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bluesidez · 6 months ago

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GymRat!Miguel Part 9.1 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: lots of music links, ROADTRIP!!, some hurt/comfort at the beginning, a damn near comedy if I must say so myself, Spanish parts (if wrong, please correct me), lots of fluff, Buc-ee's shenanigans (I love that store), Miguel drives a Range Rover (hot, I know. Tyler got that MUNYUN), some jealous Miguel (MY FAVORITE), a hint of jealous reader 🫨 (she has a storm coming lol), simp Miguel if I'm being honest, 18+ so MNDI, male masturbation, wet wet fantasies, both reader and Miguel are h word for each other

word count: 7.1k, damn near proofread (this is only one part of the behemoth)

I did some research on MLE, yachts, superyachts, dolphins, and water activities for this chapter. 🤠 Hopefully, it shows! The yacht size I imagined is somewhere in between a regular yacht and a superyacht/megayacht. I built a Range Rover just for GR!Miguel you guys. (thanks to my irl besties and @slushycoookie once again 🥰)

Prev | Next (Part 9.2) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who comes back home after nearly a week of bliss with you. He floated all the way home from dropping you off with Tyler’s people.

He made them wait much longer than they needed to when he decided to makeout with you next to the black Suburban.

Only a few more weeks before he could see you again.

GymRat!Miguel who is met with his mom sitting on the couch with just the tv glowing on her.

His steps were too heavy to sneak past her, so he just sighed and settled down on one of the plush chairs.

“I see you’re home,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from the Golden Girls episode playing softly.

“Sí, mamá.”

“How come you didn’t tell me where you went?”

“Gabriel told you where I was. I’m sure you asked him.” Miguel was tired already.

“He did, pero eso no fue lo que te pregunté.” (but that’s not what I asked you)

“Ma-”

“Mijo.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“And you’ve sat so far away. Like I’m going to hurt you. Miguel, I asked you to come home. You didn’t respond. You didn’t call. You didn’t even speak to me when you came back a few days ago.”

Miguel stared at her face, willing himself not to get emotional over this.

“I acknowledge that I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”

Conchata finally turned to look at Miguel. Her first-born. The life given to her after so much turmoil.

She could still see the little boy that would cry at the drop of a hat. She could still see the little boy that would dry up his tears if Gabriel started to cry with him, just to comfort him. The little boy with so much room in his heart.

She can see him now, face ridden with sadness. A face that she knew too well.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, mijo.”

“Well, you did. Again. I’m used to it. This isn’t a new feeling. What is new, is you acting like this towards someone else close to me.”

“I-”

“Let me finish, ma, please. You’ve never been a parent that cares about how I’ve felt in regards to anything. You have made decisions for me without a second thought without ever considering how I might feel. You’ve also never been the type of person who hurts someone else for no reason. I’m sorry I’m not with someone you picked, but I’m not sorry for loving her. She is everything to me. If I were to fall, there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be there to build me back up. She’d probably even break my fall if I couldn’t stop her.”

Miguel stopped to look up, willing himself not to cry.

“What you said to her brought something out that she hasn’t felt in a while. You broke her in a way that I promised myself I never would. I wanted to present her to my family in a positive light, to show her off. I didn’t expect you to be ecstatic about her, but I did hope that you could at least open your heart up once you met her.”

He looked off, tears escaping from his eyes. You’re in a better position now, but he won’t know if that donner will creep back up on you, making you hate yourself for something that’s not your fault. He remembered the pain in your voice, how kept it in until you were with him and away from the manor. He hated it.

“But instead, she was met with two people who paid her no respect. Two people that brought her turmoil. I expected Kron to be horrible, look at how he talked to you, but not you. You were supposed to be better. You didn’t see how much you hurt her, I did. It’s like we prepped for nothing but a shitshow and I should have followed my gut and kept her to myself a little longer.”

Miguel sniffed, wiping at his nose in hopes that it would stop the urge to cry.

Conchata let the silence rest. Nothing but the TV and her son’s sniffles filled the room.

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Miguel turned back. Shocked that she didn’t put up much of a fight.

“I just,” she paused. “There’s no excuse for how I treated her. She didn’t deserve it and if I could go back and change my behavior, I would. I think that I was just overwhelmed. Upset because my baby is growing up. He’s moving on and I can’t hold him in my hands anymore. I don’t tuck him in anymore. I don’t have to check under his bed for monsters. He doesn’t need me to do anything. So this shift is hurting me, mijo, and I took it out on the wrong people. For that, I’m so sorry.”

Conchata was a hard-cased woman. She stuck with her opinions, even if they were blatantly wrong. She was proud and vocal. She never let people see her crack or fall under pressure. So, seeing her like this, begging for Miguel to understand her, was a rare moment for Miguel.

“Ma, me growing up doesn’t stop me from being your son. I’m still here. I’ll still rely on you, but I want you to have a break too. You have to let me grow. I won’t live here forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you. I’m glad you were able to express this to me, I just wish you could have said so sooner.”

“Lo siento, mijo.”

Miguel got up to get closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, too easy to forgive her. “It’s ok.”

He leans back and kisses her forehead, heart mending by the smallest of stitches. “You still have to apologize to my girlfriend, though.”

“I will when I see her again.”

“And we need to go to therapy.”

“George has already told me.”

“And I want you to make me some ceviche. And tamales.”

“Bueno.”

“And tres leches.”

She sighed, but squeezed him tighter. “Don’t curse in front of me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“De nada, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel who goes to sleep with his body feeling a lot lighter. The weight of his relationship with his mom lifted a little off his shoulders.

GymRat!Miguel who has two grand master plans that he’s been setting out for months: eating you out and making your first time together special.

He’s been overthinking every detail like a maniac. The peaches from the fruit bowl have been disappearing to his room for research purposes only- and a snack of course.

He once ended up on the girl side of Tik Tok where they complain about everything guys get wrong when pleasuring them. He had been thoroughly reading the comments and taking notes here and there. He didn’t really need the tip about making noise though, he already does that just thinking about you. So many times has he had to stuff his mouth when jerking off.

He also had a few tabs open in incognito mode. That research is only done in the deep of the night.

Right now, he’s sitting at his desk reading some article about listening to your partner’s body and his mind can’t help but to wander off. Will you grip your thighs around him? He hopes so. He could die that way. Will you be vocal? Will you tell him if it’s too much? Will you guide his head and pull his hair?

That last question has him gripping his sweats in anticipation. No doubt when you scratched at his back in the hotel room, he was reeling from the sensation. It was like a reward for him whenever you feel so good, you’re too unaware of what you’re doing to him physically. Too lost in bliss to register the marks and pain you’re leaving on him. You just want him to give you more.

Miguel drops his pen and pushes the heel of his palm on his growing bulge.

“Fuck.” Every time about an hour or so into researching, his head is full of you. He imagines what it’ll be like to finally taste you, to be inside you.

He remembered how wet you got with just a little rubbing. Your body was so responsive to his movements and he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you guys upped the foreplay.

Miguel leaned back in his chair, arm over his head. He dropped his hand in his sweats hand gripping at the base of his erection, exhaling deep as he gave it a few pumps.

Your hands on his chest. Your arms around his neck. Your nails scraping his back. Your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your breath on his lips.

You opening up for him. You dripping down his fingers, down his legs, down his face. You screaming out his name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to file a complaint. You in whatever position he puts you in. He could hold you up. Maybe have your legs in the air or stretched out on the bed. He could have you grabbing for the sheets, the headboard, him. His head in your chest, in your pussy, in your ass.

Pre-cum spilled onto his stomach, rolling down his shaft. Would you let him go that far?

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the cold showers and teeth-marked arms at the beginning of the relationship or his constant daydreams of your body connecting with his that kept occurring regularly.

Maybe you felt the same way too. That was a new thought.

Do you wonder about your first time together? Were you just as excited as him? Do you get wet at the thought of him inside of you? Do you have to stop everything and find pleasure like he does? Were your fingers enough or did you need more?

Miguel continued to move his hand up and down, squeezing occasionally to mimic what you might feel like.

He’s groaning into his elbow, hips lifting from his desk chair.

He could almost hear your voice in his ear. Begging, praising, crying out, stuttering.

GymRat!Miguel who cums as Gabriel slams through the door. In a matter of 15 seconds, Miguel covers his drenched chest, shoves his sensitive dick back down, and grabs napkins to try to wipe away at his hand.

Nevermind his shirt is now ruined.

“What the fuck are you looking at and why is this picture showing a seductive pomegranate?”

“Why the fuck are you opening my door without knocking?”

“I did knock! I did our special knock plus a freestyle! I thought you were dead, Miguelito.”

Miguel’s heart felt a little tug despite its rapid tempo, “’M not dead, Gabri. Just busy. I didn’t hear you.”

Gabriel snickered when he got closer to look at his laptop. “I can see why. These tabs are a dead giveaway.”

Gabriel reached over to stare at Miguel’s notebook.

“These are some good tips! You shouldn’t expect her to taste like sweets, though.”

Nothing in his notes indicated that, but Miguel wanted to be offended for you anyway.

Miguel gave Gabriel a hard side eye, mouth set deeply down.

“I really wish you would get out of my room.”

“Oo, you should buy a rose. Dana loves that thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever freaky shit you and Dana get up to, Gabriel.”

“You’ve caught me in more embarrassing situations, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I also suggest those candy panties-”

“I’m not putting candy on- Gabriel. Can you please stop talking to me?”

“Miguel, this stuff is important!”

“¿Por qué eres así?” Miguel mumbled. “Ok, yeah. I get it. But you can chat to me about this after I’ve switched shirts.” (Why are you like this?)

“Fine, I’ll come back. Ten minutes. Then we must have a healthy chat about how to have fun safely.”

Gabriel skipped back to the door singing Candy loud enough to be heard as he went back to his own room.

“Strawberry! Raspberry! All those good things! Violets and gumdrops that’s what you’re saying to me, me, me.”

A black hole would be nice to save himself from this situation.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps out of his bed the day of the “Yacht Weekend.” Gabriel is dead set on calling it the “Yachty Pawty” and Miguel thinks that’s unbelievably stupid.

GymRat!Miguel who has to go and pull Gabriel out of his bed to get him to get ready, his body stretching like a ferret. He’s never been a morning person. It’s like his brain didn’t start computing until noon.

GymRat!Miguel who jogs around the neighborhood to kill time. The weather is a lot cooler in the morning plus it gives Gabriel time to come to reality. He waves to the son of one of his neighbors who gawks at him as he passes by.

Were his shorts giving away too much again? He didn’t feel a draft.

He looked down at his crotch. All good.

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while he stops to take a water break.

“Amor!” His voice is bright and his smile is radiant, watching as you squint at the screen.

Your cheek is squished against the pillow and you’re wrapped up in your covers.

“Hey, Miggy. It’s so bright there.”

Your voice was scratchy, a sign of how deep in sleep you were. You were so fucking cute.

“Are you running?”

He placed his phone on a nearby bench so he could stretch. “Yeah, I’m taking a break.”

He went into a deep lunge, stretching his body low to the ground.

You went quiet for so long, Miguel thought the call dropped.

“Baby? Did you go back to sleep?” Miguel asked.

“No, I’m still here. Those pants are,” you started to shuffle your phone. “Really short.”

“Really?” Miguel stood up and looked down at his pants. They did cut off high up his thighs, but they were good for running. Plus, he got hot easily, so he needed as much wind on his skin as possible. “They’re comfy.”

“Mm hm. Can you turn around for me?”

Miguel turned, confused but willing.

“Got it. Thank you, my muscle bear!”

“What did you just do?”

“Took pictures of your ass. It looks great. I’m gonna hold it real good later.”

Miguel laughed and grabbed his phone.

“Can I hold yours, too?” He wanted to do way more than hold it.

You smile sleepily at the camera. “I’ll think about it.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets you stay on the phone while he runs back to the house.

“You’re just going to hear the wind and me breathing for a few minutes.”

“And I’m fine with that! It’s like boyfriend ASMR. Peaceful.”

GymRat!Miguel who ruffles Gabriel’s hair when he gets back home. He’s staring at the wall and shoveling cereal in his mouth at the slowest pace known to man.

“Buenos días, hermanito!” (Good morning, little brother)

“Mm.”

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower to cool off for once and not because he’s having explicit thoughts of you.

GymRat!Miguel who chugs down a protein smoothie while he waits for Gabriel to come downstairs.

GymRat!Miguel who answers the door to Dana. She’s got some shades on and a purse with the same texture as a croc.

She peers over her shades. “You’re looking put together!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to impress your girl! What do you have planned? A dinner on the horizon? A spa date? Oh! No! Another shopping spree?l

Yes. No, but he should arrange that. And absolutely not. He’s not Tyler.

“No,” Miguel squints. “But how can you tell?”

“You’re easy to read, big guy. Even when you think about her your eyes turn into hearts. When have you ever thought to wear a button down for a roadtrip to the beach?”

“Touche.”

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to. I have my ways.”

She twirls and runs up to Gabriel’s room, leaving a waft of strong perfume after her.

