts of him. A monster, really. Something to cage and fear, not…a person.”

Dwelling on its pain about that is exhausting and depressing, though.

“So, uh, maybe…I guess I like they/them better than it,” Innit says, ears perking up a little. “I don’t think I’d have changed it without– I mean, it never crossed my mind. Thank you, Asher. I appreciate you a lot.”

They beam, nuzzling their face into their friend’s fur.

It actually catches them off guard when food appears, and they have to scramble to grab the plates without also dropping Asher. They laugh, proud that they managed to do it, though.

They squeak in alarm, having to let go of Asher– who scrambles onto their shoulder instead– in order to grab all of the food.

A pout forms. “That was mean! I almost dropped them all…”

They sit down to eat, and their other friends come to sit beside them. They hum happily as they enjoy the treats being given to them.

The pancakes are its favorite. Fluffy, stuffed with chocolate chips, topped with whipped cream, and gloriously sweet, it knows it will have to try and find someone who makes something similar.

They reply, “I’m really gonna enjoy walking around, too. I think…I think, as soon as we know everything is stable and I have just– the basics of having an actual body down? I want to go and explore. There are some groups that do that kind of thing, y’know? Uhm, some clubs and stuff. And there’s some jobs for it, too– people need places to live, and some people really like being super far out. There’s cavers, gatherers, and whatnot, since some stuff you have to find rather than grow.”

According to the gossip that Innit has had no choice but to hear, there are often new biomes, structures, and even loot that shows up. Supposedly, the newer something is, the more likely you are to find good stuff.

San, being a sucker, can’t help but baby their residents.

Innit would love to know how much control they have and if they tweak things based on who is finding it.

They also wonder if some of Daz’s favor will rub off on them. Maybe if they talk to the server like they wish someone had talked to them, San will love them even more than they love Daz.

“I’m really excited for the chance to do stuff like that, though. I know I said I'd live with Aster, but, I mean–”

They can't help but feel a little bitter about how he's mostly forgotten about them. Instead, his focus is on the bastard and their burgeoning romance.

No matter how much they want to burst the bubble, they also don't have the heart to do that.

And…it’s a risk, too. 

Everyone is willing to let them out because they're free in the timeline Aster and Daz are seeing, but if that certainty in their goodness goes away–

Well. All the more reason to weasel their way into an exploration team.

If they bond with someone there, maybe they won't need to rely on Daz’s circle.

And the more people who know and care about them, the less likely it is that they can be forced back into Daz’s head again, or exiled, or otherwise forced to leave Sanctuary.

Maybe, during the period where they’re gaining enough trust to be allowed to wander like they want, they can make good use of being in Daz’s head and make some friends.

Especially some powerful ones. Ones who can raise a huge stink if anything happened to them.

[thelindenpapers]

"Yelling"

So I live in New York, you know.

New York is pretty interesting, lot of the time. You meet all kinds of people in New York.

The evidence is there, lining up to immerse your senses.

Any one street, you’re hearing Japanese accents, Pakistani accents, smatterings of Tamil.

You’re smellin’ veal parmesan one block, and griot another.

There’s Björk, there’s Otis Redding, and there’s Pedro Infante in your ears.

If I could tell you, I’d say you meet everyone in New York.

But that’s what’s sad about it, too, sometimes.

Sometimes you meet people, and they’re broken. Broken people, you know, and you don’t know how they’d fix it.

I’m walking down the street coming back from my job.

I can’t wait to get to the train: ‘cause I got off early, and I know that the train will probably be nice and quiet. There’s always plenty of room, IF you ride in the off-peak hours.

I’m looking forward to my book, or to staring out of the window; thinking.

The sky is that cloudy that it gets when everything is tinged blue. Real peaceful and calm.

And I go past a wall, and it’s got these ‘Missing’ posters plastered all over it...

Idly, I take a look.

...Shame.

Real pretty girl. Dark hair, dark eyes…that ‘natural’ kind of pretty.

Clean and neat. Dressed, almost, like a doll.

The accompanying message pleads for her return in neatly printed type, but then I notice:

On about half of ‘em, the ‘Missing’ part is crossed out.

In frantic black marker, a different message is scrawled:

‘No, not missing!!! ‘Please, not look for her, leave her in peace! She’s dead.’

Soooo…. That's creepy.

I’m gettin’ off topic.

Like always, I’m walking down the street, and there are lots of other people walking...going my way, coming towards me, going past me…

You don’t really look at other people in New York.

Everybody’s got their minds on where they gotta go.

Now and again, though, I’ll look.

Because I like to think and write and do portraits when I’ve got free time.

