#peter is going to have a long hard look at himself in the mirror about his spidey sense not triggering

[novakiart]

spideypool but it's a comedy of errors

#peter parker #wade wilson #spider-man #deadpool #spideypool #peter is going to have a long hard look at himself in the mirror about his spidey sense not triggering #(you know what else is long and hard—) #wade: see that metro bus over there? #peter: yeah.... #wade: i save. you film #peter: save it from wh— #wade pulling explosives out of his pockets: grab your camera babe we're on a time crunch here #who will write this for me #mine

[tarjapearce]

Like Me Pt. 2

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Scientist ! Reader

Art by Rendraws21 on X

WARNINGS: Mildly suggestive, power dynamics, emotional distress, endangering situations, Kraven being an asshole.

Summary: Your savior proves himself to be very much real.

A|N: Hope you like! I know you're waiting smut. Just bare with it! ;w; Reblogs and feedback are always welcome ❤️

Previous Miguelverse Main Masterlist

Kraven didn't dally and ordered the camp to be settled. The spot was rather good. A prime source of water and food next to you all, soil sturdy and perfect for withstanding the hard hammering of the tools that nailed the bases for the tents.

And after hours of bickering, russian cursing, more work and the crew doctor patching your arm up, the camp was settled and food served.

Each bite not only felt heavenly, but was scarfed down. You couldn't care less if Peter looked your way, mildly disgusted and surprised of your manners, or rather the lack of them while eating.

It was the least you deserved after surviving a ship sinking, getting lost in the jungle, being chased by a giant Jaguar and a man that left more questions than answers.

Who was he? More important, How had he survived all these years on his own?

After a second plate and extra slices of bread, one of the men approached and announced the readiness of your tent. One of the things you asked in your contract. To have your own, cause as much as you trusted Peter, there was nothing better than to have your own space and privacy in the midst of an unhealthy amount of testosterone surrounding you.

"We've eaten, replenished, and blah blah. What happened?" Peter mumbled while picking his and your plate together.

You shook your head softly as another crew member passed by. You didn't trust them, and Kraven had proved to be unpredictable.

One minute he cared for his crew and the other he was leaving you to fend for yourselves. But as long as you did your job, you wouldn't be part of the russian's guessing dangerous games.

"Kraven said we'd have to make do with the little tools we have. He spent a good time of the day trying to get some signal for the radio."

"Any luck?"

"None so far." Peter mumbled as he took your things inside your tent.

A hammock was the bed, a few boxes and other storage things were placed in a corner. A chalkboard and your investigation books in another corner and against all odds, a little broken mirror that acted as a poor attempt of a vanity ontop of another wooden box. Your hairbrush rested next to it. Whoever arranged it, at least had the consideration to make it as comfortable looking as possible.

In total, you had a couple of shirts and skirts left to use. The rest remained on the sea, floating and drifting away with unknown course.

Peter excused to go change himself and you seized the chance to do the same. Catching a cold in the jungle wasn't in your priorities list. Not with reduced medicine and victuals.

You put on a dry set and combed your hair out as much as you could. Peter joined you a couple of minutes later.

The fire cracked and sparked alive as the crew surrounded it. The day had been chaotic at best and everyone tried to soothe the nerves in their own way. Some drank, others sang, others talked and soon Kraven joined.

Others simply went to sleep. Too tired to keep up after a well deserved meal.

"So..." Peter started while sitting before you, a rag and some tubs on his hands. He was cleaning the remaining pieces of your equipment.

"Promise me you won't talk to anyone about this. And I mean it, Parker."

"I'm a geologist, not a snitch."

"I'm... kinda scared of what might happen if Kraven finds out"

"Now you're scaring me.  What happened back there?"

"I know... who killed the beast Kraven is skinning." A gulp rolled down your throat upon remembering the lurid scene displaying before your eyes

"Wait... you said, who?"

A nod from you and Peter paled.

"We're not alone, that's for sure."

Peter rubbed his hands against his face, an exasperated groan escaped him.

"He's taller than Kraven."

"Bullshit." Peter mumbled almost immediate, surprised at your words.

"I'm not bullshittin' you Parker!" You had to hush your voice and soon grabbed a sketch notebook and begun tracing and drawing.

"He's freaking tall, long hair and he's naked. Well, not naked but a loincloth is everything but clothes if you think about it."

Peter frowned suspiciously as his hand pressed on your skin, to see if your body temperature had increased. Jungle fever was one of the worst things a human could suffer when away from their homeland. Cause he refused to believe anything of the nonsense that came out of your mouth was true.

A man taller than Sergei? Impossible. He was tall, but Sergei had been one of the tallest and well built men he had ever came across with.

"What are you doing?" You pushed his hands away and frowned.

"I'm sorry, I do want to believe you but.."

"I'm telling you the truth, Pete! He had... This... red hue on his eyes and fangs!"

"Fangs?" The incredulity in Peter couldn't be hidden the more he listened to your apparent rave.

"He's fucking strong, Pete. He was holding that beast by his tail! and then fought body to body against it! and He's so damn touchy. No respect for personal space!."

"And what? He smashed the jaguar to death and then kissed you?"

"Yes!" You nodded but quickly frowned when Peter tittered on his seat, unable to keep the mirth away.

"Why are you laughing?!"

"I'm sorry. You know we've been friends since college, but you seriously can't expect me to believe that, Dally."

A short for Dalhberg. The surname that put your name out in the researcher's map in London, upon discovering and naming another type of daisy and named it after you. The Dalhberg Daisy.

"You believe in the freaking Queen but refuse to believe in this?"

"I believe in the Queen's acquisitive power, nothing else. Cause I've seen it!" He explained, skeptical.

You showed him the sketch and shoved it to his hands.

"Look at that! That's exactly how he looks like!"

Peter sighed and raked over his eyes on the semi-crumpled paper sheet. Sharp features, a strong jaw and deep eyes.

"Yeah, a haircut would make him look better though." he chuckled, "Look, I know it's been a long day for us... let's rest, ok? We've got another tomorrow."

With a frown you removed the sketchbook away and tossed it on the makeshift vanity.

"He's real." you pointed at the sketchbook

"Okay, okay. He's real. We can discuss it all tomorrow when we're less tired, alright?"  He held your shoulders, trying to ease your rising anger.

But you quickly removed his hands from you, hurt that your best friend didn't believe you. "Whatever. Goodnight."

Peter left with a defeated sigh and soon you cuddled in your hammock.

"I know he's real." With a huff, you pushed the pillow closer to your face, letting the day's weight to finally crash on you.

-----

The loud bangs of a gunshot echoed through the bright blue skies, frightening any local fauna that rested comfortably, like you, that nearly fell out the hammock from the initial jumpscare.

With a heavy exhale, and rub of your eyes you geared up for the day.

This time Kraven was thoughtful enough to give you a weapon. A small knife with enough sharp to slice and dice through anything weak enough to perish under the blade.

And soon everyone gathered to the morning structions. Kraven split up the crew in three parts. The first group of men would go to the beach to recover as much equipment as they could. The second group would be in charge to set up traps and hunt down for food. And the third one, meaning Peter, you, two more men and himself would go explore and study the jungle in order to gain any sort of information of new potential species.

You carried a small backpack, filled with your sketchbook, pencils, some essay and sample tubes and some snacks in case Kraven decided to return until dinner time.

And after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits, everyone left.

Peter walked behind Sergei, guiding the group whenever the mercenary asked him to. You were in the middle as the other two men trailed with their guns behind.

Morning slowly poured into hours. Tortuous, running at the speed of a snail. Each breathing felt like adding more to the waiting, bringing your nerves to a much annoyed stance.

But it quickly melted away upon finding your first discovery.

The grass laid pressed in a circular pattern on the ground. The leaves were placed strategically, as if used as cushions in great amounts. A couple of fruit carcasses laid next to them. Discarded and forgotten.

"Look at that" The excitement in your voice beyond evident. You crouched to see if there was any other clues to your growing suspicion.

Kraven and Peter stopped upon you crouching to the floor.

"What is it?" Kraven pulled his gun from it's holster and walked over you.

"These are nests!"

"Nests?" His brow quirked and you nodded vigorously, to then count the spots. Around six in total.

"You know what that means? They live in packs! Gorillas live in packs!"

"About damn time we found something." Kraven nodded, pleased as he helped you up to then mark a spot in his map.

"Good job, Dalhberg."

Praised the mercenary before moving.

--

When the sun got high enough and Peter discovered some other findings like rare minerals, the group decided to take a break nearby a lake.

The five of you sat down and ate whatever thing you got left from breakfast.

Once you were done, you took your backpack, pencil and sketchbook with you.

"Where are you going?" Kraven grumbled after gulping down the water from his canteen.

"Saw some specimens of plants Id like to register. Won't take long."

"You better return as soon as possible, understood?"

The mercenary warned and you nodded while walking away from the tree. Excited to partake in the things you were brought and paid to do.

Your first specimen was a moss plant, then a new type of orchid. A fish, some birds and more plants. Even though you studied everything alive, the plants were your speciality.

You put the little backpack in a a nearby trunk as you sat down to draw yet another orchid. The place seemed flooding with them.

Engrossed beyond wits to notice you had drifted off a bit too far from the group and a little too late a baboon sniffing and ransacking your backpack.

"H-Hey! Hey! -The baboon took the backpack away, excited and driven by the tinkling within "Get back here!"

The animal hopped on the trees before you could catch it, with graceful and effortless agility, to finally stop to a sturdy looking and serpent-like shaped trunk above the middle of a swamp.

As much as you wanted to let the monkey get away with it all, you didn't want to face Kraven's anger for losing the last bit of equipment and delay the investigation. You didn't know when the next ship would arrive. None did actually.

It's hoots and chirping only increased the more things he pulled out of your backpack. The tubs shattered as they fell off.

"Stop it!" you shrieked while hopping onto the trunk with wobbly and uneven steps.

The monkey hooted louder until it started shrieking, as if mocking you whenever your balance failed and you were forced to crawl over the top.

"God, I swear... if I catch you, I'm so making an article on how annoying you are!"

The baboon just screeched at your silly threat once more before leaving your backpack pending from a twig as he jumped way through the stretched branches that favored him like open arms, with your bag of seeds.

Your breath hitched when the trunk creaked and some cracking around the base perked up your ears.

Shit.

You couldn't stop and return crawling from where you came from, not when the backpack was oh so close to be reached and your nightmare to be over.

With a deep breath, you crawled closer and closer. Paused breaths turned controlled, but quickly grunted when the hem of your skirt stuck in a jagged branch.

"No, no" You whined and pulled away, the trunk creaked harder and you immediately hugged the trunk.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" with a firm yet calculated yank, you ripped the fabric away, freeing yourself although losing a good chunk of front coverage.

A thunderous crack made your breath hitch and you moved forward as the trunk stuttered midair. It was then your eyes actually considered the generous and dangerous distance from your position to the murky water. But the backpack dangling before you, edged you to take a risky decision.

Or you took the backpack and threw it on land, hoping to take the least damage as possible or jumping to that other branch to avoid falling to the water.

None of them happened as the tree dipped forward, and with a dying groan, the cracks widened, tearing the feeble base of the trunk, unable to support your weight any longer.

As in slow motion, you saw the murky water closer and closer and closer, until nothing but darkness swallowed you whole. Cold and muddy water hit you, suffocating your body with enraged water that fought hard to drown you.

Your hands were the only thing that made it out as they failed. The sub aquatic flora begun their tangling in your boots and legs, pulling you down.

Your lungs burned as some water seeped through, the backpack sunk deeper and deeper. Like a sacrifice in exchange of your life. Because a strong pair of tanned hands pulled you with a powerful yank by the forearm, out of the water before death and crocodiles owned it.

Your head too dizzy to actually understand what was happening. Your eyes could only see the landscape sliding smoothy underneath your feet, like if you were flying.

Am I dead? Dead people don't fly, do they?

You shrieked as soon as your eyes looked upwards. Powerful and solid thighs held tightly on the growing vines, that spurted from underneath the gigantic trees, as one of his hand took your arm gently to suddenly pull you up in the air and catch you in his arms.

Your instincts told you to hold onto him as the other survival mode blared with danger alarms. The massive wall of solid muscles he had for a body was warm, full of scars and plush hair that did nothing but welcome your dizzy head on his chest.

The man quirked a brow at your sudden state. He frowned and quickly got over the foliage of a tree, before the pouring rain trapped you both.

You were put with ease against the solid and definitely not rotting trunk, and your body lurched to the side to expell away the swallowed water, clearing your airways.

A firm slap from his hand made your lungs to finally get some air as you gasped and coughed, all the while he watched you curiously.

You were drenched, against a tree, clothes sticking way too intimately against your shivering body, breathing like you were a first born, raged and fast. Lungs burned less.

Eyes finally widened when recognizing the man before you. Some fresh scars littered his Greek-god type physique.

"T-Thank you." You mumbled through clattering teeth and forced yourself to take a deep inhale to control the rising anxiety.

He grunted and approached. One of his hands slid gently under your chin to take a hold of your cheek. Your head instinctively melted into his heavenly body heat, and your eyes dared to shut for a minute. Relishing in the irradiating warmth his calloused hands provided.

He's so warm.

As if sensing the good deed, the man rubbed his hands on your cold arms, mindful of the patches around your arm, a couple of times before going back up to your cheeks and neck.

You gasped as soon as his hands were placed on your chest. His hands gently palming your breast but quickly let them go upon feeling your hardened nipples. You quickly covered your chest

He watched his hands, as if inspecting them for any damage when he felt the hardened nub, to then return to your arms, prying them away from your chest.

"Wait!"

You shrieked and he took both of your wrists with one hand and hovered them above your head, squishing them against the tree, softly. His eyes raked and took in every feature of you, before stopping at your chest again.

Your breath hitched as he slid the other hand inside your shirt. Cheeks turned impossibly warmer when he took one of your breasts and pulled it out of their confinements.

He examinated the perky mound with puppy wonder-like curiosity and then looked down his own chest. He frowned. His didn't swell like yours did.

"Wh-What are you doi-" you bit your lip as he poked your nipple, sniffed it and licked it. Earning a short mewl from you.

The sound startled him and he let you go.

"T- That's not a polite thing to do!" 

You quickly put the breast back and swung your hand to slap him. You had to admit his reflexes were something else cause it caught it before it collided against his face.

"How dare you?!" You struggled to let your hand go, but stopped your outburst when his eyes watched your hands and brought them before his ever curious face.

His own hand reached up, and placed itself before yours, comparing the stretched and long digits against your smaller ones. They weren't the same size, that was much true, but the texture and lines he had were the same on yours.

His eyes shone brighter than any  bewilderment. His mind had finally clicked together at the sudden epiphany that flooded his brain.

You were like him.

He pursed his lips before letting out an excited grunt. He backed away to create enough space for his arms to move freely.

He pointed to himself and spoke with the deepest yet excited voice he could manage.

"Miguel."

Your eyes went wide and you approached. He tried again while pointing at his chest.

"Mi guel."

"Miguel." His nose flared proudly and his throat grunted happily.

"Oh! I see!"

His ears perked up upon hearing your name.

"OhIsee!" He repeated.

But you quickly corrected him, with your name as you pointed to yourself and then called his name as you pointed at him.

A buttery crawl rolled down your spine as he mumbled your name.

"Exactly." you smiled.

He cupped your face again and mumbled your name once more. However, the sound of a gunshot tearing through the skies disrupted his attention from you and stood at the edge of the branch.

"Kraven" You gasped. Completely forgetting about him and the group.

Oh no...

Trouble was a tiny word of the deep neck shit you were into. Another shot rippled through, frightening the birds in the ratio.

"Kraven!" He repeated, excited.

Extraordinary. There wasn't any word to describe him better. He took you back, trapping you in between his muscular thighs and swinging through vines.

The more you approached the camp, the clearer you saw this massive black and brown spots moving away from the settlement.

Your hearth thumped with violence upon finally standing before a small group of gorillas, sniffing and hooting softly upon seeing Miguel.

Your savior wasted no time in pulling you closer to them. You shook your head, rightfully frightened.

"No, no, no wait!"

The gorillas huffed to then sniff your head, your clothes. Some even pulled at your hair softly, others examinated the clothes you were in.

Another gunshot echoed closely this time and it was loud enough to spook out the beasts out that pulled Miguel with them. You could only watch him, wide eyed, expectant. But he left.

"Miguel..."

----

Kraven wasn't one for losing his temper with women. But you, had the annoying ability to make his patiece turn to dust in the least opportunes of moments.

"I asked you, where the fuck have you been?!"

He dragged you to the center of the crew and threw you on the floor.

"I told you, I almost drowned! Why do you think I'm like this?!"

Kraven spat a few words in his native language under his breath and grunted

"You lost your equipment, didn't you?"

"I... I tried to get it back but I almost drown in the swamp, Sergei!" you explained with nothing but the truth

"You can't swim, don't you bullshit me.!"

"I'm telling you the truth!"

"Then how you survived!?"

Peter frowned as he looked at you.

"I was saved. Ok? A man saved me!"

"A man?"

"He's... Not like us. He's taller than you and he saved me!" you kept pressing, hoping the angered mercenary understood that you didn't do anything in purpose to upset him.

"He knows how to swing through the vines! And dropped me here! His name is Miguel. "

Everyone stared with derision at you and Peter seemed concerned you stuck with your story so bad to the point of risking your own neck and reputation.

Kraven' brows furrowed into a scowl and soon he pulled his revolver out and pointed at you.

Your face turned to panic, as your hands rose shakily.

"A savage named Miguel helped you?"

"He did! Otherwise you'd still be looking for me."

Kraven snorted without removing the gun's aim from your body.

"Funny you think I'd waste my resources to look up for a stupid woman like you."

"Please, you have to believe me! I saw gorillas around the camp!"

Kraven removed the safety pin from the revolver, as if peeved you'd waste his time and resources into being an idiot and not doing your work as he required.

Time was ticking and he still had no news, and for you to be fantasizing about savages and doing stupid things such as endangering yourself had proved you weren't reliable.

"You're not reliable, anymore, Dahlberg."

"No! Sergei listen to me-"

He pointed the gun once more to you "I can't keep unreliable people within my crew."

"I'm not lying!" You pleaded with all your might and tears in your eyes, "Miguel is-"

Before Sergei could push the tip of his revolver on your head and shoot, the earth underneath rumbled, as Miguel fell in between you.

Real.

Kraven stepped back as the imaginary savage was now fully standing before him. His head had to crane up to meet his burning ember eyes.

Miguel's lips snarled at him, showing his fangs and beating his chest. A clear challenge for him to fight him.

A collective round of gasps echoed through the men, but when Miguel bared his teeth, they all pulled their guns and pointed at him

"Stop!" You yelled and quickly scrambled to your feet to take Miguel's hand and shake your head with determination.

