#If I’m gonna stay up I might as well do something good for myself (& the fact that it doesn’t take brain power to do can’t hurt)

[inga-don-studio]

I know I should just try to get to bed now that my Friday’s finally over & I’m fighting for my life just to stay awake, let alone get something resembling dinner together at 2am …

… and yet …

… and yet … :)

[ashleysturn]

dirty laundry - matt sturniolo

context: after a long day of filming with matt and his brothers you’re spending the night at their house. you decide to take a shower before bed.

nsfw

<———————————————➰———————————————>

“i set a towel in the bathroom” matt says

“thanks” i grab my bag and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

i undress myself and get into the shower.

-a few mins later

knock knock “hey y/n?”

“uh yeah?”

“i’m about to throw a load of laundry in, can i grab your clothes?”

i hold the shower curtain closed fully “uh sure thanks”

the bathroom door opens and i hear matt step in “alright cool, sorry carry on”

he leaves the bathroom with my clothes and shuts the door behind him.

-

i get out of the shower and dry off with the towel matt left out for me. i rummage through my bag looking for my pajamas.

i pull out a matching bra and panties set and a soft velvet hello kitty pajama set- shorts and a tank top.

i get dressed and wrap my hair up in the towel.

i do my skincare and put lotion on my body

i walk out of the bathroom and down the corridor to the living room where everyone else is hanging out.

“how was your shower?” matt asks

“uhm good, thanks” i sit down on the couch next to him.

-

later that night after chatting and watching a funny movie, nick and chris head up to bed.

“are you getting tired y/n?”

i nod my head “a bit”

matt gets up and stretches “i might head to bed honestly”

“okay.” i pause “wait is the laundry done? i have to leave early i don’t want to forget it.”

matt pauses, his face almost turns white “uh yeah it should be. i’ll go check”

i follow him to the laundry room.

he gets on his knees and opens the dryer “hmm” he rummages through

“here” he hands me my shorts, tshirt, and bra

i smile and take them “thanks.”

“i- uh.”

matt looks up at me “what is it? did they shrink?”

i shake my head “no i’m just missing something, can i look through the rest?”

matt sighs and scratches the back of his neck “uh yeah go ahead. i’m gonna go to bed”

he walks into his room on the other side of the hallway, and i start looking though the laundry.

where the fuck are my panties?

i look through all the laundry but can’t find them. damn it. my dirty panties are here somewhere.

i retrace my steps. i look in the bathroom, behind the sink, in the hallway, under the washing machine, i dig through my bag.

nothing.

i guess i’ll i look for them the morning. i mean i wouldn’t care if they were clean but i wore them all day filming.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

-in the morning-

my alarm goes off early. i groan- i hate getting up early.

i’m assuming i’m only person awake in the house, the triplets always sleep in.

i get my belongings together and knock on matt’s door

“matt?” i knock again

i hear noises and shifting coming from behind the door.

“hey matt? you said you’d take me home” i open the door

my eyes widen and my jaw drops. i see my panties in matt’s hand wrapped around his dick

“fuck y/n! get out!” he yanks his blanket over his lap

“fuck sorry sorry!” i turn around and slam the door

what the fuck just happened

a few moments later matt walks out of his room “y/n im sorry i-“

“no i shouldn’t of just walked in” i interrupt, shaking my head

matt nods awkwardly “so uh.. you need me to take you home?”

i pause for a moment before changing the subject. “were those my..”

“yeah.” matt says ashamedly, looking at his feet.

i look down as well, i see an obvious tent in matt’s shorts- which were on backwards since he quickly threw them on.

he bites his bottom lip “i- uh”

“i mean i don’t have to go home quite yet” i shrug my shoulders

matt looks up at me with a confused look in his eyes

“i can stay for a bit.” i glance down at matt’s crotch

matt smiles mischievously, he reaches out and grabs my hands, guiding them down to his bulge. butterflies fill my stomach.

i let him guide my hands, i wrap my hand around matt’s clothed dick, he lets out a groan, shooting his head back.

“come to my room” he says huskily, stumbling to reach for the doorknob behind him.

i follow after him into the room. i sit down on the edge of his bed. he shuts and locks the door

Matt walks up to me and pushes me back on the bed which catches me by surprise.

he spreads my legs apart by my knees and crawls on top of me. i look up at him with needy eyes.

he pushes his hair out of his face and lifts his shirt off before pulling me closer to him by my hips

“fuck are you sure?” matt and looks down at me.

i nod my head “mhm.”

i lift off the bed a bit and slide off my shorts

i notice matt glancing down and biting his bottom lip

he places his hand softly on my jaw and lifts up my face to look him in the eyes. he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

i let out a soft moan against his lips and wrap my arms around him.

matt reaches down and places his fingers on my clit through my panties, the sudden contact sending a shiver through my body. fuck.

“this okay pretty girl?” he speaks as he starts tracing shapes over my clit

my breath hitches “yeah.. yes” i look back to him with needy eyes.

matt traces the elastic waistband of my panties and slowly slides his hand under them

“mmm- you’re so wet for me” matt groans.

“please matt” i whine

“tell me what you want y/n” he teases my entrance with his fingers

“matt” i lift up the lower half of my body for more contact

“say it” he starts to slowly push a finger into me

“oh fuck. more.. please” i beg

matt pushes a second finger in and starts pumping in and out of me. he curls his fingertips up to hit my g-spot. each bit of contact sending shockwaves through my body.

“feels so fucking good” i spit out

matt grins as he continues to finger me. my stomach ties up in a knot and my walls pulse around his fingers.

i see matt’s eyes darken. he can definitely feel that i’m close. his hair is sticking to his forehead and his teeth are sunken into his bottom lip

i grip onto his back, my nails leaving marks

“finish on my fingers y/n” he quickens the pace, hitting my g-spot with every pump

i practically lift off the bed, my legs shaking sporadically. that pressure in my stomach releases and i clench around matt’s fingers. i let out a shriek and matt’s spare hand goes to cover my mouth

“good girl” he slowly pulls out his fingers and sucks my juices off of them. “you taste so good”

i pant and look up at him. “you can take more, yeah?”

i nod my head. matt slides down his shorts and boxers in one motion.

he strokes himself a few times before lining up his tip to me.

he’s so big.

“ready pretty girl?”

i nod my head again. i have no words.

matt grins and slowly pushes into me

“can you spread your legs more for me?” he gently pushes my legs apart more.

he slowly pumps in and out of me with only half of his length stretching me out.

“you’re so big” i moan. matt just shakes his head

“you okay?” he brushes my hair out of my face

“mhm” i nod my head.

i wince as matt bottoms out, he lets out a whimper.

“so tight” he starts to thrust into me faster. he leans down to place kisses on my neck.

matt reaches under my shirt and up to my chest. he runs his fingertips over my nipples, i let out a moan

“fuck your noises are so pretty” matt thrusts faster into me “i’m gonna cum y/n”

my stomach knots up again and my walls tighten around matt’s dick

he lets out a whimper and i feel warmth filling me up

“fuck sorry” he slowly pulls out and a string of white gushes out of me. he uses his discarded shirt to clean me off. the fabric touching me when i’m so sensitive makes me shiver

i smile. “thanks matt.”

matt crashes down next to me and opens his arms for me to lay on his chest.

“you should leave your dirty laundry here more often he teases”

i giggle, my head laid on his chest.

“i’m keeping those panties by the way” he laughs, wrapping his arms tighter around me.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

an: i loveddd writing this. it’s been in my drafts for like a week but i just finished it hehe hope u enjoy 💋

((also not fully proofread sorry. also my next fic will be chris!))

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely! can i request sirius taking care of sick reader?? where he's really sweet like total fluff!!

have a good day/night!!

Hey gorgeous, thanks for requesting! Hope you have a good day/night as well <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 940 words

“Can I just say,” Sirius says, leaning against the bathroom wall, “that this is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a testament to your hotness that I’m still attracted to you right now.” 

You laugh, and it makes a bit of water come out of your nose, splattering into the sink. Though the bathroom mirror is fogged up from the hot shower you’ve just sat in, you have an idea of what you look like right now, and you’re inclined to agree that it’s a miracle anyone could find you attractive like this. 

You’re wearing the same bathrobe you’ve been in all day plus a fabric headband to keep your half-damp, frizzy hair away from your face as you bend over the sink, trying to flush out your sinuses with salt water. Your face is flushed and dry, your lips chapped, and your nose turned an agitated color from tissue overuse. 

“Are you sure?” you ask Sirius, taking another tissue from the nearly empty box. “You could leave me, I wouldn’t blame you.” 

You blow your nose. It makes a gratifying, horrendous sound, and Sirius’ mouth pinches. 

“Charming,” he mutters, but moves closer to you. “No, I’m afraid I’m in for the long haul, sweetness. After I catch whatever it is you have, no one will have me anyway.” 

“A cold,” you remind him, wincing as you wipe your raw nose. 

“Sure.” You don’t turn around, but you can practically feel the uplifted eyebrow directed at your back. “You done with this part for now?” 

You hum, letting Sirius take you back to bed with a hand curled in the fuzzy material of your robe. For someone who gripes about how sick he’s going to get so often, he sure hasn’t been holding back on the physical contact this past week. He pushes you down onto your bed, settling in beside you. 

“I know it’s good for your snot or whatever,” he says, low enough you think he might be talking to himself, “but I don’t like you sitting in that hot shower when you’ve still got a fever. I’m freaked you’re gonna pass out on the bathroom floor, and we both know my reaction time isn’t quick enough to keep you from cracking your head on the tile.” 

“I’m not gonna pass out,” you sigh, though you do let your eyes slip closed, succumbing to the exhaustion that seems to find you every time you stop moving since you’ve been sick. 

“Mm,” Sirius hums discontentedly. You hear him twisting the cap off of something, and when you open your eyes he’s reaching for your face. You stay perfectly still as he cups your cheek in one hand to steady himself, using the other to smear vaseline onto your chapped nose. 

You sniffle. “I could do this myself,” you say quietly. 

“Obviously,” Sirius murmurs, “but I haven’t been much help, so let me have something to feel like I’m contributing, okay? I promise I’ll ask you to do tons more when it’s my turn to lay around.” 

“You made me soup.” 

“That was a box mix, babe. When I’m sick, I’m going to want chicken noodle made from scratch.” 

You want to point out that chicken noodle soup isn’t all that difficult to make, but you stay quiet. 

You wonder if Sirius can feel your heartbeat with his pinkie tucked under your jaw like this, if you’re giving yourself away. It’s always nerve-wracking having someone this beautiful look at you, worse when you know you’re not exactly at your most winsome yourself. But Sirius’ touch is nothing short of adoring as he soothes the cold jelly onto the burning parts of your nose. He’s looking at you with a tenderness you wouldn’t have been able to picture when you first met him and yet suits him perfectly, gray eyes gone soft and quiet like the sky after a storm. 

They flicker up to you, catching something in your own expression. “What’s wrong?” 

What’s wrong is the unbelievable fondness of his thumb as it coasts down your cheek, the way he blows lightly on your freshly moisturized skin once he’s done with the vaseline, cooling it. The gesture is half teasing and half sincere, evidence of a thoughtfulness he doesn’t often show and almost never admits to. You think that if you were to tell James the other boy would probably bug your room with cameras to try and catch it on film. 

Sirius brushes a piece of hair behind his ear. “Does something else hurt, baby?” 

“My eyes,” you whisper, pressing your fingertips to the skin underneath your eyes to show him. You can actually feel your sinuses crackling when you apply pressure. “They sort of ache.” 

He makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, stroking your cheek and bending to press a kiss to your forehead. “Be right back,” he promises you. 

You close your eyes as he goes into the bathroom. There’s not much point in keeping them open when your boyfriend’s not here to admire. You hear cabinet doors opening, the faucet running, and then your mattress dips again. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Sirius murmurs, settling a warm rag over your eyes. 

You sigh, the relief is so instant, and you hear him chuckle quietly. 

“God, I love you,” you say. 

“That feels rather conditional,” he replies. “Would you love anyone who warmed up rags for you and made soup out of a box?” 

“I think the real question is, could I love someone who I say ‘I love you’ to and they don’t say it back?” 

“Fickle.” Soft lips press to your cheek. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

[luveline]

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?” 

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too. 

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork. 

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively. 

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.” 

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?” 

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say. 

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.” 

“What happened?” 

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face. 

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.” 

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.” 

You frown at one another. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again. 

“I’m consistently below average.” 

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.” 

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does. 

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.” 

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.” 

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?” 

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Missed Me? Pt 1

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: unprotected PiV, stepcest/inappropriate relationships, oral, rough treatment, gag, spanking, spit, semi-public, knife

Info: you just wanted to go on a run, but dear old dad needed some help in the garage; he fucks you stupid. Inappropriate dad joke. Fuck or die type shit

This gif 🥵 fuck me please

“Where are you going doll?” Anakin’s voice floated over to you from the garage.