Sometimes, I’ll see someone I want to draw when I get home, you know? There’s all kinds of people in New York.

But there’s this one woman, coming towards me to go past me, and I just know.

This woman is broken. She’s broken real good.

And then, I think maybe she’s not gonna go past me, you know, because she’s not like everyone else:

She’s looking around at everybody, like I am.

She spots me before I can look away.

She sees me lookin’; so she starts heading towards me and now I know she’s not gonna go past.

This woman.

She got some kind of accent on her I can’t place.

I know, because before she even gets to me, she’s talking really loud.

The other people, they weren’t looking in the first place, and they’re sure as shit not looking now!

I try to evade her, but they make a constantly walking bubble around us; making room for us like we was a floor show.

And she says, as she comes towards me:

“He’s a good man, you know? He’s a real good man. But he don’t think, you get it? He tries his best not to think. See, if no think, there no understand! That’s what cause everything!”

I try not to be rude.

I say, “Oh, lady, look. I’m sorry. I got a train to catch.”

I try backing off. But she catches my arm.

She’s not trying to hurt me or nothin’. She’s not hurting me with her hand on my arm, but I look at her…and I can’t.

I can’t pull away.

She’s hanging on like she needs so, so bad to be heard.

And I can’t help but stand there, and now people are looking at us as they go past: because I’m not complaining, and they think that I should.

They think I’m crazy, now. Maybe I am.

So while this lady is talking, I figure, well. I better go ahead and look real hard at ‘er...

Yeah, she’s broken.

But I might want to draw her.

She’s real interesting.

It strikes me, that she doesn’t dress like she’s broken.

It’s a little like she’s white collar, a little like she’s come from a costume party.

No rags, no dirt. Skin nice, taken care of….even though she has this zombie look in the lines of her face…like she’s been dead inside a long time.

She’s got this smart, smart, short dress on that would be real risque if she weren’t wearing anything underneath it. So silky and smooth: a dark-wine-red with a purple sheen to it. DARK purple sheen. Like a bruise, and the red silk color underneath is blood.

She got cleavage hanging out, but not like she put it there to be stared at. More like that’s just who she is. She’s sexy, but I can’t imagine anyone objectifying her, less they were a fool. You could take her all you want if she lets you, but she’s herself and you had better show respect.

It’s the way she stands, maybe.

She got on this black blazer, but with silver buckles, like the goths wear, and freshly pressed black suit pants underneath the dress.

Her lipstick is dark, and her hair and her eyes: dark. She’s got a black eyepatch made of damask silk and a freakin’ crow on her shoulder--

I flinch a little when I realize that that crow is really real: sitting there lookin' at me calm as fuck.

And her eyeshadow is that same purple sheen that’s like bruises over her eyes.

Bruises on purpose, bruises real particular. Chosen bruises, like.

What she’s saying finally gets through to me:

“--but I was so careful, you know???

"I spend seven years, dating him, talking to him. Trying to make sure he’s right.

"And he is right! I spend seven years, I give him seven years….the last years of my youth! But he’s nice and he’s smart and he’s sexy and he says he’ll take care of me. And he loves me so much, and back then, I love him like Romeo and Juliet.

"And he proposes! "He propose all elaborate; everyone, they think like it fairy tale! They joke how I so lucky, an older woman courted for so long by a younger man, they amazed, so good of him! "My young, handsome, kind, genius of a man, he says, ‘Let’s marry!’

"So we do! "We do get married, you know, and he’s a good man! He says he’s a good man, and he is a good man.

"We both of us immigrants. And our parents so proud. We both virgins, you know?”

She gestures with her hands and leans in as she talks. Staring hard, trying to keep my gaze.

And she’s saying, “I did everything I could. I tried to be the best wife ever, you know? Because he was best husband ever.

"I cook and I clean and I make these beautiful lunches for him. And I laugh with him and talk with him and massage his back every night and I dress nice all time, you know, even when we don’t go anywhere. I work hard on dinners and I present them just so, you see?

"All the time, I looking at him.

"Heh. He complain about it, that’s how much. He say, loving looks from across the room, they're creepy.

"But I can’t help it. I so in love. And he, I can tell, he’s so in love.

"But he won’t…he won’t take me, you know? There’s no whatcha’ call it. No make love.

"I don’t understand, ‘cause he like to tease me all the time before, you know? Make me swoon so I can’t stand.

"He so proud, that I have this high libido. Say he gonna take me all different ways, once we’re married. But my man, still, he won’t make love to me, and I don’t know why.”

I look her in the eye. I can see, oh, she is beyond broken.