"Don't hurt him!"

Peter immediately got himself before you and rose his arms, showing he was no armed.

"I'm sure we can reach an agreement here without filling eachother with bullets, gentlemen"

"Shut up, Parker!" Sergei seethed and with a deep flare of his nose, pointed the gun at Miguel again, but Peter grabbed the weapon and the shot tore through the air again.

"Kraven" Miguel grumbled at the gun shot sound.

Said mercenary could only watch him, nonplussed for a moment. While you, again, stood your ground before the behemoth of a man. Attempting your best at protecting him.

"Have... we met before?" Kravinoff spoke confused.

"I told you he could speak! And he is real!"

Miguel remained glued at your side. Everyone slowly put their weapons down as Kraven approached to take a proper look at Miguel, fascinated by his sheer size and build.

Peter had to admit, that it was the last time he'd ever doubt your words.

"You said you had seen gorillas?"

Again, you nodded and Miguel repeated the word.

"Miguel knows them. He could help us."

"Help us? The man barely understand us, but... It's better than nothing I suppose."

Sergei scrunched his face in confusion as Miguel took strands of your hair and sniffed them, his senses awakening in pure adrenaline. Throat grunted approvingly.

"Yeah... kind of understand the personal space thing now." Peter cleared his throat behind you. The rest kept looking to see but quickly were dismissed by their leader.

"Oh, shut up." You grumbled nervously as Miguel pulled your head to his chest once more, to listen to his powerful heartbeats.

"Yeah, it's very very nice." You chuckled nervously with a soft flush creeping your cheek.

"Nice." He repeated.

Kraven could only watch but if he was the link towards the gorillas, he'd seize the chance in every way he could.

"He's way smarter than you think."

"We're running against time, how would he understand us, Dhalberg?"

Miguel moved to inspect Kraven, mimicking his gestures effortlessly. Earning a giggle from you.

"Leave that to me."

-------

Taglist:

@yhrlocalcyprus @nommingonfood @literatiastray @call-me-nyxx @gennirose @loonalockley @danubliat @marit332 @beabfleab @l3lazeit @lililapuce @prollyanvycchi @huehuehuehuehehe @nanamiscunt @ncj2837ndjcj @leviswifey-act62 @migueloharacumslut @migshusben @freehentai @animequeen4

@del-ightfulling @angel-of-the-moons

#t writes✨ #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Miguelverse #tarzan au

[solar-wing]

⚣ Domestic Living With Jason 🩳

⚣🩳 A/N → I'm physically incapable of writing anything under 500 words. But, this was inspired by my love of compression shirts (especially the Under Armor ones and how I would do exactly this if my boyfriend tried to walk out wearing one). May start a series off this, we'll see. Warnings: Domestic Vibes. Married Energy. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Petty Jason.

⚣🩳 Summary → Domestic life is something. Domestic life with Jason Todd is another thing. One moment, you're ready to fight this man. Next moment, you're ready to fight this man. *wink wink* Wait, hold up. Jason, what the hell are you wearing?!

⚣🩳 Words → 1.5K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🩳

“Jason, hurry up! I need to get back so I can finish this essay.” Y/N yelled from the living room of his and his boyfriend’s shared apartment.

If you asked him a year ago what he figured living with his boyfriend would be like, he’d more than likely answer with a lot of freaking sex. Of course, other things came with it, but that was the first thing that always came to mind.

It also came with a lot of stay-at-home dates. Jason was unsurprisingly a natural homebody and loved to spend his evenings when he could with his lovely boyfriend cuddled against his body while watching a movie or playing a game and munching down on some takeout.

Truthfully, it was nice seeing how Jason was in a domestic situation. It served as a reminder to Y/N that under all those scars, grumpiness, and tough exterior was just a boy who wanted to be loved.

On the other end, living with Jason made Y/N take a long, hard look in the mirror and reflect on all the bad habits he had when living at home with his parents and starting college. For example, time management…

Before he started dating Jason, Y/N was the kind of person who waited till twenty minutes before he had to leave to start getting dressed. Whenever someone would text him and ask for his location, he’d respond telling them he was leaving the house now.

Then, when he was actually leaving the house and they’d text him again, he’d respond saying he was on the freeway. Truly, the best example of what not to do when he wanted to be on time somewhere.

After he started dating Jason though, and especially when they moved in together, Y/N sent a long apology to his parents who had tried for years to teach him better time management. The crazy thing about that was when they asked him why he was apologizing and he explained that Jason’s time management made him look like an angel, they didn’t believe him!

In their eyes, Jason was a saint who could do no wrong. Which was ironic considering Y/N’s dad promised to castrate any man who dared even look his son’s way. And his mom, well, not sure that’s really appropriate to mention.

Yet, when it came to Mr. Jason Peter Todd, he might as well have been hand-delivered from God himself. Maybe it was because his boyfriend could and would be late to anything else in the world (Lord knows Bruce went through hell and back just to get him to be on time for family dinner), but if it was anything involving Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, he was twenty minutes early with a gift he picked up from the local Target.

It also could be that Jason was the world’s biggest kiss-ass (when he needed to be) and used that to wrap Y/N’s parents around his finger. Either or…

But now, since they were only going to the gym, Jason was of course taking his sweet time to get ready, which, every passing second was another snap of one of Y/N’s nerves. Truthfully, he would’ve just grabbed his keys and left without him, but the last time he did that, Jason went and bought a steering-wheel clutch to put on his car and hid the keys from him for two weeks.

Another thing Y/N’s parents would never believe about their son’s beloved boyfriend; the fucker was petty as hell.

“I’m coming, babe! Be out in a sec,” Jason yelled from behind their bedroom door.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I don’t recall. Maybe you imagined it.”

This gaslighting motherfu–

Y/N had to take a deep breath to calm his growing impulsive need to bust down that door and slap the fuck out of his boyfriend’s neck. It didn’t help…

“You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend,” Y/N mumbled to himself while tapping his foot against the floor repeatedly to distract himself from the ticking seconds passing by in his mind.

Two minutes later, the door opened and revealed his tall and bulky man looking ever so fresh and handsome. Though Y/N was still irritated beyond belief, the sight of his boyfriend’s handsome face who grew a smile and twinkle in his eyes when he looked at him always managed to dissipate his temper.

Not by much though. Jason’s neck still looked like a very bright and large target just waiting for a good sting from the palm of his hands.

Maybe Tim was right, they were a match made in heaven just off violent tendencies alone.

“That was not a sec,” Y/N reprimanded in a grumble.

Jason’s smile turned into a self-satisfied grin while he walked past his boyfriend to their coat closet, grabbing his abnormally large gym shoes. Seriously, what size is this man’s foot?

“Hey, it’s not my fault you waited till the last day to finish your homework.” He replied while tying his shoe.

“Um, actually it is. Every time I tried to sit down and work on it, you’d either start complaining about how I wasn’t paying any attention to you or you’d get randomly horny and start touching me in ways that shall not be named and I’d end up with your dick inside me.”

Y/N immediately regretted his words when he saw how Jason looked up from finishing his last shoe, a lustful blown look on his face as he eyed his body up and down. Thankfully, he didn’t seem like he was about to act on his impulses as he kept tying his shoe without looking before standing back up.

Why was that hot?

“Sounds like you need to practice self-control, sir.”

Oh, no he didn’t.

“Sir, I was already tempted to smack the back of your neck before. I beg you to not increase that urge.”

“Do it. I dare you,” Jason challenged, standing right in front of him with his towering frame. The tone in his voice and the look on his face were signaling something that Y/N was very tempted to answer, but he had to keep rationality in the forefront of his mind.

“You not worth it,” He responded, side-stepping him while going to grab his jacket.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Sir, don’t get fu–”

It was at that moment Y/N took a full look at his boyfriend, specifically what he was wearing. And while the sight was something he wouldn’t mind staring at, he definitely didn’t want other people staring at him.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you wearing?” Y/N asked, still looking him up and down.

Jason looked confused for a moment, also looking at his outfit, not seeing what the problem was.

“Um, a shirt and sweats? Is this a trick question or,”

“Why is it so tight? Who are you trying to show off for?”

This man was wearing a black compression shirt and gray joggers like it was just a regular Sunday. The Lord is watching, how dare he?!

Jason’s smirk immediately came back when he realized what he was really about, “Oh, what? I can’t wear tight clothes now to the gym?”

“Not unless you want me to fight bitches. Because, just in case you forgot, I do fight bitches.”

“Language, or I’m telling mom. And I like it when you fight over me,” He said while grabbing at Y/N’s waist.

He immediately popped the vigilante’s hands off him, “Don’t involve my mother in and hands off mister.”

“Our mother, thank you,” Jason corrected.

“It’s giving incestuous, and last time I checked, there is no ring on this finger and my last name is not Todd.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Y/N was sat.

“I-, that was really hot and we’re gonna move on from that,” Y/N responded, and Jason once again had a cocky smirk on his face. Lord knows this man was more than likely dead serious. He’d drop everything and drive to a ring shop right now.

“Anyway, you need to go change sir. I don’t need them dirty, mud-bathing rats staring at what is for my eyes only.” Y/N responded, pointing back to their bedroom waiting for Jason to move.

“Oh, so I need to go change, but when you were wearing those tiny shorts, showing off what’s supposed to be for my eyes only, I got told to mind the business that pays me,” Jason asked with a laugh.

“Are you on my payroll?” Y/N questioned.

“No.”

“My point still stands.”

“You think you’re funny,”

“I think I’m hilarious, actually. In fact, I’m so funny, I’m going to get the extra small shorts I just got in the mail since you want to play with me.” Y/N turned around and sprinted for their bedroom.

“Oh, I’ll play all day,” Jason mumbled under his breath before throwing their gym bags down to the ground and kicking off his shoes before following his boyfriend into the room.

They did not make it to the gym, but they definitely got their workout in.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

#solar-wing ☀️ #☀️🪽.fanfic #☀️🪽.dcposts #☀️🪽.txt #gay #dc #dcu #dcau #dc comics #dc universe #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x male reader #x reader #x male reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x m!reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x m!reader

[graceful-starker]

Tony the Friendly Ghost

Summary: Peter's house is haunted by a very friendly, very horny ghost.

Warnings: mild dub-con for a second there, Tony is a ghost, mild come inflation, mostly just an excuse to write ghost porn ngl.