With that, Miguel knew it would be at least another 45 minutes before he could get on the road.

GymRat!Miguel who does his special knock on Gabriel’s door.

“I’m opening it, so you fiends better have your clothes on.”

He swung the door open to the disheveled couple. Dana with her hair astray and Gabriel breathing eerily hard.

“Seriously, guys? I need to go by the airport.”

“I was just waking him up!” Dana says with a voice that was much hoarser than it was an hour ago.

“Well,” Miguel put a hand on his hip in a way that anyone could tell he was Conchata O’Hara’s son. “Are you awake, Gabri?”

Gabriel’s face was as red as a tomato as he shook his head no.

Miguel pitched his voice higher to mimic his brother. “Ten minutes. And then we can have a conversation on time management and respect. Except it won’t be “safely” because I’m going to hurt you.”

GymRat!Miguel who finally backs out of the driveway in exactly ten minutes. Gabriel is rubbing his arm in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. Dana is grinning from ear to ear.

GymRat!Miguel who hands Gabriel the aux. He might be a silly boy, but his music taste is immaculate.

GymRat!Miguel who almost has to hurt Gabriel again when he doesn’t want to get out of the passenger seat.

“Why do I have to move?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not grounds for anything!”

Dana pokes her head over the console. “Gabie. Read the room. He wants to grip on to his girl while he drives with one hand. Show off.”

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you and grabs your bags at the same time when he sees you. The cars around are loud, honking sporadically. People are walking and running to catch cabs or get to their loved ones. Workers are trying to direct the traffic.

It all quiets down when he meets your eyes.

“Hola, mi amor.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close. “Hello to you too, my love.”

You smile up until he presses his lips against yours. More and more pecks follow after that.

He holds his nose to yours, completely enraptured by your presence.

“Oh my god, let’s go!” Gabriel shouts from the car, pressing his palm against the steering wheel.

“You’re not the one driving, pinche pendejo!”

You giggle and stand on your tippy toes to try and see over Miguel’s shoulder. You’re still too short so you lean sideways. Miguel melts.

“Just a few more and we’ll be done Gabriel!”

“Fine. For you, I’ll let it slide.”

You stand back up straight and kiss Miguel a little more.

GymRat!Miguel who does reach over and grip your thigh. If Gabriella and Troy weren’t in the back belting, he’d hike his hand up further.

“Right now I can hardly breathe!” Gabriel pivots his head towards Dana dramatically, water bottle a faux mic.

“Oh! You can do it, just know that I believe.” Dana is touching his chest dramatically.

“Are they always like this?” You ask, laughing a little at their antics.

Miguel groans in annoyance. “Yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly sprints out the car when he parks by a pump. He’s been riding for a bit and he needs to stretch his legs.

“Miggy, you want something from the store?”

You’re standing next to the car, the wind blowing your hair back. Your jacket blows away a little, showing off the tight little outfit you’re sporting. You’re beautiful.

He wants to break you down in the front seat of his car.

He swallows the thought. “I’ll come in there soon, don’t worry.”

You walk in the giant gas station and head immediately to the Icee machines. For the best possible experience, you should wait until it’s time to go before buying it.

As you’re walking along the wall wondering what flavor you should get, you feel a tug at your arm.

You turn to see Dana with some bottles in her hand.

“I don’t know what he’s planning, but trust me when I say, you should take these.”

You frown as you take the cranberry juice. “Um.”

“I’ve been around those two long enough to know when one of them is up to something. I mean Gabriel hasn’t said anything off, but look at how he’s bopping around the store.”

You turn and look.

He is indeed bouncing more than usual. He’s so tall that if he puts even more pep in his step, he might just break a hole in the ceiling.

“Ok,” you turn back to Dana while fighting a laugh. “So they are planning something. What does that have to do with me and cranberry juice?”

“Gabie tries his best to use bro code, but I quite literally suck the information out of him sometimes. He caught Miguel looking at lots of articles about pleasuring his partner. With his mouth. That’s all I know for now.”

Your heart picks up. He was still going on about that?

“That might just be a coincidence.”

“He’s wearing damn near beach attire with his hair styled. He held onto your thigh for an hour, even when the turns got tough. He stared at you walking into the store even until he couldn’t see you anymore.”

You bit your lip. “Those last two things are standard Miguel behavior.”

Dana huffs and spins you around.

Across the store, you could see Miguel and Gabriel huddled over something. Miguel with his eyes focused and Gabriel animatedly explaining something. Every once in a while, Miguel would nod and roll his eyes up as if he was mentally checking on something.

You sigh and turn back around.

“Do they sell pineapples too?”

GymRat!Miguel who looms over you while you and Dana are looking at some cakes. You look up at him, pressing your head against his chest.

Miguel kissed your forehead when you beamed at him.

He looked over to Gabriel who was also crowding Dana and shouted, “¡Vamos!”

In a matter of seconds, Miguel had lifted you and brought you to the middle of the store where the workers were cooking up fresh meat.

You squeal in shock and laugh on the way over. Miguel’s not even struggling.

Gabriel on the other hand huffs as he places Dana down.

“You need to work on that, babe.”

“I can lift you when I want to!” Gabriel replies, petulant.

“For like one minute maybe. Why don’t you start working out with Miguel?”

“No thanks.” They both said in unison, almost carbon copies of each other.

Really, if Miguel didn’t work out, or if Gabriel did for about a year, they could definitely play off as twins. Only subtle things separating them, like Gabriel’s freckles, softer face, and slightly shorter height and Miguel’s less curly hair, thicker eyebrows, and deeper voice.

In your eyes, their bond was precious. You wondered what their baby pictures looked like.

“You guys are so cute,” you say, reaching up to squeeze both of their cheeks.

They both melt the same way in your hands. Miguel’s face is only a little bit hotter against your palm.

GymRat!Miguel who presses up against you while you both check out. You stay nonchalant and talk to the cashier like normal, but you could feel Miguel’s heartbeat through your thin romper.

Every breath he took molded on your skin, his chest rising and falling against your head.

He kept steady hands on your hips and waist, only moving them to pay for your snacks.

The cashier would take not-so-subtle breaks to stare up at him, face getting redder after each glance.

You could only think “me too, girl.”

He really did look good today. His shirt was open a little lower than normal, his shorts loose but tightening around his thighs with every step he took. His hair was slicked back with a few strands falling loose and shades sat perfectly on top of his head. A chain danced around his neck, the color glowing on his pretty skin. He was tanner than usual, the sun making him glow after so many morning runs.

To top it off he smelled really good. You wanted to lick him.

From how slow the cashier was moving, you knew she was ready to take a lick too.

You took moments like this in stride. Especially when Miguel was pressed so hard against you, you could feel his dick at the small of your back.

Still, when people still tried to hit on your boyfriend or gawked at him even when you caught them, it was hard not feel frustrated about others thinking he can be taken from you. Or just ignoring you.

More often than not, Miguel would bring you back down to earth with some action to let others know that he’s taken.

Today, it was a kiss to your neck and a smack to your ass followed by his hand rubbing circles in the same spot.

He grabbed the bags in one hand and your hip in the other.

You looked back to the cashier scanning the next customer far more aggressively than before.

GymRat!Miguel who eats half of his sandwich before starting the car back up.

You still place the other half in front of his mouth, feeding him occasionally.

He just smiles before and after each bite. Giddy with attention. You wipe his mouth to stop sauce from spilling from his shirt.

Miguel almost turns the car into turbo drive.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to the beach an hour or so later. It’s late Thursday afternoon, so the sun is still shining bright.

Gabriel is excited to finally be free from the tight back seat so he uses the opportunity to blast music from Miguel’s stereo.

“C’mon, Dana! Dance with me,” Gabriel said, pulling her out of the back seat and bringing her to the front of the var. “Let’s have a twerk-off.”

You can’t stop the laugh that spills out of your mouth. You couldn’t imagine either of them shaking anything.

“I can not twerk and you know it!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t shake. Don’t be shy now!”

You and Miguel get out of the car to stretch, Miguel watching the two over the hood of the car, unphased.

Gabriel turns to you with a glint in his eyes. “Can you twerk?”

You were ready to shake your ass on a yacht after some liquid courage, but you didn’t mind a little dancing beforehand.

You hurried to the front before the song was over and put your hands on the hood. You bend over with an arch in your back and move your ass to the beat of the song.

You hear Gabriel shout, “Oh shit! Go, go, go!”

Dana sprints, nearly bulldozing Gabriel to stand behind you and catch it. You laugh at the two and bend even deeper, encouraged by their cheers.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes nearly pop out of his head when you bend over.

When did you learn how to do that?

He’s stunned for a second until he reaches inside the car and turns the radio off. He’s going to kill Gabriel.

Miguel hurries to the front and picks Dana up by her armpits to move her aside. “You guys are wasting my gas and neither you or you are CashApping me shit.”

He straightens you up and pulls your risen romper back over your ass. He stands behind you like a bodyguard, arms crossed and frown deepening.

“I don’t know what you think we’re going to be doing on this yacht, but all of my girls are throwing it back. You need to prepare yourself, Mig.” Dana scoffs, mostly offended that Miguel just removed her from a dream spot.

“Yeah, Mig. Be mindful of why you were invited to the function,” Gabriel turned his nose up and wrapped his arm around Dana. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, m’lady.”

Gabriel bowed to you and you curtsied back with a fake dress. The two of them walked like royalty to the trunk, gathering their bags.

GymRat!Miguel who stuttered trying to explain himself when you turned to him.

“Is it going to be a problem for you that I’m dancing with others?”

“No!” he said way too fast.

You gave him a look with your eyebrow raised.

“You just,” he paused. His voice got quieter as he played with the strap of your romper. “You never danced on me before.”

He had a pout on his face, mouth turned like a duck.

“Oh my god, Miguel. I can dance on you if you would like. You just have to ask.” He was so cute. You’ve never seen him get that jealous before.

You kind of want to play with him some more.

“Can you dance on me later?” he asks, not daring to meet your eyes.

“Of course.”

You giggle as you kiss his cheek. His pout slowly disappearing from his face.

GymRat!Miguel who is greeted by the enthusiastic captain with a shake that moves his entire arm. He’s a jolly little fellow, cheeks rosy and his mustache curled on the ends. He was also strangely stocky. He reminded Miguel of Santa Claus if he took vacations in the Bahamas when he’s not at the North Pole.

“I take it you’re Mr. Stone’s son, yes?”

“That would be me.”

“Excellent! Excellent. Your father has told me quite a lot about you. You sure do take after his height. My name is Captain Barrett and I’ll be steering the boat for you youngins this weekend. Me and your father go way back. And between you and me, I was better lookin’!”

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, trying to move the conversation along.

He finally looks past Miguel and sees the three of you standing there.

“And who might you three be?”

“This is my younger brother, Gabriel. His girlfriend, Dana.”

“And this is my girlfriend.” Miguel moves by your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. His tone is full of warmth as he says your name.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Will you all be in our cabins this weekend?”

“Yeah, this is four of the ten staying on board. The others won’t get here until tomorrow at noon.”

“Is Kron supposed to be joining you all too?”

Miguel stiffens, his grip on your shoulder a little firmer.

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Perfect! He ruined my other boat and it took me ages to clean it up. Hopefully, you’re nothing like him.” Captain Barrett does a little pleading gesture with his hands.

“Welp, follow me and I’ll show you on board!”

GymRat!Miguel who is still stunned by the amount of things money can buy when he sees the yacht. He’ll never get used to the life of luxury that Tyler introduces to him.

“Holy shit,” Gabriel mutters as he stares up at the black and wooden beauty of the deck. Dana elbows in his side, telling him to be polite in front of the captain.

“Welcome to Black Jack.”

There were crew members there to hand out fancy smoothies and grab everyone’s bags.

You had seen yachts on some of your old high school classmates’ Insta stories but this was beyond.

“I’d like to introduce you guys to the crew. They’ll be assisting me to give you youngins a good time.”

Captain Barrett ran down the line and you all greeted every person. Miguel made mental notes of their names. They’ll be getting close with all of the surprises he had planned for you.

“And this is my son, Blake! He’ll be helping me up in the cockpit.”

Miguel stopped to shake his hand.

He was like the textbook definition of a pretty frat boy. Tall, but not O’Hara tall, tan, and handsome. He smiled and showed a straight line of teeth, dimples peeking through.

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Kron’s really not coming?”

What’s with people asking about that dickhead today?

“Nope. Just us and our friends. If he does come, it’s news to me.”

Blake went to shake your hand and it was like he started to glow under the sun. His smile went up to his eyes and he mimicked the heartthrobs in the movies Miguel’s cousins watched growing up.

“And who’s this?”

“My name is-”

“My girlfriend,” Miguel said before you could even finish.

You looked up at him in shock, laughing it off. “That too, but I have a name.” You respond to Blake and shake his hand.

Miguel doesn’t like how his eyes scan your body. It was subtle, but he caught it.

Even as you all finish up greetings, Blake is still making moves towards you. The type of flirting that probably flew over your head, but Miguel has been around enough guys like him to know exactly what it was.