“Oh hey!” You said, spinning on your heel and walking toward him after shutting the front door behind you. “I was gonna go for a run.”

“A run?” Anakin asked, lifting an eyebrow in a questioning way.

“Yeah you know? Cause I’m trying out for track?” You reminded him with a slight laugh.

“Sorry baby, I forgot.” Anakin said with a little frown. “Do you have a minute before you go? I need alittle help real quick.”

“Oh yeah sure.” You said, walking over to him in your running shorts and sports bra, a loose jacket of Anakin’s slipping down your shoulder.

“I could get it myself but your tiny arms can reach it better.” He grinned, pointing down into the engine bay of an old truck he was working on.

“Oh shut up.” You scoffed, holding out your hand for him to place the wrench in your hand. He happily did so with that cute crooked smile and then dusted off his hands and lifted you up by your waist to sit you down on the lip of the engine bay so you could reach it properly.

He took advantage of your position to stare at your ass, it’d been a long while since he’d seen it the way he wanted to. Maybe it was time for alittle convincing conversation, he thought as he discreetly adjusted his half-hard cock.

Snapping himself back to the current situation he joined you by standing on the drivers side tire and leaning over to explain what he needed you to do. Soon enough you’d extracted a small, but very heavy piece of the engine responsible for getting the exhaust fumes out the exhaust pipe in the back. Anakin explained that in older trucks like this one, these pieces crack and can cause fuel leaks.

“Great job baby.” He said proudly, helping you get down. “I might as well just hire you huh?” He laughed.

“You’re real funny.” You teased. “All I did was take out some bolts.”

“Yeah and that’s like a big chunk of mechanics sweetheart, you’re basically halfway there.” He teased. “It’d be good for you to learn this stuff anyway.”

“I don’t need to know ‘this stuff’ that’s what I have you for.” You said, watched a smirk cross Anakin’s lips.

Anakin raises an eyebrow, handing you a rag to wipe your hands off with. “I suppose you’re right about that doll, that’s alright though I don’t mind it.” He smiled.

You tossed the rag back to him and started to turn around with a little wave so you could get back on task. But Anakin had other plans.

He twisted the rag taut and whipped it quickly out straight at your ass and it connected with a dull *thwap*. You yelped and immediately covered your ass with your hands and spun around to face him with a red face.

“Anakin!” You squeaked, trying to sound stern but only sounding even more flustered than you looked.

"How about instead of you pounding the pavement, I start pounding something else?" His gaze shifts suggestively to your chest before meeting yours again, challenge gleaming in his eyes and a sly smirk on his lips.

“What are you trying to say Anakin?” You scoffed and crossed your arms.

You of course knew exactly what he meant, but it couldn’t hurt to play naive. What had happened between you in the past should probably stay there. It had nearly ruined your reputation during your senior year of highschool. One time, only once, someone caught a glimpse of Anakin sharing a far from fatherly congrats kiss with you in his car after your team won the regional volleyball tournament.

The damage control that came along after the news spread throughout your school and town was intense. Your mother chose to pretend not to hear the rumors and never even mentioned it to either of you. You refused to acknowledge it, Anakin did the same. A few weeks after that, you’d made the painful decision to end your inappropriate relationship; Anakin agreed it was for the best, but that didn’t mean either of you were happy about it.

Now you were in freshman year of college, trying out for track, aiming for the dean’s list, snagging any extra scholarships you could.

The thought was tempting, so so so tempting. You’d missed him. It’s so hard to love someone from a distance when you live in the same house. It was painful, gut wrenchingly painful to wean yourself off those goodnight kisses, the far too long hugs, the couch cuddles, those secret hot and heavy moments you snuck away for every chance you could.

’No.’ You said to yourself , ‘nope, not going there. I. Can’t. Do. That. Again.’

“What am I trying to say?" Anakin repeats, his face mimicking a forlorn puppy. “I miss you.”

“Anakin.” You warned, he can’t use that voice with you. You’d melt. You’d cave.

“Baby, please?” He took a hesitant step forward. “We don’t have to do anything… I just- I miss being close to you.”

“But-“ you started and he held up his hand.

“It was a bad joke I know.” He said apologetically. “I just… you know me I suck at talking about things.”

“It was a bad joke.” You agreed, a soft smile on your lips.

“I know what I said back then… how you’d be better off finding someone your age. It’s true you know? But just cause it’s true doesn’t mean that’s what I actually want.” He whispered, leaning closer until his nose almost touches yours.

“Ani… we really shouldn’t.” You whispered. “You say ‘we don’t have to do anything’ but we both know how we’ll end up if we give in just alittle bit.”

“So you miss me too?” He asked, a little hint of emotion in his voice.

“You’ve always been so good at only hearing what you want to.” You sighed.

“No. I’m just really good at reading between the lines sweetheart.” He said softly, bringing a calloused hand to your cheek.

Anakin was letting his hand hover near your cheek, not quite touching it, just close enough that you could feel his warmth. The fact that he was giving you the choice of even such a small form of intimacy made you want it even more. Hesitantly you allowed the little bit of skin contact, his palm fitting to your cheek perfectly. His thumb rubbed ever so gently across your under-eye, so soothing that if you were to lay down right now, you’d be asleep in seconds.

A warm and genuine smile graced his lips, his eyes shining with adoration and joy that you’d allowed yourself this affection from him.

“I always did love when you wore my clothes.” He whispered, straightening the borrowed jacket back up onto your shoulder. “I like that you still do sometimes.” His tone of voice laced with a horrible longing.

There it was again. That voice. That look in his eyes that made your heart scream. You couldn’t help it, it must be some kind of baser instinct. The horribly painful urge to comfort and hold and love and kiss him when he did this. Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

“What are you thinkin’ doll?” He whispered, resting his forehead on yours. His thumb brushing your lower lip while his other hand slid down the fabric of your jacket to rest on your hip.

The respect he showed for your boundaries was always so endearing. Anyone else would’ve just went straight for the bare skin on your waist. It would’ve been so easy to slip his hand beneath the open jacket and squeeze the soft flesh like you knew he wanted to. But he didn’t.

“I’m thinking this is a real bad idea Ani.” You said quietly, even though you were actively inching closer.

“Probably.” He agreed, allowing you full control over the situation. He was itching to give you that kiss you so desperately wanted, but knew it wasn’t his choice. You had to decide.

“Mom would never forgive me.” You mumbled. Knowing that it was true, she turned a blind eye once in hopes of it being a horrible rumor spread by someone at your school. But if word got out a second time around? Game over.

“Mmm no. She wouldn’t.” Anakin whispered, his lips parted and he watched you tilt your chin up.

“It’s just gonna hurt us.” You whispered, your lips centimeters from his. It was taking every bit of control in his body to keep still.

“Like hell.” He agreed, his mouth practically watering as your lip barely gazed his.

“I was just getting over you.” You lied, a last ditch effort to right this wrong before it came to fruition.

“No you weren’t.” He breathed out, hot breath fanning over your wetted lips.

“No. I wasn’t.” You confirmed.

You stay there, your lips so close. Hovering just out of reach, your noses pressed together. The anxiety of waiting for your next move was getting to Anakin and he was trying. He really was trying to behave himself, but fuck you made it so hard on him.

You held your breath and dove in. Lips meeting in a searing kiss, hot and heavy from the very beginning. As if there were no other way to survive, as if you stopped you’d simply crumble to pieces.

Anakin let out a desperate groan and slipped his tongue into your mouth, past your smooth lips to massage your eager tongue. He hummed at the taste of you, having craved it for so long. Like an addict he was doomed the moment he felt your lips again.

Anakin was usually gentle, rough enough when you needed him to be, but right now? You’d never seen him so fucking feral.

He was breathing like he was gasping for air, hot breath from his mouth and nose as he tore the jacket off your shoulders and clumsily grabbed your chin to tilt your head back farther. Practically fucking your mouth with his tongue he walked you backward to his work bench. Cradling your head with one hand and his other was sliding up the back of your sports bra to sit heavy between your shoulder blades.

Your ass hit the wood of the table and he lifted you up and sat you down roughly, the legs scraping across the floor until it was pushed flush against the wall. Anakin’s hands were tight on your hips as he adjusted your angle so that you were perfectly lined up with the big throbbing bulge in his jeans.

He pressed against you, groaning when he realized he could feel the heat of your cunt through the thin fabric of your shorts. The delicious ‘mmm’s, ‘mph’s, and ‘uh’s of his relentless mouth on yours was dizzying. He was always so vocal and it was always so fucking hot. You swallowed those gorgeous little noises and returned the favorite with a whimper when he ground his cock against your core.

“Missed you baby.” He mumbled, his sticky kisses trailing down your jaw.

“Missed you Ani.” You parroted back in a breathy escape of air.

Your brain short circuited from the polar opposite contrast of his viscous lips, teeth and tongue on the sensitive skin of your neck, and the gentle caress of his rough hands on your sides and back.

“Please?” He asked, his index finger running back and forth across the waistband of your shorts.

You nodded, attempting to help him pull them down but he got impatient. So impatient that he grabbed his pocket knife and flipped out the blade quicker than you could blink. A loud *skrrrip* of the fabric left you bare. He’d even managed to get rid of your panties without you even realizing. You were too busy feeling your cunt contract around nothing as you gushed fresh arousal at his eagerness.

“S’fucking taking too damn long.” He grumbled, gently but firmly pushing you back to lie down on the table, his other hand flinging random tools, bolts and screws across the garage as he carelessly cleared a place for you.

His knife dipped under your bra at the valley of your breasts and sliced through it easily, allowing your tits to spill out for him to feast on. Anakin must’ve read your mind, because when he latched onto one of your nipples, tossing his knife aside to tweak the other, he mumbled. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

You would’ve laughed had you been capable of breathing correctly. He left your tits to grab your neck and firmly squeeze it, his tongue trailing down your stomach, circling your navel and then wasting no time at all with suctioning his pretty pink lips around your puffy little clit.

He whined and moaned like he was on the receiving end, the way he got pleasure from your pleasure was beautiful. Never had you seen anything like it. A man who loved pussy, correction: your pussy so much that he could stay buried there for hours. Like it was mutually beneficial, he’d rutted into your mattress for over an hour while tongue fucking you into oblivion once. When he finally relented he sat back on his heels to reveal white sticky smears across his thighs and lower stomach. He’d humped himself to orgasm just about as many times as he’d lovingly forced you to endure cumming for him.

This was different. This was pure unfiltered hunger. Both hands under your ass now, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart so he could slurp and lick and destroy you as quickly as possible. He was moaning as if he’d found an oasis after days alone in the desert.

“C’mon baby.” He panted. “Give it to me. Give me what I need.”

His deep rumbling voice flowed through every fiber of your being and snapped the coil in your stomach before it could even finish winding up. He shoved two fingers in your mouth you silence your screams and you swore you could feel the man’s cocky little grin against you as he licked you clean.

“That’s it.” He panted, standing up and licking his lips. He pulled his sweat soaked work shirt off his body and wiped his mouth with it.

“Turn over sweetheart.” He commanded, eyes on fire as he whipped off his belt and dropped his grease stained jeans down around his thighs.

You quickly complied, your toes barely touching the ground as the dull edge of the table bit into your hips. Anakin grabbed both asscheeks and jiggled them. You heard him groan right before a loud *smack* echoed in the garage, a stinging slap that would surely leave a red mark.

You cried out, not in pain, but in need. He knew you loved that and he loved to watch what happens after he spanks you. He pulled your asscheeks apart and watched with his tongue folded over his top row of teeth, the tip hiding behind his top lip as your pussy leaked creamy slick down to your puffy folds.

He bent down, hands still firm on your ass to kiss your dripping hole gently before spitting a fat blob of saliva there for good measure. You heard a rustle of fabric before his sweaty tshirt was tossed over your head and forced into your mouth as a gag, Anakin’s big strong hand gripped the two ends together behind your head like reins.

Without warning he shoved his cock into your tight little pussy and pushed down on your lower back with his forearm to keep you still as he pounded into you.

“Sorry doll.” He panted, hips slapping against the backs of your thighs in a sweaty sticky mess. “Gotta make sure no one can hear you sing for me.”

You could hear the grin in his words, you could feel the unbridled lust seeping into your skin from his closeness. His cock bullying your soft gummy walls, he’d gotten you off. Now it was his turn, and he was going to use you until he burst.

“Missed this so much.” He breathed out, his voice hoarse.

“Thought about you every day. Not just the sex.” He admitted. “You. Just you baby. I love you.”

“Fuckin’ love you.” He grunted, huffing and gritting the words out through his teeth.