Notes: Blame @the-mad-starker for this one, ngl lol. I might add more to this AU, but I wanted to get the first installment out on Halloween. Happy Halloween!

~~~

Peter isn’t crazy, okay? His apartment is just haunted. He doesn’t care that MJ rolls her eyes in disbelief or that Ned laughs at him for believing in ghosts. There’s definitely, 100%, for sure a ghost in his apartment. 

Peter winces as his ghost moves his couch loudly, the legs screeching horribly against the floor and thudding into the wall. “Okay, that’s really unnecessary!” Peter yells, walking into the living room and putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t afford to leave, you’re stuck with me, okay? You don’t have to rearrange all my furniture in protest.”

He doesn’t get a response; he isn’t sure his ghost even can. He’s never seen it, never heard it. He can only see what it does to his home. So far, at least. The couch is pulled back from the wall and slammed back into it again.

Peter sighs in annoyance, cocking his head to the side and staring at the couch. “Whatever, it looks better there anyway.”

The couch skirts across the floor, back to its original position, and Peter rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “Oh, fuck you. You’re just being annoying for the sake of it now.”

There’s no response, and Peter puffs out another sigh. “Stop rearranging my furniture, we’re going to get a noise complaint.”

There’s no response yet again, and Peter hums and turns to go back to his room. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly. He opens his door and gasps. “You asshole!” he yells, looking at his clothes flying out of his dresser. “Stop that!”

His ghost doesn’t, so he angrily grabs a towel and slams the bedroom door behind him to leave his ghost to their temper tantrum. 

He locks the door to the bathroom as if that will stop the ghost from coming in and turns the shower to be extra hot. He strips and puts his clothes in the hamper, grumbling to himself under his breath. 

He takes perhaps the angriest shower of his life, scrubbing furiously at his body and aggressively lathering his hair. “I should have known the rent was too good to be true,” he mumbles to himself, getting out of the shower and grabbing his towel. He’s calmed down a bit, has resigned himself to his fate of refolding all his clothes. 

He finishes drying off his hair and wraps it around his hips, looking up at the vanity. He blinks, cocking his head to the side. In big blocky letters, drawn out in the steam on his mirror, is TONY. 

“Tony?” he asks, and watches it be underlined. “Oh, your name is Tony,” he mumbles. “That’s a nice name.”

He doesn’t get a response, and Peter hums in thought. “I’m Peter,” he offers, feeling a bit silly. But Tony started it. “This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know. We can get along.”

YES appears on his mirror, and Peter smiles at it. “See? This’ll be great.”

~

Tony likes to talk to him, Peter has discovered. He likes leaving messages on the mirror whenever Peter showers, likes to ask questions and get Peter talking for long periods of time. 

It got to the point where Peter decided: why limit this? He buys three white boards, sticks them to the walls in his kitchen, livingroom, and bedroom. Tony is very happy with these purchases, and has a preference for the red marker. 

Peter has decided that Tony is an asshole, but he isn’t all that bad really. He’s kind of sweet too, and a good listener. He cares about Peter’s life, asks questions about it and encourages him to talk about it to Tony. 

As far as ghosts go, Peter is sure he’s lucked out. 

Peter laughs as he reads the question left for him in the bedroom, shaking his head fondly. “No, MJ isn’t my girlfriend. And she doesn’t even believe me when I tell her about you, she’s a real asshole like that. She’s not coming over any time soon.”

MJ IS NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?

“No, I don’t have one,” Peter says, shrugging. “I was dating Wade for a while, but we decided to just be friends instead.”

BOYFRIEND?

Peter frowns. “Oh, god, what time period are you from? I didn’t think to ask. People can do that now, it’s fine to be gay or whatever else now.”

NOT AN ISSUE.

“Oh, good,” Peter says, grinning at the board. “Because you’ve really grown on me, it would be a shame to find out my favorite ghost is homophobic.”

YOU KNOW OTHER GHOSTS?

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes fondly. He sits on the bed, crossing his legs. “Jealous?” There’s no response, and Peter giggles softly. “I don’t know any other ghosts, it was just a joke.”

I’M ALONE.

Peter frowns, taking in the words slowly. Tony must have been terribly lonely, before Peter came around. “Well, I’m here now. And you aren’t getting rid of me any time soon, we’ve already established this.” He tries to joke, but it sounds sad. 

It’s quiet for a long time after that, the marker hovering in the air as if Tony is holding it limp at his side. Then the marker is placed down, and the door to Peter’s room shuts. 

Peter sighs sadly, deciding to use the privacy while he has it; since Tony is invisible, he never knows for sure if he’s watching. He only knows if Tony does something like that; closes his door, or moves stuff around in another room. 

~

Peter hums to himself as he gets out of the shower, drying off and wrapping his towel around his waist. His toothbrush is knocked over, and he looks at the mirror with a frown. 

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

“No where,” Peter says, turning and opening the door. “I just wanted to get clean.” He makes his way to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He opens a drawer in his dresser, before he looks over his shoulder at an insistent tapping noise. The marker is tapping against the whiteboard, and Peter sighs and walks over. 

NO PLANS?

“Nope,” Peter says, turning back around. “Let me get dressed, we can talk-hey!” 

Tony has ripped his towel away, throwing it across the room and leaving him naked. The marker is back on the white board, so Peter doesn’t know for certain where Tony is. 

“Asshole,” he mumbles starting to walk towards his towel again. “You don’t-hey!”

Tony’s never touched him before this; it’s a little unsettling. Everywhere Tony touches him is extremely cold, and it sends a rush of adrenaline through him. One hand is wrapped around Peter’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and the other is on Peter’s hip. He’s bent over the bed, and the position brings a blush to Peter’s face. 

“Hey!” Peter says, trying to wriggle free. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

Tony doesn’t. Instead, he moves his hand from Peter’s hip to his ass, petting at the flesh a couple times before spreading Peter’s cheeks apart. 

Peter gasps and shivers at the feeling, trying to close his legs. “Tony! What are you doing?!”

Tony’s leg must go in between his, kicking his feet apart. Peter gasps and shivers, his legs shaking. Tony’s finger pets over his hole, and Peter whimpers. 

“Tony, you can’t-you can’t! What are you-let me go, Tony!” Peter whines, trying to push off of the bed. Tony has never tried to hurt him before, not even when they weren’t talking yet and Tony was still trying to get rid of him. He’s more confused than scared. 

Tony pushes his knee in between Peter’s thighs again, pushing up until his own thigh is pressing against Peter’s cock and rubbing back and forth. 

Peter chokes and gasps, his hand clenching the sheets. “O-oh,” Peter chokes out, grinding down against Tony’s thigh. It feels so fucking wierd, so very cold but still so very good at the same time. Tony’s thigh rubs against him for a few minutes, and Peter continues to grind against it until he’s fully hard.

Tony pushes his finger in to the first knuckle, and Peter gasps. “Wait, don’t-oh god, oh,” Peter groans and pushes back into it, his cock leaking on Tony’s thigh. He can feel Tony’s cock hardening against his hip, and it’s so weird. This is so weird, he can’t even see Tony and Tony is about to-

Tony’s finger pushes deeper, and Peter whimpers. He can’t decide if he’s scared or not, can’t decide if he wants Tony to stop. He wants to tell Tony to wait, at least, to use lube. But then he realizes-

There is no friction. His hole is just stretching around nothing, there’s nothing really there. 

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, hanging his head and arching his back. “Oh, please, more. Tony, please.” 

Tony pulls his finger out and Peter whines, but then he’s pushing two in. Peter’s head throws back, and he gasps loudly. Tony’s fingers start moving in and out of him quickly, already scissoring him apart. 

Peter wonders if Tony can see himself, or there’s nothing there for him as well. If he just has a view of Peter’s hole being stretched around nothing, or if it looks normal for him. “Oh, fuck, Tony. Please Tony, please, more, I need-oh fuck, please!”

Tony lets go of his wrist for the first time since this started, pulling his fingers out abruptly. Peter whines at the loss, scared that Tony’s going to leave now. He worries himself for nothing; Tony simply picks him up and turns him around, and Peter lands on his back halfway up the bed. 

He doesn’t like this position as much; he can see that no one is there. It’s freaking him out, making him think too much. “Tony,” he chokes, chest heaving. He gets up on his elbows, digging his heels into the bed.

Invisible hands push his thighs far apart, and Tony’s cock presses bluntly against Peter’s hole. It pushes and pushes, until it slips past and slides up Peter’s balls. 

Peter gasps loudly, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. It feels so weird but so good, and if he closes his eyes he can just pretend it’s fine. “Oh, fuck, Tony. Please, please fuck me, please get inside me, I want-oh my god!”

Tony had pulled his cock back to try again, pressing insistantly until the head finally popped past Peter’s rim. 

Peter’s mouth falls open, and he has to fist the sheets to stop himself from screaming. It feels so fucking good inside of him, so incredibly strange but in a pleasant way. “Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, sucking in a desperate breath. 

Tony starts to slowly push forward, and forward and forward until Peter feels like he can feel it in the back of his fucking throat. 

“Oh god, Tony, oh fuck, how fucking big are you?” He can’t see it, can’t know how much there is left to go. “Oh, stop, it won’t fit!” Peter cries. 

Tony doesn’t listen, continues pushing in until his hips finally slap into Peter’s ass with an audible slap. 

Peter groans loudly, his legs shaking, his chest heaving. “Oh god, Tony,” he gasps, opening his eyes and regretting it immediately. There’s no one there, there’s no body attached to the cock currently splitting him in half, no hands keeping his thighs apart. He’s just being filled up by nothing, his stomach is protruding with a cock that isn’t there. 

Tony starts to slowly pull back out, and Peter watches in fascination as Tony’s head visibly moves down his torso. “Oh,” Peter moans.

Tony only pulls halfway out before pushing back in, his hips slapping hard against Peter’s. 

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, throwing his head back again as Tony sets up a brutal pace. He feels like he might actuall die, like Tony is actively fucking him to death. He’s so fucking big, and the pace is brutal, and he’s fucking Peter so hard he’s being pushed up the bed.

Tony’s left hand leaves his thigh, after moving Peter’s leg around to grip around his waist. Instead it presses down harshly against Peter’s stomach where his head reaches when he goes as deep as possible. 

Peter moans, almost screams, watching his torso with dark eyes. It’s the only visible proof he has, the only thing proving that he isn’t batshit crazy. He’s being fucked by a ghost; a ghost hung like a horse besides. “Tony!”

Tony somehow speeds up, slapping his hips so hard against Peter’s that it hurts, and he knows he’s going to be feeling this for days. 

“Please,” Peter moans, moving one hand to wrap around his cock. “Oh god, please, I want it. Please! Please Tony, please come inside me, I want it so bad!”

Tony’s right hand tightens on his thigh, enough that the skin goes white and he’s sure it’s going to leave a mark. His hips stutter, and he fucks into Peter a few more times before burying himself balls deep and grinding there. 

It feels so fucking weird. It’s still cold, but it’s definetly real and wet inside of him. Peter’s eyes go lidded and he strokes himself quickly, enjoying the feeling of being stretched, of how deep Tony is, of being filled up.

Peter almost doesn’t notice at first, but Tony hasn’t stopped grinding into him and filling up for longer than a human would have. His eyes widen as it hits him, his hand stilling on his cock. “Oh, god, Tony?” 

Tony pulls half out and slaps his hips back in, grinding again. The hand on Peter’s stomach leaves to start stroking Peter instead. 

Peter’s stomach starts to distend, and his jaw drops as he realizes just how much Tony is filling him up. “Oh, fuck, Tony! Tony, it’s too much!” 

Tony speeds his hand up on Peter’s cock, and Peter whines loudly. He finishes to the strange feelings, hands gripping the sheets desperately and head thrown back. He comes so hard that it hits his chin, and Tony wrings every last drop out of him. 

Peter pants heavily once it’s over, groaning at the sight of his come painting Tony’s fist white. He can kind of see it now, see the outline. He already knew from the way they felt inside of him, but Tony’s fingers are thick. 

He’s still buried to the hilt inside of Peter, and Peter whines as his stomach continues to grow. He feels some being fucked out of him as Tony grinds, and he’s so overstimulated at this point. “Tony, ‘s too much!”

Tony finally finishes filling Peter up minutes later, when Peter’s stomach is pudged and he looks like he has a small baby bump. Oh, and isn’t that a new idea? He grinds into Peter once more, keeping him plugged up apparently. He really wishes that Tony could talk to him.

“I’m too full,” Peter complains, nudging at Tony’s torso with his knee. “Get out of me.”

Tony pets at Peter’s stomach, and maybe he’s just as turned on by the sight as Peter is. Peter’s spent sock twitches, but it’s way too soon for him to go again. 

“Tony,” Peter whines, clenching around him. “Out.”

Tony hesitates once more, but finally pulls out slowly. He leaves his head insides, teasing Peter’s rim with the widest part.

Peter moans at the feeling, before whimpering again. “Tony, please, it’s too much!”

Tony finally takes mercy on him, popping his head out but keeping Peter’s thighs spread open. 

Peter whimpers, face red with embarrassment, knowing that Tony is staring at his hole. He wonders what it looks like right now; wonders how much of Tony’s come is leaking out of him, how gaped open he is. 

He reaches around himself, ignoring Tony squeezing his thighs, and stuffs a few fingers into himself. Tony squeezes tighter, before finally letting him go. 

Peter pulls his fingers out, eyes lighting up when he realizes he can see Tony’s come on his fingers. Physical proof of what Tony did to him. 

He clenches around nothing, winces when he feels some more of Tony’s come slide out of him and onto the bed. “Fuck, Tony,” he whispers, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking curiously. It tastes about the same as normal, it’s just cold. A little gross. 

Peter pulls his fingers away and gasps when Tony’s hand cups his cheeks, and he thnks Tony is kissing him because his lips are cold. He tries to kiss back, closes his eyes so he doesn’t feel like he’s kissing air. It’s much easier when his eyes are closed for his mind to accept this. 

Tony finally pulls away, and Peter falls back on the bed with a final pant. “Fuck,” he whispers to the room. 

Peter looks when at the tapping noise against the board, snorting when he sees it. “Now you ask?” he snarks, rolling his eyes. 

CAN WE DO THAT AGAIN? Stays on his board, unerased, even the next time they do this.

#starker #my writing #fanfics

[gainingfiction]

Suitable

Summary: Patrick doesn’t believe in curses. He certainly doesn’t believe that the oversized suit he bought as a gag costume is cursed to make him gain weight. And yet….

(Enjoy my 2022 Halloweight-gain-story! Better late than never, right?)

~

There’s no such thing as magic suits.

At least, that’s what Patrick told himself as he donned his Halloween costume for the evening. The idea was downright laughable. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on the old salesman’s face when he issued his dire warning.

That guy was just weird, Patrick rationalized. It was true: the suit had been purchased from the octogenarian proprietor of an unkempt second-hand store, a heavily-accented man named Yuri who had sworn up and down that Patrick’s prospective Halloween costume was bound by some mysterious curse.

It was literally just a suit. A very big suit, to be fair, but that had nothing to do with magic: its former owner was just fat. Massively, enormously fat, judging by the way Patrick’s slender, athletic frame was drowning in yard after yard of Italian wool.

“You are warned,” Yuri had said. “You will grow into it. Will make you big man. Very big man.”

Patrick scoffed at the mere suggestion. He’d never weighed more than 180 pounds in his whole life. Well, 183, as of this morning. There was no way he’d ever “grow into” such a comically large outfit.

Feeding his belt through the loops, Patrick felt… nothing. No supernatural tingling, no sudden urge to gorge himself at a buffet. He just felt like a fit guy in a big suit. The old man was clearly trying to deploy some strange reverse psychology as a sales tactic. And, to his credit, it had worked. Patrick shelled out twenty dollars just to prove how ridiculous he found the idea of a so-called magic garment, even if it meant that he had no idea how to describe his costume. Sexy Biggest Loser contestant, perhaps?

He studied himself in the mirror, shirtless beneath the gigantic blazer. It wasn’t his usual slutty Halloween apparel, but foregoing a shirt allowed him to show off his tight little pecs and toned abs. Patrick was proud of his hard-earned body, and the way his sculpted jawline and strong cheekbones turned heads wherever he went. No “magic spell” was going to take that away from him.

With a smug smile adorning his perfect pink lips, Patrick left for the party.

The evening wasn’t as awkward as he’d feared. The host, Priti, was an old friend from his college days, and they hadn’t seen much of each other in the two years since graduation. But she welcomed him with enthusiasm, faithfully introducing him to his fellow partygoers: her coworkers from the pharmacy, a few college classmates Patrick had long forgotten about, and, most excitingly, her absolutely stunning cousin, Arjun.

To call Arjun a hunk would be an understatement. He was a walking deity, a 6’2” sculpted fantasy clad in a form-hugging Spiderman suit. If Hollywood needed a new Peter Parker for its endless reboots, they could scarcely do better. His white teeth almost sparkled, his eyes were as warm and deep as the summer sea, his glossy hair perfectly trimmed.

Patrick was smitten from the moment Priti introduced them, and he spent the rest of the evening practically hanging off Arjun’s big, brawny biceps. He was a personal trainer, of all things, and Patrick was quick to point out how much he looked the part. But Arjun didn’t seem put-off by Patrick’s incorrigible flirtation; in fact, he gave as good as he got, trailing his large hands across the lapels of Patrick’s massive suit and praising the quality of the fabric… and what lay underneath.

They were terrible guests, lingering by the snack table, locked in their own smouldering back-and-forth to the exclusion of everyone else in the room. But Patrick didn’t care, guzzling lager after lager and making come-fuck-me eyes at his sexy new friend.

And come-fuck-him Arjun did. They left the party as soon as they could without being rude, practically running to Arjun’s tidy apartment a few blocks over. And boy, did Arjun fuck him. He was a phenomenal lay, a deft top who could throw Patrick around like a ragdoll, bending him over and absolutely railing his toned, slender ass. Patrick came like a geyser, and, after a brief respite, came again.

When they finally collapsed into an exhausted pile, both men resolved to see each other again very soon.

“Very soon”, it so happened, was the next day. And the day after that. Arjun didn’t just look like a god, he fucked like a god, and Patrick couldn’t get enough.

As the weeks passed, Patrick caught himself snacking more than usual. He never kept junk food in the house, but whenever Arjun came over, he always brought something to eat: a bag of chips, a casserole dish of homemade lasagna, a box of fresh eclairs from the bakery down the street. For a personal trainer, he certainly had a taste for fattening treats. Not that he ever ate them himself: after their marathon lovemaking sessions, when they lazed on the couch, Patrick made short work of whatever offering Arjun laid out on the coffee table, while Arjun treated himself to the most occasional of bites.

Patrick knew he was overeating, and he tried to make up for it at the gym, but the weather was getting colder, and he often found himself skipping workouts in favour of a lazy afternoon with his insatiable fuckmachine. By the end of November, Patrick realized that his pants were getting tight.

He didn’t think much of it. It was winter weight, and he’d seen plenty of guys put on a few pounds in the early days of a happy relationship. And things with Arjun were going so well. He was a trainer, after all. Surely he wouldn’t let Patrick get doughy.

And yet, as the end of the year approached, Patrick was looking very doughy indeed. He was stunned when he stepped on the scale a few days before New Years and saw “197” flash across the display. How could he be almost 200 pounds?

He took a hard look in the bathroom mirror, still steamy from his morning shower. Pudge had piled up around his middle, hiding his abs and broadening his torso. And his pecs were looking noticeably puffy.

He turned around and studied his ass. Patrick’s butt had always been his favourite feature, kept trim and perky through years of dieting and rigorous exercise. It was still round and pert, but it looked bigger, now, and softer. There was more to grab and play with. Patrick cupped a handful, eyes widening as soft flesh gave way beneath his fingers.

“I need to go on a diet,” he said, frowning as he emerged from the bathroom.

Arjun looked over at him from the bed, his muscular body splayed out amid the messy sheets. They had been seeing a lot of each other, hooking up almost every day of the week, and Patrick knew that was part of the problem: Arjun was generous with food, and his visits were wreaking havoc on Patrick’s usual gym routine. It had been nearly two weeks since his last workout, and he was starting to feel soft and flabby.

Arjun’s eyes ran across his body, and he gave a small frown. “You look great to me,” he said, trailing a hand over his own abs. Patrick could see Arjun’s boner starting to tent the bedsheets. That was a little confidence boost, at least.

“I’m almost 200 pounds,” Patrick said. Saying it aloud felt shameful, even if Arjun was used to training far larger clients at his gym. But Patrick had never been big in his life. Even spread over six feet of height, 200 pounds felt like a bigger number than Patrick was comfortable with. “I’m getting chubby.”

Arjun shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you look sexy. Lots of guys are going for that beefy look, anyway.”