“So is this your first time on a boat?” Blake asked you while he guided you guys to your room.

“No, actually. But it’s definitely my first time on a yacht, especially one this huge.”

Miguel followed behind with Dana and Gabriel.

“Is this your first time on a boat?” Miguel mocked Blake quietly, mouth scrunched up.

“‘La envidia esta flaca, porque muerde y no come,’” Gabriel replied. “You’re turning green from your neck, bro. He’s just being nice.” (Envy is thin, because it bites and does not eat.)

“No, he’s definitely flirting,” Dana quipped. “He’s not even paying the rest of us any attention.”

“Thank you, Dana. And Gabriel, don’t ever quote a Spaniard to me again.”

“How do you call that flirting? He’s not even-” Gabriel paused as Blake laughed really loud at something that you said with his hand guiding you way too close on your ass. “Ah shit.”

Miguel stomped towards you two, yanking Blake’s hand off of you and replacing it with his.

“I think we’ve got it from here. You can show those two where they’ll be staying. Thanks,” Miguel nods his head towards Dana and Gabriel with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Right,” Blake responds to him with a blank face. “I’ll see you up on the deck.” Blake winks at you before walking further.

“Don’t kill him, Miguel,” Dana pats his shoulder as she walks by.

“You’ve got my permission to hurt him if he touches me one more time though,” you say, snuggling close to Miguel and patting at his chest.

“So, I’m killing him. Got it.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches you twirl around the VIP suite.

“Miguel! This is so beautiful! Look at the view.”

“Oh my god! There’s a walk-in closet!”

“There’s a bidet! How’d they fit that and a shower in here?”

Miguel leaned on the doorway, watching you comment on every little thing.

You made sure to start to spray everything with Lysol, a habit from your mom when traveling.

While you were in the bathroom, Miguel got out one of his first gifts of the night.

It was another keychain to add to your collection. He’s been working hard to have this weekend make up for the awful dinner night.

He placed it on the bed and started to open his bag to grab his pajamas.

“What’s this?” you ask, coming out to spray the bed.

“Just a little gift for you.”

“Aw, this is so cute!” Your voice gets higher as you take in the little legos. “They even look like us! When did you get these?”

“I got them made about a week ago. You like them?”

“I love them! Thank you, Miggy.”

GymRat!Miguel who wants to moan when you walk out.

You guys are going on a double date with Gabriel and Dana at a casual-not-so-casual restaurant farther in the city. That didn’t stop you from getting all dolled up.

You walk to him on the bed, standing in between his legs.

“Amor,” Miguel said, rubbing his hands up and down your backside. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you responded, careful to not run your hands through his hair. It was a comfort for you, but you didn’t want to ruin it.

Instead, you bent down to kiss him in the quiet of the room. The sun was still out, but a lot dimmer than before. Little patches of sunlight caught Miguel’s eyes. The color was so deeply brown, you swore you saw speckles of red throughout.

He moved to sit you on his lap, glancing over every detail of your body.

“You’re making it harder for me to want to leave.”

“It’s funny that you say that. You’ve been walking around like you’re straight out of a beach movie. Chest out and legs for days.”

Miguel blushed and put his head in your chest, bending you back and holding you so you won’t fall.

“What are you hiding for? It’s true!” you laugh as Miguel seemed to burrow his face deeper.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to call me out.” He was just trying to impress you, per usual.

GymRat!Miguel who gets nervous on the way to the restaurant. It was one of those immersive experiences with projections on the plates that told stories with the meals. They were pretty cute to Miguel and he figured that all three of you guys would love it.

The only thing is, he pulled some strings with Tyler to add an extra animation in there. He’s not sure how much that cost, but he’s glad he didn’t have to see the price.

GymRat!Miguel who side-eyes Gabriel when he just about screams as the little chef walks across the animated place.

“He’s so tiny!” he whisper-shouts. “So precious!”

By the time the first course comes out Gabriel is fighting tears.

“Control it, Gabri,” Miguel says, rubbing his back.

“I’m trying. I really am.”

GymRat!Miguel whose heart blooms when you laugh at one of the scenes. The little chef is squabbling with a giant shrimp and losing the battle.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart speeds up when the special animation starts up.

Only the two of your plates are lit up. There’s a river of chocolate that separates the two. From Miguel’s plate, there’s a little version of him that calls to your plate. He watches as your eyes grow when a mini you climbs on top of the plate and yells back. Your character throws him a kiss, sending a pink flutter across the river. The wave of it goes straight to mini Miguel’s heart who in turn, falls backwards dramatically.

The real you lets out a watery laugh at the scene, eyes looking at Miguel briefly in shock.

Mini Miguel jumps back up and gets to work, digging around the plate to grab biscoff cookies from the chocolate ocean to make a boat. While he works, your character wanders around the plate cutely, tidying up the area for his arrival.

When the boat is finished, Mini Miguel uses a giant spoon to steer the boat, singing out brightly the closer he gets to you. The mini you is jumping up and down, cheering him on just like you do in real life.

Once he gets to the edge of your plate, you lean close to give him a kiss. He climbs from the boat onto the plate and spins you around. You giggle in his hold until he lets you down.

From there, he starts to use the spoon to drag a chocolate message across the plate. He takes confident steps, spreading the brown syrup across the plate with ease.

“Tú eres mi luz.” (You are my light.)

When he finishes it, you both sit at the edge of the plate, feeding each other scoops of chocolate from the giant spoon. They both look up at you to wave, the Mini Miguel cheesing extremely hard as he waves both arms.

The animation fades away in a wave of browns and pinks, the waiters bringing out the actual plates of food.

The floodgates open when you’re presented with the same chocolate message, a slice of chocolate biscoff cake, and little chocolate decorations of the mini you and Miguel.

“Oh my god, the spoon is here too,” you say with emotion, picking up a chocolate coated spoon. “Miguel!”

You don't know what to do. You keep fanning your face in hopes to stop the tears from coming out and ruining the light makeup you had on. Dana hands you a pointed napkin and you thank her while holding your head back.

Gabriel is a mess, faces wet with tears. His cheeks are round as he blows out air to control his breathing.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, mi amor,” Miguel’s face is ridden with worry as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. He looks to Gabriel and sighs, “You either, hermanito.” (little brother)

“I’m good. I gotta just,” Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face cutely. “Just gotta get this out. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gets up to shuffle to the bathroom.

“I better go help him out. He gets a little delirious when he cries like that,” Dana says, rubbing your shoulder as she leaves the table.

Miguel wastes no time to sit in Dana’s seat, taking the napkin from your hands and wiping carefully at your tears.

“I love you. So, so much,” you say, resting your face in his hands. “Everyday, you find new ways to surprise me. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m just…”

You pause, waving your hands in the air, unable to express how you felt. Just thinking about it has the tears spilling over again.

“Hey, hey,” Miguel chides, catching your tears again. “If you keep crying, I’m going to cry.”

“I can’t help it, Miguel! You made a cookie boat to get to me. How can I not cry?”

Miguel reaches to kiss your cheeks in hopes to help you subside the tears, “I know, baby, I know. But to answer your first thought, when I think of you, the ideas just pour out of me. You’re my first true love, so I don’t know all the ends and outs of a relationship, but I do know what it feels like to be loved. I just want to extend that feeling to you.”

You stare in awe and the man sitting next to you, eyes glistening as you take in his words.

“I think I need another tissue.”

Miguel laughs as he grabs one to pat at your face again.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the cake while you feed him scoops of ice cream when you’ve calmed down. You can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.2 here!

a/n: This is half of the chapter, but I had so much fun writing this! (mostly because I was not doing my actual work while writing half of it), especially Gabriel's silly ass. Like, it was super duper fun. Writing jealous Miguel was also great. There's so much stuff about reader that he was unaware of and I've been imagining him sitting at a table and yelling like Kendrick when it all plays back in his mind.

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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princessbrunette · 8 months ago

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bsf!!jj and john b were always getting into the weirdest debates. last week, it was about whether or not animals could think in english, a couple of days ago was about whether that one dress was blue and black or not — this week, it was about boobs.

“squishiness depends from boob to boob. what hard part are you even talking about, jj?” john b argues from his side of the couch, tossing a ball in the air and catching it.

“the muscle, dude— okay i’ve touched enough titties in my life to consider myself knowledgeable on this subject. its squishy but hard.” jj defends, and you try to hide the way your face falls at the mention of him touching other girls. you were an incredibly jealous best friend, unusually so as some might think. you just didn’t like when jj existed around other girls, that didn’t seem like a big deal to you.

“but hard how?” john b chuckles. “do you mean like… fake boobs? because apparently those are rock hard.” jb discusses boyishly making you roll your eyes.

“nah, man. dude you know i’m dyslexic i can’t describe these kinda things, okay. it’s hard.” jj yanks his hat off trying to think.

“whats being dyslexic got to do with—”

before john b gets to drag things onto a new topic, you grab jj’s hand— not thinking much of it as you pull it to rest on your tit. he blinks at you, and john b too falls silent as you stare at the blonde.

“to help you describe?” you state innocently, batting your lashes at your best friend. he licks his lips without thinking, nodding and tentatively squeezing your boob. john b stays silent, more amused than anything.

“so uh,” he clears his throat. “as previously described i’d say it’s firmer towards its peak, but definitely holds that beloved squishiness that overrides the strength of the muscle. kinda like if you squeezed a jellyfish.” he continues to squishing your tit, second nature causing him to roll a thumb over where your nipple was through your tank making you wince. “sorry ‘bout that. habit.” his eyes flicker up to yours for a moment.

“look at you, mr vocabulary.” john b drawls, failing to hide his smirk as he spins the ball he was throwing previously on his finger.

“yeah well, that’s all thanks to my live subject.” jj nods, and there’s a silence as he continues feeling you up. you raise your head from where you watch him, blinking at him as he continues. he realises the moments passed, and he quickly pulls his hand away.

“oh, my bad.”

“was about to ask if you two needed a room or something.” john b shrugs, and you sense the tiniest inkling of jealousy in his tone.

“look okay you can’t give me a titty and expect me not to play with it. thats like — dude that’s like giving a dog a bone and expecting him not to chew on it. damn.” he rambles as he runs a hand through his hair. you giggle and he turns to you, pink in the face. “thanks for uh— yeah.”

“anytime, jj.”

“any time?” he raises his eyebrows.

“dude.” john b shakes his head.

“right, my bad.”

#bsf!jj #jj maybank prompt #idk what this is #it’s pretty clear he’s dyslexic right idk i def believe in that rhetoric i always have

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deadsetobsessions · 10 months ago

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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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riddlessecretss · 4 months ago

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Train ride with Mattheo Riddle:

• You CANNOT tell me he would not bombard your phone with selfies.🤣

• Your passcode being his birthday>>

• Fucking him in front of his friends because you two don’t care.

Omg the way he looks in this photo is just majestic.

“Y/nn! Hurry up, I don’t know why you brought that suitcase for this year.”

“I’ve got a dorm to myself this year which means I’ve got more storage. And I’m going to use it.”

He chuckled and helped you with pulling the case up from the platform. “Thank you baby.” You thank him with a kiss on the cheek. You start looking for your assigned seats and get the window and middle seat. Opposite you is Theodore and opposite Mattheo is Tom. You guys lost Tom and Theodore a while back while you were smoking and flirting with Mattheo.

You have a seat but sit on Mattheo’s lap so you can cuddle. You are always tense about the train since your older brother left the school and doesn’t go on the tram anymore. But messing around with Mattheo makes it better.

Theo didn’t get enough sleep last night because he had girls over, of course. He fell asleep first so you decided to take a photo.💀

You and Mattheo couldn’t stop laughing at how mad he looked even when he slept. When you got to know Theo you would learn that he’s probably the sweetest Slytherin out there. But he doesn’t like to show it.

But you were too busy still laughing at him to realise Blaise and Enzo had been editing photos of Tom and Draco. You open your phone to the gc to see these.

Tom👺- That is not funny! Just you fucking wait tonight Lorenzo Berkshire.

Enzo🌺- I take it back!!

Tom👺- Too late.

You- BAHAHA🤣

Draco🌝- I CANTT

Blaise🏋️- Draco don’t think your safe💀

Mattheo❤️- Oh shit😭 the first one is baddd buddy.

Draco🌝- My father will hear about this!

You get tired after all the messing about with Mattheo so you decide to take a nap. Which results in another photo added in the gc.

Enzo🌺- Aww

Theo🇮🇹- And they laughed at me for sleeping!

You wake up from the smell of liquor and w33d. Mattheo passes you the joint. “Thank yo-“

“Any snacks for the remaining journey?”

For three years in a row you and Mattheo buy nearly everything and throw it around the carriage to share. You and Mattheo have taken upon yourselves to be the parents of the group whether your responsible or not is not important. You all get high as you arrive to school.

Dumbledore’s greeting speech is always a bore and you have to sit through all the new first years hat sorting ceremony. Mattheo has got his hand on your thigh the entire time.