“Love this pussy.” Each syllable punctuated by a deep and brutal stroke.

“Mine.” He groaned, his hips stuttering. “Mine. I don’t give a fuck.”

“You hear me?” He asked, pulling on the gag to lift your head. He grabbed a hand full of hair along with it and nodded your head for you. “Yeah ‘course you do princess.”

“Don’t care what anyone says.” He whined, his hips snapping faster.

“God damnit.” He panted heavily, his forehead dropped to the dip under your shoulder blade, a hot breathy open mouth kiss placed there.

His fore arm left your lower back to brace himself against the wall, without the weight of him holding you in place you were helpless to the onslaught of rough thrusts, the table swaying and creaking under the force of his cock drilling into your poor abused cunt.

He’d fucked you stupid, you felt delirious, your head spinning as though your were drunk. You supposed you were, cockdrunk that is. You couldn’t tell up from down, or left from right. The only thing on your mind was Anakin.

You moaned it, screamed it, cried it out with big salty tears soaking the drool and sweat stained shirt caught between your teeth. He was right. He was fucking the living daylights out of you and it would’ve been a real shame if someone had called the cops in worry that you were being murdered.

“Fuck sweetheart. You hear me?” He laughed. “Poor thing. Fucked you senseless huh?”

Had he been talking? He’d been speaking to you and you hadn’t heard a word. You were too busy trying to hold onto the very thin string tethering you to reality.

“Sweet little hole’s been leaking down those pretty thighs of yours. You’re cumming and didn’t even know it baby.” He teased. “Does it just feel that good?”

“So good you can’t tell what’s what? All just one big orgasm huh?” He said, the authority in his tone mixed with condescension was so so sweet.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you went limp again. Oh shit, he was right. What the hell had he done to you? Your body felt on fire, your cunt almost numb from the onslaught of relentless forced orgasms. No wonder you were so completely out of it. He really had fucked you senseless. You could finally hear yourself, truly hear yourself now that Anakin had brought you back down to earth, and god were you loud.

His hips stuttered, his thrusts getting sloppy as he got closer and closer to the finish line.

“Where do you want it huh?” He asked you, not really expecting an answer. He was gonna fuck his cum into you regardless.

“On this juicy ass?” He asked, squeezing it hard, you frantically shook your head.

“No? Where then?” He taunted. “Your mouth? On those pretty lips? Your hair? No… couldn’t be that baby, you hate that.” He laughed. He was enjoying this power trip way too much.

You whined and squirmed under him your words muffled as you helplessly begged for him to please just cum inside.

He must’ve gotten sick of making himself wait, because the next thing he said was, “Oh I know… you want it riiiight there huh?”

He panted, as he held his hips flush against you, his cock unloading rope after rope of hot cum. He gently released you from the gag, a breathy laugh escaping him when you lazily collapsed on the table.

“C’mon sweetheart, let me clean you up hmm?” He said, his voice deep as he tugged up his jeans.

You tried to hop down from the table but every square inch of you was exhausted and throughly used to the point that you were boneless. Anakin stopped you with a soft kiss on your spine, spreading your cunt open again he thrust his tongue deep inside, sucking his cum and your juices from your spent hole.

That’s when you heard gravel crunching under tires up the length of your driveway.

Part Two

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[arieslost]

Omg thank you so much for writing my Oscar x stressed reader I felt like I related so much and your writing is just too tear I loveeeee it ❤️

I was wondering if you could do maybe like on Oscar x like a sick reader or something like that I literally have the worst flue and stomach bug atm

Thank so much -❤️❤️

i’m so glad you liked it!! i hope you’re feeling better by time i post this :((

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

sick day | op81

you always prided yourself in going long stretches of time without getting sick, and if you did, it was only a mild cold that went away within a day or two. so, when you woke up one morning with a sore throat, you ignored it. when your nose got stuffy, you ignored it. when the uncharacteristic headache hit you, you popped some ibuprofen and called it a day.

but then you wake up the next morning and instantly know that this isn’t just a cold. the high temperature flashing back at you on the thermometer only confirms it, and unfortunately you can’t ignore this. not if you don’t want oscar to get sick too. so, when you crawl back into bed and he goes to kiss your forehead like he does every morning, you shy away from him.

“i might be sick,” you manage to croak out.

“might be?” oscar frowns. “honey, you sound like me when i first hit puberty.”

you try to glare at him, but what he said was kind of funny and your huff of laughter turns into a coughing fit that sounds nothing short of excruciating. you think you see oscar physically recoil out of the corner of your eye.

“why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he asks once you down a few sips of water.

“because i never get sick!” you exclaim, raising a hand to your head when it pounds courtesy of your own voice. “now i’m a hazard for myself, and you. actually, you probably shouldn’t be this close to me. go away.”

you start pushing him out of the bed with your foot, and he stifles his own laughter as he gets up. “stay there, okay? i’ll take care of you.”

“no, no, i don’t want you to get sick. just leave me here and let me sweat it out or something.” you wave him off, trying to act casual, and then you cough again. “ow.”

“i’ll make tea. does your stomach hurt?” you shake your head no in response. “some toast and eggs too, then.” you open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “and you can’t stop me because the only way to do that is to physically kick me out, and you can’t touch me. otherwise i’ll get sick.”

“i hate you,” you grumble, even though you don’t think you’ve ever loved him more than you do in this moment.

“hang tight, baby. i’ll take care of you.” he blows you a kiss and hurries out of the room.

“don’t burn the toast!” you yell after him, immediately regretting it as your throat feels like it’s on fire the more you talk.

within the next ten minutes, you feel like you’ve sweat through your pajamas, and the sheets feel damp underneath your body. he comes to check on you and only needs to take one look at you to know something’s wrong.

“what is it?”

“i’m just… really hot. and everything feels icky.” you complain.

“okay, baby. can you sit up?” he asks, reaching for a hair tie on your nightstand. “where’s your comb?”

“top drawer.” you say as you push yourself up. “you better not come near me.”

“what are you gonna do about it? cough on me? come on,” he gestures for you to lean forward a little so he can brush your hair. “don’t worry about me. let me take care of you, yeah? no more arguing.”

“fine. but only because it hurts to talk.” you acquiesce, eyes falling shut at the tingles every brush of the comb through your hair sends to your scalp. “feels nice.”

“good,” you can hear the smile in your boyfriend’s voice as he gently gathers your hair up into a ponytail and carefully ties the elastic. “lemme get you some clothes, and then let’s go out to the couch, hmm?”

you want to tell him no, you don’t want to contaminate anything else, but you also don’t want to stay here in a puddle of your own sweat, so you let him help you change into a pair of his sweats and an old t-shirt, and because he’s being so sweet, you don’t pull away from him when he takes your hand and leads you out to the living room.

you situate yourself on the couch, clutching your water bottle in your hands for dear life. not necessarily because you feel like drinking it, but because it’s cold and it feels good. meanwhile, oscar is bustling around looking like he’s doing five things at once. one moment he’s moving the eggs around in the pan, the next he’s getting sheets out of the linen closet, and then he’s in the bathroom with the sink running.

“i could get used to this,” you tease, managing to not sound completely miserable as he brings over two cool cloths. one goes on your neck, and the other rests against your forehead. “ah, my fever’s already gone.”

“nice try,” oscar says, adjusting the cloth on your forehead a little. “eggs are almost done, you ready to eat?”

“are you gonna feed me?” you bat your eyelashes at him, and promptly have your second coughing fit of the morning.

“i might have to, you can barely talk without almost coughing up a lung.” he moves into the kitchen and begins making up a plate for you, followed by pouring hot water into a mug and placing the tea bag in before adding some honey and stirring it. “i didn’t burn the toast, so i expect a five star rating.”

“we’ll see about that,” you say, eagerly accepting the mug of tea when he holds it out and taking a long sip. even though it’s hot, it feels incredible as it goes down your throat. “i’m willing to give you bonus points for the tea.”

“that doesn’t count, i didn’t actually make that. c’mon, have some food.” he takes the mug from you and replaces it with the plate of toast and eggs.

you eat without complaint, but your nose being so stuffy kind of takes away from your ability to taste. all the same, you make your reactions as enthusiastic as possible. oscar’s a pretty decent cook, you both know it, but it’s been a running bit in your relationship to smack talk his skills in the kitchen.

“thanks, oz.” you say quietly when you’re done eating and you’ve drank two cups of tea. “i feel a lot better already.”

“you look sleepy,” he points out, flipping both cloths so the cooler sides can be on your skin.

“no, ‘m fine.” you disagree, even though you can feel yourself sinking back into the couch and your eyelids getting heavy.

“take a nap, honey. you’ll feel even better if you let your body rest.” he stands up to clear your dishes, and you stop him by weakly grabbing the bottom of his shirt. “what’s the matter?”

“nothing, just… want you to stay.”

“of course, baby. one second.” he’s quick to put your dishes in the sink before he’s back at your side, and you waste no time in slumping against him. “are you sure you want to cuddle? you feel pretty hot still.”

“i’m always hot, you tell me all the time.”

he sighs, knowing he won’t win this unless he wants to deal with you being sick and annoyed that he won’t do what you want. “touché, honey.”

you don’t answer, so wrapped up in the comfort oscar gives you even though you’re still hot and he’s often your personal heater. strangely enough, his body heat combats the fever heat in a way that’s so nice you don’t even really notice yourself losing consciousness. meanwhile, oscar leans back against the couch, making sure the washcloth stays put against your head and your ponytail doesn’t fall out when you shift in your sleep.

of course, he ends up getting sick a week later, but you’re quick to drop everything and take care of him, just like he did for you.

word count: 1,340

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note: i once again hate this ending but we move!! thank you for sending this in!

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dividers by @/saradika

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[deadsetobsessions]

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

F

E

L

L.

——

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.

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞voicemails with chan after an argument

✰ genre : angst, romance and fluff in between

✰ pairings : bf!chan x fem!reader

✰ word count : 0.8k+ words

CHAN | minho | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one 𖨂

hey, my beautiful girl. how are you? it’s not the same without you by my side. the house looks wrecked and so am i. i am so so sorry baby for snapping at you last night. i. . . didn’t mean it. i swear. it all happened because of me and my work, and i do accept that. just come back please? i know you’re at your friend’s house but i won’t force you. ever. i just hope we can talk this out thoroughly. please? i love you very much. always know that, yeah? and i’m only a call away if you need me. good night.

two 𖨂

so i didn’t receive an answer back. does that mean you’re going to stay there for a while? alright, i respect your decisions. i always do. you know that right? anyway, today sucked. i kind of twisted my ankle while practising and i tripped over a charger and hurt my chin. it sounds painful but it was even more painful when you don’t reply to my messages, or to my calls and even my voicemails. i fucked up and i know that very well. i may sound selfish but i want you with me. i need you when i wake up and when i sleep. i want to see your face when you smile at me. how long has it been since i last saw you? over 2 weeks i suppose? if you’re listening to my voicemails, let’s meet tomorrow at our usual spot. at 3 i’ll be there. i’ll wait for you even if it takes forever.

three 𖨂

you eventually did show up. to be honest, i was surprised. i didn’t expect you to show up. but i’m glad you did. but i’m not very glad that you almost didn’t speak any other words except for ‘i need time’ and ‘alright’. it was pretty sad. then i realised how bad i must’ve hurt you for you to act this way. and i’ll say sorry a million times if you want me to. i regret ever letting you walk away like that. if only i had tried harder in our relationship we wouldn’t be at this stage where we’re unaware whether we’re together or not. i regret not understanding you earlier and spending my days at the company, rather than with you. i even started taking time out to come home early, at 8. just like you wanted. i even began sleeping on time, but i can’t help myself to fall asleep that easily without thinking how lonely you used to feel when i wasn’t here to hold you or to even talk to you. i regret everything, baby. i really do. i hope you’re happy, not skipping your meals and sleeping for good hours.

four 𖨂

i noticed something fall out of your wardrobe, and even though i respect your privacy, i couldn’t help myself. it was a letter. a letter presumably you wanted to give me, but you couldn’t. and it would be a lie if said i didn’t sit on the floor crying as i read the letter over and over till i had it memorised. you always wanted to write me letters didn’t you? what more do you have up your sleeve? how long are you going to keep impressing me and making my heart flutter like that? you might think i’m being a little too extra today, but it’s true! you can’t just go away after making me fall that deep for you. it’s been three weeks now. how long am i going to be punished? just answer me once. please.

five 𖨂

when i tell you i almost fell off the couch, you won’t believe me. but i almost didn’t believe my eyes when i saw your voicemail. why would you ever be sorry baby? you have all the right to be angry at me. i deserve it. but don’t think you did anything wrong. you just did what you thought was right. and sometimes, it’s better that way you know? like if you wouldn’t have gone away i would just return to my schedule again. i wouldn’t have realised where i was wrong. so don’t blame yourself, okay? as i said before, i’ll wait.

six 𖨂

so this is gonna be the end of all the angsty voicemails as you just called me saying you’ll be coming home tonight. i’ll prepare a welcome dinner for you along with some kisses if you would like. and hugs too perhaps? i am just on my way to clean the house and myself too. since i didn’t shower today, so i’ll see you in about 8 hours. i’m very happy that you’re coming back babe. i love you so much. and i, thank you, for giving me a second chance. i’ll be waiting for you, my love.