Patrick wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to be argumentative. Arjun was so easygoing, the last thing Patrick wanted was to seem high-maintenance. They hadn’t talked about labels yet, but Patrick was hoping to have that conversation soon. And if he wanted to be exclusive, he didn’t want to kill his chances by broadcasting his neuroticism to the hottest guy he’d ever dated.

But he couldn’t let it go completely.  “Still,” he said, laying a hand over his heart and feeling the flesh that gathered around his nipple. “I need to start working out again. It’s been too long.”

Arjun gestured to his erection, and then patted the bed next to him: “Well, how about we have a little workout of our own?”

Patrick grinned, and nearly leapt into bed.

By mid-January, Patrick absolutely couldn’t avoid buying new pants. His usual rotation now dug into his waist almost painfully, the button protesting against his excesses. And his ass and thighs were an existential threat to the seams, which looked about one wrong move away from total collapse. 

Patrick briefly considered a return trip to Yuri’s messy boutique, but he had no desire to see that weird guy again, or get another warning about magic spells. So he ended up at his favourite thrift store, where he was helped by a very handsome Middle Eastern employee in a Blondie t-shirt.

Patrick had to admit, size 34 fit a lot better than his usual 32s, and he felt his old confidence returning as he strode into the restaurant for a hot date with Arjun.

That confidence began to wane as he sat across from his jacked dinner companion, leaving Patrick feeling distinctly unimpressive. While Patrick had opted for a loose-fitting t-shirt, hoping to disguise his winter weight, Arjun filled out a tailored button-down like he was modelling it for a catalogue.

That night, they made their relationship official. They’d been practically exclusive since Halloween, anyway, spending almost all their spare time together. They fucked relentlessly, but they were also starting to act more like a couple: cuddling on the couch, window shopping downtown… and eating. Well, Patrick was eating, whether they were dining out, or staying in for the elaborate dinners that Arjun carefully prepared. A stud who could cook: Patrick felt like he had hit the jackpot. And now that stud was all his.

He was so excited to have locked down such a catch that Patrick didn’t think twice about polishing off Arjun’s half-finished chicken parm, and then eating 95% of the cheesecake they had planned on “splitting” for dessert.

As it turned out, Arjun was quite the romantic. Now that he was Patrick’s boyfriend, his generous doting ratcheted up to the next level: other couples might swap boxes of chocolate on Valentine’s Day, but Arjun started showing up with heart-shaped boxes of chocolate truffles four weeks before that. Big boxes. Patrick didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he dutifully munched his way through each one, even as he started to tire of so much chocolate, even as he grew uncomfortably full.

Patrick knew he should have been watching his weight, but his commitment to Arjun (and Arjun’s commitment to him) acted as a safety net, a way to avoid taking a hard look at the consequences of his new relationship. And those consequences were starting to grow: Patrick’s sides now sported a small pair of love handles, just big enough to overhang the waistband of his briefs, and a small dome of fat rested atop his torso. His ass swelled, his thighs thickened… he wasn’t just growing a gut, he was porking up all over.

When he stepped on the scale on Valentine’s Day, the number nearly made him faint. 213 pounds. This was bad. This was very, very, bad. Patrick knew he was gaining weight; his 34-inch jeans, not yet a month old, were already feeling snug. But to have stacked on 30 pounds of pure blubber in just three and a half months… Well, it almost defied belief.

For an instant, Patrick thought back to Yuri’s warning. Will make you big man. He shook his head. Surely this wasn’t the work of a magic suit. He had just gotten lazy, and perhaps a bit gluttonous. He had been to the gym exactly twice since New Years, but he was eating far more than he used to, even when he worked out almost daily. Of course he was bound to gain weight.

He broached his concerns to Arjun over dinner. “I really need to stop pigging out,” he said, eying the bread basket that the waiter had just set in front of them. He wanted to grab a piece of bread, but he restrained himself.

Arjun looked bemused. “What do you mean?” he said, as if he genuinely hadn’t noticed Patrick rapidly gaining 30 pounds.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and gestured to his middle. “Look at me. I told you I was getting chubby, and now I’m getting fat. It’s gross.”

Arjun’s face fell. “Don’t say that,” he said, reaching out to rest his hand on top of Patrick’s. “I think you’re every bit as hot as the day I met you.”

Patrick scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled, avoiding Arjun’s gaze. It was embarrassing: Arjun looked as perfect as ever; clearly he could control himself. And yet, Patrick had done nothing but laze around, sitting on his ass all day at work and then going home to eat. Having sex was about the extent of his physical activity, these days.

“I mean it,” Arjun said, firmly. “You’re gorgeous. I’m lucky to have you.”

That coaxed a smile out of Patrick, but he was still embarrassed. “Even if I’m letting myself go?”

Arjun’s face took on a defiant quality. “I hate that phrase. ‘Letting yourself go’. It makes it sound like you’ve given up on life. But you haven’t. Look at me, are you happy?”

As he gazed into Arjun’s eyes, Patrick considered it. He had the man of his dreams, things were going well at work… finally, he nodded. He was happy.

“Then you haven’t let yourself go. You haven’t given up on life, you’re enjoying life. And if it shows, it shows. I could not care less,” Arjun said, stroking Patrick’s hand, his eyes searching Patrick’s face.

“You work at a gym, though,” Patrick said, resting his free hand on his stomach. His belly now rubbed against the front of even his loosest shirts, making itself unignorable. “You’re surrounded by guys who are way hotter than me, hotter than I’ve ever been.”

“Honey,” Arjun said. “Stop. Let me tell you what we’re going to do. You’re going to eat that bread, because I know you want to. We’re going to get a bottle of wine. You’re going to order the fettuccine, because it’s your favourite, and I’m going to treat you to that lava cake you love for dessert. Then we’re going to go home, get naked, and I’m going to show you how sexy I find every single inch of you. I know we said no gifts, but… I hear I’m pretty gifted.” He smiled.

Patrick had to admit, that sounded pretty good. 

Over the following weeks and months, the pattern repeated itself. Arjun showered Patrick with love, in the form of massive meals and piles of snacks. Patrick outgrew his 34s, and then his 36s. His weight slipped up to 224 pounds by the end of February, and 231 by the end of March. Even as “winter weight” ceased to be an excuse, and sunny April gave way to May, Patrick’s weight climbed beyond 240 pounds, and his 38-inch pants were getting uncomfortable.

He was confronted with a twinge of apprehension every time he checked the scale, every time he had to buy clothes in a size he never dreamed he’d need. And Arjun faithfully assuaged his anxieties, his gentle touch and loving words so soft and soothing that Patrick’s fears melted away.

But it wasn’t Arjun’s gentleness that made the biggest difference, it was his forcefulness. In the bedroom, his enthusiasm only seemed to grow alongside Patrick’s body. In the early days of their relationship, Arjun had been smooth and methodical, confidently gripping the firm edges of Patrick’s muscular frame. But lately, his lust was palpable, almost animal. Patrick could feel Arjun losing control as he gripped and squeezed Patrick’s broad, round stomach, cupped his budding breasts, slapped and groped and generally manhandled Patrick’s ever-fattening ass. There was a new intensity to their sex, already intense to begin with, that filled Patrick an unfamiliar, slightly disorienting sensation: excitement about his fattening body. A desire to grow.

He tried to deny it, at first, to dismiss it as a side-effect of the consistently Earth-shattering sex he was having. But even when Arjun wasn’t around, when he was all alone with just his fat belly to keep him company, that excitement didn’t abate. Something was happening to him. When he stepped on the scales on May 14th, his birthday, and saw that he weighed 251 pounds, he did still feel a little pang of anxiety. But he also felt something else, a distinct and undeniable stirring in his crotch that could only be arousal.

“Happy birthday,” Arjun purred, as they lay in bed that night. Patrick had just enjoyed the absolute best rimjob of his life, a sexual experience like no other. Arjun may not have been a big eater, but he ate ass like an absolute glutton, planting his face firmly between Patrick’s big, round buttocks and going to town with insatiable vigour. “Did you like that?”

Patrick could only nod, still trying to catch his breath. His extreme sedentariness, on top of gaining almost seventy pounds in less than 7 months, had left him seriously out of shape. His old workout routine wouldn’t just be a challenge for him, it would be an impossibility.

Arjun must have sensed how spent their sexcapade had left Patrick, since he gave a slight chuckle. His hand was draped across Patrick’s chubby chest, his nimble fingers stroking Patrick’s perky nipple. Patrick was acutely aware of his double-chin as he lowered his face to look down at his tits; he hadn’t expected that even his nipples would grow, but he was certainly enjoying the added sensitivity.

“You’re really good at that,” Patrick said, lamely, still trying to bring himself back to Earth. “Like, really good at that.”

“Well, you have a very delicious ass,” Arjun said, giving Patrick’s nipple a tweak and making him shiver. With a smirk, he added: “Like, very delicious.”

“Well there’s a lot of it, these days,” Patrick said. He didn’t even know how he felt about that: bitter? Gleeful? His emotions were so muddled, so clouded by his libido—especially in the afterglow—that they had become a Gordian Knot.

“More cushion for the pushin’,” Arjun said, simply, and patted Patrick’s gut.

“So you really like fat asses, huh?” Patrick said. Arjun’s inclinations had been obvious for months, but Patrick had been avoiding the conversation. He knew he was falling for this guy, but he was afraid that Arjun just saw him as a kinky sex-toy, someone he could fatten up and discard before moving onto the next unwitting twink. He knew that was irrational, and horribly unfair to a man who had been nothing but good to him, but he couldn’t stop looking for a catch.

“I do,” Arjun said. He looked Patrick in the eyes, and Patrick looked back. No matter what Arjun’s body looked like, those eyes could make any man fall in love. “But I specifically love your ass, fit or fat.”

“But you prefer it fat,” Patrick pressed on. He wanted an admission, tangible proof that Arjun had been knowingly spurring on his explosive weight gain. Surely it couldn’t be—

Patrick nipped that train of thought right in the bud. It wasn’t the fucking suit. There’s no such thing as a magic suit.

“Yeah, I like it fat,” Arjun said, biting his lower lip as he glanced away. It was a very cute look. Bashfulness suited him.

Patrick had his confession. Arjun was a chubby chaser, and Patrick was getting chased. He was quiet for a few moments, deciding what to do. Did he want to be thin again, an archetypical hottie who lit up a room? If so, he could destroy everything that might have caused this slide into obesity—because that’s what he was, now, fully and definitively obese. He could burn his old Halloween costume, kick Arjun to the curb, and diet interminably until he could see his abs again. It wasn’t too late.

He could also try to lose weight with Arjun; if he was telling the truth, if he really did appreciate Patrick’s body at any size, he would support him. He’d probably still burn the suit, in that case, just to be on the safe side.

But then, there was a third door. A very wide door, beckoning Patrick to step forward until his steps became a heavy, lumbering waddle. He could keep eating. Keep gorging. Keep gaining. Let himself blow up like a balloon, pack on the pounds until Arjun’s handsome face was entirely lost in a sea of ass-fat.

Patrick stepped towards door number three. Maybe he could try it, just for a while. What harm could a couple more pounds do, on top of the 70 he’d already gained? He smiled, lopsidedly. “How fat do you like it?” he asked, finally. “How fat are you gonna make it?”

Arjun looked up at him, mouth agape. “I—You—What?” he stammered.

Patrick doubled down. “What are you gonna do to my ass? How big are we talking: pumpkin? Beach balls? Minivan?”

Arjun inhaled sharply, no doubt surprised by this turn of events. Patrick could feel his boyfriend’s cock swelling against his pudgy thigh. The fact that the suggestion of a minivan-sized ass inspired that sort of arousal told Patrick all he needed to know. Surely he wouldn’t get that fat—it was a little bit of anatomically-implausable sexual hyperbole—but he definitely wouldn’t mind giving Arjun a bigger ass to play with. At least a little bigger.

Patrick didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Why don’t you go get the rest of my birthday cake and you can show me again how much you love fat asses?”

Arjun leapt out of bed like the athlete he was, bare cock standing proudly at attention. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

Patrick grinned. His 25th year was off to a very good start.

It was hard to get used to the idea that he might actually enjoy being fat, and want to get even fatter. He was naturally thin—he used to be, at least—so the concept that weight gain could be something fun, something to be encouraged, was alien to Patrick at first. And yet, he couldn’t deny his body. His belly was growing accustomed to eating big, and his dick was clearly enjoying it. With those two powerful appendages urging him on, compounded by Arjun’s relentless feeding, Patrick continued to balloon.

I’ll gain maybe five more pounds. Ten tops, Patrick told himself the day after his birthday. And yet, a month later, the scale said he had gained 12. Okay, maybe ten more, he reasoned. 260 didn’t feel as big as he thought it would, anyway. Sure, he was huge, but he didn’t feel that huge. 250 and 260 weren’t so different, right? And besides, what was he supposed to do? Stop eating the food he’d come to love? Go back to the gym he’d abandoned months ago? Deny Arjun the great pleasure of his growing body?

He still had moments of uncertainty. When he couldn’t button his pants, and he realized that he had hopelessly outgrown anything smaller than a 42-inch waist, Patrick felt a pit in his stomach. What am I doing to myself? He wondered, as he made one last feeble attempt to stuff himself into a pair of 40s. 

But when he gave up, and let his hands roam across his gut, his nervousness evaporated. It was so soft, so fun to knead and fondle and play with. He’d gained so much, so quickly, that it still held its round shape, but rolls were starting to crop up, with a noticeable one forming between his breasts and his belly. His love handles expanded, too, and he realized how apt that name was: they really were like handles, slabs of side-fat that he could wrap his fingers around and properly squeeze, feeling the give of so much stretch mark-lined flesh. And he really did love them.

He let his hands slip up further, cupping his breasts, bouncing one and then the other. He felt like an absolute cow as mammary fat spilled between his fingers. Those last 12 pounds must have hit his chest and upper belly hard.

By the time Patrick stood, kicking off the jeans that could no longer handle him, he wasn’t anxious at all: he was horny.

Arjun took care of that.

Over the following months, Patrick felt like a kid who couldn’t go to bed. But instead of “ten more minutes”, it was “ten more pounds”. His ass, a feature that Arjun adored even more than Patrick himself, spread and swelled, and he found himself bumping into things constantly. He could still remember what it was like to have small, hard glutes, but that memory was starting to fade as he buried those glutes deeper and deeper under an ever-growing layer of pure, unadulterated lard. His perky little ass, the crown jewel of his twinkish body, had given way to a pair of vast, juicy buttocks. It was still holding its round shape, each cheek almost perfectly globular and still pert. But as he passed 280 pounds, Patrick could tell that gravity would have the last laugh.

By early July, he’d gained exactly 100 pounds, sitting pretty at 283. He hadn’t expected that gaining weight would make him hairier, but it made sense. More surface area needed more fuzz to cover it all, and his gut was getting massively fuzzy. That was one of many unexpected changes. Others weren’t quite as fun, like the soreness he felt in his lower back when he had to stand for more than 20 minutes, a side-effect of living life with a 50-pound medicine ball strapped to his abdomen. But even that wasn’t so bad: it gave him an excuse to live an even more idle existence, with Arjun happy to indulge him.

The sweating was another unwelcome companion. In the summer heat, he could really feel the hundred pounds of added insulation. He used to love going to the beach, playing volleyball with his friends and flaunting his slender body for admiring onlookers. This year, he preferred relaxing indoors, where he could let it all hang out and feel the cool AC on his sprawling belly. Arjun joked that his house was like an icebox, and Patrick pointed out that that was where a pig belonged.

They did make it to the beach a few times, including on Labour Day. Patrick shied away from taking off his shirt, at first, but Arjun talked him into it, and his expression of unrestrained adoration made it all worthwhile. They must have made quite the pair: the personal trainer, 200 pounds of rock-hard muscle, walking hand-in-hand with a red-faced porker who outweighed him by a hundred pounds, rolls of fat bouncing and wobbling as he ambled down the boardwalk.

“I think we’re confusing people,” Patrick said. He lay in the sand, tonguing an overloaded ice cream cone. A middle-aged couple openly stared at him as they walked past, looking from Arjun to Patrick and back again in search of a logical explanation. The explanation was obvious, but clearly beyond their comprehension.

“Well, you’re due for some more sunscreen. How about we really put on a show?” Arjun suggested, licking his lips.

Patrick leaned back, flicking down his sunglasses, and kept working on his ice cream as Arjun slathered his belly with creamy lotion. It was a blatant belly rub, and heads certainly turned at the sight of the stunning jock basting his beloved pig, but Patrick was so focused on the pleasurable feeling that he barely noticed the slack-jawed onlookers. Arjun pressed his fingertips deep into Patrick’s flab, a skillful massage that left Patrick wanting more.

When he finished his ice cream cone, he got his wish: “Roll over,” Arjun said. “I’ll do your back.”

Another shift occurred when Patrick crossed the 300-pound mark. He’d expected 300 pounds to be incomprehensibly fat, a size beyond all reason, but it didn’t feel that much bigger than 250. The difference between 250 and 200 had felt much more pronounced. Sure, he had more rolls now, and his gut hung out well in front of him, but he wouldn’t mind being bigger. He did dispense with the fiction that he’d stop in another ten pounds: he’d reassess at 350. That was a nice, round number, and it wouldn’t sneak up on him the way 10 pounds always seemed to.

He thought back to January, just nine months earlier, when he’d been terrified of crossing 200 pounds. It was an amusing thought; that version of Patrick was positively tiny compared to the man he now was, and he was far from afraid of growing. He was actually looking forward to it. Dating an incredibly sexy feeder had grown his confidence. It had changed him.

Or maybe it’s that suit, a nagging voice in Patrick’s head said. Sometimes, when he was self-conscious about how quickly he was ballooning, he fell back on that old line: it wasn’t his fault, he was the victim of paranormal forces beyond his control. But he knew he couldn’t blame a stupid Halloween costume for his out-of-control gluttony. It was all on him, and his encouraging boyfriend.

Changes were occurring in the bedroom, too. As fat became a bigger driving force behind his sexuality, Patrick leaned deeper into his submissive side. He liked feeling Arjun’s forceful hands all over his bulging body. He liked to hear what a fat, out-of-control pig he was becoming. Just hearing the word “hog” leave Arjun’s lips was enough to ratchet up Patrick’s arousal by an order of magnitude. He was a pig, a desperate little piggy who needed to be stuffed from both ends.

When he could feel Arjun inside of him, his voluminous belly tantalizingly close to brushing the bed, his fat jiggling with every forceful thrust… that was pure heaven. He honestly wasn’t sure he could go back to sex as a skinny boy again. Now that been told that he was Arjun’s pig, felt his hundreds of pounds shake and bounce as he bottomed, he didn’t see how it could compare.

“Can you believe we’ve known each other for almost a year?” Arjun asked one day, in mid-October. He was nearly done unpacking the last of his boxes, having moved into Patrick’s apartment as soon as his lease was up. That had been the source of some debate: Arjun’s place was nicer, but it was a fourth-floor walk-up, and Patrick didn’t think he could handle all that cardio. The rent was cheaper in Patrick’s building, anyway, and between the elevators and the air conditioning, it felt like a better fit for a growing fatboy.

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” Patrick replied. He meant it. He thought back to the person Arjun had met, and how much he’d changed in their time together.

There had been one other change since last Halloween: Patrick was starting to wonder if maybe there were such things as magic clothes. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t blame his weight on a spell, but still… Yuri had said Patrick would get fat, and fat was exactly what he had gotten. He was shirtless, his heavy thighs overloading a pair of stretchy basketball shorts. He eyed his gut, admiring the way it bounded forward into his lap, a crop of hair covering his impressive collection of stretch marks.

“Priti’s throwing another Halloween party this year,” Arjun said, as he shelved some of his books. “Any couple’s costume ideas?”

Patrick mulled it over. Just six months ago, he would have been embarrassed by a costume that emphasized his fat. Now, he wanted to display the full magnitude of his size. “Farmer and prize pig? Fat guy, hot wife?”

“Oh, I know. Jabba the Hutt and Princess Leia,” Arjun said, smirking.

“I would love to see you in that metal bikini, but you might get cold,” Patrick said. “We have some time to think it over, at least.”

Arjun nodded. “We could always just repeat our old costumes,” he said. “But I think ‘Biggest Loser contestant’ might take on a new meaning, in your case.”

“That may have been my worst costume ever,” Patrick said. “But I do remember one guy seemed to appreciate it.”

“Well, he sounds smart, and very handsome,” Arjun said. He tossed himself onto the couch, slinging his arm over Patrick’s protruding keg.

“Yeah, but he has a bit of an ego,” Patrick teased, kissing his man on the cheek. “Thank God he’s great in bed.”