“Can you stay quiet for me doll?” You nod as he slides his hand up and reaches under your skirt. You try and keep a straight face while Mattheo’s hand is on your pussy. He starts rubbing your clothed cunt and eventually speeds up. Before you get to cum Mattheo moves his hand away. Tease. You take a drink to help you cool down. His hand starts to creep back as the boys share a few sniggers in the new years crying over their hogwarts house.

His hand gets higher than before as he sneaks a finger in and curls up to hit your g-spot. A squeal leaves your mouth as you cover your mouth, luckily no-one heard. Mattheo adds two fingers as he adds, “You can be as loud as you want tonight.” You smirk as you remember your good luck tradition to make the room more welcoming is to fuck on the first night.

You squirm under his touch and it isn’t long until you cum in his hand. He hold eye contact as he licks his fingers.

“We have got a new student joining the 12th year!” Dumbledore announces as you all turn your head. The brunette walks up to the hat and already looks like fun, you wanna be her friend.

“SLYTHERIN!”🗣️🗣️

It’s late because I fell asleep. Enjoy and i will prolly make this a series. If I re log a post go and show them some love because these peoples works are impressive! Tyy for nearly 300 likes on a post! Navaiah💝

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improbably-luminescent · 3 months ago

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Finally got the time and opportunity to ply my inexpert candle making skills towards my (now longtime) dream of owning my own incarnation of the red duck candle, Dr. Yorick Quack, The Lucky from @noir-renard ‘s incredible If You Give A Bat A Burger!

I’m honestly pretty delighted with him! Ignore the cracks, it’s fine, I’m working on it.

Besides getting the shape and color right, one of the things I was most excited to do was try and get the scent correct for this particular candle.

The flowers in question are described in the fic as smelling almost spicy, and I’ve been fascinated and wanting to replicate that for myself for a long time now. Given the resemblance to roses, and the ability to ward off spirits, this little guy smells like, rose, sandalwood, sage and cardamom. And I gotta say, it’s pretty delightful, actually.

I think I just created a headcanon for a smell that I will now actually be imagining next time I read/reread. New levels of sensory engagement with the text. For anyone who’s not read the fic yet, I highly recommend it. Clearly it’s a great one to have fun with/about.

Very excited about this duck, and probable future ducks I can make with this mold. I probably won’t be able to resist burning him. Gonna have to find him a lil’ hat about it.

#might add some frankincense next time just to really up the spicy woodiness of the incense undertones #been having a lot of fun playing with scents for this specific thing lol #iygabab #batburger au #dpxdc #fic #fic rec #i made a thing

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ramp-it-up · 5 months ago

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II Most Wanted Part 8: Time For Something New

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: You give Sy your answer and take steps into the future.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. The porn part of this chapter got away from me y'all. I was as surprised as Sy. Angst, fluff, passion. Sex in committed relationship. Mirror sex, fingering, clit slap, Sir kink, Mrs. Kink, dirty talk, cream kink, size kink, raw p in v, oral sex (f receiving), praise/degredation kink, command kink, Sy in the workplace, hard hat kink, toxic construction worksite, jealous Sy… omg.

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the eighth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

-------

“I am asking you to marry me, Buttercup.”

Sy summoned all of his military discipline for this moment. He had to stick this landing because he knew you were shaky. All of his heart and soul was tied up into this one moment.

You stared at Sy, then at the ring, then at Sy again.

You saw that he was so sure of you and this love, and it took all that was inside you not to sob. You cleared your throat as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Deep down, I knew that everything was leading to this if I got back in with you this weekend, and that’s why I spent most of our time together trying to run from it. You terrify me, Sy.”

Big, fat tears rolled down your face as Sy’s eyes telegraphed an apology.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but love me and try to let me know how much. But it is the scariest thing in the world when I’ve had your love ripped away and never thought I would experience it again.

You took a shaky breath as Sy listened to you.

“I think I always knew that you still loved me though, no matter how much time had passed or how far away we were from each other.”

Sy nodded and smiled ruefully at you.

“After I left Scott, I decided that the safest bet would be to be by myself, to never be dependent on anyone else for my happiness. And I felt safe being alone. No one could disappoint me, or hurt me but me. When I decided to come back here for the reunion, I prepared my armor against you.”

Sy brought the ring down to his lap and looked down on it, his eyes suddenly wet. He tried to just let you get it out, but his heart was in a free fall. You reached out and grasped his chin, bringing his watery eyes up to yours.

“But you are my one weakness. And I can’t deny that, no matter how much I tried. I can’t let myself get in the way of this love.”

You took a deep breath as you tried not to sob.

“I have always, always loved you, Jacob Allen Syverson, and I always will.”

You nodded as the tears spilled from both of your eyes. You leaned forward to meet him halfway, both of you pressing your lips together in a wet, salty kiss. Then you pulled back and got on your knees with him.

“It’s time for something new. Time out for playing it safe. I’m not going to give up this second chance at love. So, yeah, I will marry you Sy. If you will marry me.”

You laughed as Sy tackled you and lifted you up on the couch, bear hugging you so tight that you couldn’t breathe.

“Shit, Buttercup, you had me thinking you were going to drop me like a hot potato, but you’re stuck with me now. Forever.”

You kissed his mouth until his smile melted into yours, and you let his fingers put the ring on your hand. You admired it for a second then looked up at Sy, giving him a sweet kiss that affected your entire body as he enveloped you in his arms again.

Sy was like a man possessed. All he wanted to do was to inhale you, to taste you, to feel you around him. He wanted to lose himself in you. His mouth was on your mouth, your neck, your forehead, every piece of exposed skin he could reach, and his hands were everywhere, pulling on his t-shirt to expose as much of you as he could.

Then, a thought entered his head and he slowed down, palms rubbing the skin of your hips slower now, more deliberate.

“Let me show you exactly how much I love you… how much you mean to me…”

Sy’s mouth rumbled against your throat.

“Sy, you’ve already–”

He pulled back so that you could see his eyes. They were glowing with love and with need.

“Buttercup, you don’t understand. You’re going to be mine. I have to try and show you how I feel about that.”

And then he swept you up in his arms, bridal style, as you clung to him and got lost in his eyes, letting yourself be carried away on the short journey down the hall to the bedroom.

You were divested of the shirt and panties, laying back as Sy took stock of your body, his eyes and his mouth christening every inch of your body, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet.

“Love you, love you so much Buttercup. Soon to be Mrs. Syverson…”

It was a constant litany as he ignited the entirety of your skin.

“Need you, Sy…”

He was still clothed and that didn’t seem fair. You reached for his pants, and he moved away from you and stood at the foot of the bed. You sat up on the edge, watching the show he was putting on for you.

“Love how you look at me Buttercup. Make me feel like I’m the man.”

Sy’s heart was pounding as he reached behind him and pulled his t-shirt off, the way you bit your lip and dragged your eyes up the length of him making him even harder than he was before.

“You are the man, Sy. You are so fine. Make me wanna touch myself to the sight of you.”

Your hand was on your knee and you started trailing it up your thigh as Sy pulled his sweatpants down, causing his unclothed cock to slap him in the abs as he stood back up. He licked his lips.

“As much as I want to watch you do that, baby, some other time. Right now, like I said. I got something to show you.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Oh? You gonna give me a show?”

Sy’s smile and blush sent you.

“Maybe later, Buttercup. Right now…”

He quickly moved to sit behind you on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Sy held you between his legs in front of the giant mirror on the wall across from the foot of the massive king sized bed. The hard rock of his cock poked you in your back, but you settled against him as he spoke into your ear.

“I have so much to let you know...”

He nuzzled into your neck as his long, thick fingers slowly skipped along your collarbone, and your chest. He traced the hills of your breasts to the stiff peaks of your nipples, and into the valley between them down your stomach.

“When I built this house, it was always with you in mind. Had this mirror especially made. You need to see how beautiful you are. Always. Need to feel what I feel when I look at you, Buttercup. Watch.”

You were quaking at his words and his touch, almost overcome and your pussy weeping rivulets onto the duvet.

One of Sy’s hands went to your trembling lips, tracing them and then descended toward your throat, gently grasped your jaw and turning and tilting your head up so that you were staring straight into the mirror. His other hand dipped into the patch of dark hair between your legs and his fingertips dipped to the crease of skin where your thigh tucked into your torso next to your wet folds.

“This bit of skin here, just here. Feels like silk. Love it. Love to run my fingers, my lips there...”

Your eyes met his as you gasped and remembered that each time Sy went down on you he would linger there, but you didn’t single it out as you were too caught up in your own pleasure. Your eyes flicked downward as Sy played with his favorite part of you and extended his fingers, brushing against the stiff clit that was peeking out and yearning for his touch. He pulled your thighs apart, eyes sparkling as you caught his glance and his lips curled into a sexy smirk.

“Look at yourself, Buttercup. So wet for me. Always. I am such a lucky, lucky man.”

You watched as Sy’s fingers circled your nub and then traveled down to dip into your wet heat. His other hand traveled a path to your stiff nipple and expertly pinched it just as you arched into his hand.

“See how beautiful?”

He reached down for your knee and brought it up so that your foot was on the bed now, having you brazenly displaying your most intimate parts and your wanton movement at his ministrations to them. You gasped as you closed your eyes and felt a sharp slap on your pussy.

“Make sure that you keep your eyes open. Don’t want to have to punish you again.”

“Oh my god...Please, Sy…”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, was it punishment, or mercy?

Sy’s cock pulsed behind you as he dipped his head and sucked a spot on your neck that made you keen. His voice was a bit gruffer as he replied to you.

“Not tonight,” His tongue soothed the hickey he’d made. “We’ve got time for that, Buttercup.”

His naughty promise made you arch in his grip, your ass meeting his balls and your breast shoved further into his hand. His voice turned back to velvet, and it seemed that you needed just a modicum of stimulation to have you hurtling over the edge.

Your palms were resting on his thick, hairy thighs as you sunk into the solid planes of his chest and abdomen, but they moved to the duvet cover as he and hooked both of your legs over his and widening his spread, splaying you open even more to the light of the bedroom.

The thought entered your head that you should have been embarrassed, but then you chased it away with the next thought that entered your head, and that you uttered.

“‘M soo wet and ready for you Sy. Only you, future husband…always ready for you, baby.”

A low groan rumbled past his lips as he stopped teasing and shoved two fingers into you, swiftly filling you up and causing your mouth to form a wide O.

“There she is. My beautiful little sexy wifey.”

You watched as Sy finger fucked you, your cunt sloshing and swallowing his digits as they pumped in and out. Sy felt how you wrapped around his fingers and he realized that he was sliding his leaking cock against your spine.

“Damn, so fucking wet and tight for me, baby. I’m trying to hold out, but you make it hard,” he pressed his erection into your back. “Literally.”

You felt the coil tighten in the core of you as you took his thumb in your mouth and fellated it as if it were his dick. He groaned again.

“What did you say the other day? Wanna be my what? My what kinda slut?”

“OhmygodSy!”

You couldn’t breathe.

You arched your back and tried to pull away, to run from the impending doom that watching him fuck you like this was creating, but he held you fast, making you watch him bury his now three fingers knuckle deep inside you again and again.

Sy kissed the tip of your ear as he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially to you.

“What was it again? What kind of slut you wanna be? What is it you need? What do I love to see you do? Wait a minute… let me think…”

Sy was commanding you to hold it the smoothest way possible, and when your eyes started rolling into the back of your head was when he relented.

“I remember now. Cum. Cum for me baby. I’m such a cum slut for you, too, Butterup…”

His hand squeezed your breast and pinched your nipple simultaneously as you hurtled over the cliff.

“O- Ohhhhhhhhh!”

“Thaaat’s right. Take it for me Buttercup. So fucking hot.”

You obeyed his order as the sensation washed over you and your pussy clenched around his fingers. You try to run again as Sy didn’t stop, but gradually slowed down as your pulses subsided and the wetness of your arousal increased. He held your face forward for you to watch as you slumped against him.

“Fuck… Sy…that was… shit…”

You felt him poking you in the back and you reached behind you as you craned your neck up to receive his tongue in your mouth for a sloppy kiss.

“Hmm, Buttercup. Not done with you yet.”

Sy took your hips in his hands and pulled you onto the bed, your hips presented to him, with your head still near the foot of the bed. You wiggled your ass as Sy kissed each of your cheeks and then licked a stripe up the middle of you and then dove in for more.

He destroyed your soul for a minute and then stopped, causing your eyes to snap open and meet his in the mirror. He straightened up and you tried to push back, onto his hard and leaking cock, or his thigh, anything that would give you that feeling you so desperately needed at the moment.

“I need you to watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here. Taste so fucking good. Keep your eyes open while I eat you out.”

You shivered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Sy raised his eyebrow; he felt like sinking deep into you. And so he did, stretching you out like it was the first time and causing you to bite your lip.

“Fuccckkk! Just can’t control myself no matter how hard I try, Buttercup.”

He looked down at your cunt swallowing his cock and he couldn't take it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“So gotdamn hot and so fucking tight. Take me so well.”

You watched the look of agony/ecstasy on his face as he held your hips and drilled into you like a mad man, bearing his teeth and going all out, his feral look causing you to spasm your way into another orgasm.