[storiesfromafan]

I'm Sorry Baby - Benny x Reader

A/N: I am back! And with Part 4 of my Spitfire series. This one was fun to write...as I am throwing myself into a bit of smut 😅

Also, want to thank @strayrockette for reading and advising on my attempt at smut 😂 I appricate her opinion.

Warning: my attemtp at smut after 10+ years, which even then might not have been good. So please, go easy on me 😅 also, might be grammer and spelling mistakes.

Tag list: tagging those that previously comment, in case you were looking forward to the next part haha.

@redwitchbitch1 @bellesdreamyprofile @cherryaustin

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A few days after his return, and you pretty much throwing him out, Benny had been staying in a motel. He had been thinking everything over, trying to work out how to get back in your good graces. So, here he was at the bar, currently sitting with Johnny. With a short glass in hand, half full of amber liquid, Benny's poison of choice. He was having a talk with the one person he could talk too. One married man to another.

“What did ya expect, kid? Her to welcome ya back with open arms?” Johnny chuckled taking a sip from his glass.

“Nuh...but I didn’t think I’d get the door shut in my face” Benny sighed.

Johnny softly laughed. “She’s hurtin’. If ya could have heard her” – a look of guilt crossed Benny’s face – “Well, ya get what I mean...”

Benny nodded, taking a sip from his glass, eyes looking off into a void.

“Look kid” Johnny began, sitting up and leaning in, “woman are tricky. Wives are trickier. In a relationship there is two of ya. Not just you, or her. The two of ya. Yeah, she told ya to leave. But it was you who made that choice”.

Again, Benny nodded his head.

“But I’m not sayin' it’s your fault. It’s both of ya's fault in some way. Why hadn’t you been goin’ home at a decent hour?”

Benny shrugged. “Dunno, I’ve always been here, I guess...”

“You guess?” Questioned the Vandal leader. “You’re crazy about the spitfire, yeah?”

“Yeah” was all Benny said.

“Then you should have been goin' home to her. The club will still be here the next day. The knuckleheads will still be knuckleheads. But your woman, she ain’t somethin’ to take for granted” Johnny pointed his finger at Benny as he said that.

And he knew Johnny was right. Benny was crazy for you, had been since he saw you. He was crazy for your sass and attitude, for your fire. But also your caring and warmness to him. You were something special, something he had taken for granted. Benny was determined to get you back, one way or another. He would fight for you, fight for your relationship.

“What do I have to do to get her back?” Benny asked the older Vandal.

“I’d say get on ya knees and grovel” Johnny downed the last of his drink. “A woman with her spirit, she ain’t gonna just roll over. Your gonna have to show her what she means to ya. Or pray for a miracle”.

Getting up, Johnny patted Benny on the back laughing. He knew his younger Vandal was in for a fun time. But he wished him luck, and hoped it all worked out. Benny stared at the last of the liquid in his glass, before downing it and placing the glass on the table. Now he had to think of what he could do to win you back.

Finally it was closing time at the salon. Your feet were aching, and you had a small headache from listening to client after client either gossip or complain about life. You loved your job, but women could be so catty. And then there was Benny, and his reappearance a couple days ago. How it weighed on your mind and heart.

Betty had called you last night to let you know where he’d been staying, and how he was going. Apparently she’d seen him that day and he didn’t seem himself, lost in his thoughts. And that he hadn’t gone to the bar for long. She thinks he was riding most of the night, or back in his motel room. She believes he was thinking of you, and your relationship. You thanked her for the information before ending the call.

Part of you felt guilty, and missed him like crazy. But that fire in you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, for him to realise what he did and learn a lesson. You helped the owner clean up while she handled the till and books. You both conversed on the day in the shop, laughing at bits of gossip you’d both learned about other clients.

“So, how are you doing?” Sophia – salon owner – asked peering over at you, as you swept.

“Yeah, I’m alright” you replied off handedly.

Sophia nodded. “I heard Benny’s back, I take it he came home?”

You nodded. “Yeah...but I didn’t let him back in. I need my space”.

With that you collected the hair and moved to the back, where you’d dispose of it. The conversation done with, for now. Sophia wasn’t blind. She’d see how the week without your husband effected you. And how closed in and shut off you’d been. But Sophia also saw how happy you’d been when you got with Benny. Compared to your ex, this relationship was much better and you were the happiest she’d seen you.

With all the end of day chores done, you and Sophia headed out the front door. You were the last, closing the door and locking it for your boss. She always struggled to get the lock secure, so you just do it, since it seemed to like you. Sometimes you’d even be the one to lock up, and gave Sophia an early mark.

“Well, that’s a sight for sore eyes” Sophia said softly.

You’d just secured the lock, before turning to the woman, that was looking to across the road. Following her gaze you were greeted to the sight of your husband, who was leant against his parked bike. It reminded you of when he’d pick you up after work, seeing him after you’d finish work. How he'd light up when seeing you coming towards him, and how you’d greet him with a sweet kiss. But now you weren’t sure what to do.

“Are you gonna go to him?” Sophia questioned, turning back to you.

You shook your head before heading to your car, Sophia followed, as her car was next to you. Once coming to the cars she stopped you, she gave you a soft, small smile.

“Look Hun, can I give you some advice?” – You nodded for her to go – “there will always be fights in a relationship. But I know how much that man means to you, and no doubt it’s the same for him. So, don’t let this fight stop you from being with him, alright?”

You let her words sink in before slowly nodding your head. “I’ll try not to Sophia...but right now, I need some time...”

She nodded. “I know, but don’t take too long. He’s too good looking to stay away from” she teased with a wink, which made you softly laugh.

You hadn’t laughed in a little while at a teasing remark about Benny. Maybe you were already beginning to get over it. But you would give it a little more time till you were completely ready to have Benny back in your house and your bed. With a see you tomorrow, you both got in your cars and left. Briefly you looked to Benny as you drove out of the car park, and headed home.

Benny had watched the whole time you left the salon, to getting to your car. He could see how you and your boss talked, and saw how the woman had looked to him first. And when you looked to him, he felt his breath catch in his chest. You didn’t look mad or upset, it was more a blank stare at him. And he understood you still needed time. But he would make sure to be close by, keeping an eye on you and looking out for you, ready for whenever you needed him. It was one way to show you he was there, and not going anywhere from now on.

The little things will show how I care, he told himself.

Benny watched you drive off, not moving to go after you, not yet anyways. Taking out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips before lighting it up. Taking a long drag, he removed the cigarette before releasing the smoke. Benny smoked the cigarette but didn’t enjoy it as much as he usually would, it was just a way to distract himself and fill time. It was you that he was craving more then the cigarette. Craved your attention, your smile, your lips, your warmth. He craved you wholly.

The following day you arrived at work just before nine, you knocked on the door and Sophia let you. With a morning to each other, you put away your bag and got ready for your day to begin. It was going to be a relative busy day, which you didn’t mind. It was yourself, Sophia and another woman named Ella. Between the three of you, you could get a good amount done.

When your first client showed up, an older woman who was a bit of a stick in the mud, you wasted no time in getting her set up in your chair. Draping the cape over her, you made pleasantries. Though you know she did not like you, just your work. She was a stuck up woman, who you knew talked about you behind your back. But you did your best work, that way she couldn't run you down on it.

It was just after ten, the salon bustling with activity, when a delivery man came into the shop, in his hand a lovely bunch of flowers. He stepped into the shop, a little shyly. You watched him in the mirror before you, thinking those flowers had to be from Sophia's husband for her.

Sophia spoke to the young man, taking the flowers before thanking him. He didn't waste time to leave the shop and move on to his next delivery. One of the clients, being nosey, asked Sophia if they were hers. She was looking at the beautiful flowers before spotting a card. A look of surprise crossed her face, before a small smile crossed her lips.

“Mrs Carpenter, I wish they were, but they're not for me" mused Sophia.

All the women in the shop looked to Sophia, then around at each other. All wondering which of them they were for. Some probably hoped their husbands had sent them flowers on a whim, to surprise and cheer them up as they got their hair done. But they’d be wrong.

With the flowers in hand Sophia stepped around from the counter. She moved across the room and came to stand beside you. She was smiling at you as she looked at you in the mirror. They were for you. You should have guessed from the various flowers that you liked, making up the arrangement.

“Seems these are yours Hun" commented Sophia, holding out the flowers for you. “Why don't you go put them in some water out the back. And read the card. I'll take over for you while you're gone".

Reluctantly you finished cutting the piece of hair you held in your fingers. “Ah, sure...” you replied, unsure and uneasy.

Taking the flowers from your boss, you slowly moved from the floor and into the back. All the time questioning who would have sent you flowers? You didn't wait, taking the card from the flowers and laying them on the counter by the sink. You held the small envelop in your hand, reading your name before turning it over. You took a moment, looking at it once more before shakily opening the seal.

Slowly you removed the card, and taking a breath before finally reading what it said:

Flower's for my girl, my wife.

I hope they brighten your day,

Just like you will always brighten mine.

Love Benny.

Your heart skipped a beat reading his words. Words that he couldn't always say. Word's he knew you needed to read. For Benny knew how your days at the salon could be. He had seen how you come home, tired and drained. How you would have good days and bad days. He would listen to you tell him about the bitchiest women, who were the worst to deal with. But also how joyous you were when you had a day of nothing but sweet, lovely women.

Benny sent you a reminder that you were the brightest thing in his life, just as he was yours. You smiled softly, clutching the card delicately in your hand. Your chest aching with thoughts of your husband, and missing him. Maybe it was time to start working on getting your relationship back on track. Yes, this was the start. But you would make sure that man knew he had some serious work to do if he wanted you back completely.

Fixing up the flowers in a make shift vase. You walked back onto the salon shop floor, silence rolling in when you came back. All eyes watching you as you placed the flowers on the front counter. They noticed the sparkle in your eyes, along with a small smile on your lips.

“Take it the contents of that card were good, huh?” Teased Sophia, various women giggling.

You rolled your eyes. “If you must know, it was...”

Sophia smiled brightly and giggled. “Guess he made a good peace offering".

“It's a start" you retorted before taking back over working on your client, leaving Sophia to go off to do what she had to do.

Locking up on your own tonight, you noticed no Benny waiting across the road today. Which surprised you. None the less you got into your car and drove home, the radio on softly and you hummed along. Your flowers were sitting on the seat next to you, every time you looked at them you would smile softly. You wondered where Benny was. Was he at the bar? Would you have to go to him? Or could he have changed his mind?

Turning onto your street, you slowly came closer to your house. Your concerns and worries died away upon seeing the person on your mind. He had parked his bike across the road, again he was resting against it. As you pulled into the drive way, you could see him watching you, cigarette between his lips.

Benny had chosen to wait for you at your shared home. He knew to wait outside rather then just waltzing inside. He didn't want to upset you, especially after sending you flowers at work. It could have got either way, in his favour or made it worse. He hadn’t long lit a cigarette and taken a few drags, before your car turned onto the street. He watched as you approached, and turned into the drive way. But Benny never moved, he was going to see if you would invite him in, back into the house and into your arms.

Getting out of the driver seat, you leant back in and grabbed the flowers. Once you were out and the door closed, you looked to Benny. Still he lent against the bike, but he straightened up once seeing the flowers in your hand. Looking to them, you brought them closer to you. After that you walked up the few stairs to the porch – the same ones Benny climbed before you slammed the door in his face – and came to the front door. You used your keys to unlock the door and pushed it open.

Crossing the threshold, you paused a moment. Then you turned around to look at your husband. You kept your face blank, but there was a calmness to it. You looked at Benny for a few minutes before closing the door, but kept it propped open. It was a way to tell him that if he wanted, he could come in. You were calm and ready to talk.

You crossed the lounge room and entered the kitchen. Placing your bag on the counter by the door way, you moved over to the sink. You placed the flowers down before fetching a glass vase. You proceeded to put some water into it, then began to undo the wrapping to the flowers.

Mean while, Benny had watched your every move from car to front door. When you stood in the door way looking to him, he was silently hoping you would call out to him to come in. When you didn't, and began to close the door, Benny thought he would have to try again tomorrow. But when the door was left open a bit, he released the breath he had been holding. Hope bubbled in him.