And I don’t know how to pull away, even though her hand on my arm is gentle, I could pull away, you see.

But I don’t know how.

“I think it all my fault!

"I do something wrong, I dunno what.

"So I try even harder, you understand?

"I dress even nicer. And I look up all these articles and books about sex and marriage and everything.

"And they tell me what I already know:

"Something wrong?

"Then wife is wrong.

"Wife need to fix.

"So I try the solutions they say. But there’s nothing doing, you understand?

"And it gets so I’m going mad.

"So I keep my voice down, nice, quiet, like wife is supposed to -- but I ask him, "‘Is there maybe pressures at your job?’ "And he says, ‘No, honey, I love my job.’

"And I say, ‘Are you not attracted me?’ "And he says, ‘No, honey, I am, very so! I love you more than anyone in my whole life. You make me feel everything! You’re beautiful.’

"And one day, you know, he finds me crying alone, because I need so bad, and yet, who, who I going to go to?

"There only him for me.

"I’m wracking my brain, my brain to pieces, and I can’t understand why he won’t take me. I ask him, ‘Why won’t you make me your own? You always said you were looking forward to it. Did I do something wrong?’

"And he says, ‘Don’t worry, honey. We will one day, I promise.’

"So I wait, you know?

"I keep quieter now. I no want to nag. But I trying to dress even better. "I get all these lovely frilly things, you know, the nice dresses -- simple and fresh and alive, like doll.

"I’m not young anymore, you know, I’m almost forty. But I look young. He always say, I’m ‘his girl’. So I dress like a girl.

"I dress like I feel, like I’m young, and in love…because I am in love, and if my young man says I’m young, then I’m young.

"Still, I’m desperate. I want him so bad.

"But you know, I reason with him and I talk to him and I love him hard as I can, and I flirt, and I cry sometimes and I try to not cry in front of him and I keep asking him, maybe only once, twice a month now, you know? ‘Cause he work hard, and I don’t want to bother him too much.

"But now and again, I say calmly as I can, ‘Love, when will you make me your own?’ And he calms me and hugs me and says, ‘Have patience. It will happen.’

"Each time there opportunity, he have all kind excuses.

"He tired.

"He not feel well.

"He already touch himself today.

"I not give him enough protein.

"One day, he says that kind of passion that I ask for, yes?, ‘No exist’.

"….I think maybe he lost it.

"I KNOW it exist!

"One day, he says to me, 'Maybe if you need sex so much, you should just have fantasy lover!'

"….If that’s what I want, hey, why I get married?!?!!”

She giggles in this strangled voice, in disbelief….like someone about to die by the hand of something stupid and all wrong,

“WHAT? Why, why I no get my own place, live with my imaginary husband somewhere, if that what I wanted from this life?!’

"...But I think, 'Maybe, maybe is something I don’t know about, hey?

"He always smarter than me. "‘I be patient. I wait. I just trust him. "‘Woman supposed to trust her man, hey? If you're a good woman, you do. If you trust God, you do.'

"...And our first Anniversary pass.

"And I say to him, with last, last scrap of dignity in me, I say, ‘Honey, you know, maybe you let us have whatcha’ call it. ‘Open’ marriage, yes?

"'I stay with you, you no worry. I always stay. Always you and me. Always, I come home to you, I take care of you, cook, clean, sit, listen, all good.

"'But maybe I go once in a while and find someone take care my need?'

"But he refuse. "He no share me, he say.

"I all his, he love me too much.

"He wouldn’t be able to take it. He would be too sad.

"He will kill himself.

"So I try. "I still try wait, I tell him, I wait for him, I be patient...

"Months pass, and I think I can still go on, and I must go on, I promised to go on–

"But I can’t.

"I go on, but I don’t, you know?

"Because I-I can’t. I’m just not that strong, though I thought I could be if I tried hard enough, like a good christian girl.

"If I was good enough, if I pray enough, pray hard enough, then I make it!

"God will show me I’m loved.

"My husband, he will show me romance and care and concern and consideration and lust.

"True love will win!

"...But is no good.

"I wake up on the floor.

"I get up.

"But there I am, still there, lying on floor.”

I stare real hard at the woman.

I don’t know what she wants me to say.

Maybe she doesn’t want me to say anything.

She doesn’t seem upset that I’m not sayin' nothing, and that’s real good, ‘cause I tell you, I don’t know what to say. I don’t say shit. I just stare back. She and the crow staring at me.

“Do you see?!”, she whispers savagely.

“Do you know what I mean?: I wake up on the floor; but there I am!

"In front of me, with real flesh.