He fucked you through it and then pulled out, causing you to scream in protest. Sy looked at you in the mirror and laughed, shaking his head.

“No ma’am, this is not how this is gonna go.”

Sy’s heart was pounding out of his chest despite his denial. His plan to make slow, sensuous love to you was ruined, because you were ruining him. He had to calm down. Then he saw the cream you’d left on his dick and his eyes rolled.

You practically came again as Sy grabbed his wet cock and stroked it as he looked at your upturned ass. Then he stopped and looked at you. Your mouth was open and you could tell that he was squeezing the base of himself and clenching his jaw.

“Give it to me Sy…give me your cum… please.”

He looked down at your pussy clenching on air and started jacking his cock again, a man possessed. Sy felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get back inside you right away. He shook his head, growled, slapped your ass and plunged inside you.

“Well ain’t that a daisy. Turns out…holy fuck…I can’t stop. Gonna give you this cum. Fuck fuck, holy fuck! This pussy is so good.”

You leaned down and delivered the perfect arch for him and he roared. He felt as if cum came spurting out of him like never before as he pounded you out.

“Jesus! Cum with me Buttercup!”

“Yesss. YesssssfeelssogoodddddSy!”

Sy sounded emotional as you cried for it, yelling in approval as his hot cum splashed against your shuddering walls.

You collapsed with Sy on top of you, his weight a comfort as you felt him soften and your mixed fluids leak out of you. You stayed that way for a few minutes listening to your breaths subside until Sy stirred and then tilt your head up so you could look at him in the mirror again.

He kissed your cheek then raised his eyebrow.

“Now. Like I said. Watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here.”

You gasped, scandalized.

“Sy! I have to get up for my interview–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it so you get a good night’s sleep, Buttercup.”

And all you could do was watch as he fulfilled his promise.

—-

You did sleep like a log after a few more orgasms which involved the shower, but you popped right up to get ready for your interview in the morning.

Sy was up as well, scheduled to go into work for the morning while you met with the team at ReHome, and you smiled as you brushed your teeth together in the double sink in the master bath. You also allowed yourself a minute to admire him cleaning up his beard with his clippers.

You could get used to this.

You dressed in a form fitting pencil skirt and flowy blouse with the attached tie that conveniently hid the hickey that Sy gave you the night before. You grinned at your hair and makeup as you admired the look in the mirror. You felt like a queen.

The whistle that your fiance gave you as you entered the kitchen boosted your confidence even more.

“Holy Shit, Buttercup. You look competent as hell.”

You laughed at Sy as he handed you a cup of your favorite tea. He’d bought a half a year’s supply when you pointed it out at the store the day before.

Yeah. You made the right choice.

“Thank you Sweetie. I feel good.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“Sweetie? What has caused this sudden turn of a pet name?”

You held up your hand.

“I’m wifey, remember?”

Sy feigned forgetfulness, “Oh yeah. That.”

He grinned as he pulled you into his arms and gave you a quick peck, releasing you so that your clothes didn’t wrinkle.

“We’ll talk about that more later. Right now, we need to get you downtown.”

30 minutes later, your heart started to pound as you walked into the ReHome building, and you turned and waved at Sy before he drove away in Betty. Then, you lifted your head and walked inside, reminding yourself that you were fucking spectacular at what you did, and that they would be lucky to get you.

—

Sy was on a construction site, a complex of sliding scale rate apartments, trying to get his drywallers in line because two young bucks decided to bring their beef from the strip club to work. He had Cole by the collar and was holding Joe back with another hand as as he tried to prevent them from fighting.

“You two need to keep this shit off my fucking worksite and get back to work before I bang your fucking heads together, ya gotdamn neanderthals…”

Suddenly, he felt the crowd of workers' attention shift, even the two idiots he had in hand. Billy, his foreman emitted a low whistle and muttered something under his breath.

“…a look at that piece of…”

The hair on Sy’s neck raised as he turned his head to see you walking toward him with a hard hat on. It was sexy as fuck.

He watched as Mike Ackerman walked close to you. Funny, he used to like the guy, but a strange feeling of possession and something else he couldn’t name rose within him when he saw him next to you.

“….you’re choking me….”

Sy remembered himself when Cole gasped, and he released both him and Joe and then turned to threaten Billy.

“Watch what the fuck what you’re saying, William. That is if you wanna live to take another breath.”

Billy shut his mouth as Sy straightened up and walked toward your group.

—

The interview had gone swimmingly.

The first thing you did was to disclose your relationship with Sy. The director of ReHome, Mike Ackerman, and his board chair, Nancy Christiansen, didn’t flinch.

The rest of the time went so well that Ackerman barreled ahead off script (you could tell at his secretary’s flustered reaction to his requests) and asked you about salary, moving logistics and start dates, even though you hadn’t formally accepted the job yet.

When Mr. Ackerman suggested you go to a work site of a current project where Castle Builders were working, you jumped at this unexpected chance to see Sy in his element. You had an hour before Sy was scheduled to pick you up and you decided to save him a trip.

When you pulled up to the site, you deftly donned the protective head gear and did not let your heels stop you from striding confidently through the construction debris. As you rode the service elevator to the fourth floor of the structure, you heard raised voices and distinct profanity as you got closer.

Hearing Sy’s voice above the fray made you feel some kind of way.

“Well, you’ll get to see Sy handle problems in real time, Ms. YLN.”

Mike smiled at you as Nancy shook her head and smiled, and both of them advanced toward the ruckus. You were shook.

There was Sy, in a hard hat, sleeves rolled up, veins popping, a look of pure dominance on his face and handling two grown men as if they were rag dolls. Damn he was hot. You hoped that everyone couldn’t see that your nipples were hard.

Everyone but Sy.

Someone whistled and everyone saw your group approaching and separated, while Sy whispered to a man at his side, looking none too pleased. Then, he turned to you, his countenance that of an angel.

“Look what we have here. VIPs.”

You couldn’t tell how Sy was feeling about it, but you smiled at him angelically.

“Hullo Sy,” Mike drawled familiarly, “I hear that you know Ms. YLN?”

Sy sideyed Mike, smiled at Nancy, and then gazed at you, taking you all in as if he hadn’t seen you this morning. He didn’t miss the look on your face or the way your tits sat all perked up for him in that shelf bra he saw you put on today. He wished you weren’t getting on a plane in a few hours.

“Yes, Yes I do. In fact, we go way back.”

Sy paused and looked around the space.

“And we’re about to go real far into the future.”

“Yes, I hear congratulations are in order for you both.”

Mike still had an inscrutable smirk on his face.

“Holy shit. This your girl, Cap?”

Billy had a sinking feeling that he was toast.

Sy wasn’t going to kill Billy, but he was super annoyed.

“This is YFN/YLN. Architect for ReHome and my future wife. She’s a woman. And a professional, so act like you’re one too, before I relieve you of your profession.”

Cole and Joe were whispering and laughing together, their beef forgotten at the revelation of Sy’s relationship.

“Get back to work, you’ve all wasted enough time as it is. We better be on track when I come back this afternoon.”

Billy was all business now.

“Sure thing, Cap. Back to work.”

Sy smirked at you quickly before his face settled back into his professional persona.

“You all need a tour?”

You could be a professional. Just like Sy.

“Mike thought it would be a good idea to see the work site as part of the interview.”

Ackerman cleared his throat.

“Yes, I wanted to get Ms. YLN’s opinions on the construction…”

Sy tried not to zone out as the idea that he would so love to hear his last name at the end of yours, but he gleaned enough to get the gist of the conversation.

“Sure thing, let’s head over this way– Watch out for those nails there- we’ve done something a little different…”

Your brain short circuited as Sy’s hand touched your back to steer you away from a construction hazard, but you got back on track pretty quickly.

—-

45 minutes later, you were waving at Mike and Nancy as they drove away and headed toward a small trailer at the edge of the construction site. Sy’s ‘field office.’

You entered the small space which was mostly occupied by two desks, two file cabinets, a small refrigerator, and a coffee pot was a quarter full of coffee. You heard Sy closing and possibly locking the door as you noticed saw some drawings of the construction on one desk and you leaned over to look more closely and sighed contentedly.

“I’m so excited, Sy! That went so well. I think this job is a sure thing.”

Sy walked up close behind you and pressed the steel bar in his pants into your expensively clothed backside.

“Me too, Buttercup. And I’ll tell you what else is a sure thing.”

“Jake Syverson…”

———

Reblog if you liked it!

Next part here.

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katyawriteswhump · 4 months ago

Text

mommy's girl

For @stevieweek day 4 (sorry I’m late!) Special Outfit and extra prompts, Scoops/uniform, lingerie & @steddiemicrofic July prompt, ‘one’. Rating: M WC 1,111 words. CW: None.

Tags: trans-fem Stevie Harrington, steddie, no upside down au, angst and feels, platonic stobin, steve has an awesome mom and not-so-awesome dad (also, faintly based on some RL experiences belonging to my other half... used with permission and love ;)) All my ST fic on AO3

Summary: Stevie makes a new beginning, and it’s all super-overwhelming…

…

Stevie was fumbling in her purse for her car-keys. Her mom hurried from the porch with yesterday’s mascara bleeding from her eyes and her hair tumbling from its pins:

“Stevie! You forgot your name-badge.”

“Gotta love company policy,” griped Stevie. At least the dumb thing now said ‘Stevie.’ Her mom pinned it on her Scoops uniform above her padded bra—part of a slinky set Eddie gifted her last time he came home from tour. Eddie was next due back today, which was something to look forward to after the previous night’s trauma.

“You gonna be okay, mom?” asked Stevie. “If you need me, I’ll call in sick.”

“No. This is day one of the rest of our lives. Your father’s finally gone for good. I need to start untangling our affairs.”

“And I finally get to go to work in a miniskirt.” Stevie glanced at her thigh-kissing skirt. She loved it, but… Shit, too much was happening.

His mom had booted her father out for a billion reasons. However, his constant gaslighting of Stevie being Stevie—and her dating ‘that lowlife Munson punk’—had sparked last night’s apocalyptic standoff. “Look, I’m sorry it was me that—”

“Don’t you dare apologise.” Her mom placed her hands on Stevie’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, darling. You got a job you enjoy, a boyfriend who adores you, and you always look a billion dollars.”

“In this shitty uniform?”

“Even in that.”

“Still not wearing the lousy hat.”

Breaking the news about her father to Robin meant Scoops opened half an hour late. Then, when Stevie leaned down to pull up the shutter, Robin yelled: “Screw you, Shit-bird, that skirt looks too good, and your ass looks too pretty, and I despise you.”

“You wear a skirt then. You could start a douchey scoreboard for who gets more creepy stares.”

“You know I hate skirts.”

“Quit whining then.”

Bantering with Robin couldn’t distract Stevie from her tiredness and nerves. When her mind started screaming, she focussed on the cling of her skirt, the glide of the silk panties beneath. Eddie would be here soon. Eddie would go crazy for her…

Robin took the phone message. Eddie’s flight was cancelled. He wouldn’t be home till tomorrow.

Dammit, Stevie needed him now.

She was wiping down a table, when she heard a snicker. A devastating mean-girl stare slammed into her.

Right at crotch level.

Stevie glanced down.

Oh. Shit.

Robin found her at the back of the store, slumped forward on the table, face pillowed in her arms. “Stevie? You okay?”

“No.” Stevie jumped up and pointed to the middle-front of her skirt. At the bulge. “Look.”

“Huh?”

“You see? It’s Mr… Miss Pokey.”

Robin shrugged. “Only if you squint.”

Stevie swiped her lank-feeling hair from her face. Her hands trembled. “I’ve not even gotten an erection or anything. Everyone’s staring.”

“They’re not.”

“They are! I loved these panties, but the silk triangle at the front bunches everything forward and…” Suddenly, it was all super-overwhelming. What the heck was she… HE… doing? He’d wrecked his parents’ marriage. Eddie was probably lying about the flight to avoid him. “Jesus, I look horrible. I’ll put the shorts back on.”

“Don’t you dare.” Robin shoved a banana across the table. “Eat that. You’re cranky when you’re hungry.”

“It doesn’t solve—”

“No, it doesn’t. I have an idea what will.”

…

“It’s too weird not having to shit myself about your Pa taking pot-shots at me,” said Eddie, when Stevie led him into her bedroom. It was stacked with boxes—her mom had already got the decorators in. “Got you a lil’ something, Babe.”

Eddie presented a crepe-paper parcel. Stevie smiled tightly and sat on the bed to unwrap. It was gonna be more underwear, but her confidence was so shattered that…

She held up the swathe of peachy cotton and white lace. “You got me granny pants?”

Eddie beamed and Stevie couldn’t help giggling.

“Jesus, did Robin call you? Or my mom?”

She stripped off and pulled them on, loving how Eddie lapped her up with his thirsty gaze. Stevie couldn’t keep her own eyes from the mirror. The panties pressed her in slightly in the front, perfect for a mini-skirt or figure-hugging dress. Eddie swept her hair from where it dusted her shoulders and hooked her matching bra. He trailed kisses down the sweep of her neck, each sending a delicious shimmer down her spine, then twirled her around.