Benny stood up from his position against the bike, stretching out his arms as he began to walk towards the house. Taking one last drag of the cigarette, Benny removed it from his lips and flicking it away. The smoke slipping from his lips as he walked up the path to the stairs. Up he went, boots landing on the porch. He stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing the front door open slowly.

You weren't in the lounge room, but he could hear you moving around the kitchen. He closed the door before taking off his jacket and hanging it up the door. Benny crossed the room to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. He lent against the wood frame, watching you silently.

You had most of the flowers in the vase, you were just putting the remaining in and moving them around when you felt his eyes on you. It sent a shiver down your spine. Who would speak first? How would this all go?

When you had finished, you picked up the vase and moved to place it by the window on the counter. You would figure out where to put them later, for now you had to have a conversation with your husband.

“Do you like them?” Benny softly asked, when you placed them down and stared at them.

“Yes" you replied, “I like them a lot, actually...”

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it. “Good...I remember you sayin’ how you liked those kinds of flowers...”

It was awkward, but it was something, right? To know Benny remembered what flowers you liked, it showed he had been listening. And he did, majority of the time. Slowly you turned around, choosing to lean against the counter. For the first time in days you took a good hard look at Benny.

He looked tired, maybe he hadn’t been sleeping properly. His clothes – different to what you’d last seen him in – were deeply wrinkled, most likely worn when sleeping or trying to sleep. From the way he was leaning, you could tell Benny was uneasy. Not because of you, but for what could happen between you right now. He was guarded, yet trying to keep his defences down just enough so you in turn would let yours down. You could tell he didn't want to fight, he wanted to sort this out like adults. No more running, for either of you.

“...I’m sorry for leavin' baby" Benny said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have taken off like I did. Nor did I want to worry ya".

You nodded your head. “I know...”

“When I bring up leavin'...its somethin' in me that switches when a fight gets too much" Benny tried to explain. “I know its not an excuse, but I want ya to understand. But I promise I wont do it again...if I do, you can kick me out".

You chuckled. “Like I'd want you to go...” you said softly. “But Benny...you gotta know it did hurt. You just up and goin', no word of where ya were or if you were alright. I was worried sick".

Benny moved from the door frame to you, but stopped himself from pulling you to him, to hold you close and kiss away the hurt he caused. He looked at you with soft, guilty eyes. Waiting for you to give him the ok that he could touch you, hold you.

“I’m sorry for worryin' you, baby. If I could take it back, I would" Benny said softly, hands itching to rub up and down your arms.

“I know Benny...” your voice was soft, fragile. You looked at your husband with hurt eyes, only killing him more. You then looked to his hands and back to his baby blues. That was all Benny needed, for he stepped closer and pulled you to him.

Benny wrapped his arms around you, holding you closely to him for the first time in what felt like forever. Having you close felt right. You rested your head against his chest, your hands gripping his t-shirt. A few tears, that you hadn’t realised that had risen, escaped down your cheeks, they a mix of hurt but happiness.

“I’m sorry baby" Benny whispered into your hair.

You stood there for a few minutes, just letting Benny hold you and whisper sweet things into your ear. You felt better. You felt a part of you healing. Just like it was for Benny. Reluctantly Benny pulled back, moving to look at your face. Seeing the remints your tears left, he brought a hand up and whipped them away.

“Benny, you know we need to have a long talk, right?” You questioned softly, afraid he might get spooked.

He nodded. “I know, baby. I am ready for it...”

So, with a deep breath and standing where you were, not waiting to leave his space, you began. You told him how you'd been feeling, how him staying out effected you. That you wanted him to come home more, but not to take him away from the club. Benny heard you, he agreed to it. He told you how he adored that you respected his ties with the Vandals, and not trying to entirely change him, which made you laugh. Music to his ears after so long. Benny didn't ask much of you, as you had been perfect the whole time.

“I guess Johnny was right...” muttered Benny as he moved from you, as you crossed to the kitchen door way.

“Hmm?” you asked turning back to Benny.

“Johnny...I spoke to him the other day. I asked him what to do" Benny paused, gauging your reaction, with a nod he knew to go on. “He said I should grovel, or show ya what you mean to me...”

You held in a laugh at the suggestion of grovelling. “Is that why you sent flowers?”

He nodded, “but I meant them and what I wrote, baby. As well as watchin’ out for you, I wanted you to know I wasn't goin’ anywhere".

You smiled softly, moving to stand before your man. You cupped his cheek with one hand, thumb stroking his stubbled jaw. It was rough but soothing. You enjoyed feeling of it rubbing against your skin, be it your cheek, neck, inner thighs.

You moved your hand to back of Benny's head, gripping it firmly. You stared into his eyes. “I wouldn't mind you on your knees...but not necessarily grovellin’...”

You saw realisation flash in Benny's eyes when your words sunk in. Holding his head firmly, you pulled your husbands head down. Pulling his lips to meet your own, a firm closed lip kiss. The feeling of his lips against yours feeling like home. You closed your eyes, savouring your lips reuniting.

You moved to grip his hair, pulling a little. Causing Benny to groan in the most delightful way, which you had missed. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you close as he removed his lips for just a moment. Adjusting the angle, Benny brought his lips back to your waiting ones. This time it was a feverish, slightly open mouth kiss. Over and over, short and sweet. But soon Benny went in for a longer, deeper kiss.

He didn't wait for permission, his tongue delving into your mouth, seeking out your own. Tongues colliding, caressing the other in a fast paced dance. You moaned into his mouth, which only made Benny return with his own. Stepping forward, Benny backed you up against the small table in the kitchen. The edge digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, Benny picked you up and set you on the tables edge.

Your other hand moving to cradle is cheek, while its partner ran threw his hair before pulling it occasionally. That only spurred Benny on further. His hands moved to your slacks, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper. Pulling away from the kiss, you both took a moment to get some much needed air. And in that time Benny silently instructed you to lift your hips. You did, and he removed both your slacks and underwear, leaving you sitting in bare from the waist down.

Benny wasted no time falling to his knees, as you both had mentioned. This kind of grovelling was not for forgiveness, but for your own pleasure. Benny would worship every part of you, if it would make you happy.

His rough hands moved up your calf muscles, slowly over your thighs, pushing them open wider. His eyes drinking in the sight before him, Benny placed kisses along the inside of your thighs before coming to his destination. Slowly – tongue flat – he licked at the opening of your sex. Tongue finding your hard nub, applying the right amount of pressure as he caressed it. You moaned, head tilting back, as one hand moved to Benny's hair.

Benny worshipped you with his tongue, bringing moans and praises from your lips. When he would change movements with his tongue, you would pull his hair lightly, encouraging him further. Then when he added a finger inside of you, and then a second after sometime, he had you a mess upon the table. Your free hand moved to clutch the edge of the table, trying to ground yourself. Your man knew how to worship at your alter.

“I-I need you, baby" you managed to get out, between moans.

Reluctantly, Benny moved his head back. His baby blues, now dark with desire, staring at you as he licked his lips, tongue taking in your essence that had been resting there. After a brief moment of watching you, he rose to his feet, standing between your legs. Without delay, your hands moved to Benny's jeans. Undoing the button before pulling down the zipper. You pushed his jeans and boxers down his hips.

When he was freed from its confines, you wrapped a hand around his member. Slowly moving your hand up and down the shaft. The way Benny's breath caught in his throat, before a small strangled noise came from his parted lips, such noises pleased you. He leant in and captured your lips once more, sloppily and mindlessly at your touch and ministrations.

“Baby, I want you" Benny sighed against your lips.

You hummed in approval. “I want you too".

You guided him to your sex, Benny's hands coming to hold your hips. His tip brushed against your nub, drawing out a moan. He was teasing, but you'd allow it. You brought your hands up to his neck, one resting there while its partner tangled with the hair at the base of his neck.

Finally lining himself entrance, Benny began to enter you. The way he felt, stretching you, you sighed as you gripped his hair. That action cause Benny to buck his hips, finally sheathing himself completely in you. You both moaned in satisfaction of being one again.

Benny moved in, taking your lips into a deep kiss. He drew back his hips before snapping back into you, over and over. At first a gentle pace, but with your hold on his hair and nails at his neck digging in, Benny picked up speed. Before long you were head tilted back, moaning, as your husband slammed into you. His lips upon your neck, sucking and biting, while he too made beautiful sounds.

With the rise in pleasure that Benny was giving you, and feeling, it had to come to an end. The tension rising and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You tightened around him, only adding to Benny's please, and making him move more vigorously.

“Cum for me, baby" Benny said with a groan, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. No doubt there’d be bruises later. “Ya gotta cum for me".

You nodded your head, whimpering at his words.

Benny placed his forehead to your own, his eyes staring deeply into yours. The pressure just building inside you both. Finally he hit that spot, and you tipped over the edge. You cried out, clenching tightly around his member, while you let your release wash over you. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Benny finally found his release. Buried within you, his seed coated your insides. His hands moving to the edge of the table, while catching his breath.

You opened your eyes, which had closed at some point, to look at your husband. He looked gorgeous, breathing heavily, trying to calm down after your vigorous activity. When his baby blues found yours, the smile that graced his perfect lips, melted your heart. You smiled right back at him. You both sharing a tender moment.

Those lips met with yours once more, but this time a chaste kiss. Pulling back, Benny reluctantly removed himself from you, which made you whimper at the lose. But with a promise that he'd gladly make it up to you later, you giggled with joy.

You watched as Benny pulled his boxers and jeans back up, fastening them before turning to you. He helped you down from the table, legs a little shaky from how well he had taken care of you. With some work and help, you had your own underwear and slacks back on. You kissed Benny's cheek to say thank you.

“Remind me to thank Johnny" you said off handily.

“Why's that baby?” Benny asked, confused.

You smirked. “For givin’ you the idea to grovel" was your reply before laughing.

Benny shook his head, pulling you close to him. “Oh”.

“And Benny" you said after a moment of silence. He waited for you to go on. “Next time you leave me, and hurt me, I will castrate you". Then you chuckled.

Benny softly laughed. “But what about kid's, baby. I'm gonna need them”.

Wrapped in his arms, you pondered Benny's words. “That is true...I will just take one then. You can give me kid's with just one, after all".

“Yes ma’am” Benny said in humour.

You both roared into laughter. Though you told him, as you laughed, you were serious. And it would be smart not to test you. Benny just continued to laugh before scooping you up over his shoulder, and carrying you off to your shared bedroom. Not without a small smack to your backside at you sassing him, as he walked up the stairs.

[idkwhatever580]

I threw it away

Masterlist<< I mostly write Natasha romanoff but if you have a request I’ll be happy to write Regina.

Pairings: Regina George x reader

Prompt: weight had never been a tricky thing for y/n. Until she started dating Regina.

Warnings: bad relationships with food/weight

A/N: idk I wanted to write something like this to show that an ED or a relationship with weight can change even when you’re older and not just at girlhood i guess? Just remember that you are so perfect and loved.

Y/n’s pov

I started dating Regina during the summer between our junior and senior year.

I used to be friends with Janis. That is until I found out what she did to Regina.

I don’t care if a girl is your mortal enemy. You don’t mess around with her biggest insecurities. Even if it’s what she flaunts the most.

Especially not weight. Those Kalteen bars were horrible of janis to do.

I slowly just got “busier” over time. And I eventually just stopped talking to Janis all together. I didn’t want to surround myself with that energy.

So after Regina got hit by that bus I started visiting her and trying to make it up to her.

It might not have happened if I just told her what they did.

But then again, we might not have started dating. So back to now.

I basically have been living at Regina’s place. I spend the night a lot, but if I go home then Gina is always picking me up when I can go.

My parents don’t care much. They say that I’m allowed to live my life. Thank goodness they’re laid back. Of course not as much as Mrs George but they believe that as long as I’m not getting drunk, high, or pregnant then I’m good.

I’m in Gina’s room and she gets up and says

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

I get up to go with her.

“Okay!”

She’s like the black cat and I’m like the golden retriever. But we work really well together.

She walks in and does her business and then after she washes her hands and all, she decides to head over to the scale.

I’ve never used it. But she uses it all the time.

She breaks me out of my thoughts when she thinks out loud

“Yes! Back down to my ideal 120 pounds” (about 54 kilograms?)

I frown. I’ve never heard her say her weight before. And I say

“Congrats baby! Was that from all the kalteen bars?”

She nods her head and says

“I finally worked all the weight off”

I smile and kiss her and say

“That’s great. Why don’t you go tell your mom?”

She shrugs and says

“Eh. It doesnt matter. I’m gonna go back to the room okay?”

I nod my head and say

“I’m gonna pee”

She doesn’t stay since I’m a bit pee shy still so when she leaves I quickly run to the scale and check my weight.

Definitely not Regina’s ideal weight.