Arjun snuggled in closer, and Patrick melted beneath his forceful touch, delighting as his bare belly was kneaded and rubbed. Whatever the costume, Patrick couldn’t wait to spend another Halloween with Arjun.

~

“I really don’t think it’ll fit,” Arjun said, staring at the suit that Patrick had worn for Halloween just three years before.

In that time, he’d gone far beyond doubling his weight: he’d shot past 400 pounds, and now hovered—or rather, sprawled out—around 460. Naturally, his gains had slowed down, but he was still growing at a fairly rapid rate, and he could see 500 pounds in the not-so-distant future.

“Just let me give it a try,” Patrick said, feeling defiant. The suit had been so outrageously large on him, swallowing his lean body. But as he held up the pants, each leg larger than his waist had once been, he was forced to reckon with the fact that they looked smaller than anything he usually wore.

He stepped into them as gingerly as a man of such impressive proportions could hope to, and started to pull them up. But as the fabric gathered around his thighs, he could feel trouble brewing. As he started to tug them over his ass, he knew that this was a fool’s errand.

Too proud to quit, he kept trying, his enormous gut swaying and wobbling from the motion, the exertion starting to take his breath away. He could feel his rolls quivering and his ample breasts bouncing as he pulled pointlessly on the waistband. He’d covered a little over two thirds of the sprawling hillsides he called an ass before he finally surrendered, out of breath and sweating.

He sighed defeatedly. “I definitely can’t wear this to Priti’s wedding.”

Arjun rubbed his broad back. “Hey, no worries. We can give it away. And who knows, maybe we’ll find a tailor who can turn a canvas tent into a kurta big enough to fit you.”

Patrick laughed. “Or maybe we can just go shopping at Big & Tall. And as for getting rid of this suit, I think I know where to go.”

He had to go back to the place where it all began, the source of this mysterious garment. There had been a brief window of time where it had actually fit, but for most of the time Patrick owned it, it had gathered dust in his closet, either too big or too small for public consumption, taunting him all the while.

He’d told Arjun long ago about Yuri’s bizarre warning, and Arjun had dismissed it as quickly as Patrick once had. Patrick knew it was nonsense, but still… if he had the opportunity, he wanted to hear it from the source.

He paused to rest and recover for a bit once he’d stripped off the pants, sitting on the bed as Arjun carefully placed the massive outfit on a hanger. Finally, Patrick got up and stuffed himself into an enormous pair of sweatpants, before pulling on a colossal t-shirt that nevertheless failed to fully contain his girth, leaving sizable swathes of fat exposed at the front and on the sides.

He waddled his way to the elevator, different rolls and bulges shifting and bouncing with every step. Finally, he reached Arjun’s car, relieved to be able to sit down again. He dropped himself into the passenger seat, and the car dipped to the side beneath so much added weight. Driving him to work must have been hell on poor Arjun’s gas mileage, but Patrick was getting too fat to safely operate his own little sedan.

He gave directions to the shop, eager to see if it even still existed. Perhaps that was part of the magic, and it had never existed at all… but no, eventually Arjun turned onto the quiet street at the edge of downtown, and parked mercifully close to the store’s shabby storefront. Somehow, it was very much still in existence.

Patrick lumbered through the doors, expecting to see Yuri doing some sort of mysterious ritual. Instead, he saw a handsome young man in a purple tracksuit, staring distractedly at his phone. The store was empty, just as it had been last time, and no neater than Patrick remembered.

He bellied up to the cash register, resting the frontmost portion of his gut on the counter to take some of the load off his back. “I’m—” he paused, realizing that the short walk from the car had left him out of breath. Jesus, I’m out of shape, he thought. He looked around for Arjun, who wore an unimpressed expression as he browsed one of the disorganized racks. “I’m here to donate this,” he managed, his breathing having slowed enough to converse.

The guy looked up from his phone, awestruck. Patrick was used to being the fattest person a lot of people had seen in a while, sometimes ever, and he had acquired a taste for their shocked expressions. He liked to watch their eyes try to explain to their brains the full scope of the human being in front of them. Patrick sat the suit down on the counter. “I bought it here a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Uh, okay,” the guy said. Clearly this was TMI. The cashier at his go-to thrift store always seemed excited to hear about Patrick’s escalating poundage, but he was a rare breed. “You can just leave it here.”

Patrick couldn’t just leave. He’d come here for a purpose. “But… I’ve got to know,” he said. He glanced around the store, still empty, and lowered his voice. He leaned towards the cashier, who looked more confused than ever. “Is this thing really cursed?”

The cashier goggled at him. “Cursed?” He repeated, probably questioning his hearing.

“Yeah. That’s what the old man who works here told me, but I didn’t believe him. I was smaller than you when I bought it, but now look at me.”

“Wh—old man? You mean uncle Yuri?” The guy said. His face broke into a broad grin and he covered it with his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry, but that suit is definitely not cursed.”

“Look at me, though,” Patrick repeated. “I’m a whale!” To drive the point home, he grabbed the part of his belly that poked out from under the hem of his shirt and gave it a shake, sending waves of gelatinous motion through his rolls of flab.

“Okay, but…” the cashier sighed. “Yuri is a weird guy. He likes fat guys. Half the clothes he sells are supposedly ‘cursed’ with some spell that makes guys fat. But it’s not real. He just thinks he can fatten guys up with the power of suggestion. I don’t know why he does it, it’s not like they ever come back.”

Patrick folded his chubby arms, forcing his voluminous cleavage together. “So the ‘power of suggestion’ made me gain 275 pounds?”

The cashier’s eyes widened. “Well, what have you been eating?”

Patrick considered his consumption that morning. It was only 11 AM, but he’d already eaten two breakfasts. The first was a handful of sausage McGriddles with a half-dozen hashbrowns, washed down with a large iced mocha, and followed up with half a dozen powdered donuts. “But… maybe it’s the suit that’s making me hungry,” he said, halfheartedly, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

The dreamboat behind the register arched an eyebrow. “C’mon, dude. You seriously believe in magic clothes?”

Patrick hesitated. It all seemed crazy, to him, but how else could have turned into such a fatass? He’d been a hunk! There had to be a supernatural explanation.

The cashier picked up the suit and studied it. “I remember this. People don’t bring us bespoke Italian suits very often. The guy who gave it away lost a bunch of weight, he said he wouldn’t need it anymore. Does that sound cursed to you?”

Patrick frowned. His ego compelled him to come up with some explanation other than gluttony and sloth, something that would absolve him of responsibility for his own fattening choices. “Well, maybe Yuri put a spell on it.”

The cashier rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself, man. Yuri was a professor of statistics at Lomonosov. Not some wizard. He moved to this country to hit on chubby American boys, like yourself, not to hex twinks, or whatever you think happened to you.”

“Chubby” seemed like an understatement, given Patrick’s current state of morbid obesity, but he appreciated the guy’s generosity. “So I’m… just fat, for no reason?”

The guy smirked. “Well, I’m sure there’s a reason, but it’s not this suit.”

As if on cue, the reason for Patrick’s staggering size appeared at his side. “So, no curse?” Arjun said.

The guy rolled his eyes. “No, no curse. I can take it off your hands if it doesn’t fit anymore, but I wouldn’t expect anything to change.”

Patrick was pensive as they left the store, contemplating what he’d just heard. So Yuri had just… made it all up? Because he was kinky? 

Then what was this all about? Patrick wondered. Surely there were more direct ways to indulge in your kink. It all felt a bit strained.

“I don’t know,” he said, as he waddled over to Arjun’s SUV. “I still think the spell could be real. I mean, I was wearing the suit when I met you, and you’ve been a horrible influence.”

Arjun seemed to consider this theory. “Eh, come on. I’ve dated gainers before, and they’ve all gained weight without magic clothes to help them. And now that the suit is gone, do you really think you’ll stop gaining?”

Patrick sighed. Was he the author of his own massive fate? Was there really nothing supernatural at play? He felt like pointing out that those guys had been gainers when Arjun met them, but he continued before Patrick had the chance.

“But…” Arjun rubbed his chiselled chin as he reached the driver’s side door. “Maybe you’re onto something. Maybe our relationship is the spell, the thing that’s turned you into such an insatiable gainer. Maybe it’s our love that’s magic.”

Patrick laughed out loud as he started the process of heaving himself into the passenger seat. “You’re so damn cheesy. C’mon, man. ‘Power of love’ my fat ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arjun smiled. “Speaking of cheesy, want some poutine?”

Patrick pawed at his massive gut, which grumbled its demand. “That depends, lover boy. Is it magic poutine? Will it make me even fatter?”

Arjun’s smile broadened. “I think we can figure something out.”

#non-consensual feeding/fattening #light teasing/degradation #weight gain #male weight gain #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction #apologies to my followers in Australia and New Zealand who will wake up to this on November 1st lol

[metalichotchoco]

The similarity and differences between Peter Parkers in these movies ( ones specifically named ‘Peter Parker’) is wildly fascinating to me

Welcome to the Peter essay (sorry no mla format)

The most obvious connection the movie wants you to make is between Ripeter and Pb. They are introduced one after another, they are one of miles’ biggest relationships in the film and both have their faces shown and out during most of it. Pb’s nickname literally is a reference to a -b list actor. He’s the second, not as good one.

Neither of the two meet but I’m so burningly curious what they’d even say to each other. It’s like staring at a warped mirror, your own face reflected back at you but it’s off.

We will never get these answers because this isn’t Peter’s story or movie and that’s a good thing. But that’s exactly what fanfiction is for. Anyways let’s talk about the other Peter that shows up in itsv.

Spiderman noir himself, in contrast to the first dynamic this one is barely even grazed. Mostly because noir doesn’t take off his mask besides one flashback and two they are so wildly different in comparison to Ripeter and him. He’s not standard spiderman all that but he also lives in a completely separate time period so it’s hard to see him as a Peter if he just did things differently or lived a bit longer but rather as his own entity entirely.

For the record I’m not going to be talking about lizard Peter as he’s got so little screen/ reference time in these films but it is important to note his insecurity, his vulnerability and the fact that this is most Peter’s experiences in highschool without powers. He’s an origin point but he is his own character as well.

Pb is jaded that is the best way to describe him, he’s self centered, self destructive, a cynical burn out who’s world weary, emotionally compromised and sarcastic especially before he gets his life back together. We don’t get much of Ripeter but the directors made him to be as competent as possible, snarky, determined, heroic, quintessential spider stuff, but he is tired, he’s trying but it’s not enough, he literally breaks down on a Christmas album he’s recording.Noir is “hard boiled, he’s rebellious, dramatic,hardworking but fight happy,chaotic and quick to adapt,genuine but suppresses his own emotions. He’s meant to be a love letter to those films but he’s got so much more to him than a couple gimmicks. The way he so freely says I love you and means it isn’t a trait either of the other spiders would do. It’s not indicative of the genre either.

The thing that connects all these people besides their names is the trait of being weary, ranging from being exhausted Ripeter to a straight up burnt out peter b. Noir is tired too but he’s not constrained the same way the others are, he’s tired of the tragedies that go on not the repetitive nature of being a spider for a long time,he’s angry. He loses everything but he lashes back at the world. The tiredness he feels motivates him in a way. Pb shuts down when the people he loves leave or die, he essentially regresses to being that same weird nerdy antisocial kid all those years ago. Ripeter doesn’t have any of his family and loved ones die or leave so he ends up being the one to leave them but you can see how he could very well be pb if that were to happen to him.

Lastly I wanna talk about their relationships to miles, being the only character to have interacted with all of them

Ripeter’s relationship is also interesting to look back in hindsight since the news that if he hadn’t been bitten, Peter wouldn’t have died hurts miles the most out of all the things Miguel says to him. Miles was a fan of Peter, not to the extent ganke was but he looked up to him and throughout the film he spends the majority of it trying to make good on Peter’s last wish/ words. He literally tries to emulate him, seen in the fact he buys a Halloween costume of his outfit when told to hide his face. Peter for his part is so relieved and happy to know he’s not alone, this event is likely what would’ve stopped him from being pb. He recognizes that there’s danger and doesn’t expect him to do things alone like he did, he wants miles to not have to go through what he had to. Miles ends up having to go through what he had to very intentionally ironically. But the way that Ripeter is and what he represents to miles is why Pb is setup for disappointment. The arc is wrapped up when miles uses one of his old suits and spray paints something new with it. Becoming a hero in his own right but having his legacy being the thing that backs it. The suit being critiqued in spider society is interesting because it can be read that he’s just a pale imitation, crudely painted over top of something he was never a part of. Something perfect that he ruined.

Peter b and Miles’ relationship is essentially the entirety of the first film, and to a certain point it’s half of the second too. Peter’s advice aren’t things you really wanna know as a superhero but they are valid. It’s boring and practical, not the flashy excitement miles was hoping for. In the end he does seem to take hold of it though judging by miles’ baby powder sponsorship. From initially ditching him to being his biggest advocate, Peter’s opinion shifts quickly for the kid. It’s an arc that resolves in the second movie when he literally has fixed his relationship and had a kid because of miles, one he’s absolutely crazy for. He becomes a pseudo father figure to him in a sense. One with a completely opposite approach to it than his actual father, miles in turn learns from both, the boring parts too. It’s why Peter’s betrayal hurts more, we don’t know his exact reasons but we know he doesn’t hold any actual malice towards the kid and he doesn’t agree with the chase either, their relationship will need repaired but I believe these two can do it.

Noir and miles don’t have a ton of one on one interactions but we do see the dynamic they have which is more than some. The way he regards miles and his situations are very interesting. The most obvious scene is when we get “surprise attack!” Where he is sparing with miles in order to get him ready for what kingpin has in store for him. There’s a clear difference between this scene and one where noir is fighting someone else or even miles fighting another spider, this isn’t noir beating up miles and taking his lunch money this is a warm up. He encourages miles even when he’s asking if he can close off his own feelings so that he doesn’t have to bear the weight of his morally ambiguous actions. He wants miles to be ready to be a spider, with all that entails. There’s a lot of unpleasantness that comes with it which isn’t something either of the other Peters truly bring up. When they all huddle together Peter brings up they are doing this right in front of him, sorta confused. I think it’s fun to see that noir personally probably would’ve just said the things he was thinking and concerned about to miles directly. His poor kid line from pb and miles argument sounds like he can relate to his feelings of frustration of wanting to do more but not being ready to. His reaction to miles freaking out over the fact that the prowler is his uncle is to say that’s a pretty hardcore origin story, not realizing that’s insensitive before peni elbows him. It’s like telling a kid that a scratch will heal into a cool scar. Making good out of bad. The last one is when he leaves, he in no uncertain terms, tells him that he loves them all. There’s no caveats to it, there’s no conditions there’s just unconditional support. Nothing in the second movie complicates this either, he is not in spider society. He never chases him,he never lies or sells him out and he is one of the first responders when miles is in trouble. It makes sense since he’s not in a lot of movie but miles’ relationships to other characters with similar screen time are actually wildly different.

Most of the Peter’s in this movie are dead, like half. Technically more than half of you think noir has been revived already in this canonicity. They’ve also got really confirmable ages. Pb is 38 in itsv, Ripeter is 26 when he died. To me noir is tricky but I always draw him in the 21-35 age range it’s funny if he’s young .

Tell me if I missed anything I have severe brainrot for this series in general

#spiderverse #spiderverse analysis #peter parker #atsv peter b parker #peter b parker #spiderman peter parker #spiderman spiderverse #Ripeter #spiderverse ripeter #peter b. parker #spider noir #spidernoir #spider man noir #peter benjamin parker #across the spiderverse #spiderman analysis #spiderverse peter #atsv noir #atsv #itsv #itsv analysis #atsv analysis #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse analysis #spiderman into the spiderverse #atsv Peter

[the-s1lly-corner]

facial dysmorphia comfort spot x reader

maybe maybe

Spot w/ an S/O who has facial dysmorphia

Okokokok two things!!

One I am once again so sorry for taking so long for getting to your ask 😭😭 same goes for everyone else who sent in requests <\3 but I got nothing going on tonight so I'll likely be knocking out asks throughout tonight!!

Second!!

Bit personal but I really didnt know there was dysmorphia that's centered around faces :0 I thought it was just body dysmorphia; and this ask kinda

Made me feel things

Not necessarily bad things but like

"Oh that's a hyper specific version of me" as someone with body dysmorphia that's very. Face centered

🧍‍♂️

Anywahs

Eeerm yeah!!

With all that being said some of this might dip into my personal experience with body dysmorphia <\3

Actually it kinda dips into a lot

It's the self projection for me

Not proofread we die like peter parker

He gets it

Kinda?

Sorta?

I mean it's not a 1:1 but

Close enough...?

I think he may have also had similar issues precollider tbh, like when he said "oh I used to be handsome by scientist standards" sounded... backhanded..

Anyways

Not the most attentive, he wont immediately catch your mood souring if you two are out and about; but he does eventually catch on if you're quiet or fidgeting

Offers you things you can fidget with to keep your hands busy; from small stress toys to rubber bands, to keep your hands busy

I know everyones different but again, self projection here

Helps especially if you mess with/tug your hair into place or pick your face at any perceived flaws

"Look at me dont look at them," when he notices you start comparing yourself to others when you're both out

Probably steps in front of you, if you're walking hes walking backwards to keep him in your view

He falls over/hj

Ah yes the mirror

Frowns

Another thing that spot would personally relate too; I believe I've mentioned somewhere in a different hc post that he tends to just

Stare and talk down to his reflection, post collider

It's a habit he probably had precollider too, but instead of his lack of face he's scrutinizing the moles and beauty marks

He never really liked his spots

But aside from sympathy when he sees you do the same he also feels

Hurt

Is this how he makes you feel when he does the same thing?

It's weird for him to be on the other end; watching you pick at your skin or teeth, sizing up every curve and crevice

He doesnt want to just go up to you and pull you away from the mirror or upright tell you to stop; nono that doesnt feel right.. it feels too.. forceful, accusatory... he doesn't want to make things worse

He'll probably try to subtly bring your attention in another direction; be it asking you what the plans for that night are, or asking for some affection

The most bold he'll get is walking up to you and gently bopping his face against you

He does his research, hes a scientist afterall

He makes sure that your shared home is a safe place to retreat to at the end of the day; his protective side outright banning anything that could potentially trigger your dysmorphia, doesn't matter what it is he's just not going to let it through the door

He never ever wants you to feel like your experiences are less than; whenever he notices a day is particularly hard hes immediately dropping everything to help and/or distract and/or comfort you

Listens diligently to what you need

He probably keeps a little notebook somewhere with notes scribbled down, along with things he knows you like and bring security

You both have feeling sessions; you both just sit down and talk, about anything really

Not necessarily vents but also not necessarily not vent but

You know

God forbid anyone ever makes you feel bad about himself

He would never... kill anyone (attempting to off miles dad aside!! I write these like. Imagining it's the time between the movies :0) but boy does he get thoughts

Literally just

Spawns a hole under them and sends them to god knows where

If you've got anything to help it, like say therapy or medications he'll make sure you keep a consistent and steady schedule with it

Insists on taking you to therapy himself

Via holes, of course

"Wait wait wait I think... I got it this time-!"

Proceeds to accidentally send yall to the top of some random building somewhere

VERY persistent about any meds, almost gets naggy with it

This is the same with any other stuff you may or may not take; other meds, vitamins, antibiotics, ect ect ect

Spot is more or less kind of. ..

I dont wanna say hes a mother hen, but asides from revenge, the thing he wants most is for you to be happy and healthy

It also kinda offers himself some reflection, because again he carries/used to carry similar behaviors; whether he had dysmorphia or not, he can see himself in you and it

Hurts

As a side note you notice his frequency in the bad self talk lowers