"A young girl, a young girl in love, smiling, in a really cute dress, with frills, with pretty pink perfect make-up, and a recipe in her hand for good, thick steaks that night.

"Lying on floor.

"She dead.

"I can see my face, and it look like always, with her beautiful two eyes, and I close them careful.

"I think maybe I imagine her.

"But when I bend; touch her side, she real.

"Cold.

"And there no breath.

"I feel her ribcage is sticking out under her skin like winter branch…

"…..She was like in dungeon…you understand?

"That’s me. Died. Craved and worried and pined away in pain, all alone.

"I died. I died.

"I couldn’t help it.

"I tried. But, I… Froze to death, or. "What word? "‘Starved’, like.”

Now you know that’s crazy. I don’t believe her for one minute...

But I look in her one eye, and I know she’s not lying.

And just like that, I get vertigo, you know?

Like someone took the pavement while I was still standing on it and shook it out.

I quickly widen my stance so I don’t fall.

I don’t know what to say. I wish she’d shut up.

But I'm the one who shuts up.

She keeps talking:

“What am I going to do??

"Stuff around house always needs taking care of, constantly.

"I lying on floor, I gotta take care of it.

"So I take the shovel, you know, and I go to the undertaker and I buy me a plot with my housewife allowance--

"I don’t know what else to do.

"I know she’s dead. "And I know she’s me. "And I know, I know I’m dead.

"And I know, if his parents knew, or if my parents knew, she would be so ashame.

"And he’d be so angry. Or so sad, that he kill himself.

"I can’t tell anyone. "I can’t.

"But she was a good girl, you know? "She was such a good girl.

"Giving. God-fearing.

"So it’s not good, to just have her lying on the floor, with her last thoughts of steak.

"And I can’t do the vacuuming later that way, with her lying on floor.

"So I burn the recipe in the oven real good, you know, and I take me and I bury me in the plot, with prayers and everything.

"Dead.

"She was a good girl. I made sure she had a proper, respectful burial, with hymns, you know? She tried real hard.

"It was sad, I felt sorry. "It shouldn’t have gone that way, she did what she was supposed to do; she tried to be good!

"She didn’t have to, didn’t have to break.

"To die.

"I did everything I could.

"And my husband comes home, and I don’t ask him about nothing no more, but I tell him I died and he thinks I’m joking.

"He laugh.

"So I shrug and I serve the dinner and it’s delicious.

"But in months to follow, maybe I don’t bother so much about the gravy coming out just so anymore.

"And you know, maybe I don’t bother about dressing up just so anymore.

"Or rather, I dress different: to please me, to express who I am, rather than to please him and to impress he friends.

"And maybe sometime, we have hot dog. Take-out.

"I wear my jeans now, and my t-shirts when we’re home, and I watch things all by myself now, I watch the stuff that I like to watch, and go to sleep whenever is good. I don’t wait for him no more.

"And maybe I’m slower when filling up the dishwasher, and now I only have one eye, and I even put my ring away, but you know what?

"He doesn’t notice.

"Doesn’t notice a thing to change.

"And I’m like a zombie, but what am I going to do?

"I could walk down the street naked and walk and walk far as I can, until I can’t walk one step more.

"What’s going to change?

"I have no income myself. Not a lot of education.

"I give up a good job, WITH benefits, WITH pension – I give up family and friends and my home for come to live with him.

"I have nowhere to go…I don’t want to go, go back to my own country.

"And I’m dead. "The dead don’t… "They don’t go back. "And they don’t come back.

"So I say to myself one day when he’s at work, ‘Well, if I’m dead I’m dead, but I can still think.

"'So if I can still think, I can still dream, can’t I?

"'So maybe I’ll have that fantasy lover now.'

"What else I do?

"So in my mind, I think up someone.

"I make him someone who turn me on.

"Someone good, but maybe more ‘there’.

"Someone as old as me -- no!! A little bit older!!!

"And I tell him who I am, I open up my soul so he can see it.

"I tell him everything that happened, and I tell him what I need, like it job interview.

"And I ask him if he consent.

"And he says, ‘Yeah, I consent.’ With smile real big.

"So in my mind we spend time together.

"And I’m dead, and he’s imaginary, so who cares, right?

"Only living people go crazy. Only living people hallucinate--”

I…

Feel kinda’ like I’m going to go to sleep, listening to her, and I don’t know why.

The peaceful blue.

It’s as if the air is a sponge, and the cloud blue daylight is silk that is soaked into the sponge, and it keeps pressing in, on my skin, on my mind.

I feel so still.

What is it about today?

Everything’s silk, and each moment, everything except her gets more silent.