Suddenly I feel this rush of guilt fall over me. I walk back to her bed and crawl in with her. As she scrolls through her phone, I get lost in my thoughts.

If Regina tells me I’m perfect the way I am then why would she lie? Obviously she wants to be a certain weight. And if it’s her ideal weight then she clearly wants me to be that way too. I need to lose more weight. Maybe I’ll start a diet. That’s good. I’ll start a diet and just won’t tell Gina until I hit her desired weight and then she’ll think I’m perfect for real.

“What’s on your mind?”

I snap out of it and shake my head

“Nothing! Just watching videos over your shoulder”

She squints at me and says

“Alright. You know if you need anything you can tell me right?”

I nod my head.

Then all of a sudden Mrs George comes into the room and says

“Hey girls! I just wanted to let you know that I made my world famous cookies and they’re cooling in the kitchen right now if you wanted to grab them while they’re warm.”

I smile and Regina gets up so I follow.

She grabs one and says

“Aren’t you gonna eat one?”

I shake my head and say

“I’m not hungry.”

She hums and says

“But you love my mom’s cookies. You always eat a few”

I just now realized how much I eat of those and get slightly flustered so I say

“I’m just not hungry right now”

She nods her head and eats her cookie.

They do smell heavenly. But I must stay strong.

We head back upstairs after Gina finishes her cookie and I go on my phone to look up good diet routines. I find a decent one to start with.

If I don’t like it then I’ll do another one.

So I text my mom and ask her if she can get a few things the next time she goes to the store and she agrees.

Then I turn around and yawn.

“Y/n are you sleepy?”

I nod my head and she says

“Take a nap baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I smile and let my eyes flutter closed and Regina whispers into my ear

“My perfect girl”

I smile at her even though it’s fake. I don’t feel perfect anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a few weeks on this diet and it’s hard. It’s hard for me to reject a bunch of the foods I love.

Thankfully Mrs George also makes some keto versions of her food every now and then so I can eat those.

I have a routine now. Every time I go to the bathroom I check my weight right after. I check my weight in the mornings and in the evenings. But only at Regina’s house since I am here all the time.

We’re watching tv on her bed and I say

“I gotta pee. I’ll be right back”

Gina nods and says

“Kk”

I do my business and wash my hands. But it isn’t until I go to where her scale is that I find it’s not there.

I look around the room and I don’t see it anywhere.

“Gina?”

I say loud enough for her to hear me.

“Yeah?”

Once I know I have her attention I say

“Where’s the scale?”

“Oh.. I threw it away”

After she says that I walk quickly to the room and say

“What?! What do you mean you threw it away?”

She shrugs as always and says

“I threw it away”

“Why would you do that? I need to see my weight.”

She gets up and comes to me and says

“I threw it away because I noticed that you’ve been doing this thing where you check your weight all the time.”

“Well you check yours all the time too!”

For some reason this is like a huge deal to me. I just want to be perfect for her. She grabs my hand and sits me down and says

“I know. I realized how bad that can be for my mental health. So I decided that I was going to lose the weight from those nasty kalteen bars and then start fresh. I, of course, have been having a healthy balance between my food intake. But it’s not a huge deal if I lose weight or gain weight. As long as I’m healthy.”

I look at her and say

“Oh. That’s nice.”

She nods her head and continues

“I noticed that once I stopped, you started. And I didn’t want that for you. You have never had to worry about your weight before because it was never a bad thing in your house. Most girls would call you lucky. And I don’t want you to start thinking bad about yourself now”

I frown and say

“But you said the ideal weight is 120?” (54)

She sighs and says

“I said that wrong. I wanted to get back to my baseline and start taking care of myself properly. The only reason I lost that weight in the first place was because I didn’t want to feel like Janis had that hold on my body anymore. If I was gonna gain weight it was going to be for myself. And because of myself. Not for anyone else and not because of anyone else.”

I nod my head in understanding and she puts one of her hands on my cheek and the other on my waist and says

“I’m sorry you ever felt less than perfect because of a stupid slip up I made. Your body is literally so beautiful.”

I doubt her until she says things that most people think are ugly

“From your beautiful stretch marks. Right down to the cellulite in your legs. It’s all beautiful. Perfect. And honestly. You’re so healthy. You work out. You’re strong. You have a good balance with food. Well, you did before you started whatever diet thing you have going on. And you are literally like a puzzle piece for me. The way we can cuddle perfectly. I love your soft tummy because I can nap on it and be so comfortable. I love your ass and tits because they make great handles for… sexy times…”

I giggle and she continues.

“I love how each and every scar and divot and bump and mark on your body tells a story. It makes you, you. And I would change that for the world. So I threw the scale away. If I’m starting new. Then you are too.”

I sigh as I get a fluttery feeling in my heart and stomach and I hug her. I finally say

“Thank you. Thank you so much”

She shakes her head and says

“No thank you. You’re the one who convinced me I’m perfect the way I am. And now it’s my turn to do the same.”

I pull away and she says

“Why don’t we go downstairs. I think my mom is making us a snack”

I smile and nod my head.

We head downstairs and Mrs George is making snickerdoodles and I smell the air and say

“It smells delicious!”

She smiles and says

“I made some keto ones for your diet y/n!”

She pulls out one singular cookie that was set apart from the others and I say

“Oh. No thanks. I’m not gonna diet anymore. My body is perfect the way it is.”

She smiles and nods her head affirming that and then hands each of us a cookie that is still warm and soft from the oven.

I hum when I take the first bite and Gina does it at the same time as me so we end up giggling from it.

This time. I eat two cookies and Gina does the same.

Then Gina asks

“Mom? What did you do with that other cookie?”

She turns around and says

“Oh! I threw it in the trash.”

Gina nods and turns to me. I smile at her and say

“Slay”

We love a good parallel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope y’all liked it! It’s my first time writing Regina George. But I’m thinking of writing a prequel to this and doing how Janis and y/n had their fall out. And when y/n started being friends with Regina. Let me know what y’all think!

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish

[seamsterslocal]

summer binder picture tutorial

this is the third binder ive made for myself recently and the first one i’m writing up. it’s designed to do a few things: 1) allow me to put it on by myself without dislocating my shoulders 2) allow me to breathe well enough to partake in normal activity 3) be cool enough to wear throughout a muggy 90-100F summer 4) not constrict my ribs in a way that aggravates my lack of connective tissue and causes intense pain.

this has become necessary even though i had top surgery many years ago, because when i had it i was extremely skinny and since then i’ve increased in size by about 50%. this has been really fucking good for my health in every single way* except that when my chest is squishy or moves at all it’s So Goddamn Triggering for me. but also since ive had top surgery ive developed and/or been made away of a plethora of chronic conditions that make every single commercially available binding option medically impossible. unbound, my chest is pretty much what you’d expect for a chubby cis guy but venturing out into the world in just a tshirt no longer works for me

*anyone who badmouths weight gain or fat bodies in the notes WILL be blocked

under the cut are a bunch of process pictures and explanations of what they all mean:

first i’ll give you a look at the pieces and measurements:

most of the seams are sewn in this picture and one half is turned inside out, allowing you to see both the finished dimensions (right) and the placement of the fusible horsehair canvas that gives this lil scrap of linen any structure at all (left)

to get your chest measurement, you’re gonna have to do some math:

first measure above and below what you want to bind. average these numbers. mine are something like 32 and 34, which average to 33. subtract a few inches--this is to allow the air movement between the laces at center front and back, critical in the summertime. i deleted 3 inches bc i like that number but you can go bigger if you want. the more inches you subtract here, the more youll be able to ratchet all your chest material down later, but at the same time you need to leave enough fabric for a sturdy garment. let’s say a range of 2-6 inches/5-15cm. by taking your measurements this way, you’re essentially measuring the chest you would like to have. that + the horsehair canvas work together to compress any squishy tissue/force anything that doesnt compress up and to the outside (basically into the armpit/lower shoulder--the chest might stick out but it will give a very puffed chest captain america pectoral silhouette)

you can also see how ive clipped my curves and pre-drilled my lacing holes. i used the marlin spike on my knife to open up the holes on the interfacing side, mainly as a way of marking them. this worked well bc the interfacing’s glue kept the linen from raveling

this is the same stage but looking at the non-interfaced grey linen/cotton blend (the black is some 100% linen from my cabbage stash). you can see ive broken the solar-plexus-to-back measurement up into a bunch of pieces to save on fabric but that’s not necessary. my original pattern was just two pieces (front and back) and chopping the straps into thirds on both sides was aesthetic

in the following picture you can really see how this is really just overgrown regency stays:

i thought about doing side lacing but didn’t think that would be comfortable for me. on the front, the side seam allowance was pressed inwards before turning to create a finished looking slot. on the back the side seam is left unfinished with an extra wide seam allowance, and is inserted into that slot.

here’s a closeup on it pinned in place (you can adjust the angle of the side seam and the fit during this pinning stage):

that side seam was just topstitched in place once i had the fit how i liked it, and the armhole was reinforced with more topstitching

alright, time for eyelets: first, you can see how well the marking worked:

next, two rows of basted eyelets (left), one row of eyelets sewn with a doubled and waxed cotton thread (center right), and one row of eyelets opened and stainless steel rings placed (right).

next time i’m going to mark the eyelets same as i did above, but do this step differently--i’ll mark and baste the steel rings in place BEFORE widening the eyelets. this is bc i had a lot of problems keeping the eyelets on center

eyelets half done on this one! on the left are eyelets sewn with doubled and waxed cotton thread and on the right eyelets sewn with quadrupled and waxed thread. the center is basting again. i was able to force the holes back in line while sewing the eyelets but it was kinda annoying. adding a second picture that doesnt have great focus but hopefully shows how that process worked and shows the spike clearly

i ended up using this white cotton thread because it’s stronger than my black cotton thread (which the rest of it is sewn with). [eta: after this was first posted, i pressed the whole thing heavily, which effectively de-waxed the thread, and i dyed the whole thing a medium charcoal grey, the thread blends in perfectly on the lighter side and isn’t such a sore thumb on the darker side]

bonus: the piecing layout for that little piece of strap. the whole light gray half of the binder was made from 1/2 of one of the legs i cut off some linen suit pants to make slutty camping shorts last year and i really really didn’t want to break into any of the other three halves for this garment--i have Plans for it

overall the fit of this is incredible. it DOESNT hurt my ribs which every zip-up garment ive been able to find (and it is difficult) does due to really thick elastic at the base. it doesnt aggravate my sensory issues with the synthetic fibers that every commercial option is made of. i can walk up a hill or stairs, or go to pt, without getting too out of breath. i can eat with it tight, or loosen the front easily and without taking it off to make eating easier and less nausea-inducing. it is reversible!

best of all the lacing at the back gives the garment enough movement for me to get it on without dislocating, and the interfacing and steel rings give it structure once it’s on. the shaping comes only from fusible horsehair linen canvas and stainless steel rings like youd use for chainmail, there’s no boning at all, which makes it very quick to sew (except the eyelets, but metal grommets would be sturdy and quick provided theyre of good quality)

there’s a small amount of gaping on the outside of the shoulder strap, which i plan on fixing with a tiny tiny dart in the armpit, i want to add pockets to tuck the laces into, and i need a better lace for the back, but it’s completely wearable in time for the 90 weather next week which is all i wanted. i’ll do a reblog when it’s perfectly finished with an update on the fit but for now it is done enough 

the little ridge where it doesnt lay flat against the shoulder is most visible with just a single t shirt over it. with a flannel or a sweater, it disappears, and by itself, it’s hidden in movement

eta: after dyeing this, i relaced it a bit looser in the back and that gape mainly disappeared. ive decided to leave it in instead of smoothing it with a dart because the loose fabric gives space for my chest to expand when breathing and shapes my silhouette in a way that emphasizes my shoulders

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[babydollmarauders]

SAY DON’T GO — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is in love with her fwb but he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings

warnings: slightly nsfw scenes (?), angst, betrayal

notes: based on ‘Say Don’t Go’ by Taylor Swift. i feel like this is a lot less angsty than i had originally wanted it to be, but i basically just wrote this to try and get over writers block, so it’s probably shitty but it’s at least something.

*not my gif*

“fuck.”

his one word is stuttered out in a shaky breath, the rise and fall of his chest steady under my lingering touch.

the faint aching of my legs is nothing compared to the overwhelming dread that settles in my chest, awaiting my impending dismissal.

i climb off of him, a hiss leaving my lips at the sensitivity of him sliding out of me, and drape myself beside him instead. my eyelids flutter, exhaustion creeping up on me as his arms encircle my waist.

these are the worst parts. these are the parts that ruined me. these are the parts that threw me into the inevitable mess of love that drags me through each of our nights together.