Gives off that "do it for her" simpsons meme, but its spot having a board of you

Figurative board of course

Maybe

I can kinda see him having some version of it actually

He just wants you to know that he loves you so so so much. He thinks himself to be the luckiest man in the world; hell in the entire multiverse, as cheesy as it sounds. Despite everything hes been through and going through, he still managed to get someone like you by his side. You give him clarity in his whirlwind of a life and he wants to let you know how grateful he is for your existence

Anyways

Yeah I dont know where I was going with this post and hcs I kinda just let my feelings and experiences talk here so <\3 normally I like to keep things like this vague so others can hopefully relate easier but

Man this topic got me

But

Yeah

I hope this is alright !! It's not often I write stuff with this sort of topic matter so I'm a lil rusty <\3

#atsv #atsv spot #the spot #the spot x reader #spot x reader #jonathan ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader

[mxlfoydraco]

Ok so don't get me wrong I loooove drarry but I also love wolfstar and I've been reading a lot of it lately and I'm having hard time going back to reading drarry, even though my to read list for them is getting longer and longer, because most drarry fics I've seen are after the war and all the marauders are dead and it makes me soooo sad, any advice??

The solution is AUs my friend! I’ll add on to my existing one: Jily/Wolfstar lives AUs and/or non-magic AUs!

Drarry + Wolfstar

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner by dracogotgame (5k)

Harry's bringing his boyfriend home to meet his parents. It goes about as well as can be expected.

Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid (series, 1.2M)

All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter. Suddenly, Draco has an unwanted second chance, with a Sorting Hat that doesn't know what to do with him, a certain Muggleborn who won't leave his study table alone, and green eyes he just can't get out of his head. And then there's his new wand, whose choice of him could just mark him as every bit as dark a wizard as his name means he should be.

The Devil’s White Knight by AngrySpaceRavenclaw/orphaned (64k)

When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline–a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war–he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends–and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy

head over heels by derkmaliknurse (21k)

Everyone in Harry’s life thinks he’s engaged to Malfoy. The solution to this is not pretending to date Malfoy, but here he is doing that anyway.

Nearly by gonattsaga (434k)

Sirius doesn't go after Peter Pettigrew on the night that Voldemort kills the Potters, but stays to look after Harry... This means that he is never wrongly accused and incarcerated for the murder of Lily and James, and instead he and Remus Lupin raise Harry as their own. When it finally becomes time for Harry to start his education at Hogwarts, he has no reason to tell the Sorting Hat not to place him in Slytherin, so he is Sorted into Slytherin and becomes best friends (and later on, more than friends) with Draco.

The Thief and the Throne (Fallen Kingdom) by @gnarf (30k)

Many years after the Dark Lord killed the last King and took the throne, a young orphan joins the Order. Harry hopes that they will teach him how to help those their new King deemed unworthy: the Regulars. Those people who worked hard for their food yet had to hand over most of their harvest to fill the already overflowing warehouses of the Capital. With the help of the Order and an unexpected ally Harry is ready to right the wrongs.

My Life As A Butterfly by @digthewriter (22k)

At the age of seventeen, Harry finds himself falling in love with a detached Draco Malfoy. Through a series of unfortunate miscommunications and gossip, he had a bad falling out (of love), too. Now, years later, can Harry make amends about a misunderstanding? Would Draco forgive him?

Love In Slow Motion by AngrySpaceRavenclaw (11k)

Harry flushed. “I’d like to do that again.” Draco threw his head back and laughed. “Would you, now?” Blinking up, Harry reached up with a shaking hand and brushed a bit of Draco’s blonde fringe away from his forehead. “Yeah. I would. Unless you’ve got someone better to get home to.”

A Quickening Hope, A Freshening Glee by @maesterchill (3k)

Joy comes to Harry and Draco alongside a quickening of heart, and of body, and of breath. Or: The one where Draco and Harry find out from Remus Lupin in a Ministry lift that they're going to have a baby. And Sirius flips out.

Dragons Don't Know Paradise by @teacup-tai (50k)

In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon. This is a story about falling in love online and about facing the reality of death, but above all, this is a story about hope, finding love and acceptance.

My Big Fat Pureblood Wedding by QueenyMidas / @drarry (177k)

Chaos ensues after Harry proposes to Draco on their three-year anniversary. The two must plan a wedding around their fighting friends, warring families, and each other's stubbornness. EWE, post-war, disregarding Remus, Sirius, and Colin's deaths and the fact that gay marriage is not legal in the UK.

tissue of silver by fearlessdiva (76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf. Beware: coarse language, brief drug use, some sexual content, and consideration of issues of sexual consent.

The White Pawn by Soupy_George (80k)

When eighteen-year-old Draco Malfoy finds himself back at Hogwarts on the eve of Voldemort's infamous return, he is confronted with the most difficult decision he's ever had to make: Relive the 6th year at school he's tried so hard to forget, or do the unthinkable and ally himself with Potter's lot...

Led by Light of a Star Sweetly Gleaming + Pages of You by @wolfpants (53k + 101k)

Remus Lupin is a student and temporary sales assistant at Oxford's finest department store when a mysterious, handsome young man by the name of Sirius Black enters his life and introduces him to a world of sprawling country estates, parties, and London's underground bar scene. A 1960s Wolfstar AU with lots of music, smoking, fine interiors, and, of course, romance.

+

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't.

In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.

A story about trying to figure out who you are, where you're going in life, and who you want to take along with you.

Drarry + Jily

Bonded Consort by Lomonaaeren (89k)

 Nineteen years ago, the Potters betrothed their firstborn child to the firstborn Malfoy child. Eighteen years ago, Voldemort was defeated for good. Seventeen years ago, the Potters changed the contract so that their secondborn child was substituted for their firstborn. Now, Draco Malfoy is trying to work out what happened.

You're Dating Who?! by SasuNarufan13 (4k)

James doesn't have a problem whatsoever with the fact that his only son is gay. As long as Harry is happy, he's happy. His son's latest boyfriend, though … He's not so sure about him.

Chronological Displacement by bookinit (89k)

In which Harry and Draco have a time-turner accident, and many things go wrong, but a lot of things also go right. Featuring: reptilian bonding night, canon-inaccurate animagus lessons, and a fuck-ton of pining.

aka the fic where Harry finds his family, and fights to keep them.

Notes on a resurrection by newleaves (126k)

It was never Draco’s intention to raise Sirius Black from the dead.

We Built This Right by @remy-writes5 (15k)

At last year's Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Loved In Spite of Ourselves by AngrySpaceRavenclaw (181k)

"It began with four boys, and one compartment." Spanning across time, through the first war, and into the second. The years were both kind and cruel for ones called Marauders, and for ones who came after. But they knew friendship, and sorrow, and love, and joy. And sometimes it was only things things which allowed them to survive--if that's all they could do. Survive.

*This is a marauders fic but Drarry happens later on

Dare Speak Its Name by Lomonaaeren (8k)

AU, with Harry raised by his parents. Harry learns of a secret Quidditch field, run by one Draco Malfoy, that tests all comers and trains them to a higher level of perfection. Sneaking out to the field is only natural for Harry. But what he encounters there changes his life at a level he's never let anyone see before.

The Boy Who Loved by @greenmegsnoham (30k)

At 11 years old, Harry found himself drawn to Draco Malfoy immediately. He wasn’t quite sure why. All he knew was that he wanted to spend every moment with him that he could. When they arrive at school, Harry makes a choice. One that changes the course of his life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. More than he knows...

#drarry #drarry reclist #drarry fic recs #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #drarry fics #draco malfoy #harry potter

[fcknstar]

,, need you here "

harryosborn x fem!reader

a.n : hi uhm yes ill be posting more the next day since my hand have been itching.

warnings : nsfw MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

**lowercase intended**

it wasnt long till harry fucked himself so hard into obliviation. watching himself in the mirror twitching, harry had it coming. he saw the way you looked into his friends eyes, the way youd talk so angelic, the way youd hit his shoulder whenever hed tease you. of course it infuriated him when he realizes that its peter you are talking to. he couldnt help but imagine the things youd do with peter. 

harry didnt just want you, he needed you, but he hardly admits that. he felt the way his heart yearned for you, the way his dick yearned for you, how his dick wanted to fill you. and you, you in that darn filthy black dress you had on during tonights party made him feel more needy and whiny for you. he wanted to pull his heart out of his body and gift it to you if he could. show him his beating heart that gives him the chance to watch you, to be here breathing with you.

hurried knocks erupted from the other side of the door, releasing harry from his thoughts. 

"hey man, i really need to take a piss. " whoever it was from the other side clearly wanted a death wish. harry wasnt even able to cum peacefully and had to hold that uncomfortable feeling he felt in his stomach, with his dick twitching at such small contact. 

" yea, yea hold on. " harry quickly zipped up his pants, washing his hands and cleaning the counter for any remains he might have left. 

walking out of the bathroom, the guy from the other side rushed in and slammed the door shut. harry heard a content sigh, and started walking towards the homemade bar that the host made, wanting to drown the feeling in his shots.

there, he saw you and peter still talking. annoying, he thought. harry couldnt even get to talk to you, and here is peter, stealing harrys only shot to talk to you. peter just wanted to show harry who you liked more and harry wanted to kill peter so badly that hed serve peters head on a silver platter on your doorstep. 

" come on dude, tonights the party and shes going. go and talk to her - just like the way you talk to every girl you see. able to sweep her up with your charms. " peter had been trying to convince harry, hoping itd change his mind about the party. 

" okay, but will you be there, with me? i dont know. i just turn all fuzzy for her man. " harry hid his face in his hands, sighing as his options began closing in on him.

“ of course, id be there. now what do you plan on wearing? “ 

harry felt like shit, seeing his best friend go for the same girl he liked. i mean, who was harry to assume but it seemed liked it and it had destroyed him internally. it was like having your eye on a target anyone barely knew and telling someone about it, but the same person has its eye on it the same as you after entrusting him with a secret. 

walking up to you two, he saw how close your faces were, as if peter was going to tell you a dirty secret. placing his hand onto your shoulder, he had interrupted your conversation. peter now understanding what harry wanted, backed away and beckoned goodbye to you. 

“ hey harry, whats up? “ your voice was mellifluous . if he could, he would want to spend his whole lifetime just to listen to your voice. even if you were to be angry with him, he would do anything to listen to you, to please you.

“ i just want to see if you are alright? “ it sounded more like a question to himself. with you, he didnt know how to cleanly start a conversation, but with other girls, he just blurt out whatever he had on his mind. he was afraid that you would judge him, scared to lose his nonexistent chance with you. 

“ yea i was fine until you came..all jokes. “ you laughed. the number one rule of talking to you is that to prepare yourself for some sarcastic remarks, you thought were funny. maybe thats why he was afraid despite harry himself throwing sarcastic comments left and right. 

“ oh right.. you and peter..? “ the scene of your faces being close together really irks him knowing that you were breathing the same air peter was breathing. 

“ oh, we were just talking. he was telling me about something rather…private? “ private? what could be so private that you needed to bring your faces so close. jealousy bubbled in his stomach, not realizing that his jealousy  reflected on how easy angry hed get. you had nearly let out peters secret but covered it up quickly. 

“  private? whats so private that looked like you were going to kiss him? “ harry had let that slip out. harry hadnt noticed that you were quite sober, being able to down alcohol without getting drunk immediately. sensing harrys tone, you were confused as to why he acted like that.

“ its just private alright? why are you being so - i dont know. its just really complicated. “ your eyes darted towards peter who were currently socializing with others. peter had previously shared with you about his newly developed web shooters, you being one of the people he told about his newly found secret life hes been multitasking with his school life. 

“ yea, well. everythings complicated with peter. i dont do complicated. “ harry flashed a smile before downing his left over alcohol. 

watching him with content, you noticed how you never really paid attention to him. if you could, you would spend hours watching him if it didnt appear creepy.

harry noticed your staring and couldnt help but blush lightly at the thought that you might feel the same way. the way your eyes got all big and doe excited him. it was as if you were a test paper he couldnt wait to solve ; you are such an openbook yet mysterious. he couldnt get enough of you and didnt know what to do. 

“ youre so pretty. “ you whispered, thinking that it was your thoughts that spoke and not you actually saying it outloud. it was when harry laughed when you took in what had happened. 

it was now harrys turn to look at you. when you met his gaze, you quickly looked away with how intensive his gaze was. filling yourself up another cup, you saw harry put his empty cup down and felt his hand snake around your waist. of course youd start to tense up, who wouldnt. 

moving your hips against his towards the soft music playing in the background, you cant help but stay stiff. harry soon felt himself get hard again.

“ do i make you nervous, (name)? “ he whispered. his face dangerously close to your neck and you felt his breath against your sensitive spot. oh how dearly did you want him.

inhaling to gather up courage, you turn towards him and crushed your lips onto his. fuck, harry thought. he was so dizzy that it felt like he died and his wishes were playing, dying on him. but no, there you were, taking in his air as if you were going to die and depended on him to supply you air. 

wrapping your arms around his neck, you pushed him against the counter that was behind him. and with that, he allowed you to take control of him, of his body. he almost felt like a porcelain doll with the way you handled him. it was soft and gentle, yet rough and needy. smiling into the kiss, he dipped his head lower to taste every depth of your mouth, wanting to taste how sweet you made the alcohol. 

pulling away, harrys lips followed yours like a pet. looking behind you, harry spotted peter watching with a content smile, bringing his hands into a gesture of a thumbs up. harry was confused. why would he be so supportive and proud when he was previously trying to get you? maybe it was up to peters plan, knowing how harry can be a wussy if it really meant to him, peter wanting harry to probably quicken the process. or maybe peter wanted to prove harry that he too can have anything in his life if he worked hard for it. 

#imagines #oneshots #dane dehaan #harry osborn x reader #tasm!harry osborn #tasm!harry osborn x reader #valerian and the city of a thousand planets #valerianxreader #valerian

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hello! Could I request a walking dead one shot where it takes place during the Alexandria event everyone was invited. Daryl went and was all grumpy and was about to leave until he saw the female reader wearing a dress and her hair tied in a beautiful braid that carol did on her? Please and thank you :3

Wait this is so sweet. I changed it up a bit cuz I didn't know what you meant by 'about to leave' so I went with it :)

Carol always seems to know the ins and outs to everyones inner feelings and why they're feeling them. If Jerry is upset, she knows the right cookies to make to make that jolly smile spread across the big mans lips; if Judith is missing her mom a bit too much and is down in the dumps, Carol knows just what books to bring her to keep her happy and occupied.

But with Daryl, Carol never knows what to do to make him happy since it was pretty hard to differentiate his emotions. But recently, she claims that that something is me.

I've put up a fight about it, claiming that Daryl would never look at me in the way that I've looked at him for so long.

He's been particularly moody over the last few days, ignoring every single one of my conversations, blowing off his jobs with the council, locking himself in his room with Dog and completely shutting out the world. Carol and I have been going with the fact that he's depressed, that all the people we've lost over the years are finally catching up with him.

But what to do?

"Carol, this won't work." I huff, feeling her fingers in my hair as I gaze at her through the mirror in front of me. She gives me a simple smile and a shrug.

"I think it might. Whether you care to admit it, he's head over heels for you."

"Yeah right." I snort, feeling her tie a hair band into the second and final braid before patting my shoulders. "Do I have to?" I ask with a pained sigh but she just shoves the tray lunch into my hand.

"Go give him a sandwich and make him smile."

By the time I get to his door, I'm sweating, my heart pounding rapidly against my ribs. I can hear him shuffling inside and I can hear Dog's whines right behind the door as if he knows that I'm here. My hand raises to knock gently against the door and it almost immediately opens in front of me.

Daryl's lips part but no words come out as his eyes shamelessly trail over me, his cheeks flushing in a pretty pink blush. I shove the lunch towards him with a forced smile.

"Carol made you lunch. I'm just the messenger." I chuckle nervously, eyes flickering between him and the food as he reluctantly reaches out to take it from me.

"Thanks." The corners of his lips tick up ever so slightly, his bottom lip moving to tuck between his teeth. His hand reaches up to tug lightly on one of my braids and he lets out the quietest laugh, my heart racing at the noise. "Nice braids."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1

#daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fic

[buckybarnesss]

I wonder how much of "the bite is a gift, we're brothers" is a manipulation (Derek needing a pack in order to take down the alpha) and something Derek genuinely believes.

We all talk about Derek's big gay love for Stiles, but he also cares for Scott. He sacrificed keeping the kanima trapped to save Scott, he genuinely tries to teach him how to be a werewolf, he keeps Scott safe from hunters repeatedly.

The "we're brothers" kind of strikes me as Derek wanting a connection (Cora says pack bonds breaking is horrible) and also his way of telling Scott that they can look after each other.

Derek is so complex.

it's a little bit of both but i do not think he came at it necessarily with nefarious intentions.

derek does genuinely believe the bite is a gift. he wouldn't bite someone without their consent or at minimum without having discussed it first. he definitely believes that the bond between packs and between an alpha and their beta is meant to be something special, comforting and importantly consentual. his ideas of what pack should be and how pack should be treated comes from people like his mother and satomi. they genuinely cared about their packs. for derek pack and family are the same thing.

but this was the wrong approach to take with scott who received his bite traumatically and without his consent or knowledge of what was happening to him. saying it was a gift further traumatizes scott because being violated the way he was is not a gift.

he wants to protect scott from both the alpha and the hunters but at the same time he knows that they need strength in numbers to deal with the alpha.

and derek just lost laura. he buried her body probably mere hours before he had to go make sure scott didn't kill someone. he was probably keenly feeling the loss of his family but probably even more so the loss of his siblings. at this point he believes cora is dead too. he's a middle child cast adrift. he's a brother without someone to be a brother to.

derek took one look at scott and somewhere inside him he went

also in season 1 derek's all twisted in knots and grieving and being traumatized and being retraumatized. he's going through it which causes him to have a hard time seeing scott as scott because he's seeing himself.

i wouldn't even be surprised if he believed allison was either being used as a lure by her family or an active participant giving his own history.

no one protected derek. not when it counted. not when it mattered. no one saved him from kate and no one saved him from having to mercy kill paige. so he tries. he tries to protect scott from becoming him, from becoming yet another victim of the argents. it's why he drags scott to see peter. it's a very much this is the consequences type moment he's trying to impart of scott.

it's just that neither of them are in a place to be receptive to one another so instead they butt heads. they're too similar and the narrative points this out over and over and over.

derek does care about people. we see so many times. he saves scott multiple times but he also tries to protect scott too. he kept him away from the whole alpha pack situation as long as he could wanting scott to just be a normal teenager. when he was dying in smoke and mirrors his last words are to encourage stiles to go save scott ffs over getting comfort for himself.

he wanted to help erica, boyd and isaac.

he repeatedly protects stiles and is deeply worried about him during the whole nogitsune ordeal. like staggeringly worried.

he's concerned about lydia multiple times and he turned around at the end of season 3 because he heard her scream.

he even points out to scott several times that allison deserved the truth about her mother. not because derek is cruel but because he knew the lies only hurt allison in the end and led to her become yet another victim of gerard's.