But I still stand there, ‘cause I got offa’ work early anyway.

I don’t have nowhere I need to be right now.

But God is she broken, and she’s gotta get heard and no one else will do it.

And it feels urgent, you know?

And I was already standing there for that long anyway, right?

So what does it hurt if I stand there a little more?

Besides, I need to draw her later.

I can at least do this for her.

“So you know what?”, she says. “After a little while, my imaginary man, he helps me take me.

"One day, when my widower husband’s at work, we watch something nice…whatcha’ call it.

"Sophisticated. Cultured. And we talk and listen to good jazz and dance together and have some wine.

"Even have candles. So many things that I like, that I hadn't enjoy ever since I marry...

"It so funny.

"I feel my whole age, and it feel…

"It feel nice. It feel okay.

"And I had bought something hygienic for me from sex shop, with my tax refund from my last job.

"And I lay down, and I take me, okay?

"You know, I shoulda’ done it sooner.

"It’s like something crazy, ‘cause I still a believer, you know?

"I still think I have a soul. Still there creative force.

"But that force creates with us, with beings who create ourselves.

"And now I’ve abandoned it: idea other believers dragged up from the sand so long ago:

"About women, being owned -- always, they gotta be owned by someone -- that women be owned by their fathers until he give her to some man who will take her and make her their own.

"That good women never take for themselves -- they always too busy giving to everyone else, and then, MAYBE, someone nice to them who appreciate give to them in return.

"But no.

"No, I do it.

"I claim me, I make me my own, and this imaginary guy, he helps me do it, helps me, cause I so scared to do it.

"He help me, to get over the fear and indignity and embarrassment and shame and regret.

"I do it, but he make it all romantic and sexy, ‘cause he there.

"And you know what?

"That imaginary man, in the weeks that follow, he love me.

"He love me like I don’t know what. Even though I’m dead.

"I’ve never been loved like that before.

"I never allowed anyone, because I tried so hard to be good girl: for parents, and for whoever my husband would be.

"My imaginary man and I…we two people, not one, like they say in movies.

"We are ourselves. "We meet as equal.

"He like many things that I like.

"We spend time together, cook together. He make me laugh when I alone doing laundry. He walk out into the sun with me, holding hands.

"He like kiss, cuddle. Stroke. Sex -- sex simple; sex varied -- plenty of it!

"He gaze into my eye, unflinching.

"He talks to me, like he knows I’m THERE.

"He never look through me.

"He likes it, when I look at him all sparkly eye: he give me this proud smirk.

"He know I with him, and he CARE that I with him.

"He LIKES me!

"And he doesn’t let me to slow down; to stop, like the dead are supposed to.

"He encourage me, ‘GO. Go ahead, do this and do that which you thinking about, because you can do it. Because life is to be lived’, so I no sit around complacent and dazed; I would have otherwise.

"‘Death for later.’, he say, ‘Life now.’

"I do good things for myself…I do what?

"‘Self-care’, I think they call it. I try study all kinds of things, try and figure out if there another way for me to be.

"And I get happier, you know?

"Being with my imaginary man, he so good, so sexy and so sweet, and so strong.

"And he so, SO happy and proud when I am strong; when I learn things and when I do things, he is not frightened -- it no bother him, for me to succeed.

"I get happier and I get to where I don’t care.

"And I don’t care so much; that I’m alive again.

"But I’m not me, not who I was, not a girl.

"I’m still buried.

"The girl is buried.

"I’m something different.

"I’m a woman, but not because I took myself, you know?

"I’m a woman because I decided.

"I decided something, for me…and that something was to take myself, but you know, it could have been anything.

"Anything at all.

"It didn’t have to be the sex.

"But my husband, he finally realize I’m not me, because to him I look so sad when he’s around.

"Because when he around, I can’t be all new, always growing, like the living should be. He has expectations, assumptions, you know?

"And the assumptions, is like cage.

"I tell him, ‘I’m not sad, but I’m a woman now, you know.

"'Things are different for me. Did you no notice? I dress different now, I don’t dress like a girl anymore.

"'And maybe you don’t get a massage every night, did you no notice?

"'And I don’t cry no more and I don’t want you in that way no more.

"'I’m tired of wanting so much, wanting for almost ten years wanting you.’

"But he doesn’t believe me and he cries and he begs me not to leave him, even though I want to, even though he knows I can't.

"I want to go out there, you know?

"I…I not so good girl anymore.

"There a lot of men. Some of them won’t want me, like people told me, because my age. But I’ve looked now, when I walking. I know now, some of the men will.

"It would be fun. We would meet as equal, too: I give, they give.