“do you need anything?” his lips press against my neck, his hands sprawling across the small of my back, pulling me deeper against him. “a water? a snack? do you want me to clean you up?”

at the shake of my head, he cuddles deeper into me, my hands raising to thread into the mess of curls atop of his head as he continues to kiss down my neck.

after a few moments, he stops, pulling away to lay beside me.

the silence is killer, only filled by our slow breaths and the occasional brush of his fingers against my bare stomach.

“well, i guess i should get going.”

i roll over, rising from the bed as i speak, my volume barely that of a whisper. i peel my discarded clothes from the floor, my breath held in my throat, yearning that tonight might be the night he disagrees. that tonight he’ll tell me not to go; to stay with him.

“yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Jack should be home soon.” his breathlessly spoken words are like a knife to my heart, pushed deeper and deeper by his nonchalance.

gone are the days that he walked me to my apartment; replaced now by an idle wave and his eyes following me out of his bedroom door.

“bye, Luke.”

i stand in the doorway, my clothing messily adorned and my hair pulled into a quick and sloppy bun on my head. it doesn’t take a mirror for me to know that my makeup is smudged, black mascara surely circling my eyes.

the door is half closed, but i linger just a little longer, holding out hope for him to say ‘don’t go.’ for him to tell me to stay; but he doesn’t, and i don’t.

“bye, y/n.” he waves me off, his focus turning to the tv in his bedroom. “see you soon, yeah?”

my head falls, looking down at my light blue toenails; his favorite color. there he went, twisting the knife.

“yeah, see ya.”

i’m slipping my sandals back on my feet by the front door when Jack walks in, stopping in his tracks at my presence.

his eyes scan my disheveled appearance, his smile dropping.

“hey, y/n/n.” Dawson enters the apartment behind him, bumping him out of the way and taking his turn to study my figure. “you okay? you look sad.”

ever the subtle man; Jack is.

“yeah, i’m fine.” i plaster on a watery smile, attempting to round him in order to leave, but his hand wraps around my forearm, pulling me back.

“you sure?” Jack questions, his eyes full of pity. “i didn’t know you were coming over tonight. wanna watch a game with Merc and i?”

i just need to be alone.

“thanks for the offer, but i’m just gonna go back to my apartment. i’m not feeling well.”

“okay, well if you change your mind, just let yourself in.” i nod at his statement and he finally lets his hand drop, giving me the freedom i need in order to slip out the still open door.

i don’t think i can get away fast enough; nearly tripping over my feet to get down the hall and back to my own apartment.

it isn’t until i’m safe and secure inside my own place, my back pressed against my door, that i finally let my emotions out with a guttural sob.

i didn’t think it would turn into this.

when Luke moved in with his brother down the hall, i was just excited to have someone my exact age. someone else who had gone to college, so we could talk about our experiences together.

that acquaintanceship quickly blossomed into a proper friendship, one that meant the world to me. albeit, it had some tension of a foreign variety, i loved it.

then one drunken night turned into a hookup, which turned into two, until Luke proposed a friends-with-benefits situation.

i’ve never been the casual hookup girl, but i really like Luke. it was a shot in the darkest dark, but i thought maybe, if i agreed, we could turn into something more.

but now we’re eight months in and i’m fading into madness, waiting for him to turn us into something more. it’s slowly developed into sadness. more hurt coming from this arrangement than love.

***

Luke drapes a blanket over top of me, head-to-toe, and although i roll my eyes, a smile breaks out across my lips.

“i’m calling it. time of death-” he cuts himself off and i can hear footsteps entering his living room before he’s stage-whispering. “Jack, what time is it?”

“uhh.” Jack drags out, and in my head i can picture him checking his phone. “9:06pm”

“9:06pm.” Luke repeats in confidence, finally finishing his previous sentence. “may y/n rest in peace. loving best friend, caring soul, and horrible baker.”

“hey!” i pull the blanket off my face, glaring up at my friend as i lift my head. “last week, you said my cookies were good!”

“shhh.” he pushes his fingers against my forehead, shoving my head back down onto the cushion of the couch. “you’re dead and i lied.”

“do i even wanna know what i walked into?” Jack asks from his spot at the other side of the living room.

“y/n is dead, may her soul rest easy now.” Luke’s faux solemn tone sends me into a fit of giggles, earning myself a snapped playful glare and a shush from him.

“yeah, i’ve gathered that.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes flicking between his brother and i. “how did she die?”

“a broken heart.” i half joke as Luke simultaneously states ‘the plague.’

“and how did she get the plague?” Jack feeds into his younger siblings joke while throwing me a concerned glance.

“she kissed a rat.” my friend determines.

“i did not!” i gasp, “i’ve only kissed one thing in the past eight months!”

Luke gapes at me, and i realize where i’ve gone wrong.

we never determined we were exclusive. he must assume i’ve been dating or seeing other people during our arrangement.

does this mean he has?

my heart twists in my chest at the thought and i have to swallow down rising bile at the image that plays in my mind of him with another girl.

oh Luke, why’d you have to make me love you?

“my cat.” i lie in attempt to cover my tracks, and it appears to work for the most part, as Luke’s expression goes back to his casual dry humored look.

“well, then, that settles it.” he nods his head in determination and Jack chuckles.

“i’m gonna need clarification.” i mutter and Luke takes the moment to sit on top of me on the couch, his weight sinking down on my thighs.

“Yoda kissed the rat and then you kissed Yoda.” he replies and my head falls back against the couch cushions, my abdomen beginning to cramp as i laugh.

“nobody kissed a rat!”

***

“shit, Luke— i love you.” it slips past my lips like a fallen prayer; spewing out in a whimper amongst my blissed haze.

my eyes widen, my hips faltering in their pace to meet Luke’s, the currents of pleasure that wrack my body taking a back seat in my mind.

i study his face; the sweat that beads at his hairline as he thrusts into me, his rhythm never faltering; the scrunched eyes and thrown back head that doesn’t move even after my words.

i can’t decide if he didn’t hear my sex-drunk word vomit, or if he’s deliberately ignoring it; but i figure it’s the latter when his hand on my breast loosens, and he rips it back like i’m too hot to touch.

he heard me.

i said ‘i love you.’

he said nothing back.

suddenly, my lust is gone, and in great timing because it’s at that moment that Luke finishes, pulling out and falling down onto the mattress beside me.

it’s quiet for awhile, neither of us speaking as we catch our breath. his hand sprawls against my bare hip, pulling me closer to him in the darkness of my room.

“did you finish?” he whispers, and i don’t have the heart to tell him that my mood was dampened, so i nod.

“mhm.” i hum and he presses a kiss to my nose.

“you didn’t like, mean what you said, did you?”

another twist of the metaphorical knife that he jabbed into my heart long ago.

“i don’t know, what did i say?” i play dumb, as though i don’t remember the confession that played from my lips just moments ago.

his nose scrunches as he speaks, “that you, like, love me.”

“oh- no. i don’t even remember saying it.” i whisper back, and suddenly i’m grateful for the near pitch black of the room, hoping it masks the glistening tears that spring to my eyes.

“i must’ve said it in the heat of the moment.” i add and he nods.

“cool.”

cool.

he thinks it’s ‘cool’ if i don’t love him.

he cuddles into me, his head resting on my chest, and i’m thankful that we’re at my house, because rather than continue these whispers in the dark, i can force myself to fall asleep.

closing my eyes, tears leak from the corners, dripping down into my hairline.

why’d he have to make me want him so bad?

i focus on the grounding feeling of the weight of his head on my chest until i slip into dreams.

when i awake, it’s still dark out, and my alarm clock reads 3:27am in bold red lighting. but Luke is nowhere to be found.

i’ve been asleep for merely two hours and he’s already left me; gone back to his own apartment.

i don’t bother putting on clothes, rather pulling my blanket up to my chin and curling up on my side.

sobs wrack my body, finally able to let out the painful emotions that i held in while Luke was here.

i’m so sick of him leaving me.

***

my knock echoes through the apartment, but i wonder if it was even heard.

Luke had texted me to come over, but i’ve knocked twice now with no response, and i’m ready to give up when the door finally swings open.

i yelp in shock, jumping back in fright at the rapidly opened door. when i step inside the apartment, Luke is standing behind the door, still dressed in his game day suit, his tie long forgotten now though.

“oh, hey.” i sigh in relief, “i was about to leave, ya know? you took forever.”

i stop in the entry hall, turning back to look at him, and he kicks the door shut, stalking towards me.

“you took forever to get here.” his words are followed by the crash of his lips upon mine, time slowing to a stop as he pulls me deeper into the kiss.

i’m his.

his hands come down to the backs of my thighs, pulling one of my legs to hook around his waist, and on instinct, i jump up with the other. my legs wrap around him as he walks us backwards to his couch, his lips trailing away from mine and instead placing open mouthed kisses down my jawline and onto my neck.

“Luke.” i whimper, my hips grinding down onto his and making him groan.

“shhh.” he hushes me, taking a seat on the couch and leaving me straddling his lap. “i had a really bad game. i need you right now.”

a spark of anger and sadness ignites inside me at his words.

he’s with me because of his game.

not because of me.

i need you right now.

he doesn’t need me.

he needs a release.

something to channel his anger into.

i push him away, detaching him from the pulse point of my neck as i do so. his lips chase after mine and i lean back with a heavy sigh.

“stop.” i whimper and he looks up at me with wide eyes and an alarmed expression.

“did i do something?” he wonders aloud, his hands rubbing comfortingly up and down my thighs.

“i can’t do this.” i smack his hands away, rising to my feet to create distance between us.

“can’t do what, y/n?” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “i’m confused.”

“this!” i cry out, pointing wildly between us.

understanding settles over him, and i can tell just from the way his shoulders slump.

oh my god.

my heart sinks, my stomach twisting in knots as i shake my head, tears gathering in my eyes.

“you know.” i spit out, disgust filling my body.

disgust for him, for acting oblivious. and disgust for myself, for being oblivious.

“i know.” he confirms my suspicions, nodding slowly.

“you lead me on.” i tell him, overwhelmingly shocked at how calm it comes out. “you know how i feel. you know i love you; and yet you kept this going.”

“i’m sorry, y/n. i-”

“when?” my voice breaks, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“in October.”

four months.

he’s known i’m in love with him for four months.

yet, he continued to lead me on. to keep this arrangement going, despite how much he knows it hurts me.

“oh my god.” my knees feel weak, my body sick. “you knew the other week. when i told you i loved you, you knew i meant it!”

he gives a weak nod, slinking back into the couch cushions.

“why would you do this, Luke?”

he looks back at me, his eyes peering into mine; and i think the worst part is that i see no real remorse.

“i don’t know.” he shrugs, and out of every possible answer, i think that’s the worst one he could’ve given.

“i gave you all of me and you gave me nothing!” i feel like i could be sick.

my best friend.

the person i thought would never intentionally hurt me.

“i can barely look at you.” i mutter dejectedly, ripping my eyes away from his in order to pace to the front door. “i never wanna see you again.”

halfway out the door, i stop, peeking back to find him staring at the wall in front of him, before i continue my journey out.

my hand clasps over my mouth, in attempt to hold in my cries until i get to my own apartment, and when i finally arrive, i spare no effort.

as though i was physically weak, my body crumples to the floor as soon as i close my door. my knees hit against the hardwood, but i’m numb to everything around me; my emotional pain far outweighing any physical.

i feel betrayed and used. my heart ripped out from my chest and stomped into the ground as though it means nothing to him.

but amongst it all, i’m most mad at myself. because despite what Luke did, i still held out hope for him call out to me as i left. to say ‘don’t go.’ to ask me to stay.

but he didn’t. and he never will.

[sweetenerobert]

begin again

1.3k | joel miller x plus size gender neutral reader

summary: you haven’t gone out on a date ever since you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend — a year ago, a new opportunity rises when you meet joel miller.

warnings: toxic relationship (guiltrip, body shaming, gaslighting), self-conscious reader, awkward!joel, mention of an age gap (it's your choice, but reader is of age) teeth rotting fluff, first date in a cafe

a/n: doing this for @beskarandblasters for their Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge ;), i’m happy to participate!, if you would like to participate, read this post

a/n 2: as a plus size author myself, i wanted to try something different (keep out for more plus size reader in the mere future, but i still write male reader with no descriptions to let your imaginations go wild <333.

I loved how CUUUUUTE this idea is, i might write a longer version of this ;p also reminder, i went overboard with the word count :0

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You’re seriously gonna wear that?” Trevor said.

Glancing down at your stomach and then back at your boyfriend, you were confused about what Trevor meant. “What do you mean?” Shrugging your shoulders.

“That,” Trevor pointed at you, and you were still baffled at what he was pointing at. “Your hoodie.”

Your eyes trailing back down to your comfort hoodie. You’ve had it ever since the start of your senior year of high school into now being a twenty-one-year-old college student. It had some tiny holes, but you didn't care; you loved the material, the color, and how it made you feel comfortable.