“I love them, Eddie.”

“Me too, honey. You look amazing. I could’ve got ones that pad at the hips but with your teeny waist…” He traced it lightly. She shivered with pleasure. “Nah, don’t need it.”

“Can’t believe I’m feeling hot in big panties.” She leaned back into his embrace, dizzied by the weird relief of the moment. It was no way as epic as her father having finally gone, but…

“Shall I order a dozen, Stevie?”

“Hell, yeah.”

They both tumbled sideways onto her bed. “Cool, Babe. Let’s get you outta them.”

They took it slow, kissing till he was wearing her lipstick. Then he set her squirming, her fists clenching his hair, as he nibbled around the cute lace at the trim of her panties, before slipping his fingertips teasingly beneath. Slowly, he peeled her free. Stevie hadn’t waxed today, but that was fine, because hairy was what she was sometimes, and Eddie, as he whispered again and again, worshipped her every way she was.

They made love, fixing deep in each other’s eyes. Stevie’s panties looped her thigh like a slinky garter.

…

It was a week later when Stevie, for the first time since her father left, found her mom crying. She was hanging out the washing on the line.

“Mom, what is it?” She hurried over, and yes, her mom’s eyes were teary. And she was laughing. “Mom?”

Her mom reached up and brushed knuckles down Stevie’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, darling. I’m happy.” She nodded at Stevie’s new panties. “They remind me of my gym kit. You know, the good old cheerleading days. Never marry a Jock, darling.”

“Wasn’t on planning on it.”

“Eddie really is the one, isn’t he?”

Stevie’s heart panged with happiness and sadness at once. “Still time for you to find your one and only, mom.”

They pegged the rest of the washing up together: “Gotta ask, mom—did you want a daughter?”

“I only ever wanted you, Stevie,” she said, then, slightly crossly: “But if your long-haired lover’s late for family dinner again, I’ll kick his ass back on tour.”

“Mom!” Stevie pitched a sock, which her mom neatly caught. “Don’t be mean.”

They were both laughing. Life felt pretty good.

#stevieweek2024 #steddiemicroficjuly #steddie microfic #transfeminine steve harrington #transfem steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddiemicrofic #steddie ficlet #steddie smut #steddie fluff #steddie microfic july #trans steve harrington

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ladymoody · 2 months ago

Note

hi!! i was wondering if u could make a story with sid jenkins and y/n where they're friends and she drags sid out to go shopping with her and she's in the changing room trying on a dress and the zipper gets stuck so sid goes in to help her and things get a little spicy? basically that one scene with jal but it leads to more lmao

HANDS ON ME

sid jenkins x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw +18, swearing, explicit language, breast squeezing, loss of verginity (sid), p in v penetration, cum.

word count: 2,3k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist ; playlist ; characters list ; my website

I was on sid’s bed as he played some stupid video games on his computer. the constant electronic voice that said “you lost” was getting on my nerves and the annoying sound of him pressing those buttons on the joystick wasn’t helping at all. I laid there, staring at the ceiling as I played with a small ball that I had previously found in a drawer of his nightstand, next to a playboy magazine.

sometimes I shifted my gaze on sid, who was focused on the screen and slightly leaned in to have a better look at the game. he had his messy hair all over his forehead and he wasn’t wearing his usual woolen hat — he was still wearing his pajamas at the top but nothing at the bottom, except for his boxers and high socks with some little ducks printed on the fabric.

“ugh! it keeps making me start all over!” he groaned throwing the joystick on his desk.

“then do something else other than letting a damn game brainwash you.”

“but I’ve got only 50 coins left to unlock a new level!”

I huffed and sat up, crossing my arms against my chest. “I am not going to sit here doing nothing just because you have to win that fucking game. get your ass off that chair and spend some time with me.”

sid stared at me and I could tell that he felt bad for ignoring me this whole time. he hesitated as his gaze kept shifting between the computer and me, but then he spoke. “you’re right, I’m sorry.”

I let out a little sound of pride and untangled my arms to place them on the bed, propping myself up.

“wanna do something more productive?”

“like what?” he stood up and grabbed an already-opened pack of chips and started munching them.

“shall we go to the mall?”

“no.”

“aw why not?” I pouted and stood up as well.

“well, I don’t want to follow you like a puppy the whole time while you try clothes on.”

“but you are a puppy.” I joked. sid blushed, just slightly, and scratched the back of his head.

“don’t call me that.”

“why not?” I smirked and stepped closer.

“I don’t like it.”

“come to the mall with me and I’ll stop calling you that.”

he sighed.

he never liked going to the mall with me because he knew I would’ve paid more attention to the clothes and completely forgot about him. though, I knew he enjoyed following me around and giving me recommendations about clothes.

“come on… make your friend happy.” I smiled and got even closer to him, placing my hands on his lower chest narrowly tickling him.

sid blushed, this time more visibly, and he hesitatingly nodded.

(skip time)

I was walking down the mall, checking at the windows and popping in the shops every now and then. sid was behind me holding my shopping bags — I had bought two pairs of jeans, a pair of shoes, jewelry and a beautiful brown scarf — yet, I felt like there was something missing… a dress!

“one last shop, then we’ll go home.” I reassured sid and he sheepishly murmured “okay.”

I headed towards a shop that looked quite nice, it seemed fancy and by its window I could tell it had clothes of my color palette.

sid and I walked in and I started scanning the big room — there were beautiful coats, fancy shoes, long and short skirts and gaudy tops. no. I needed a dress.

“oh! there they are.” I rushed to a smaller section of the shop where I found a large hanger full of marvelous dresses. I started looking through it, examining the pieces of clothing one by one. sid waited patiently behind me, his gaze wandering around the shop in curiosity but also embarrassment to find himself in such a girly place.

suddenly I picked up a beautiful mini purple dress, tight and soft.

“found something you like?” he asked.

“yes, I think I’ll try it on.” I said as I turned to ask a shop assistant where I would’ve found the fitting rooms.

sid watched me disappear behind a wall not so far from where I picked up the dress from. he followed me and stood next to the fitting room I had got in. I closed the curtain and started taking my clothes off.

“how come you have all this money?” he asked from outside.

“it’s my parents’.” I said as I slipped the dress on.

“oh, I see…”

I turned around, looked behind my shoulder and into the mirror to zip it up. the dress fitted perfectly.

“how do I look?” I opened the curtain and did a quick spin to allow sid to have a full view of the dress. his mouth went dry and he blinked fast, he was struggling to keep his calm demeanor.

“g-good.. i-it looks good…” he stuttered as his nervous eyes darted over my figure.

“great, I’ll buy it.” I went back in the fitting room and closed to curtain.

after some moments I opened it again, finding sid touching where he was not supposed to touch — he almost jumped as I peeked my head out, catching him admiring some lingerie nearby.

“uhh… I was.. well, there was.. uhhh…”

I totally ignored what he was trying to say or what he was doing before I opened the curtain, instead, I just went straight to the point.

“the zip got stuck, could you help me?”

sid’s eyes lit up, but his nervous expression took back over right after.

“y-you want me to help you with the zipper?”

“yes.”

“am I supposed to… go in with you?”

“well, yes, if you don’t want the whole shop to see me naked.”

sid blushed and I assumed it was the word “naked” that had him getting uncomfortable. or the thought of me being it.

he quickly pulled himself together, rushing inside the fitting room with me and placing down the shopping bags he previously had in his hands.

I knew how sid was, so shy with girls and also a bit of a klutz too. I wanted him to get out of his comfort zone and the only way I could have done it was leaving him room to make the first move.

sid noticed I was just standing there, staring at myself in the mirror, and understood he needed to get his hands on me to help me fix the zipper. he gently moved my hair aside, letting fall on my cleavage as his hands worked on my back to take the zip down.

I looked at him through the mirror with a proud expression on my face, content that I was making him do a nice thing for his friend but also intimate from a certain point of view.

he struggled a bit, but he eventually managed to let the zip slide down effortlessly. “done.”

I breathed out and thanked him, but then I felt his hands roaming on the small of my back longer than necessary. at first I didn’t know how to feel about it, knowing sid was shy about everything that had to do with girls, but somehow his hands felt expert as if he knew what he was doing.

“you look amazing in this color.”

did he just compliment me? out of the blue? no stuttering?

“thank you, sid.” I cooed.

I saw him smiling behind me, before skimming his hands around my waist. oh. that felt nice.

“you.. like it?” I spoke again referring to the dress and he just hummed in response.

sid’s hands roamed on my hips, touching my curves as he admired my back — the zipper down allowed him to glance at my bra. he brought one of his hands back on my back, now delicately touching my bare skin right under the clasp of my bra.

“sid…”

his hands trembled a bit, so I knew he was still the same, but this time he was… bolder. I loved the feeling of his hands on me, he just felt too good.

sid’s face lowered on my shoulder and I tilted my head aside to give him better access. I kept looking at him through the fitting room mirror, his eyes making eye contact with mine as he started placing wet kisses on my skin. his hands went back around my waist and I placed mine on his. I couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure as I threw my head back, making it fall on his shoulder. sid smirked and started sucking on my skin, probably leaving a hickey.

“sid… what are you doing?” I chuckled.

he didn’t respond but just brought his hands on my shoulders, slowly and a bit hesitantly lowering my dress straps. I watched him moving both inexpertly and confidently, now pulling my dress down until it exposed my perfectly-sitting breasts in my black bra. I saw sid’s eyes falling on my chest shamelessly, before shifting back on mine and blushing.

“it’s okay… you can touch.” I reassured him as I guided his hands to cup my boobs. he touched them both, at first squeezing them from the bra shyly and cautiously, but then getting a sudden burst of confidence as he heard me moan and shut my eyes under his touch. his grip grew firmer and slid his hands under my bra to touch me fully. I couldn’t wait anymore and I undid it, letting it fall onto the ground and making sid nearly drool at the sight. I quickly stepped out of my dress to remain in my underwear only — I turned around, facing sid and wrapping my arms around his neck. his hands instinctively grabbed my hips and pulled me closer, his eyes eating mine behind those glasses. despite he was making a lot of moves, I could hear his heartbeat louder and faster than normal, his hands a bit sweaty and his cheeks flushed of a light shade of pink.

“we’ve become temerarious, mh?” I teased him as my right hand started touching his chest, playing and tugging at his shirt.

“a bit…” he sheepishly answered. he was so sexy and cute at the same time.

he leaned in, crashing his lips to mine. oh my god, he was a good kisser! we started heavily eating each other, completely skipping the slow and romantic initial part of make-outs. his tongue tapped falteringly on my bottom lip, slipping into my mouth to tangle it with mine.

he pressed me against the mirror making a loud sound that didn’t bother any of us, who were apparently too focused on the kiss — then he grabbed my thighs and lifted me in his arms.

I was aware of the people outside who might have heard us. the kissing sounds were obvious and noisy, but I didn’t care — my friend, who was no longer just a friend, was making out with me! everybody knew sid was a virgin — his friend tony called him a loser because he had never touched a girl that was not in a friendly hug, let alone ever kissed one.

sid and I kept kissing, the noise of the chatter outside, the sound of our lips seeking each other, his hands all over me… god, I was in heaven.

he suddenly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. our eyes were both shut and our breaths came out in ragged gasps. his right hand left my arse and went on his jeans, his fingers hurrying to unzip them.

“are you sure?” I asked him.

“yeah… you don’t understand how badly I wanted you for all these years, y/n… having to stand there watching you hooking up with other boys while I couldn’t make a move…”

I smiled at his words, feeling flattered and also relieved that the attraction I felt was mutual. I let him unzip his jeans and drop them down at his ankles, his boxers next. he quickly moved my panties aside, his hand slightly shaking as he did so.

“mhh…” I bit my lip as I gazed at sid’s size. fuck. that was… certainly not small!

his cheeks colored red again, but this time I couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed or just very hot and aroused.

he slowly guided his cock against my core, letting it lubricate with the wetness of my pussy. then he gradually let it slither inside. I felt it filling me up inch by inch (around 7 inches) and I moaned for each thrust.

“don’t- shh…” he tried to quiet me down, we were still in public after all, but luckily we were in a crowded shop and I guess people were barely hearing what happened in that fitting room.

it took all of my will not to scream at each movement of his thick member, his thrusts were rough and uneven, yet so strong and defined. I kept feeling his cock head hitting my g-spot repeatedly and relentlessly, almost forgetting that I needed to be quiet.

my hands grabbed his shoulders, my nails dug in his skin. “I’m… I’m close, sid…”

he listened to my moans and pleas and fastened his pace, pistoning inside me. I hit the edge, I overcame it. I moaned in his ear not to let the other people hear us, and I rode the wave of pleasure he was able to give me.

my juices covered his cock, which made him come right after me. he pulled out, stroking his head with his hand, and spurred his seed on my stomach.

“oh my god…” he slowed down and panted in my ear. we both chuckled, our eyes still closed due to pleasure.

I never thought I would’ve had sex with my friend.