"And, maybe I find one of them understand more. Not as deep as imaginary man understands…he’s not corporeal, it like he have cheat sheet!

"But another man might understand more than husband does, at least.

"I stay, because I can't leave.

"Husband, and husband's parents, they set everything up that way.

"But at least I got my imaginary lover.

"I start go to bars, you know? I get drink, to forget sometimes.

"I think to myself, ‘What has he done to me? I was so in love. He only had to take me and see me and treat me right.'

"I want to leave. Right now, start my life over cleanly. Or at least to cheat. To find someone nice, and love and be loved.

"To get it all back…the adoration, the touch of other men that I was offered, but that I rejected…because I was told that ‘they didn’t mean it’, that they offered ‘in order to hurt me’, and because I was ‘saving it up for my future husband’.

"I want to flirt. "To banter. "Maybe show off, do a portrait like I used to. Men used to say, I ‘have charm’, hey? "And 'wit'.

"…I used to fidget or hide my gaze when they said that.

"Hang my hair in my face.

"No more.

"I want to hear them say that, and smile at them.

"Turn charm up.

"Hear them sigh with their friends when they think I not notice.

"See their eyes, the desire in them.

"Choose one, if there’s one I want, and share me with them.

"To know what it’s like, to get flowers.

"Maybe I even find immigrant from my own country…modern man, but one who know my culture, understand my struggle.

"I want to experience it all, everything that I denied myself.

"But my husband, make me second guess, all time.

"My husband, you know, he say, he no believe I say these things! He say it -- quietly, kindly -- but he make me feel bad, saying, ‘We make vow. We promised, before God. We make commitment.’

"He say he will honor his commitment, even if I decide I no want to anymore, to be married. Even if I leave, he keep commitment.

"It drive me up wall!

"I look at him, I think to myself,

"‘Why? Why do you do this to me? You, you did this first, not me!

"'You leave me first!

"'Is your neglect no break of commitment?

"'Is you lie, you sabotage my goals, and push and push me away no break of commitment? Is my crying alone while he at work, feeling so lonely that I should die, that I did die, of no consequence?

"'I tried talk, I tried warn him, I stop wearing ring -- and he pat me on head, or say talking make him too sad -- all that no matter? Was that not break his commitment?'

"So, you understand, I go drinking, everybody drink, people will listen, even if they would not listen sober.

"And I ask them, I tell them what happen, I ask, ‘Am I being bad? He give me so much. Did I ask too much from him?’

"And they look at me, like I crazy.

"Some women, they say, ‘I would have leave after first THREE weeks, never mind fifteen months or years!’

"Some men, they say, ‘Is he really serious??? That’s--’ --what they say?

"There a word for it.

"‘Spousal neglect.’

"They say I could get annulment, it be like neither of us were ever married because…’consummated’.

"Marriage not consummated.

"They also laugh, think I a crazy woman -- a wife who wants sex, hey? They ‘never heard of it before’.

"The women, they no laugh.

"There are more wives like me, hurting also, everyone think they crazy because they want sex.

"Only a man supposed to want sex, right? Lots of it.

"Or, if you a woman and you want sex, it because you harlot.

"Some look down on me.

"Understand?

"Before I died, I would have look down on me, too.

"I would have hated me.

"I would have said, ‘She evil.’

"But the other women and I, we talk a long time.

"And those women, they know:

"Men who want sex. Men who don’t want sex. Men who only want a little.

"Women who don’t want sex. Women who only want a little. Some women, they want lots, just like some men.

"We agree: it not so simple.

"Whether or not you want sex, and how much sex, and from whom, and what kind, is not about whether man or wife.

"It ridiculous—is no prude, is no slut! "It depends on individual.

"It’s wired in. Into flesh and into your bones…

"...It make me glad I no ever guilt husband into take me.

"...He’s one of those, isn’t he?

"Probably couldn’t tell anybody…because, just like I ‘crazy woman’, maybe they call him ‘crazy man’, right?

"Man no want sex, no want romance, they never heard of it before, right?

"These assumptions. "They kill everyone.

"Anyway.

"Some of the women who hurt, they hurt long, long time. Years…decades!

"Others, they surprise I last so long! They think I made of steel!

"But I still die, huh? "Even steel breaks.

"But you know, I yell at him now, my widower husband.

"And sometime he laughs, and sometime he stares, and sometime he ignores. And I feel so bad for yelling at him.

"But I still do it, now and again, and he tries to touch me and I tell him to go away and he laughs some more and waits till later.

"He want now, now he want to take me!

"He say he understand now, that I need and that he should give to me.

"He talk more and more about kids now. Kids!