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged.

Trevor sat up from lying on his bed and walked towards you, a look of disgust on his face. But you couldn’t tell what that look on his face was. He was always good at hiding it.

“Babe, you know I love that hoodie,” Trevor started blatantly lying to your face. “But I want you to make a good impression on my friends, so do you think you could wear something different?”

That indescribable feeling in your stomach rose to your throat, feeling as if someone were choking you. The stale taste of bile stayed in your throat as your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults. You disregarded it to be nerves about meeting Trevor’s friends.

In the back of your brain, you knew that meeting them would’ve been a piece of cake if the front of your brain made you constantly nervous. Trevor knew they liked you, but he made you think they didn't. To make you feel small.

“But I have nothing else to wear that makes me comfortable.”

Trevor holds both his pointer fingers to signal you to wait with a smirk on his face, walking towards his closet quickly. Pulling out a trendy denim jacket he owned, you liked it, but it wasn't your style — or size.

“This,” Trevor smiled.

“But, it doesn't fit. I can barely get one button to close, and it's going to be cold tonight,” You complained.

Trevor groaned where chills ran down your spine; it made you not want to say another word. “C’mon baby, we don't want to be late, just put on the fucking jacket so we can hurry up.”

The attitude sent your way wasn't new, but you always felt like it was your fault, and this felt like your fault. He was trying to make you feel good; who’s to say he’s wrong?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay; I didn't mean to get loud.”

That same meaningless apology you’ve heard before that always managed to calm you down. You zip down your hoodie, throwing it on Trevor’s bed, landing on the end of the bed frame, the hood between the mattress and the wooden frame. Taking the jacket and slipping your arms into it made you feel uncomfortable with how tight the denim felt against your back. You felt your shirt picked up — exposing your skin and making goosebumps occupy that area.

Looking at the mirror, you hated what you saw, but the smile on Trevor’s made you feel slightly better.

“I hate this,” You frowned.

“You look great,” Trever emphasized, draping his arm around your neck enthusiastically, which made you feel better. Right?

“Well, you finally look like you actually like my friends.”

“But, I’ve always liked your—”

“Okay, let's get going, baby.” Trevor kissed your cheek and left you alone in his room. The mirror catches your vulnerability in ways you couldn't see, and it makes you feel uneasy; it was bothering you that you couldn't figure out that word.

Disgust.

Disgust was the word that Trevor made you feel.

Judging you, making you feel like you're losing your mind, making you feel like you weren't enough. Disgust.

You were quickly slapping your face to erase any trace of Trevor. You stood outside the coffee shop where you agreed to meet up with the guy you matched up with on Bumble, Joel Miller.

It had been six months before you had gone back on dating apps, grieving the loss of your relationship in the past. Joel was one of the first few people you matched with. He was older, but he could hold down a conversation, making you feel like you could talk to him for hours. He was okay with meeting up with you, but he wanted to ensure you were comfortable with the timing; he was okay with waiting.

It had been five months until you agreed to see him; nervous to the brim, you didn't know what to wear; spending countless minutes in your underwear, you quickly put together an outfit and grabbed a hoodie.

When you first walked in and Joel noticed you, his smile beamed at you, making butterflies appear in your stomach. He had wired headphones in his ear as he stood up quickly, shoving them in his jacket. Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, he made you feel protected in his arms; he smelt of old spice and mint, and in your mind, it was adorable that you chuckled in your head.

As Joel backed up from the hug, he smiled at you again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smiled back. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Uh, no. Not really, just listenin’ to the playlist you made me.”

“Oh god,” you buried your head in your hand. “You still listen to that?”

“Of course, it's the thing that helps me get out of bed.”

You chuckle and can't help but smile from ear to ear as Joel smiles at you lovingly. “Well, if you ever get bored with that one, I would gladly make you another one.”

Joel chuckles through his smile; he quickly rubs the back of his neck, looking back towards his seat. “Uh, do you wanna sit down?”

“I would love that.”

Joel directs you to your seat; you cannot help but feel heat rise to your face; as you sit in your chair, Joel sits in front of you. As you wiped your hands on your hoodie, you looked up at Joel; you noticed him resting his head on his fist, looking at you. That feeling of Joel critiquing little things about you rose back to when Trevor would do it.

“Trevor isn’t here; you're fine,” You thought.

“Is there something on my face?” Your quick to cover your mouth with your hand.

Joel shakes his head and smiles at you. “Just admirin’ you, you're s’ perfect.”

The heat in your face was reaching a dangerous level, where you could feel your face explode. “Stop, you're pulling my tail.”

“I’m serious, your amazin’.”

You can't help but look down at the table in despair as you rarely received compliments from Trevor; it's hard to believe what Joel was saying to be the truth. “M’sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You shake your head. Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on the table. “It's just I’ve never received compliments, and it's only when my ex would make me forget how much of an ass he is.”

That padding of Joel’s palm rested against your knuckles; you look at your hands together, and you look at Joel’s welcoming smile. “I promise, whenever I compliment you, it's comin’ from the depths of my soul, sweetheart.”

The warmth of Joel’s hand made you feel comfortable, a feeling you craved with— nobody. You felt good in this moment. “Now, how about I get you a cup of coffee? I promise it's the best.”

You chuckle. “Come on, I had to meet you here; let me buy it.”

As Joel gets up, he slides his hands down in an ‘X’ motion. “Nope, as the gentleman my momma raised me, it’ll be my pleasure.”

“Okay, but the next time we go out on a date, I’m buying.”

“I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” Joel walks away, and you can't help but smile at him as he walks away.

[moonshynecybin]

Hi, new to motogp and i’m a sucker for friends to enemies to lovers and relationships drama and pain so obviously i love marc/vale, i am also think marc is fascinating, but I haven’t found much info detailed info vale’s smear campaign against him/his media savvyness/his entire personality, like i think i grasp the bare bones but, are there any tumblr essay that are required reading to you? Also any good posts about this arm injury (aside for the documentary that i will be watching this weekend)

i love arm. ummmm his documentary is pretty much the story. like the central conceit/plot of the whole damn thing is to chart this latest operation on the injury he sustained in jerez 2020 its GONNA give you most of the information on that. now, that being said. marc is a liar sometimes, so i'm gonna try and gather some resources that might give a better idea on where his arm is NOW, because its something he kind of contradicts himself about !

simon patterson interview with The Race podcast: shockingly candid tbh. i think lil homie was having a bit of a crisis. standing on the edge of a cliff facing down possibly the end of his career. what if the move to gresini sucks ass kinda moment. couching his chances this year pretty aggressively. he ALSO says some stuff about how fucked up his arm still is that hes since tried to mildly walk back cuz hes funny. anyways because im insane i transcribed it:

SP: Did you have to switch teams this season? Did you have to change to something that gave you more of a chance to win after the last few years after how difficult everything has been? MM: Yeah, of course if I change teams its because it was something that I need. And yeah, of course it was a risky movement, but at the same time it was a movement thinking on my career, not on results in a short time. Its like thinking if I have the motivation, if I’m competitive again. You know, I had— three years ago, four years ago I had a very big injury, a hard injury in the arm. And yeah, now its working well, but still is not— I mean its the arm that you open four times. If you ask to a doctor, of course its performing in a good way, but its not the same arm. But I have many question marks inside my head. So, the best way to answer to myself is— do what I want. And yeah, its a risky movement. Why? Because the comfortable movement is to stay where I was, with my people, with my friends, with a big salary, the project. But I decided to jump to a new project and at the moment we will see if I can answer the many questions that I have. SP: It sounds like the reason you did it, the questions you have to answer are all for yourself. It's not about– MM: No, no no no– it's just for me. Because for me— I say many times in my interviews— if I don't feel competitive– and competitive doesn't mean win or win, it means be in that top five top six, and yeah five four podiums, five four victories. Win a championship is super difficult. And especially it becomes more and more difficult when the years are passing and the younger [people] are coming. So the life is the life and every athlete has his moment, and then step by step it goes down. But yeah I need to feel again competitive to continue with my career.  Especially these last four years, has been, I mean– has been a nightmare, but is like it has passed super quick. The other years I was competing. I mean in the last four years I’ve completed half the championship, because I had many injuries, so now I need to find this stability, this pace. To start to create again a good base to fight for some races to the top positions— this is my intention. But to fight for the championship? This is something that still I’m not ready for. SP: You said that you learned a lot, during all of this. Is there things that have made you better? Are there things that youre gonna come back now with like new skills because of the experience? MM: No. I will not be better than before. Because– Yeah, maybe I have more experience, but before I was 100% in physical condition, and I was fresh. People say ‘No, he will come back stronger.’ When you have an injury, of course it's— injury is an injury. When you have an injury like two, three years, you lose the rhythm, you lose the feeling sometimes. And then it's super difficult to repeat all those things. But especially because your body— I mean they say the body is super smart, it can adapt. The body is super smart to adapt to new things, but it also is smart to remember what’s going on there. So yeah. I will be different, maybe— but not better.

theres also this similar quote from jan 2023:

theres also this recent statement from mat oxley talking about his arm and his sort of. show no weakness when it can be used against you philosophy

SO. following with that observation. he's started also kinda. being more noncommittal and vague in interviews/presscons now that he senses blood in the water. show no weakness expose no underbelly type stuff. so theres this in preseason which is actually around the same time as the patterson interview where he's still couching it a bit but hes also very adamant that his arm is working:

and then the BIG change comes around mugello this year, when he was fishing HARD for that ducati 2025 seat and changed his tune uh. QUITE a bit:

finally just some posts psychoanalyzing his ass about arm/injury, MOST of which are fairly recent. here, here, here, here, here, and here. ive also aggregated some recs for content good for learning about him in general here! go with god

[lynzishell]

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Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: I’m going out for a run. Asher: ‘kay. Atlas: Looks like the taco stand is open today. I can bring back lunch. Asher: ‘kay.

Atlas: Are you sure you’re alright? Asher: Yeah. I’m fine, I promise, I’m just tired. Atlas: Hm.

[Knock at the door]

Atlas: For the record, I don’t believe you. But I can wait til you’re ready to talk.

Atlas: Hey Lex. Lex: Where is he? Atlas: On the couch. I think he needs you. Lex: I’m on it.

Lex: Baaabe, you look so sad. Asher: I am sad. Lex: Are you really watching Lost Dog’s Journey Home right now? Asher: What? It’s my comfort movie.

Asher: What are you doing? Lex: I am curing your sadness with cuddles. Asher: Feels more like you’re crushing me. Lex: Well, in the words of my comfort movie, [in her best old lady voice] “It has to hurt if it’s to heal.”

Asher: [small chuckle] I don’t think this is what she meant. Lex: It could be. You laughed. Asher: … Lex: Do you want me to move? Asher: … No. Lex: Didn’t think so.

Lex: I’m sorry about Jasper. Asher: Thanks. Me too. Lex: Congrats on getting married, though. That’s exciting. Asher: Yeah, I’m really happy. Lex: Wow. Convincing.

Asher: I am! I just… [groans in frustration] I feel weird. Lex: Alright. Sit up. Talk to me.

Lex: Now, what do you mean “weird”?

Asher: I don’t know. It’s like… when we went to Selvadorada… it feels like the world we left is not the same world we came home to. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Everything looks and feels and even smells different.

Lex: To be fair, when you came home, you’d lost a dog and gained a husband. You’re starting a new chapter in your life. Things are bound to feel a little different. Off even.

Asher: I guess. And it’s not just those things. We’re giving our notice at work on Monday, and we’re gonna start looking for a new apartment. New career, new home, all of which are things that I want, things I even suggested, but I can’t get myself to be happy or even excited. I just feel…

Lex: Overwhelmed? Asher: Maybe. And, as if that isn’t enough, there’s something else. Lex: There’s more? Babe, no wonder you’re paralyzed on this couch. You need to slow down. Asher: That doesn’t feel like an option. Lex: Of course it is. Asher: …

Lex: Okay, well, look, everyone is coming to my place tomorrow. You should come. Hang out with friends and take your mind off things for a bit. Asher: I don’t know. I feel like I’d be such a downer. I don’t want everyone to see me like this. Lex: Maybe it will boost your mood. You might even have fun. Asher: …

Lex: Just stop by. You don���t have to stay long if you don’t want, but at least come say hello. Asher: … Lex: Please? Asher: [nods] Okay. You’re right. It might be good to see some friendly faces, get out of my head for a bit.

Lex: That’s the spirit! Asher: Ahhh [laughs] What the hell?! Lex: I love you.

Asher: Love you too. Now get off me please. Lex: Only if you let me pick a movie for us. Asher: Fine. Atlas is bringing home tacos. Should I have him grab you some? Lex: Obviously!