derek and scott are similiar but derek has more damage. his caring hurt him and so he hid it, buried it and tried to pretend he didn't.

but he does.

he does so fucking much.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #deek hale

[evilbonehag]

My Sort of Polished Timeline for Norman Osborn’s Descent Into Madness, Mischief and other general Goblinness- All My Bullshit Beneath the Cut

GOBLIN: “WHO IS LIVING IN MY HOUSE?”

• “if you give them your everything, they will hate you for it” NORMAN OSBORN WHO GAVE EVERY PIECE OF HIMSELF- who tried to be everything, who tried to be a good son, a good husband, and in turn a good father but could not. Norman who gives too little too late- “please come sit with me, I know it’s late-“ “dad I have homework” Norman who tried and tried to love through distance (it was his father’s love) HOW ELSE CAN A FATHER LOVE (CAN A FATHER LOVE AT ALL?!)

• Repression. Try being severely mentally ill and a homosexual in the 70’s (HA! MONEY WON’T SAVE YOU!) You go out in drag in college and hope no one knows its Norman Fucking Osborn, son of that Connecticut Republican Senator who wants to increase military spending. You fuck your roommate in secret, you can’t tell him you love him because “Norman I never liked that Octavius boy, his parents are immigrants aren’t they-?” You’re just not that kind of guy. You’re experimenting, you’ll probably settle with a nice Catholic girl someday. You have a project to finish.

• Oscorp. You know nothing about money, about business- (You don’t need to honey, it’s Daddy’s dollar anyway!) You just want to show them- show them what visions of flight and fear filled your head as a child, scribbles on a notebook page brought to life in steel and chrome. The glider, the suit, the mask. (They’ll take your dreams if they can pay you for them- PEOPLE ARE DYING FOR IT NORMAN, THAT IS WHO PAYS FOR YOUR DREAMS OF FLIGHT)

Icarus falls.

• Octavius doesn’t believe in you anymore. Harry is three and you’re newly divorced. Dad won’t keep backing your company if you don’t have something to show for it. You work harder than you ever have in your life to get this shit to take off. (you don’t want this- Norman, NORMAN, you wanted to fly remember?)

• Harry is 16. Dad is long dead. Oscorp has become more than you ever hoped (more than you wanted). The military is applying pressure- you just want to succeed. You will get this to work if it kills y-

• CANON EVENT: GOBLIN SURFACES

• Spots in your memory. Harry seems fine. You don’t see him often. Who is that in the mirror?

• You have a wall of masks in your apartment. A very private joke- you always loved Halloween. Masks are important to you (You always loved to hide from the world, Norman) (FRIGHTENED CHILD) Someone is speaking to you again (a friend) Stromm? Emily? Otto? (No. Your oldest friend) You don’t see Harry anymore.

• When you were a child you saved all your money to buy the most terrifying Halloween mask you could find at the drugstore- green and evil looking, with yellow eyes. Your mother recalls that you wouldn’t take it off, “You scared me so badly, you cried and screamed if I tried to take it from you- I thought I’d get a call from the neighbors, you made it sound like I was hurting you, Norman” Kids in your class picked on you and you wanted to scare them for Halloween. Something about your mask made your feel safe. Your father took it and hid it from you after the holiday.

• You get kicked from Oscorp by your own fucking board of directors. Final nail in the coffin. (Give them everything and they will hate you anyway) WHERE IS HARRY?

• There’s a boy in a mask swinging around outside- saving New York, they say.

• You’re fine. Harry has a girlfriend now (She looks like her- she’ll hurt him she’ll hurt our boy) you like his friend Peter, his aunt is lovely. You almost all look like a family. (Harry is gone from you, you’re ruining everything, he knows you favor his friend, you FUCKED UP, your son is LEAVING) No. Wrong. Not gone-

• Spider-Man, hero of New York City We know exactly where Harry went.

(A FATHER’S LOVE IS A HARD LESSON LEARNED)

• Harry’s playing around- Harry’s run away, out past sundown- (then who’s the ghost of a boy walking around the apartment?) (NO, WHO IS THE BOY IN THE MASK WHO WILL NOT LISTEN?! A BOY WHO WEARS A MASK JUST LIKE HIS FATHER) He has to learn, we have to teach him what it means to GIVE AWAY EVERYTHING and for what? For a city, for a girl who will both break his heart?

• Break his heart and bring him home

We wear our masks to hide them from us and to hide us from them

• Harry is home. Harry is home and we did not see it. Who is Spider-Man?

• You find out you were wrong- maybe this friend, older than all the others is wrong- dangerous- We neglected our son- You neglected your son for a week chasing a delusional fantasy. Harry does not wear a mask like you do. (HARRY IS NOT A COWARD LIKE HIS FATHER) Harry cannot be Spider-Man. Harry lost his girl to Peter Parker and cried for his father alone, HIS FATHER WHO WAS NOT THERE

“I have to rectify certain inequities.”

• make it up to him now. Find Peter Parker.

FIND SPIDER-MAN

#spiderman #norman osborn #green goblin #sam raimi spider man #sm nwh

[sunflowerdarlingx]

His Girl - Chapter Four (18+)

Hello lovelies,

This chapter is a little long but it's mainly a filler chapter. Next chapter will have a lot more interactions with Steve and hopefully a bit of drama.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading so far and for all the comments I have been getting. I really appreciate it and I also appreciate the patience people have had since I posted the last chapter.

Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader (she/her pronouns).

Warnings: negative self-talk,

MINORS DNI

Introduction / Part One / Part Two / Part Three

What the fuck just happened?

The question repeated itself again and again in her head while she stood frozen outside of the elevator doors. She was surrounded by black SUV’s and luxury sports cars but only one car in the garage had the engine running. 

Peter Parker sat in the drivers seat of a back Audi, patiently waiting for Y/n to get into the car. He was dressed in a black hoodie and sweats and his brow arched in the mirror when he saw her stand still at the metal doors. The confusion set in when he saw the deflated look on her features. He couldn’t see the way her eyes glazed over with tears from the rejection she just became subject too. 

He had to admit, he was confused when Steve got in touch and asked him to take y/n home. Steve had never mentioned anyone called y/n and he most definitely never mixed women in with his work. 

Peter moved his hand to press the little button on the door that rolled down the window. “Excuse me…Miss? Are…are you going to get in the car?” 

Rude. Why was she blanking him?

“Miss?” he tried again but still got no response. Peter knew Steve would be coming downstairs to head to Clint's shop and he was under strict instructions to get her home quickly and to make his own way over to the shop. It was all hands on deck there. 

When he still didn’t get a response, Peter hopped out of the car, “Miss, C’mon, we gotta get going”. The sound of the car door closing caught Y/n’s attention. “Right, sorry”.

It was like something inside of her clicked, the deflated look on her face being replaced by a rock hard stare as her jaw set. Y/n slid into the backseat and put her seatbelt on. Peter got back into the driver's seat and gave her a kind smile in the mirror. 

“So, where to?” 

Peter noticed the uncomfortable look that crossed her face when she gave him her address. He could sense her hesitance when she got in the car and he was worried that he was making her uncomfortable - he knew Steve would not like that. 

He decided to turn around in his seat and extend a hand to her to introduce himself, “I’m Peter”. His signature boyish smile took over his features and his doe eyes peered into hers.

Y/n carefully took his hand, her other hand tugging Steve’s hoodie down her legs as she introduced herself. Peter could tell she didn’t want to talk, it was late after all, so he turned around and started driving. 

Her gaze shifted over to the window and a million thoughts began to swarm her head. How could she be so stupid? Why did she let her instincts get clouded by his charm and good looks? Why did she think someone like him could like her? Why would anyone like her?

Tears stung her eyes as the negative thoughts filled her mind. She could feel the darkness beginning to cloud her self worth and she didn’t want to enter that dark place again after spending the last few weeks trying to crawl out of it. 

The ride seemed to last forever but she was home in 25 minutes. 

25 long minutes of belittling herself and reducing herself to feeling worthless. 

Peter waited until she was inside to drive off and once she was inside she found herself letting the tears roam free. 

She felt heartbroken, she was confused about Steve’s actions. She didn’t chase him, he seeked her but here she was, exhausted in bed. Tear stained pillows cushioned her head as sleep took over her body. 

Some might say it was an overreaction. However, the girl had just recovered from one brake up and the hopeful romantic in her let her guard down way to soon and the feeling of rejection consumed her.

_________

When Wanda and Nat arrived at her apartment the next day, they were greeted by a lump of blankets on the couch and the sound of the shower running.

They both froze at the sound of a broken sob as they reached the top of the stairs. The two women sent each other a worried glance before they ran to the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

Their hearts broke for the girl in front of them. The steam of the shower consumed the room as Y/n sat there, her knees tucked into her chest as she let out a stream of tears and broken sobs. 

“What happened hun?” Wanda immediately opened the door to the shower and sat herself beside her friend. Wanda didn’t care about the water pouring over her, all she cared about was comforting y/n. 

The pair met Y/n in college, they all were on separate courses but all happened to be studying in the same area of the library one night. They all found themselves in a fit of giggles when a boy got kicked out because he decided to eat carrot sticks on the quiet floor by the librarian. Neither knew why they found it so funny, but they did and for the rest of the night they found themselves chatting and getting to know each other. They had been inseparable ever since. 

Over the years, it became clear that Y/n was the baby of the friend group. The term was only used in a positive way to show how much they cared for her like a younger sister (even though they were similar in age). The girls felt the need to protect her, especially when they learned about all of the shit she put up with growing up. 

Her friendship groups had never been stable. They learned of the way she was treated from being used to being humiliated by those who were supposed to care about her. 

Nat sat at the door and crossed her legs. “C’mon sweetie, what happened?”.

Soft cries left y/n’s lips as she told the girls about her night with Steve. She told them how perfect it was to begin with, how they spent time chatting before going back to his. 

“I promise, I w…wasn’t going to sleep with him” she hiccuped, “he was, he was just too good to be true, maybe i’m too easy? Is that why men don’t want me?” Wanda and Nat both shook their heads. 

They would never sex-shame her. There was nothing wrong with having sex with who you want, when you want, as long as it’s consensual on both sides. They both did it plenty so who were they to judge?

“You’re not easy” Wanda turned off the water and Nat gave her a towel before wrapping one around Y/n. 

“Yes I am” Y/n started to dry off, her mind going off on a tangent. 

“I’m a dumb slut…is that why the guys I want never want me? But he did want me. I..I swear he did. You should have seen the way he looked at me”. 

Nat guided her babbling friend to the bedroom and started to take out some clothes for her. 

“He looked at me so sweetly, he was romantic and…and he knew just what to say, what to do to make me feel good! He… I thought he liked me b..but he didn't”. Nat pulled a sweater over Y/n’s head and the tears started again. “God, he looked disgusted at me. His eyes were so cold, so harsh. Am I really that repulsive?”

Y/n looked up at both of her friends who shook their heads

“No!”

“Of course not” 

Their replies came in unison as Wanda brushed Y/ns hair after changing out of her damp clothes

“You’re the sweetest and prettiest girl in the world” Nat said and placed a kiss on top of her friend's head. “He’s obviously just a cock and you need to stay away from him.”

“I know what we can do to get your mind off him” Wanda chimed in and smirked, “girls day!” 

She tried to pull Y/n up but she went limp, “I don’t think i’m up for that Wanda” 

“C’mon!” Nat stood up and helped to pull her up into a sitting position. “Why don’t we go get our nails done? And then a massage and then we can go to the little noodle place you love so much?”

They always knew just what to do to make Y/n feel better. Wanda and Nat knew that rejection from those y/n got intimate hurt her a lot more than it would hurt most. It would drag up every single insecurity she felt about her weight, and she created a million reasons about why she was never good enough. 

Y/n was a hopeless romantic and put her all into every form of relationship she ever had. It was her weakness.

Y/n had never been more thankful for Nat and Wanda. They were her stability when she was away from her family who lived thousands of miles away. She would be lost without them. 

They knew the dark hole of lowness over the next few days would mean she would replay the night over and over in her head, blaming herself in various ways, comparing herself to unrealistic standards and creating a self-hatred like no other. 

After the pair came up with a game plan of how to keep y/n distracted over the next few days, they all set off to the nail salon. Nat furiously typing texts to Bucky the whole ride there. 

“Tell Steve he’s a prick.”.

_______

Steve had spent all night at Clint’s shop with Bucky and Sam working out their next move against Rumlow. The security cameras caught him and his men entering the shop before they cut out, all damage unrecorded for them to see who to torture the most. 

Steve was raging, Bucky was furious and Sam had a headache from working on the numbers all night. 

None of them had slept, each of them on and off the phone with different members when they moved around the assets before all attending a meeting at Steve’s home. 

Steve drove to his home with Bucky in the passenger seat and Sam in the back. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he looked down at his phone. 

“What did you do?” he turned to Steve and glared. 

“When?” He asked curiously

“To Y/n, Nat isn’t happy”. 

“What does it matter to you?” Steve laughed and turned to drive up the road to the private estate. 

“C’mon man, you saw how well me and Nat got on” Bucky ran a hand through his dark locks. “I invited them to the club tomorrow,” Bucky huffed. 

“That won't be happening now” Sam laughed as he looked over Bucky's shoulder at the messages from Nat. 

Who the fuck does that? 

Is he serious? Kicking her out straight after sleeping with her?

What type of a person does that? 

He’s a fucking pig.

Sam let out a low whistle at the texts. “I thought you liked Y/n?” 

Steve looked at Sam through the mirror. 

“Be realistic Sammy Boy, when have I ever liked a girl enough for her to be more than just an easy fuck?” 

“So is that all she was?” Bucky asked curiously.

“Of course. Yeah, she’s cute but she was hardly my type. I don’t normally go for girls…” he paused, “her siz..like her”. 

You sound like an asshole Steve

“You’re one son of a bitch” Sam sighed and sat back in his seat. 

“It’s true though. I don’t plan on settling down and if I were to, it definitely wouldn’t be with her. She was just so eager to get my cock and she should be grateful that she got the chance”. 

Bucky just shook his head before texting Nat back.

I can’t control what Steve does. Come to the club tomorrow and I’ll make it up to you? - JBB 

Steve focused back on the road, a weird feeling filling his stomach as he thought about the girl he spent half of last night with and the nasty things he just said about her.

She is nothing more than an easy fuck. He told himself that over and over again until they arrived back at the house. 

____ 

After the meeting with his those under his command, Steve gave everyone their orders and sent them on their way.

"Parker" His tone was harsh as he called for the youngest member.

"Yes, sir? Peter quickly walked over to where Steve was standing.

"Did she get home okay?" A sincere look crossed Steve's face when he enquired about Y/n.

"yeah she did. She was awfully quiet though. She looked sad" Peter frowned as he remembered her reactions.

Steve just nodded and walked away.

Fuck, there was that feeling in his stomach again. Guilt.

----

It had been a week since the incident with Steve and Wanda and Nat were surprised at how well Y/n had been holding it together. After the girls day she seemed a lot happier and swore that she wasn’t going to let that man get her down anymore. 

Tonight was Bucky’s birthday party and he had invited Nat which meant Y/n and Wanda were invited too. 

“C’mon sweetie, it’s gonna be at a big club where you will easily be able to avoid Steve and Wanda will be by your side when I’m not, I promise we won’t leave you on your own”. Nat was trying to convince Y/n to go along to Bucky’s birthday. She knew that a drink and a dance would cheer her up but y/n was reluctant to go in case she ran into Steve. 

“C’mon” Wanda nudged her elbow and wiggled her eyebrows at y/n “we both know how much you love cocktails and dancing, especially with me” she sang and y/n rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Okay fine”, her two friends cheered and Y/n painted on her best fake smile. She really didn’t want to go but she could see how badly her best friends wanted to and after all that they had done for her over the last week, she owed them. 

“Lets get ready” 

Taglist: @wintasssoldier @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @kneelforloki @stephv213 @urmomsgirlfriend1 

Masterlist

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Any feedback is appreciated but please keep it positive <3

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mob steve rogers fanfiction #mob!steve rogers imagine #mob!steve rogers series #mob!steve rogers smut #mob!steve rogers x reader

[tonys-fav-bitch]

Plot Twist || Reader x Moonboys

Moon Knight AU

Part 8

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: In which your boss sends you to keep an eye on a possible avengers recruit. You’re tasked with following him, figuring out who he is, and if he’s good enough for the team. That’s it. But it’s never that simple.

Warnings: None (I don’t think?) it’s really just a story full of fluff.

STEVEN WAS STOOD in his flat, staring into his mirror before he took a seat on his bed. His mind was reeling. He was undeniably falling for you and that made him excited and scared. But one thing - technically two - were stopping him from advancing any further.

Marc and Jake.

They deserved to meet someone who would potentially be with Steven and their body. They wanted to meet you, they were dying to. Your sweetness and innocent nature called to them like a siren song. They wanted you to know them.

Well Marc did.

Jake was more hesitant.

Jake thought of himself more as only a protector, not someone to involve himself in Marc and Steven's life, but he couldn't deny he was enticed by you.

"Should I tell her?" Steven asked aloud, as if someone would answer him from within the room.

"Do you want to?" Marc's voice floated in his head.

"I - I do." He stuttered, his stomach churning with nervousness.

"You think she'll accept it - us?" Marc continued.

"Will you tell her about Khonshu?" He asked another question.

"Whoa - whoa. Let me just find a way to tell her about us first, mate. . I think she will. ." Steven stopped his alter, who huffed.

Jake was quiet as he normally was, not weighing in on the matter. If it were up to him, he wouldn't tell the woman, no matter how much he wanted to. Jake's life revolved around danger, something he couldn't justify bringing someone else into. He already unwillingly brought Steven into it.

Steven wanted to hear what Jake had to say but it was hard to get him to communicate. All three were still getting use to each other. Jake lived life alone for so long, doing his job for Khonshu. Steven and Marc had no idea he existed and he planned on keeping that way, until he screwed it up. He felt guilty most days.

"I'll do it. . I'll do it. I just need to figure out how." He assured them.

"What do you say? Hey love, I really like you and by the way I have two other personalities inside my skull that would love to meet you." Steven could imagine Marc's scowl perfectly.

"Eh something like that. Just gotta find the right time, y'know mate?"

"She's never going to talk to us again." Marc uttered in defeat.

☽ ♞ ☾

You held your phone close to your ear as you listened to Peter ramble on. You loved the kid dearly, but he tended to go on tangents. He was intensely discussing his plan to take MJ out on a date, which you were happy to hear about.

It was about time he made a move.

"So do you think that's a good idea?" Peter's voice brought you back to the conversation. You hesitated as she tried to remember what he had just said.

"Are you even listening?" He huffed like a small child, making you laugh.

"Yea, yea totally. Whatever you do, I'm sure she'll love it, Peter." You assured him, avoiding the fact that you did indeed zone out during his monologue.

"You think?"

"I know." You replied.

A sudden knock at the door caught you by surprise. Peter silenced himself as he listened in.

"Who's that?" He asked. You could picture his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide with curiosity.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me - use your Peter tingle." You laughed, earning a small shriek from him. He hated when people said that.

You got to your feet and padded your way over to the front door, swinging it open to reveal a smiling Steven. Your face immediately mirrored his own.

"Hello love!" He said enthusiastically.

"It's a DUDE?!" Peter screeched through the phone.

Your cheeks immediately reddened and you hurriedly ended the call without saying anything to the boy. Steven laughed and gave you an inquisitive look.

"Who was that?"

"Uh, just a friend. . being annoying." You said it as if Peter could still hear the word you used to describe him.

"Anyways, come in love." You moved out of the way to let him in.

"Bollocks, I would love to. . but I have to head out for a bit. I stopped by to uh, ask you something." He told you.

You slightly frowned at the thought of not being able to spend time with him for the evening. But you figured he - or rather Marc, would be up to some Moon Knight adventures tonight.

"Awe, alright. What did you want to ask me?" You tilted your head slightly.

The man gave you a nervous look, rubbing his hands together. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His beautiful brown eyes were wide and he bit at his lip.

"Steven?" You gave him a questioning look, snapping him back to reality.

"Oh uh, yea. . I wanted to. ." He took a breath before continuing.

"I wanted to ask you on a proper date. ." He shyly announced, his cheeks burning. You beamed a smile at him, your stomach doing small flips at his words.

"I would love that, Steven." You replied, sending a rush of relief through the man's body.