"But he doesn’t understand. Not at all.

"It so hard. When I was alive, I wanted him to touch me, so so so much.

"I would have kill for him to take me.

"But now that I’m dead, there’s too much memory, you know?

"Too much resentment.

"I think about it now, and when I think of him trying to take me I cry…because when I think of him taking me, I re-live the wondering and the questioning and the waiting and the wanting and the rejection and the need and the pain and the pain and the so-much confusion and so-much shame.

"I re-live it and I don’t want him no more…not like that.

"How wonderful it would have been, if we had just stayed friends!

"And then I help him maybe, find a nice girl with low libido, too, who no mind if he don’t take her. A girl who don’t remember no pain from him, who want same kind of life he want: of just stay still, of no do things, and no go anywhere, of no look at each other, of live only because your parents want you alive and married – not because you're alive, and in love.

"He deserves wonderful, sweet girl who in love with him deep and is satisfied with all he can give.

"Anyone deserves that.

"He have a lot to give, yes? "Like anyone.

"But don’t, don’t give me his pity touches after the fact.

"After the death.

"Don’t give me because I say I have to leave one day.

"My imaginary man…he gives me because it’s something to share, to savor, wanting me like I want him, glad to want me, relaxed, confident in it, ravenous for it and I give it and I receive it, too, easy and natural as raindrops.

"Because he wants to. "Not because he’s afraid I’ll leave.

"Hell, why would he be afraid?

"He understands that I’m dead and that he’s imaginary.

"There isn’t any ‘there’, so there isn’t any ‘leave’.

"I feel so, so whole, when with him.

"I understand, it not my fault.

"And it’s okay, to be woman and feel this way, to crave so much.

"I was born to love. I was built to be loved.

"It’s in my blood, it part of me, and it’s okay.

"And I can be all of me with a man, not just pieces, only the pieces they like.

"It better, it healthier, when I get to be all of me.

"So yeah.

"I yell at him now, my smart-stupid husband.

"Because now, a couple times a week, I see him get the shovel.

"And I know where he’s going.

"He goes to the grave I bought, and I tell him, ‘Don’t you do it! Don’t you do it, she tried everything!!!

"'She was good girl, she deserves peace, she should have respect. Let her rest! Don’t you know she’s dead?’

"But he doesn’t believe me.

"He doesn’t want to believe she’s dead, the girl.

"He wants to believe she’s shining and buried alive and that he can save her.

"So he digs and I yell at him!

"He wants to dig up the corpse of the dead girl to love him again.

"And he shovel, and the dirt comes back to hit me in the face: the live woman!

"He’d bury me if he could. If he could admit to himself clearly that he prefers things that way: me, the live woman, dead, breathing and buried, and the dead girl exposed, ashamed and aching in the too-bright air with not a breath in her--”

I gasp inwards, desperate, as if drowning.

That’s it. The last straw.

And I let the gasp out in a sudden scream:

“Alright!!! Alright, lady, alright already!”

Her eye goes wide, and she flinches, the crow fidgeting and flapping on her shoulder.

I pant, “I get you. I heard you. Okay? Understand? It’s alright. You’ve been heard!

"I’m gonna go now!”

And I don’t have to pull to get my arm back: her hand drops.

And I woulda’ run the rest of the way to the train.

But I’m too dazed to do it.

...I walk away as if I’m never gonna stop walking.

As if I’m gonna walk until I can’t walk anymore.

But slowly the sound comes back to the world. Even if everything is still blue.

So I keep going.

So I finally get to the train station, you know.

And it’s started to rain a little….the scattered, warm, heavy drops that’s real slow and don’t really wet you. Just makes dark dots all over the pavement.

And I’m right: the train that arrives is mostly empty, and that makes me feel real good, because my dogs are barking and so is my head.

...There’s no way I’ll be able to read my book.

Was looking forward to it, too…something about a steamy romance, high fantasy and adventure.

But there’s just no way.

Somehow, romance is not alive in my head right now.

It’s dead.

Like the Woman.

…No.

Like the Girl.

...I feel tired.

But you know….the train takes off like always.

It’ll be good, to get home.

I’m thinking I’ll cook curry tonight.

…But…I shit you not, I can’t even.

I can’t even, cause you know…ten minutes into the trip, there’s always this cemetery we pass by.

And it’s usually empty unless there’s a funeral, all the stones at peace.

Except not today.

There’s one stone that’s not at peace,

I SHIT YOU NOT,

this guy is there, and has this huge poster on display next to the gravestone, of a young girl: dark-haired, dark-eyed, glowing, she looks like she’s not quite from here.