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bettysupremacy · 8 months ago

Note

congrats on the jobbbbb!!!! you’re gonna be the cutest ice cream scooper evaaa (close tie to Steve) 🍦

Could I please request something where you’re the cute new hiree at scoops and Steve has to teach you the ropes while crushing a little (are we sensing a theme?)

thank you beautiful I loved writing this he’s such a nerd

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily, leaning his weight onto the counter. “And this is where we make the cones.”

“Got it.”

“You might think ‘how hard could this be?’, well, you’d be surprised-“

“It was only hard for you!” Robin yells from behind the counter.

Steve laughs, welcoming the tease. “Yes, she’s totally right. It really was only hard for me.”

He shines in the fluorescent light of the sailor themed shop. The lights are actually loud, louder in your nervousness than you assume for him. His hair is big, swooping over and curling at the nape of his neck. He wears no hat, but you can assume why.

“Would you like her to teach you?”

You shake your head adamantly. Steve’s cute. Really cute. You’d seen him around town before, glimpses of a boy seemingly untouched by the hurdles of life, but you hadn’t known he’d worked here. Robin had given you the application as she had laid in your bed. Music played, the windows were down, the warm summery air drifted through the windows smelling of grass, and the both of you had collapsed silently on your twin.

“Please.” She had said, and you’d agreed.

But you didn’t know Steve worked here as well. Maybe Robin held that on purpose. You’d been to his house once. Once, for a party. It wasn’t lame and neither was his home. Tall ceilings, pretty staircases and family portraits. Why did he work here for $3 an hour? Steve doesn’t seem to know either.

“I’m very clumsy — I burn myself a lot — please ignore it.”

“I promise.”

He teaches you the mechanics of the waffle machine. It’s really simple actually, a lot simpler than he made it seem. The batter is pre-made, shipped once a week and held in the small fridge they desperately need to upgrade. Pour it in, wait 30 seconds, flip, and wait thirty seconds again. He’d burned himself pulling it out, hissing, but never faltering.

It’s golden and warm, crunchy and smelling softy of vanilla. He holds it until it’s no longer hot, and then hands it to you.

“Here,” he shrugs. “Eat your first creation.”

“Really?”

“It’s already touched my hands.” He smiles innocently. “I can’t tarnish our A+ health inspection.”

Your smile is shy as you grab it. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

You bite it carefully, tearing off a piece for him to eat. He takes it from your nimble fingers, eyeing the blue nail polish that cracks on your fingertips.

“So..” Steve’s awkward. “I heard you’ve known Robin awhile?”

You break off another piece of and pop it on your mouth. “Definitely awhile.”

“She’s cool,“ He smiles fondly. “Or whatever, but yeah.”

“Yeah.” You laugh a little at his redirection.

“Also,” he adds messily. “They say you have to wear the hat but..” he leans in to whisper cheekily. “screw company policy.”

You laugh loudly, startled at his closeness.

He goes to say something, pink lips parting before he’s cut off by Robin. All he can get out his a huff a breath and dully you notice you’re staring at his lips. You think he’s noticed too.

“Y/N!” Robin yells from the ice cream stand. “Get out here and let me teach you the scooper!”

You turn, smiling in the direction of your short haired friend.

“Guess I’ve gotta quit slacking.” You murmur.

“See you soon.” He’s remorseful.

“See you soon.” You amuse a little, walking towards the swinging door. He walks too.

“Right,” He bumps into you, laughing nervously. “Sorry.”

You smile, talking over him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He cringes.

The door swings behind you, letting glimpse of laughter from the bustling store through. He sighs, palm to his eyes.

Yeah, he’s pretty cute.

#steve harrington blurb #steve x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve x you #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x fem! reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine

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not-my-final-account · 10 months ago

Text

Danny is Gotham

PS most of the ghost stuff in this is fannon

Most ghosts had haunts. Technically Danny Phantom had the whole world, but it wasn’t his haunt.

Most cities had ghosts. Technically Gotham had loads of ghosts, but Lady Gotham was fading.

I went incorporeal as the beam of energy flew at me, then laughed “What?” Tucker asked, my hands flew over my key board as I beat the noob who had shot at me in the first place.

“I got shot at in game and disappeared in real life.” I said

“That’s you- Danny Clueless Phantom.” Sam said

“Hey!” I retaliated, but it was affectionate.

I didn’t fully understand this whole ghost thing yet. But I had figured out that ghosts had cores, and haunts, and ‘fraids. Cores were essentially the soul of a ghost and that’s pretty much all I’ve figured out. No one seems to remember that I have no clue how any of this stuff works! I’m still a new ghost.

But anyways, ‘fraids were… the best word I could think of was ghost families or animal packs but ghost, and like it or not Sam and Tucker had been accepted into mine. I wasn’t sure quite how it happened but now I seemed connected to them, and when I was happy with them (and/or we were laughing together) my core hummed happily.

Haunts however, I had none of. Haunts were basically a ghosts house or an area the ghost claims as their own or protects. I dunno if they represent status or anything but being a ghost king without haunt seemed pretty bad.

“Yeah!” Tucker yelled as we got another key.

“Only a trillion more to go.” Sam said sarcastically,

“Five actually.” I said. Suddenly I felt a tug on my core “Guys I gotta go.”

“Bye!” Sam and Tucker called in unison. It made me smile as I powered down the game and then my computer, I gave into the tug and let it pull me to where the summoning was.

I had already transformed into my most regal form on the short journey there, so I didn’t hesitate to grab the edge of the circle. What did worry me though was the screaming that started the second I reached my hand up. I cursed whoever made these things for making you pull yourself up and not just be able to fly out, but I got up due to Sams pull up training.

The second I got out I flew up and hovered above the circle ready for battle. I actually blinked when I saw three kids standing in front of me- well one was standing, the other two were lying on the floor and hugging each other.

“Ehh.” I said as I took in what they were doing. The two on the floor were shaking and in hysterics and the standing up one was staring up at me with wide eyes, I think he’s in shock. I reached out slightly and his mouth fell open and he dropped the book he was holding then passed out.

The books title was ‘ghost summoning’ oh my god I’ve been summoned by idiots. I gave them a growl so they wouldn’t try to do this again and prepared myself to dive back into the summoning circle and into the phantom realm where I could quickly fly back to my house and start playing DOOM again. Then I felt a tug in my core. It wasn’t like a summoning which tugged at my core from the outside, trying to pull me somewhere, this was part of my kingly duties; a ghost was in trouble and/or calling for me.

I flew off towards the ghost without a second thought about the party I had probably ruined just by existing and got there in seconds. I landed atop a hill and wind swept my hair away from my face, a skinny grey ghost who seemed like someone you’d spot it old movies looked at me.

She had straight black flowing down her shoulders, a large light grey hat with a grey peacock feather on it, a grey dress and a shade umbrella, she was clearly old although still beautiful and she moved with grace as she stepped before me and fell to her knees

“King Phantom.” she said, how weak her voice was worried me “I am lady Gotham. However Gotham is no longer the beautiful city I knew it to be, it is not close enough to my home and I fear that it has changed too much for me to be strongly connected to it, my power to protect it is fading. Please my King, I have heard you are strong and kind, protect my city, both from what’s outside and what’s inside.” she begged, she was clearly dignified and her begging meant this was truely important. Well, I did need a haunt.

“Okay.” I agreed, relief flooded her face and something else flooded my, I couldn’t name it if I tried but at least it filled an emptiness that had been resident there for a while.

The Lady Gotham fell to the ground, her body faded rapidly

“Please.” she rasped breathlessly “Take good care of them. Protect my city, protect my knight and his sons.” those were her final words.

“I will.” I said, and upon hearing that she slumped down and let herself fade.

I looked up at the city and went incorporeal and invisible. Good thing it was the school holidays, I think I’d need to spend a few days here and find Lady Gothams knight.

I sat down in a corner. I had found out that here I more or less was the city, not body horror or possession though, in a weird way. But it let me sit here fully visible and still be hidden, the shadows wrapped around me and nothing part of the city- my city would hurt me.

I watched as he fought. He was strong, smart, and had resources. I had read the news papers and this was the Dark Knight, he has multiple side kicks who many believed were his family, and even without my help he blended in with the city and knew it like the back of his hand. The blend wasn’t seamless anymore though, he had noticed something was different but didn’t know quite what. I knew though, I knew I had found Lady Gothams knight.

I let him tie up the criminals and he jumped onto a roof top. I followed him and and let the fog hide me, then I landed and let it fade. “Hello my knight.” I called because he was my knight now. He froze and spun around to face me but didn’t attack

“My name is Batman and I am no ones, if you’re some high ranking government offical I assure you I don’t work for the police either.” Batman said, he glanced at the inches between my feet and the ground “Who are you?” he asked, I hesitated.

What title would be best here? Danny Phantom? Danny Fenton? King Phantom? I thought about Lady Gotham and decided.

“You would know me as Gotham.” I introduced, wow that sounded more cryptic that I meant it to. Batman scoffed and I reached out and told the city to curl around him, to protect him and hide him and power him like it did with Lady Gotham.

He froze then relaxed slightly, his cape blended into the shadows instead of ending, his face became almost fully obscured, his eyes glowed in the dark menacingly, his form became something less human.

“Why reveal yourself to me now Gotham?” he asked, for once there was nothing hostile in his voice.

“Gotham has changed too much in the past years for Lady Gotham to have power anymore, she is too weak to be anywhere but the ghost zone.” I explained “She was the Gotham you knew. She called for me to protect the city and protect you.”

Batman looked wary again, I could understand why he wouldn’t trust me. New leadership could suck (or be evil) and it took a while for them to gain respect, especially if you didn’t know them.

“I’ll protect you in a general sense, but if you ever really need help, like life or death help, call for me.” I said, then I let a wave of fog swallowed me and disappeared.

#Danny phantom #notmyfinalaccount writes #dp x dc #danny is gotham au #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp

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chloeangelic · 10 months ago

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addressing the drama (with receipts)

I wanted to have my ducks in a row before speaking out instead of just responding; I’m not doing this to change anyone’s opinions - it’s really not possible change someone’s perception of me even if it’s based on falsehoods - but I need to do this so I know I’ve said and shown what needs to be shown, and people can do with it what they please.

To the readers and writers who have blocked me, unfollowed me, and mutuals who have stopped talking to me over this - I’m really, really sad you didn’t come to me first and give me the opportunity to explain what was going on. I understand if you wanted to distance yourself from drama but I also need you to understand that this was not discourse-drama I willingly got myself into. This was a month of frequent harassment and slander that eventually turned into bullying by a group of people using false info, hiding behind side blogs and anons, and I hoped it would blow over but it never seemed to stop. With anons turned off for most of the last two months, people have gone to my friends’ inboxes instead to harass them about me (and insult them in the process), and I can’t do this anymore.

I feel so alienated and disliked in this community that I can’t go on the dash without feeling like I shouldn’t interact with anyone out of fear that they’ll get uncomfortable seeing me in their notifs. People keep saying they want the community to get better and then they jump on the bandwagon of vague posting and RBing without taking a second to verify the claims, clearly not realizing how much hurt it causes to perpetuate it. If you’re reading this, I hope your name isn't the next one they pull out of the hat when they want someone new to push off the platform.

Explanations, timelines and receipts below.

For anyone waiting for an explanation regarding the posts and anons about me that have circulated for weeks, or waiting for receipts proving or disproving that I’m a mean girl who spends my time talking shit, here you go. I am so beyond hurt, I don’t even know what to say. I’m floored, I’m so disappointed in this community and I’m so sad. In the last two weeks, I stayed up until 4am one night receiving screenshots of posts and anons about me, I cried, I tried to understand why this has happened to me, and I have sat here day after day with no answers.

If you think I’m being melodramatic, try losing a quarter of your mutuals and having a bunch of people block you when you’ve had either no interaction with them or they’ve all been positive, and see how that feels, on top of constant rumors about you being a terrible person when you know you’ve barely had any negative interactions with anyone on the platform. I can’t be on tumblr any longer without exonerating myself and putting it out there that all of this has been one gigantic mess based on lies about me, seemingly compounded by grievances people have against Gracie (some one whose personal conversations have nothing to do with me). Either I do this, or I log out forever and only post on ao3, cause I feel like the fucking grim reaper here. Posts about me being an awful person are still circulating, despite the original post being deleted and the follow up stating that the OP has talked to me and they have apologized.

I’m not naming names in this. I will be using person A/B/C/D to make it less confusing. I’ve removed identifying information from the screenshots because even though I’m hurt by these people, I know that they will get dogpiled and harassed if I identify them, and I want it all to stop. Several have apologized to me and I have accepted.

Sometime in December, rumors started circulating that there was a “big/elite writers discord” where they talked shit about small writers (I’m not in any discords specifically for writers and I have never heard of such a server). At about the same time, person A - someone who was very active in my own, now-deleted discord server, started frequently vagueposting about me, calling me a mean girl and, intentionally or not, made it seem like I was part of this “elite group of writers”. This is someone who I have never had a negative interaction with and who seemingly out of nowhere decided that I call myself elite and I’m a terrible person.