"Really? Wicked!" He grinned like a child on Christmas Day, making you chuckle.

"Wicked, indeed."

☽ ♞ ☾

You were sat on your balcony, wrapped in a blanket to shield you from the bitter London breeze. Your phone was laid beside you, ringing over and over again.

Fury wanted an update, wanted to know if the woman closed in on any new information on Moon Knight. But, in all honesty, you didn't want to deal with him at the moment. Your mind was focused on the upcoming date with Steven. You found yourself wanting to protect the man from joining shield and the avengers at this point. He seemed so normal, you didn't wanna ruin that for him.

You wondered how long you could avoid your boss before he lost it. You weren't sure how long but you were certainly gonna test it.

It had been so long since you'd been happy and open to dating. You had never felt that click with someone. . until now. Of course your luck would have it happen during a mission - to a man you were supposed to be spying on. You were supposed to find out his secrets, report back to Fury, and that was it.

But when did your missions ever go as planned?

☽ ♞ ☾

#marc spector #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #fanfic #wattpad #marc spector x you #au #jake lockely x reader #steven grant x you

[starry-eyed-never-satisfied]

16, 25, 19, and 5 ;D

Eee! I'm so sorry, i started to answer an then saved to drafts and forgot you!

At what point in the process do I come up with the title?

I try to use lyrics for my titles, and some of them I had as soon as I started writing - 3 AM Wide Awake, Hold Me, My Leathers Fit Tight Around Me. Others were much harder, Driving On Down The Road got a title change after I posted it, and a lot of my wips are saved as document 1, 2 etc, which means if I'm looking for a particular one I have to open all of them!

Have I ever upset myself with my one writing?

Yes! Hold Me, Gods Of Thunder, and there is one line in one of my wips that I cannot read without crying.

A small teaser from one of my wips.

This one is a story from the Hotter Than Hell recording, a combo of Ace's car crash and a story from Paul's book where he nearly got arrested for not having his licence. For dramatic effect, I have written him as being arrested.

Afterwards no one could remember what had set it off.  A bad day, a thoughtless word spoken in anger.   On top of the stress of recording and being away from home for so long everyone’s tempers were frayed.  Ace and Peter had both been drinking steadily since they had returned from the studio several hours earlier.  Sometimes that put them in a very good mood.  Today was not one of those days.  A terrible fight had ensued, and Ace went storming out in a rage.

“That fucking idiot is driving!” shouted Gene at the sound of squealing tires as Ace speed off.  “He’s going to fucking kill himself!”

Although Peter had been screaming at Ace just minutes earlier, he suddenly had the urge to defend his friend.  “And that would make you happy, wouldn’t it!”

“Of course it fucking wouldn’t!”

Bill got between the two of them, placing a calming hand on each.  “Guys, just calm down.”

Gene looked around the room.  “Where’s Paul?”

What no one had noticed was that before Ace stormed out, Paul had already left.  He hated fighting.  He hated anger and aggression.  Negative energy.  Whatever it was, it reminded him of when his parents fought, and he couldn't stand it.

Driving along, radio blasting, wind in his hair, Paul felt the stress melt away.  Music had always been his solace, and he had it so loud that he almost didn’t hear the police siren.  Turning down the music, Paul peered ahead.  Where was the cop?  He could never tell which direction sound was coming from.  Then he glanced in his rear-view mirror.  Fuck!  He’s right behind me!  I wasn’t speeding, was I?

Heart pounding, Paul pulled over.  Hopefully it would be a lady cop.  He could try his charm on her.  The officer approached.  He was a man.

“Licence and registration, please,” he said.

Paul nervously reached for his wallet . . . and realised it wasn’t in his pocket.  He had left in a rush and hadn’t even thought to grab it.  The police in New York never cared.  As it turned out LA police were different.

“I . . . uh . . . I don’t have it.  I left it at the hotel, sorry.”

“Then you’re going to jail.”

“Jail?”  Paul’s blood turned to ice.  “I can’t go to jail.”  Joking around one day, Gene had said if Paul was ever in jail, he’d be the most popular guy there.  “Not looking like this.”

It was to no avail.  Paul was frisked, which if he hadn’t been so scared, he would have found funny.  His jeans were skin-tight, so if he had any weapon other than his love gun in them, it would have been obvious.  Then he was handcuffed and pushed into the police car and taken away.

A few miles away there were no police.  Which may or may not have been fortunate for Ace, as he was taking out his anger by seeing how fast he could drive the winding hill roads.  And when he found he could do it quite fast, he did it again. 

What's a fic idea I've had that I will never write?

I have a couple that I have tried, but are really hard. One is a self insert, me and Paul, pure smut. I've written a little, but then I think about people reading it and I get embarrassed and delete it. The other is really dark and deals with a suicide attempt, again I've written a little, but I don't know how it would be received.

Thanks for the ask!

#thanks for the ask!

[aceofshitposts]

All Roads To The Sea - Chapter Three

okay so, super late BUT i mean it's here!! so, this is technically out of order with the jaytim week prompts cuz this is actually for Wet Clothes rather than Shooting Star/Eclipse cuz it made more sense for the story progression to go this way 😂 so next chapter will be shooting star :3c

JayTim Week Day Three - Wet Clothes

[ONE] [TWO]

-

Tim manages to turn the SUV around in record time, Chrys and Danger's figures blurring in the rain as Tim begins to speed away. There's a loud PING from a bullet hitting the bumper causing Jason to jump where he's twisting around in his seat to see out the rear window.

He turns back to Tim, reaching out to grab Tim's wrist and it's a good thing Tim is a good driver because otherwise he might have swerved at the sudden contact.

BACK, is the immediate thought he gets from Jason, concern and fear bubbling over like a tidal wave.

"We can't," Tim says, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. They're too far to see anything except the vague shape of the overturned truck in the distance in the torrential rain. "It's too dangerous."

Vicious fury rips through Tim, Jason squeezing his wrist hard enough to bruise.

“I don’t want to leave her either! But how, exactly, are we going to take down Danger? He’s covered from head to toe and how would you even make it far enough to touch him anyway? He’s got a gun, several actually. If we go back there, you’re never getting out and you’ll never see Chrys again anyway.”

Jason withdraws his hand, leaving Tim with one last pulse of bitterness, and crosses his arms over his chest. Tim dares a quick glance towards him, his displeasure at the situation evident by his expression.

“I’m sorry, but she told us to go. She wouldn’t want to put you in more danger by coming to rescue her.”

Jason huffs in response, turning his head to stare out the window.

He hopes Chrys is okay. That she found something she could do and got away from Danger. It was no use dwelling on worrying about her now, though. Tim had a mission to fulfill and he intended to see it through.

They needed to ditch the SUV as soon as possible and Tim needed an easier method of getting Jason between cars and motels.

Evanston is a quiet town at almost midnight, few cars looming on its roads. It’s easy enough to follow a few road signs and find the city’s hospital.

The parking lot is about half full with cars of various types and it doesn’t take long for Tim to find one someone has fortunately left unlocked. He parks so that the two passenger sides face each other and begins helping Jason maneuver into the smaller car. Despite the direct contact, Jason is uncharacteristically quiet; the little Tim gets is muted and feels far away.

Jason is still mad and Tim doesn’t necessarily blame him. He was probably not the one Jason would have chosen to be stuck with if given a choice, after all he had only known Tim for two days. Barely.

Once safely inside the new car, he leaves Jason to curl in on himself, leaning against the window.

The last thing he needs is thankfully easy to get. He stalks over to the entrance of the ER where there are several folded wheelchairs leaning against a wall for people to use. Walking up and taking one isn’t a problem, any nurse watching from the lobby thinking he’s simply going to return with a person.

By the time they realize he isn’t coming back he’ll be long gone.

After putting the wheelchair away in the backseat and removing the duffle bag Chrys left from the SUV, Tim gets to work getting the car to start. It takes him longer than he would’ve liked but eventually the engine roars to life and Tim is peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

The rain peters out a few hours North, the clouds breaking to reveal a waxing moon and a brilliant display of stars. Jason’s breathing has evened out, head pressed against the glass window when Tim looks over.

With the immediate danger behind them Tim can feel his own exhaustion beginning to take over. His body aches from the car crash and a headache simmers behind his eyes.

But Tim refuses to stop.

Not yet.

Paranoia nips at his heels just enough that Tim keeps driving through the night, turning into a roadside motel just before dawn. They’ve put a lot of distance between them by now and Tim hopes that Danger will assume they’ve either continued along the original route or doubled back towards the west coast rather than meandering northwards.

Either way, Tim is exhausted and needs rest.

The motel seems quiet, few cars parked in front of the small individual units, tucked away between towering pine trees. The boy working the intake office happily gives Tim the key to the unit farthest back in the lot when Tim tips him an extra fifty as a tip.

Early dawn light filters down through the trees, too early for most people to be awake. A row over Tim can hear the sounds of someone packing up their own car and getting ready to leave.

Getting Jason into the wheelchair is easy enough, although Jason is evidently still mad at Tim from the glare he gives him. 

Tim is grabbing the duffle bag from the back when there’s a sharp gasp coming from nearby the car’s bumper. He scrambles backwards, looking to see a little girl with blonde pigtails staring wide eyed at him and Jason.

“Uuh,” Tim says, somewhat uselessly. Jason swats his arm.

“Oh my gosh,” the little girl breathes, beginning to look a little like Christmas had come early. “Are you a real mermaid?”

To her credit, at least, she keeps her voice low.

“Yes,” Tim says slowly as an idea forms in his head. He walks over, kneeling down in front of the little girl who shuffles backwards a step. “But a Sea Witch stole his voice.”

She gasps again before clapping both hands over her mouth.

“Do you think you can keep a secret? The Sea Witch could be anywhere.”

She nods rapidly, both hands still over her mouth. She opens her hands slowly, mock whispering, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, mister mermaid.”

Tim looks over his shoulder at Jason, who smiles gently at the little girl and waves. She giggles, gives a mock salute to Tim and runs off; heading in the direction Tim heard the other people packing up for the day earlier.

When Tim starts to push Jason towards the open door he reaches up a hand, lightly touching the top of Tim’s, sea witch?

Tim chuckles, “there’s this Disney movie… I guess you won’t know what Disney is, huh? It’s a story about a mermaid and she saves this prince from drowning and falls in love with him. She tries to become human by making a deal with a sea witch, her voice for legs.”

Jason hums, a low sound that also reverberates in his head. Tim can tell Jason retreats, just a little bit, the connection going muted as Tim continues to maneuver the wheelchair into the cramped motel unit until Jason drops his hand into his lap entirely. Just as Tim locks the breaks on the wheelchair Jason reaches back up, tell me more? 

Which leads to Tim trying to retell the plot of The Little Mermaid while filling the motel bathtub with water. He tries to remember all the details the best he can, hoping Jason is picking up on the spotty memory of the movie as he goes. The rendition of Part of Your World in his head repeats a verse where Tim finds he can’t remember the exact lyrics but the point gets across well enough… hopefully.

Jason settles in the tub, water splashing over the edge, the end of his tail fin hanging over the edge of the tub while his torso is only partially submerged.

“It’d probably be easier to just show you the movie, you know,” Tim muses as he struggles to remember what happens between Ariel getting legs and the Kiss The Girl song. “Most of these motels have vcrs and video rental stores are everywhere.”

Jason’s tail slaps the edge of the tub in the merperson version of tapping their foot. He tilts his head to the size, grinning lazily at Tim. It’s so much more fun listening to you struggle.

“Ha ha, okay that’s enough for now then,” Tim says, standing up. As he moves, slipping his arm from Jason’s touch he feels the fading echoes of mirth.

Tim retrieves the duffle bag, digging through it to find two capped syringes and seven fist sized white tablets. Tim picks one up, the texture lightly crumbles against his fingers. For one insane moment Tim wonders if Chrys packed a bunch of cocaine before he remembers– Jason needs salt water. A quick taste off once finger confirms, these are black blocks of salt. 

“Uh, do you know how many of these are supposed to go in the water?” Tim asks, holding up a tablet.

Jason looks at him blankly and shrugs.

“Okay, one it is since we only have six after this.”

He drops the tablet into the water, half expecting it to fizz but it just sinks, rolling off Jason's tail and sitting at the bottom of the tub beside him. Jason rolls his eyes and picks it up, crumbling it between his fingers and dispersing it as best he can. 

"Huh, I guess I should have put that in when I was filling the tub."

Jason gives him a withering stare.

"Okay, uh, I've gotta take a nap"–and a shower if Tim was being honest but that could wait–"will you be okay?"

Jason glances around the sparsely decorated room, giving a shrug.

"Oh, I know, can you read English? I have a book?"

Jason perks up slightly, wiggling a hand back and forth in a "kind of" motion. Tim grins, grabbing an extra pillow from one of the twin beds and digging through his backpack to find the other paperback he'd bought. Unfortunately, he didn't remember to grab his murder mystery from the floor after the crash but he did also have some sort of mushy looking period romance that he grabbed entirely by accident. 

Jason settles in with his head against the pillow after drying his hands off on a nearby towel. He makes a shooing motion with his hand when he notices Tim still standing beside the tub.

He'll sleep for a couple hours. That's all. The room is quiet except for the faint sound of water lapping in the tub and the sound of pages being turned. Tim falls head first into the pillows and passes out.

It should be no surprise that Tim wakes with a start over six hours later, the analogue clock on the wall reading 12:23. Panic arcs through his veins, causing him to scramble off the bed, stalking over to the sidelite to look into the motel parking lot.

Heart pounding, Tim looks outside. He’s convinced that he’s going to see Danger, staring him right in the eye with the barrel of his gun. That the parking lot is going to be filled with government vehicles, all ready to take him and Jason away forever–

The parking lot is quiet. Midday sun casts shadows from the towering pines, not a single person to be seen.

Okay.

Okay.

They’re still okay. They’re fine, they haven’t been found, it's– It’s all okay.

Tim sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and goes to check on Jason. He finds Jason with his nose still in the book, tailfin thumping lightly against the edge of the tub along to Jason humming Part of Your World. It’s a low, slightly gravely and broken sound, reminding Tim of times he would get sick and go without talking for days at a time and any sound he made came out sounding like a paper shredder.

“Still reading?” Tim asks, leaning on the doorframe.

Jason doesn’t even look up, nodding his head once and holding up his hand in a victory sign…

“Oh, you’re rereading it?”

Jason nods again, turning a page.

“I’m going to go get some food and other supplies, are you alright here?”

Return of the shooing motion. Alright then.

The nearby town is a short drive away through a single narrow road flanked by towering trees. There’s a singular main street that contains all the town’s major stores, a number of which appear to be kitschy tourist gift shops centred around the town’s only attraction: fishing at the nearby lake.

As Tim is driving past the residential area, a smattering of small wooden houses, he sees an old looking, beat up Jeep parked along the side of the road with a red FOR SALE sign in the back window.

Tim slows to a stop, giving the slate gray vehicle a quick look over before reversing back the way he came. They’ll need a proper vehicle, one that Tim isn’t risking burning his fingers on everytime he needs to start it and hasn’t been reported stolen. But first, to get rid of this one. Tim drives along the abandoned stretch of road, finding an old dirt path into the woods. The Sedan wasn’t really built for off roading but Tim pushes through anyway, looking for a good spot that’s far enough away from the main road the car was unlikely to be seen.

Tim abandons the vehicle as it rolls forward down a short decline, enough of a distance that nobody was going to see it if they weren’t looking down. Somebody would find it, eventually, and if Tim ever found out who it belonged to he would have to repay them but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

After half an hour of hiking he finally makes it back to the house with the Jeep in front of it.

In hindsight, Tim realizes he probably should have checked that somebody was home before abandoning his vehicle to the woods.

Welp. Too late now.

Tim knocks on the door.

The woman who answers has white hair pulled back in a loose bun, strands of hair falling in her face, and manages to be shorter than Tim is. She looks up at him with a single raised, white eyebrow.

“You here to spread the good news?”

Tim blinks, straightening his back slightly. “No, ma’am, uh, I saw the for sale sign on that Jeep?”

“You’re interested?”

“As long as it works” –another thing Tim probably should have checked before getting rid of his car–”I’ve got cash.”

“Huh,” she says as if that were particularly interesting. It makes Tim want to squirm. “Why don’t you come in?”

He tries to refuse but the woman pins him down with a glare and leaves the door open when she moves further back into the squat building.

At her kitchen table she sets a glass of lemonade down in front of Tim, a noisy fan clunking away in the background to provide a palty breeze in the midday heat. Tim learns her name is Ophelia.

“Now, what is it you’re running from, boy?”

Tim grimaces, is he really that obvious? Ophelia simply takes a sip from her drink, patiently waiting for an answer. He can’t tell her the truth, that much is for certain. Besides endangering him and Jason, it might endanger her, and Tim had enough peoples’ blood on his hands.

“My parents,” he blurts out, grasping for anything that would sound plausible, “they wanted me to take over the family business and if I didn’t they’d kick me out. So, I called their bluff. They… aren’t really happy about it.”

Eh. Not Tim’s best lie but good enough.

Ophelia nods along. “Sounds like a bitch,” she says amiably. “The car works, she’s just old. How much cash you got?”

“Seven hundred,” Tim says automatically, knowing better than to tell anyone the full amount.

“Five hundred, then, and she’s yours. We got a deal?”

Ophelia sends Tim away with the car keys and, on her insistence, a tent and camping stove tucked into the back along with a package of chocolate chip cookies. The engine rumbles to life, just as Ophelia said it would, and Tim heads into town; Ophelia waving at him in the rear view mirror.

It’s over an hour before Tim gets back to the motel, hands full of plastic shopping bags and take-out from the single diner.

Jason is lounging in the tub when Tim returns, book left on top of the toilet seat. His eyes are closed but he perks up when he hears the rustling of the paper bag Tim is holding.

“Sorry that took so long”–Tim passes him one styrofoam container filled with chicken strips and fries–”but I got a new car, not even stolen, and a bunch of supplies that should last us a little while at least. Especially if we can’t stop at a motel.”

Tim spent most of his time shopping thinking about what to do next. With any luck Chrys had hopefully told Danger they were going to head back west, buying them time to put more distance between them. Tim had also dropped his credit card before the convoy had left the last motel in the hopes someone would start using it elsewhere, further obfuscating their location.

“And,” Tim says, dropping the two plastic bags that had been cutting off the circulation in his fingers on the floor, “I figured you were bored so I got a bunch more books in different genres and” –Tim can’t help the grin that splits his face– “a disguise for you to wear.”

Jason raises a single eyebrow at Tim. The effect is slightly marred by the way his cheeks are puffed out from stuffing an entire handful of fries in his mouth at once.

They wait for nightfall before leaving, Tim sitting on the closed toilet seat and reading to Jason, clarifying any terms he’s unfamiliar with or other human mannerisms he doesn’t understand. It’s a quiet evening, Jason relaxing further and further as Tim reads out loud.

When the sun has finally begun sinking beneath the horizon, Tim sits out to get the car ready. He fills a large square bucket halfway with water and fits it into the footrest on the passenger side seat and lays down a plastic seat cover to protect it from water. 

Jason is less thrilled about Tim’s other present.

He looks down at the hoodie Tim had soaked under the tap before handing it to him and then back up at Tim, who’s desperately trying to keep his giggles under control. 

BORN TO SWIMOCEAN AS FUCK

Declares the hoodie, underneath a simple black line drawing of a carp, which Tim’s fairly sure isn’t a species of fish that lives in the ocean to begin with.

“C’mon, it’s perfect for you,” Tim says, voice shaking under the effort to not burst into laughter.

Jason frowns deeply, crossing his arms over the large carp emblazoned across his chest.

“And this hat!” Tim ignores Jason’s sulking to fit the black baseball cap over Jason’s head.

Jason bats Tim’s hands away, sitting up straight in the seat and turning the cap in order to read the front:

WOMAN WANT MEFISH FEAR ME

The look on Jason’s face is so unimpressed that Tim finally loses his composure, one hand clutched across his stomach as he laughs. Jason huffs but fits the cap back on his head, brim low over his eyes, and turns away from Tim.

It takes Tim a full five minutes to get himself under control enough to start the car.

#jaytimweek #jaytimweek2022 #jaytim #timjay #astrix writes #okay now to work on the next chapter lmaoo #all roads to the sea