And she’s got on this frilly cute dress, on the poster.

And on the poster, the sun is shining brightly, not one cloud in the sky.

And the girl on the poster’s smiling so hard she looks like she’ll break.

And he’s got flowers circled all around the poster, and he’s smiling so hard it looks like he’ll break.

And there’s banners in the trees, saying, ‘Welcome Back! Welcome Home!’

And he’s got a shovel, you know, and I can see it: his mouth moving, giving all these assurances and placations to the cold, cold ground, and he’s digging like mad.

To get at the poor girl’s dead corpse.

And there’s the smart-dressed woman with the crow on her shoulder and her one remaining eye, and she’s yelling at him.

[wegonbealright-09]

Hey,

Came across your blog on my feed, I hope you’ll find it within yourself to consume bts related content to see how much all the members care about each other.

I don’t really understand but I can empathize with solo stans, it feels like you’re fighting or campaigning for something that doesn’t really have any basis, you ( and many others ) have contributed to the us versus them mentality, I’m not sure how it is beneficial for either party.

Try to spread kindness when you can, assuming members are ‘jealous’ of another member’s achievements is odd to me, also comparing other groups is odd as well. They’re all in the same industry, there shouldn’t be any competition because as you mentioned everyone is gonna ‘get their bag’.

This kpop space is vast, achievements can be shared, celebrated, and achieved again and again. There is no shortage of love that you can spread. I’m not sure if you are solo stan because you like the community, believe in what you think, or you use it as a form to release your stress out on celebrities, but I hope you can find it within yourself to participate in fan culture in a positive way.

this is by no means hate, I hope you don’t take it that way. You can like one member in a group, it just doesn’t look right to put down the other members in it, now that is my opinion and you can take it as you will.

Hope you have a good day

- anon army

Ten points for your way of approaching this.

Okay so I was never a solo, I've only became a solo after Face if I'm dating it back correctly when jk released his concept photo that's when I stopped being an army and a shipper completely. I was an army for five years anon five years. I didn't just wake up and decided I'm gonna be a solo I'm done being an army no somethings happened and now we're here.

When I started this blog I was bit too negative and so I did what you said and watched BTS content with hopes of reviving something in me idk what but something. Truth is when you're a solo, it opens your eyes about alot of things. Armies are too naive you guys want to push this image of BTS that existed 5 years ago. You want to continue and live in this bubble and away from reality. Wake up and smell the coffee.

Yes namjoon was jealous of jimin getting that number one and yes he was insecure about the numbers that he pulled just like Hobi was about his which he said in his documentary. Yes yoongi is mean to jimin yes he gives jimin backhanded compliments and yes yoongi sometimes says things that may seem like he downplays jimin and makes him feel insecure yes yoongi has body shamed jimin times more than once, it's not a joke if only one of us is laughing it's not a joke if the person being made fun of is not laughing it's not typically boy behaviour it's bullying. Yes Tae is selfish and he's a leech he only wants to be friends with jimin when it benefits him that much is visible now, he always makes it seem like jimin is the most important person to him where as he's the least, he has time for everybody not for him, he'd go the extra mile for anybody but not even quarter a mile for jimin it's not really a friendship, a healthy friendship if only one person is pulling the weight. Jungkook is the worst person ever for all the things he's done to jimin and still continues to do. For the way he acts like being next to jimin hurts him physically for him making it seem like jimin is forcing himself to him for him "loving" jimin in private but acts the opposite in public for him seeming comfortable when with anyone but not jimin.

I'm not going to spread positivity because there's nothing to be positive about. The fandom it's self has turned to something I don't know armies are now jimin antis. BTS themselves are no longer themselves and we can't deny that but you'll since y'all like acting like everything is perfect. I can't spread positivity when there's an elephant in the room which armies are refusing to address. I won't spread positivity when armies are acting like pjms are the enemies for streaming jimin's music for standing up for him. There's nothing to be positive about. And idk what groups are you talking about because not once have I ever mentioned groups in this blog the only group I talk about is bts

But if you're referring to that post where I talked about how jimin's no1 gagged everybody. Well it did getting that no1 is everybody's dream in kpop they might not say it but they do. What some groups couldn't do in years soloist jimin did in 5 days it is what is it's not that deep.

I can like jimin and I can hate the rest of BTS ( of which I don't) because it's a free world and I'm a grown woman I can do what I want.

And no honey there's no negativity in this blog it's just positive vibes always I just seem negative when I lean a little bit towards the truth and it hits a certain nerve.

Your opinion is very much valued thanks but not thanks

Yours sincerely

wegonbealright-09