Person B had some grievances with myself, Iris, and Gracie it seemed, so they went to person C and accused us of talking shit in our voice chats. I assume person A and B have talked about me at some point and validated each other’s claims, but I can't know that for sure. Person B messaged me from a burner account and apologized, then seemingly deleted the account after I responded.

Gracie frequently posted about us three chatting, and although I understand this might have felt alienating to some, many writers are open about having group chats with each other. All we did was write, edit, and Gracie sometimes made memes. We talked about non-fic stuff often, and when Gracie had an issue with other writers and she was upset, we talked about it. That’s what friends do. She knows that I believe those situations were handled poorly. One of those situations came to light recently - I had a very pleasant conversation with the writer involved, and we are still in touch.

I have spoken to person C, who posted the most “popular” smear post about me and some of my friends. They retracted their statements and profusely apologized to us, admitting it was based on stuff they heard from person B, showing me screenshots of the conversation. However, their original posts are still circulating through reblogs despite being deleted from their account.

Person D also posted about me and my friends, however their post was sort of ridiculous, accusing me of spending more time replying to anons than writing. I found this funny, but the way they slut shamed my friend was absolutely not humorous, and dragging a random writer in to criticize them was a strange attempt at adding fuel to the fire.

And for the receipts,

I blocked person A after seeing a handful of vague posts clearly about me, and after they interacted with every single rude anon posted about me that I saw. I think that’s reasonable, no? I’m not gonna post screenshots of their posts cause I honestly just don’t want to look at them again, they make me feel kind of sick if I'm honest, but if anyone doesn’t believe me, they are welcome to DM me and I will send.

Person B messaged me, admitted to partaking in this mess, and apologized. This is part of a LONG message:

Person C apologized over message and called me on discord. We had a conversation clearing things up, they deleted their posts and wrote a public apology.

If you need any proof that person B’s claims were, in fact, baseless, look at this exchange between person B and person C after person C had cleared things up with me.

Person D honestly just creeps me out, cause what the fuck is this? Fine if you don’t like me based on my writing or my persona on here but… Why the witch hunt?

ETA: Person C asked person D to take down their post and they never responded. This was sent prior to that, I know the full context, I just thought this specific part was worth sharing to show how vile some people allow themselves to be behind burner accounts.

What kind of behavior is this? This was from a sideblog, and I don't know what their main account is. It creeps me the fuck out knowing this person is lurking somewhere in the community.

I have hated every moment of this. None of this has been fun for me. This has completely fucked up my motivation to write and my enjoyment of it, it has made me anxious, it has messed with my self esteem, and it has made me want to log out of Tumblr and not come back.

Please, I beg, if you have an issue with me, just come to me and I promise I will have a conversation with you. You can’t tell people’s tone over anon and I don’t think that’s a good way to have a conversation, especially one about something that should be solved in private, so they remain off, but my DM’s are open.

I'm so sick of seeing vagueposts and trying to decipher if they're about me. Having to do that a bunch of times messes with your head.

I'm not sure what to do moving forward, but I needed to say my piece. I don't want to talk about this again, I want to put this behind me. I seriously hope this doesn't wreck my last remaining want to share my writing on here.

Thanks again to everywhere who has supported me in my DMs and comments, you mean the world to me 🤍🤍🤍 And if you found yourself duped by all this but change your opinion on me now or eventually, I won't hold a grudge, and I'm happy to speak again and pick up where we left off.

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redwinterroses · 3 months ago

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[part one] [part two] [part three]

Jimmy woke to the muzzle of a rifle nudging under his chin.

Blinking furiously, he followed the line of the gun up to its wielder: a stocky man with a bushy black beard and eyes like two ice chips.

A sardonic smile played around the man’s mouth. “Well,” he said. “Want to explain why I got a couple’a burglars sleepin’ on my floor?”

“I—” Jimmy’s mouth was dry with sleep. The bright morning sun streaming in the windows made his eyes water and—the morning sun. He cursed himself for falling asleep. “I’m Jimmy. Ah—Tango said you wouldn’t mind—I mean, if you’re Cub?” It came out as a question, and he swallowed against the cold iron nuzzling his throat.

“Tango?” the man’s eyes flicked over to where Tango—damn him—was still softly snoring, his derby settled over his face. The muzzle of the rifle retreated a little bit, and the man kicked Tango’s foot.

With an indignant exclamation, Tango came awake, his hat falling to the side.

“Hey!” he spluttered. “What’s the big—oh. Mornin’, Cubby.”

“Tango.” Cub withdrew the rifle and held it loose at his side. “Seriously? You could have knocked, man. I’ve got spare rooms.”

Tango sat up, gesturing at the rifle. “Sure, but I know better than to bang on a door in the middle of the night when Ol’ Faithful might see me before my good buddy Cub.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.” Cub stood back, and let the rifle hang loose at his side. His eyes narrowed. “Back to my first question. Why do I have a couple’a burglars sleeping on my floor—besides the fact that they didn’t want to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Tango groaned and got to his feet, stretching mightily. Jimmy, eyeing that rifle dubiously, sat up as well and tried to work the cricks out of his neck.

“Train robbery,” Tango said. “Just south of here. Greysides gang cottoned onto me and had someone waiting for me when I tried to catch a ride back to Tumbleton.”

Cub whistled appreciatively. “Greysides, huh? Bad bunch.”

“We need to send a telegraph, actually,” Tango said. “Assuming Chef’s awake this early?”

“Man’s up before dawn most days,” Cub said. He nodded toward the door. “Who’re you planning to wire, though? Those pillagers’ll be gone long before any law gets there.”

“They stopped the train,” Tango said. “I’ll wire ahead to Tumbleton and if they haven’t arrived someone will have to go and find the engine—or whatever’s left of it. I doubt they killed anyone but they might have scuppered the works.”

Cub nodded, then pulled a tin out from under the counter. “Coffee? I can have it brewed by the time you’re back.”

“Cubby, I could kiss you.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Tango turned to Jimmy. “Wait here—I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

And with that, he jogged out the door and vanished into the morning sun.

To his dismay, Jimmy felt a twinge—a pang of something in his chest that tugged after Tango. He resisted easily, for now, but that confirmed his suspicions: his curse had officially latched on to the bounty hunter.

He barely kept himself from swearing.

“You’re from Spawnheart?”

The question was so abrupt that it made Jimmy start. He turned to find Cub regarding him with an unreadable expression. The saloon owner stared at him, and Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if he were being measured and weighed, and that Cub wasn’t impressed with what he saw.

“I… yeah, I am,” he said. He clambered to his feet and started packing his bedroll. Glancing back at Cub, he raised a self-deprecating eyebrow. “Is it that obvious?”

Cub shrugged. “I grew up there myself, actually. And it’s a pretty obvious guess—you’re not from around here, you were on a train heading toward new-gen…” he tilted his head thoughtfully. “You look familiar.”

Jimmy tensed. “...Yeah?”

Cub’s eyes were fixed on him, his expression entirely neutral. “Maybe. What did you say your last name was?”

“I didn’t.” Jimmy wondered how fast he could make it to the door—though where he thought he’d go after that he hadn’t the foggiest—before Cub lifted the rifle at his side. He shifted his weight, and Cub’s hand twitched a hair on the gun—

And then the man smiled, relaxing. “Fair enough, fair enough,” Cub said, his voice amiable. “A guy’s entitled to his secrets on the frontier. Sometimes they’re the most valuable thing you’ve got.”

Still wary, Jimmy buckled the leather strap around his bedroll, his attention never leaving Cub. He felt like he was facing down another creeper, and he couldn’t figure out why this one hadn’t exploded yet.

He held the bedroll aloft. “You, ah… you mind if I toss this back in the ender chest?”

Cub plonked the rifle down on the bartop and gestured for Jimmy to go around behind. “Be my guest,” he said. “Again, I guess.”

Jimmy stepped behind the counter, dropped the roll into the void-space of the ender chest and let the lid fall shut. “I can pay. For using your floor last night.”

Cub shook his head. “Nah, no worries, friend.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “Just do me a favor and keep an eye on that knucklehead, and we’ll call it even.”

Like I’ve got any choice at this point. “Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Sure.”

Pulling out one of the barstools with his foot, Cub sat, and leaned forward, resting both arms on the bartop. All the suspicious tension seemed to have gone out of him, though Jimmy was still wary of those sharp eyes. “So,” Cub drawled. “What are you hoping to find out in new-gen? Gold? Adventure? Wide open spaces?”

“All the above, I guess.” Jimmy moved to one of the tables nearer the door and sank into one of the wooden chairs. It creaked slightly under his weight. “Mostly just… something far away. Find a little valley, build a farm. Maybe breed some horses—I’ve always liked horses.” Even as he said it, the dream took shape in his mind’s eye: a long, low cabin, cozy on the inside, with a barn full of bright-eyed horses and their hay-scented warmth.

He brushed away the vision, stowing it away to consider later. After he’d gotten rid of his unwitting partner. “How do you know Tango? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Cub grinned—and unlike every other time, this smile was missing that predatory edge. This smile was genuine, and it took Jimmy a little by surprise.

“Oh, Tango and I go way back,” Cub said. “He’s been out here even longer than me, but when my first crew came out to new-gen he and a few others gave us a hand. We’ve all spread out over the years, but we keep in touch.” Steepling his fingers in front of his face, he raised his eyebrows. “How do you know Tango of the Tek variety?”

“Tek variety?” Jimmy shook his head. “I just met him last night. He… I think he saved my life? But he also made me jump off a train so I’m not exactly sure where that stands.”

The tugging sensation in his chest told him exactly where “that” stood, but he wasn’t about to explain that to the man who had woken him up with a weapon and apparently had a long history with Tango. Didn’t seem wise.

“That’s Tango all over.” Cub sat back and slapped the counter. “Well, if it’s new-gen you’re heading for, you could do worse than hanging around Tango for a bit. See if he’ll take you as far as Tumbleton—that’s about as far out as civilization goes at this point.”

Jimmy nodded noncommittally, and watched as Cub got up and retrieved his rifle. He slung its leather strap over one shoulder and stowed the weapon comfortably across his back, then gave Jimmy an evaluating glance.

“Feel free to hang out in here until Tango gets back,” Cub said. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “I’ve got a few errands to run before the bar opens this afternoon. Alternatively… there’s a couple bottles of water under the counter and a spare ender chest you’re welcome to. Tango’s down on the east side of town so if you head west you can probably get a few miles out before he figures it out.”

Blinking, Jimmy fought the urge to reach for his pistol—or to bolt for the door.

“Ah…” he managed, “Why—what makes you think I would—”

“Boots.” Cub pointed at his feet. “You were asleep with your boots on. Maybe you’re just weird about it, but in my experience a man who sleeps with his boots on is a man on the move. Or on the run. And I’ll be honest with you, Jimmy—” he put an odd emphasis on the name, as if he knew there was something Jimmy was hiding. “I’m not sure I’m too keen on my buddy Tango takin’ up with someone on the run.”

There was no cold muzzle at Jimmy’s chin as there had been when he woke, but Cub’s expression was as emotionless as a bullet.

Jimmy found himself shaking his head. “I’m not on the run,” he said, aware that he didn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears. The door, with its long rectangle of golden sunshine, seemed to pull at him—get out, get away, don’t make this mistake again. The allure of the open frontier, with no connections and no risks, was heady in its promise of freedom.

But the far-more-tangible tug in his chest that told him Tango was already on his way back, and he wouldn’t get far enough to avoid the man chasing after him. And he would chase, Jimmy was sure of it.

Casting a glance toward the window, Jimmy cursed his bad luck—and apparent inability to wake up early.

“I’m not on the run,” he said again, and the words were more sure this time. “And I’ll do whatever I can to keep harm from coming to your friend.” He looked at Cub, hoping the man could see the sincerity in his face. “Honestly, I can promise you that.”

Cub pursed his lips, then gave a sharp nod. “Good enough.”

As he said it, footsteps tapped on the floorboards outside, and the door swung open to let in a burst of fresh morning air and the smell of dust and sage.

“Jimmy!” Tango said, striding into the room. “I feel like I owe you a ride to Tumbleton after getting your train burglefied. You ride?”

Jimmy stood. “You got us horses?”

“Well… no.” Tango said. “Chef had a package he needed mailed to Tumbleton anyway, so he’s loaning us a couple of his mules.”

Cub laughed, and gave Jimmy a friendly slap on the shoulder that was maybe just a little too hard. “Good luck, fellas,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

And with that, he sauntered out of the saloon. Jimmy watched him go and then looked at Tango, frowning.

“Tango, why would he say that?”

Tango laughed, and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Oh, no reason, no reason,” he said unconvincingly. He gestured at the door.

“Let’s hit the road.”

#this is not proofread so please forgive any mistakes lol #headin' west au #team ranchers #cub is fun to write i have just learned #i like me an unpredictable dangerous good guy #also his being barkeep is directly a reference to his s9 potions 'coffee' shop #i wonder what could possibly go wrong with those mules #no genuinely i am wondering those came out of nowhere it was gonna be horses and then tango said mules and i went with it #guess I'll have to figure that out next XD

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